Friday Evening.

DEAREST FRIEND,

That I ran away from you was a perfect inspiration, which should bring n.o.ble fruit both to you and to me.

I shall go to bed at nine; do you likewise, and sleep by the book, so that we may present to each other to-morrow morning a couple of fresh faces, ready to face the world.

I shall study "Mephistopheles" a little today.

If you like we will do some Valkyring tomorrow.

May a thousand G.o.ds protect you.

R. W. 225.

DEAR FRANZ,

Believe me, by all that is sacred to you and me, that I am ill, and require the most perfect rest and care today, in order, let us hope, to enjoy you again tomorrow. A very considerable, though welcome and wholesome, catarrh weighs down my limbs like lead. It developed during last night, together with an inflamed throat and other addenda. The slightest excitement would impede my recovery.

Au revoir in a rational matter tomorrow.

Yours,

W. R.

226.

MY DEAREST FRANZ,

I must think it really fortunate that you this time cultivate a few other acquaintances, and that I may therefore disappear for a short time without attracting too much attention.

My catarrh has developed so thoroughly and n.o.bly, that I may hope it will rid me of my usual winter illness, if I take proper care of it; even now I perceive the beneficial effect of nature"s self-relief, although I feel as if leaden fetters were on me. I am sure that I shall be better in a few days, and am looking forward to offering you the fruits of my recovery in the shape of an excellent temper.

For today I am a strict patient, and must not think of a visit to Herwegh. If you will give me the pleasure of seeing you today, I inform you that I shall have to perspire from noon to 4 p.m.; before or afterwards my aspect would be less horrible. The hardest thing was that I had to miss the organ concert yesterday.

But resignation helps me over everything.

I will try to finish the letter to the Grand Duke today.

A hundred thousand most cordial remembrances to the whole Rectory. How are you, indefatigable man?

227.

Sunday, early.

Here I sit again gazing after you. My best thanks to your dear Princess for the first news. My mind was set at rest not a little on hearing that you had been able to continue your journey to Munich without mishap. There you will be able to rest a little more comfortably than at the Hecht of St. Gallen. Rest? Ye indefatigable ones!

A thousand ardent blessings follow you everywhere. What you have become to me your hearts will tell you. You are so rich a possession to me that I scarcely know how to realise it. But on the other hand, you are to me a continual sermon of repentance; I cannot think of you without being heartily ashamed of myself.

How can you bear with me, who appear so unbearable to myself?

But I am not without good resolutions of amendment. Although I shall palm off great part of the care on my doctor, who is to put me completely on my legs again next spring, I am too well aware that an enormous labour--less watercure than purgatory--lies before me. Yes, I will shut myself up in that Purgatorio, and hope, dearest Franz, that I shall do so well that I may greet you with a MAGNIFICAT soon. It is true that I shall never be able to equal you, but then you are the only genuine virtuoso.

My aesthetic efforts will, I hope, cure my moral prostration to some extent. I must try tomorrow to break the news of the death of his mother to "Siegfried." On Thursday evening I arrived at the Zeltweg, freezing and empty, with a violent cold and in terrible weather; since then I have not set foot out of doors.

All I did was to find a good place for the Madonna and Francesca, which was a difficult job. I hammered like Mime. Now all is safe and sound. The Madonna hangs over my writing table and Francesca over the sofa, under the looking-gla.s.s, where she looks beautiful. When I begin "Tristan" Francesca will have to go over the writing table, and the turn of the Madonna will not come again until I take the "Victors" in hand. For the present I will try to inspire myself a little with the victrix, and to imagine that I could do the same thing.

My studs are much finer than yours, dear Child; that any one can see. Yours have the sole advantage of moving one to resignation, while mine excite my vanity terribly--a kind of surrept.i.tious vanity, not before the eyes of people, but all to myself; merely for the sake of the studs, not for effect. It is just the same with my "Nibelungen." You always think of the effect of the performance, I of the shirt studs that may be hidden in it.

Well, my blessings on you. If only the dear "lady friend" would soon recover her health, so that the great professors of Munich might delight in the "Rectory family"! Dear, good Princess, and dear, dear Franz,

MON BON GRAND! Good and great you are. My blessings on you!

Farewell, and forget all bad and unpleasant things about me.

Remember only the kindness of which you thought me worthy.

Adieu. I am always yours.

My wife has not scolded me once, although yesterday I had the spleen badly enough. She greets you with all her power, and is thankful for your friendship.

228.

ZURICH, December 6th, 1856.

I have not forgotten to convey your greetings and inquiries.

Wesendonck has written to me in reply, and enclosed a letter of his wife"s to the Princess, which I herewith ask you to hand to her.

I long for news from you. How are you, dear Franz, and does the Princess keep her health? From her daughter I soon expect a letter, as we have promised to correspond with each other.

I feel so-so. I shall finish the first scene one of these days.

Curiously enough, it is only during composition that the real essence of my poem is revealed to me. Everywhere I discover secrets which had been previously hidden from me, and everything in consequence grows more pa.s.sionate, more impulsive. Altogether it will require a good deal of obstinacy to get all this done, and you have not really put me in the right mind for it.

However, I must think that I am doing all this for myself, in order to pa.s.s the days. Be it so.

You may believe me or not, I have no other desire than that of coming to you soon. Do not fail to let me know always what chances there are. I want music, too, and, Heaven knows, you are the only one who can supply me with it. As a musician, I feel perfectly mean, while I think I have discovered that you are the greatest musician of all times. This will be something new to you.

Adieu. Tell M. that I have overhauled the old red letter case, and have got my biography up to December 1st, 1856, into shape.

A hundred thousand remembrances to mother and child.

Farewell, and take care to let me have some of your new scores soon.

Your R. W.