From Cosima's diaries

"On Christmas Day, my 31st birthday, this notebook was to have started; I could not get it in Lucerne. And so the first day of the year will also contain the beginning of my reports to you, my children. You shall know every hour of my life, so that one day you will come to see me as I am; for, if I die young, others will be able to tell you very little about me, and if I ive long, I shall probably only wish to remain silent."

On January 1, 1869, a few weeks after leaving her husband Hans von Bülow to live with Richard Wagner, Cosima began a diary that she would continue until February 12, 1883, the day before Wagner died.

12 February 1883 (last entry of Cosima's diary):
R. goes to the piano, plays the mournful theme 'Rheingold, Rheingold' [...] And as he is lying in bed, he says, "I feel loving toward them, these subservient creatures of the deep, with all their yearning.

On 13 February 1883 Richard Wagner dies in Venice, Italy.
Paul von Joukowsky [stage designer for Parsifal] described Wagner's death in a letter written on February 22, 1883, to Malwida von Meysenburg [German writer]:

"It was as glorious as his life.
We were all waiting for him to appear at table, for he had sent word to us to begin lunch without him.
In the meantime he had sent for the doctor on account of his usual spasms ; then at about 2:30 he sent Betty to fetch Frau Wagner.
The doctor came at 3:00, which made us all feel easier ; but around 4 o'clock, since nobody had come out of his room, we became worried ; then suddenly Georg appeared and told us simply that it was all over.
He died at around 3 o'clock in the arms of his wife, without suffering, falling asleep with an expression on his face of such nobility and peace that the memory of it will never leave me.
She was alone with him the whole of the first day and night, but then the doctor managed to persuade her to go into another room.
Since then I have not seen her, and I shall never see her again ; nobody will, except for the children and Gross and his wife, since he is their legal guardian.
She will live in the upper rooms of the house, existing only for his memory and for the children ; everything else in life has ceased to exist for her.
So write only to the children, for she will never read a letter again.
Since her dearest wish, to die with him, was not fulfilled, she means at least to be dead to all others and to lead the only life fitting for her, that of a nun who will be a constant source of divine consolation to her children.
That is great, and in complete accord with all else in her life...."

Certainly Cosima's first intention was exactly as Joukowsky described it.
In her desire for death she refused all nourishment for many hours after Wagner died, then, yielding to the inevitable, cut off her hair and laid it in Wagner's coffin.
Hidden from sight in black robes, she accompanied her husband's body in the train back to Bayreuth.
At Wahnfried it was carried to the grave at the bottom of the garden by Muncker, Peustel, Gross, Wolzogen, Seidl, Joukowsky, Wilhelmj, Porges, Levi, Richter, Standhartner, and Niemann. Daniela, Isolde, Eva, and Siegfried walked beside the coffin ; Blondine, expecting her first child, was not present.
Only after their friends had left did Cosima emerge from the house to join her children as the coffin was lowered into the grave.

Cosima at Wagner's coffin in Bayreuth (engraving, ca 1900)

​Here follows a selection of (illustrated) excerpts from Cosima's diaries:

11 February 1883 (Venice, Italy)
R. saw [Wilhelmine] Schröder-Devrient in his dreams; telling me of it, he says: “All my women are now passing before my eyes.”

Wilhelmine Schröder-Devrient as Venus and Joseph Tichatschek as Tannhäuser / Paul Tischbein c. 1852

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5 February 1883 (Venice, Italy)
In the evening the casting of Parsifal is discussed, as well as the pleasure R. got from Materna’s Kundry; he also declares his wish to do Tannhäuser in Bayreuth first. 

Amalie Materna as Kundry, Bayreuth 1882

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30 January 1883 (Venice, Italy)
At lunch Joukowsky argues heatedly against 'vaporetti' [steamers]; R. replied that he could not feel such concern about them, since they have a place in our modern world.

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4 November 1882
Over coffee we discuss the little book about Bismarck, and then we move on to America, which R. expects one day to become the dominating world power. 

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14 October 1882
After lunch R. asks me to read a review of Jules Verne's latest book, in which the Germans are ridiculed in the most tasteless way.

And then Wagner didn't even know what Jules Verne had to say about him. In *Paris in the 20th Century* (a novel first published as late as 1994) the French writer let, by means of one of the characters in the book, shine his light on the composer of the Music of the Future.

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20 August 1882
His mood is melancholy, the sky is overcast, I feel that all that is left for us is to die together.

But fate decided otherwise. Cosima Wagner would survive her husband, Richard Wagner, with 47 years. On 1 April 1930, Cosima dies in Bayreuth (clip: Cosima's funeral in Bayreuth).

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21 June 1881
R. does not like looking at the death masks of Beethoven and Weber; I remove them. He compared it to playing games with the crucifix.

Deathmasks of Beethoven and Weber

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2 April 1881
I realize ever more deeply that when R. says things which are offensive and deeply wounding, he does it with complete innocence, and he has a daemonic instinct for being right.

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21 November 1874
In the evening, before supper [Richard]… glances through the conclusion of Götterdämmerung, and says that never again will he write anything as complicated as that.

Nearly 25 years after starting Der Ring des Nibelungen, Wagner finishes Götterdämmerung (clip: Wagner Museum Bayreuth)

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22 May 1872
Birthday! I wish R. many happy returns very simply this time, for he is preparing the great treat himself.

On his 59th birthday, Wagner laid the foundation stone for his Festspielhaus and conducted Beethoven's 9th at the Markgräfliche Opernhaus.

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11 June 1871
"Cosima, I shall still be able to compose," R. calls to me in the morning. He then goes to the piano and plays something which will, I believe, introduce the scene by moonlight between Alberich and Hagen.

Schläfst du, Hagen, mein Sohn? / Arthur Rackham (scene from Götterdämmerung, beginning Act 2)

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 21 May 1871
At midday I told R. how curious it was that all performances (5th Symphony, Tristan, Meistersinger), no matter how good, leave me to a certain extent cold, but I feel ecstatic when R. talks to me about Beethoven, when he tells me of his first conceptions; I cannot put myself in the position of the audience but, rather, feel as if the work becomes disassociated from me as soon as it takes on an outer form. R. says he feels exactly the same way, and he knows that we shall regard our Nibelungen theater with cold pleasure, watching and observing. "For ourselves we do not need it, our pleasures lie in the idea." 

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25 December 1870
About this day, my children, I can tell you nothing-nothing about my feelings, nothing about my mood, nothing, nothing. I shall just tell you, drily and plainly, what happened.
​
​Read here about the Siegfried Idyll

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15 August 1870
Marie Muchanoff wrote yesterday that my father [Franz Liszt] sobbed throughout the whole of Die Walküre, and she had been unable to watch the scene between Brünnhilde and Siegmund for a third time, so much was she affected by it.

The mentioned scène from Die Walküre (in Act 2) in a staging by Emil Preetorius (Bayreuth 1938)

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13 August 1869
How will Siegfried feel when he one day sees the 3rd act and learns that I wrote this scene just as he was being born?

Heil dem Tage, der uns umleuchtet!
Heil der Sonne, die uns bescheint!
(Siegfried in duet with Brunnhilde, Siegfried, Act 3)

Siegfried Wagner (6 June 1869 – 4 August 1930)

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7 July 1869
Work everywhere, mine maternal, R's magnificence; at noon he calls out to me that he has found it-that is to say, the conclusion for Wotan and Erda.

Évocation d'Erda - Henri Fantin-Latour, 1876

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14 February 1869
It seems as if Life and Death have no real power over mortals suchs as Weber, Beethoven, and Mozart; it is as if they were of all time and had been with us only as the spirits they now are.

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18 January 1869
I feel there can be no blessing on our bond if the Nibelungen remains unfinished.