DEAREST FRIEND,

Your letter, received today, has increased my grief at not being able to be with you. Although I am not much worth as a sick nurse, I should nurse you well, and a.s.sist you in pa.s.sing the time with more ease. Alas! we are miserable creatures, and the few who have penetrated the deepest secrets of life are the most miserable of all. That snarling old cur, Schopenhauer, is quite right in saying that we are ridiculous in addressing each other as MONSIEUR or citizen. Compagnon de misere et de souffrance, or fellow-sufferers, and worse we are, TUTTI QUANTI, and nothing we can do can make any essential change in this. The worst is that we know it quite well, and yet never like to believe it.

What is this about the vise of your pa.s.sport? Probably the impediment has been removed by this time; otherwise make inquiries as to the quarter from which it arises, whether from the Saxon emba.s.sy in Paris, or from the French police. Steps must be taken accordingly. It is understood that I am quite at your service in this matter, but I should not like to make a faux pas, and it is necessary, therefore, that I should be more accurately informed by you, in order to apply at once to the right people.

In my opinion Paris is the most comfortable, most appropriate and cheapest place for you while things in Germany remain in their wretched state. Although you may not agree with the artistic doings there, you will find many diverting and stimulating things, which will do you more good than your walks in Switzerland, beautiful though the Alpine landscape may be. I am surprised, it is true, at your speaking of a permanent settlement in Paris at this moment. I thought that your relations to Carlsruhe had reached such a point as to secure to you an asylum in the Grand Duchy of Baden (perhaps at Heidelberg, unless the PROFESSORS should frighten you there). How about the first performance of "Tristan" at Carlsruhe? Devrient informed me, with tolerable certainty, that the intention was to give the work on the birthday of the Grand d.u.c.h.ess in December, and that you would be invited to conduct it. I hope no change has taken place in this. Let me have particulars. Perhaps I shall be able to a.s.sist you in simplifying the matter.

Do you know what I did a few days ago? Looking at your portrait, which you had signed "Santo Spirito Cavaliere", it occurred to me to write a "Rienzi fantasia" for pianoforte. If it should amuse you for a moment my time will have been well employed. I should tell you that your little bust adorns my writing desk. You are of course without the company of any other celebrities--no Mozart, no Beethoven, no Goethe, or whatever their names may be. To this room, which is the heart of the house, none of them is admitted.

What a beautiful day it will be when I see you here.

M. will leave us soon, probably in October; until then I cannot get away from here. If you should happen to remain in Switzerland till after that, I shall visit you in the late autumn. Otherwise I shall see you at Carlsruhe or Paris.

Remember me cordially to Draseke. I am very glad you have taken a liking to him. He is a splendid fellow. In our small circle of most intimate friends he is called the "hero." Has he shown you his ballad, "Konig Helge?" It is a glorious thing.

Be good enough to tell him that _I_ INVITE HIM SPECIALLY to stay with me on his return journey, and that I should think it very shabby of him if he played me the trick of flying past me under my very nose.

Try to get well again as soon as possible, dearest friend, and continue to love

Your

FRANZ.

WEYMAR, August 22nd, 1859.

298.

PARIS, October 20th, 1859.

I hope, dear Franz, these lines will reach you exactly on the 22nd.

Accept my cordial wishes for your birthday. It is of great significance to me that just at present, while I am seriously and deeply considering our mutual relations, I should come upon this day which Nature herself, no doubt, counts amongst her most fortunate days. For what she succeeded in creating on this day has borne such rich fruit that, without this gift of your existence, there would be a chasm in the essence of things, of the depth of which he only can judge who loves you as I love you, and who might suddenly imagine that you existed no longer. Gazing down this terrible chasm, such as my imagination pictured it, I turned my eyes to you as one awaking from a terrible dream, and was so sincerely delighted, so deeply moved by your real existence, that you appeared to me as one newborn. In this spirit I greet you on this, to me, highly important birthday. Your friendship is an absolute necessity to me; I cling to it with my last vital strength.

When shall I see you at last?

Have you an idea of the position in which I am, of the miracles of faith and love which I require in order to gain new courage and patience? Think this out for yourself, without my telling you. You MUST know me sufficiently to understand this, although we have not lived much together.

I ask you, once more, when shall we meet again? Carlsruhe is more than uncertain. "Tristan", altogether, has become a shadowy and half impossible thing. Do not wait for an external occasion which may bring me to you. In the most favourable case the "Tristan"

period, with its desperate and terrible exertions, would not be fit for our meeting again for the first time. Be guided to me by your innermost heart, and may it impel you to come to me soon. By the middle of November I expect my wife. Could I not have you BEFORE? It is bad enough for me that I have to call you, and that you do not come of your own accord. I heard of the marriage of Princess M. through B. yesterday; he does not inform me where she is going to live. Kindly tell me where I am to write in order to convey my wishes to her.

Farewell; I am just on the point of moving into my new lodgings.

So I am "settled" once more, without faith, love, or hope.

Farewell, and accept my wishes kindly; in congratulating you I congratulate myself.

Your

R.W.

16, RUE NEWTON, CHAMPS ELYSEES. 299.

PARIS, November 23rd, 1859,

16, RUE NEWTON.

Believe me, dear Franz, I find it very difficult to give you news of myself. We live too little together, and must necessarily become strangers in one important aspect of friendship. You wrote to me to Venice and Lucerne that you liked my migration to Paris for the reason that you would be able to visit me more frequently. I have often a.s.sured you that I desired an amnesty particularly because I should be able to pay you more frequent and longer visits, and I informed you again that your promise induced me to look upon my Paris settlement in a more favourable light. In spite of this, my first request for your visit addressed to you from here has met with a refusal. You say you cannot come to Paris, and propose a two days" meeting at Stra.s.sburg instead. What will be the use of these Stra.s.sburg days to us; what to me? I have nothing to tell you in a hurry, no plans that we need discuss. I want to enjoy you, to live with you for some time, as we have hitherto seen so little of each other.

Why do you all of a sudden object to Paris, where, if you do not wish it, no one need know of your presence? I can get you rooms near me in a very remote quarter. We shall spend the days at my lodging, where you can see whom you like. Why need you always be a public man apart from the private friend? I cannot understand this. My poor deserted life has made me incapable of comprehending an existence which casts a side glance at the whole world at every step. You must pardon me for declining the Stra.s.sburg meeting, greatly as I appreciate the sacrifice which you offer me. It is just this sacrifice which appears to me too great at the price of a few hurried days in a Stra.s.sburg hotel.

I am extremely sorry that the Princess was unable to find me; her very valuable letter I fail to understand. By the spontaneous joy and cordiality with which I should have received her, she would have recognized what she is to me. She has often experienced this, and surely does not suspect me of affectation. I do not know what to say to all this, and remain silent.

My silence extends to everything else that otherwise I might have told you about myself. If one has to tell such things at all, it is better to be silent about them. As to the Carlsruhe plan you are probably sufficiently enlightened. Devrient has thought it desirable to make an excuse for the bungling and neglectful way in which he has taken up the idea of a first performance of "Tristan" at his theatre, by saying that it is impossible to execute the work. To that ALSO I do not reply. Why should I speak? _I_ know my fate and my position, and remain silent. It is more serious to think of the consequences which the wiping out of my new work from the list of living things will have for my means of subsistence. However, why should I point out those consequences? He who is endowed with five senses must know what my position is. I can complain no longer, for that would mean to accuse, and I do not even want to accuse friend Devrient. I have not said a word to him. You know enough now, and more than will please you.

My wife has arrived here. She is a little better, and I hope things will go on tolerably well. She told me, without complaining, that you had been at Dresden without paying her a visit. I tried to comfort her as well as I could.

Farewell, my dear Franz. Do not misunderstand me; I wanted to write to you, and for a long time did not know how to set about it. Heaven only knows whether I have done it in the proper way.

Be always a.s.sured that you are dear to me above all else, even if I fail to comprehend many things which determine your action.

Farewell. Greet the Princess, and tell her that her letter pleased me, although I failed to understand it. Greet also Princess H--. May you all think ot me in a friendly spirit.

Farewell.

Your

R. W.

300.

BRUSSELS, March 29th, 1860.

DEAREST FRANZ,

Once more I give you a sign of life. That one lives at all is perhaps the most wonderful case in point, and when one arrives at the end of things, one need not care any longer. Death, which at this moment mows down men so recklessly, leaves us standing in a bare field by a mere whim. One is astonished and a little thoughtful for awhile.

My fate is very odd. While the real thing for which alone I care remains enveloped in the most German mist of impossibility. H."s diplomatic skill has arranged for me all manner of Paris glories, which float before me mockingly like a "Fata Morgana." Heaven only knows what will come of this "Tannhauser" scheme. In my heart I do not yet believe in it, and for good reasons. It is of more importance to me to perform "Tristan" in Germany, and I am determined to set that old Dresden matter right if any decent concessions are made to me. If I succeed in this, I shall look to Vienna as the theatre which has the best singers, and presents the unique phenomenon of being conducted by a competent musician, with whom one can come to an understanding. This, as you know, cannot be found in the rest of Germany.

Of you, dearest friend, I have heard nothing for a long time, for even H. was unable to tell me anything. The comfort of your visits in Paris, which at one time you promised me so confidently, will not, it appears, be vouchsafed to me. Be not offended, therefore, if today I send you a visitor in order to give you some news of myself on the same occasion. I have been brought here by the absurd illusion of being able, by repeating my Paris concerts at Brussels, to recover some of the money which those Paris excesses had cost me. But of course the only results of this excursion were new expenses and a little propaganda.

Amongst the most valuable conquests I have made here is first Herr A. Samuel, who is starting for Germany, and would like to be introduced to you. He has been very amiable towards me, both in deed and word. You will like him, too, and in that belief I recommend him to your welcome.

You also introduced some one to me here. Frau Agnes Street-- Klindworth brought me a letter from you which you had given to her five years ago for London. I have to thank you for the most pleasant acquaintance which you procure to me so unexpectedly and after all that time. I was soon at home with her and Papa Klindworth, and owe the most pleasant memories to these two people. The old man amused me greatly by his incredible wealth of diplomatic anecdote.

I return to Paris today in order to have a closer view of my brilliant misery. M. Royer wants a large ballet for the second act of "Tannhauser"; you may imagine how I relish the idea. My only refuge in the face of such demands is Princess Metternich, who is highly esteemed by Fould, etc. I must see whether I can get rid of this ballet, otherwise I shall of course withdraw "Tannhauser."

Well, you have now a good insight into the joy of my existence.

Do not delay communicating to me a fragment of your life. The only thing that makes our position towards this misery of world and life tolerable is the growing contempt for world and life; and if one can arrive at that in a good humour, things are all right for a little while. But when one perceives how few things hold water, when one observes the terrible superficiality, the incredible thoughtlessness, the selfish desire for pleasure, which inspire every one, one"s own earnestness appears often in a very comic light. This consideration is to me, at least, the only one which sometimes puts me in a tolerable mood.

A thousand cordial greetings to you, my dearest Franz; with Mamma I get on very well. The old lady quite touches me by her love and sympathetic insight. Farewell, and remember lovingly,