I feel languid and unwell. I believe I am homesick. At half-past seven in the evening, swimming rehearsal, at which, this time, the musicians were seated in the auditorium. It was not long before a storm of applause broke forth. Today Wagner had placed a bouquet of flowers in the swimming machine for each Rhinemaiden. A bottle of champagne, which they had christened “Rheingold”, was to lie upon the cliff above, and Hill — Alberich — was to plunge into the depths with it. Unfortunately it could not be secured above, so I handed it to him when he had reached the bottom. Hill had overcome all fear, and I now had nothing further to do save, at the words: ‘Loathsome slippery glistening glitter, how I slide away’ to direct the machinists, who then let Alberich glide upward and downward.
Revised English translation by Jo Cousins [© Jo Cousins | WAGNER Salon]