Dear Franz,
At last, dearest Franz, I have once more got so far as to be able to carry out my long-delayed intention of writing to you. I have to thank you very much for your last letter, to which I thought, upon the whole, silence was the best answer. I hope you understood me rightly. I am generally too talkative, and chat about many things which it would be better to keep to myself. This would be more advantageous to others also, for he who refuses to understand a silent friend will find a talking one troublesome. Cordial thanks also to the good Princess for her letter.
Of Tristan I have sketched the second act; whether I have succeeded I shall see when I come to work it out. It was amusing to me to see you treat this peculiar affair as a matter of literary business in your letter. I explained to the Princess some time ago that the belief of the Prague manager, that I was writing this opera for a first performance at his theatre, was a pure misunderstanding. I could not help smiling at your believing in the assertion of this odd man sufficiently to speak to me seriously of the matter, and to offer me your amiable assistance. You must, of course, have been puzzled at my having the score engraved in this early stage of the proceedings. But there is a very simple reason for it. I had, as you know, no money, and, as Rienzi came to nothing, I saw no other way except "doing business" with the Hartels. For that purpose I chose Tristan, then scarcely begun, because I had nothing else. They offered to pay me half the honorarium of 200 louis d'or, i.e., 100 louis d'or on receipt of the score of the first act, so I hurried to get it done head over heels. This was the reason of my business-like haste in finishing this poor work.
Altogether, the fate of my works, including Tristan, has become a matter of great indifference to me; as to how, where, and when, I care little, as long as I may be present. The Grand Duke has probably given you my greetings, for which he asked me in a very amiable manner. I did not think it proper to charge him with such a message. H. R. H. wanted to know whether, in case I were permitted to return to Germany, I should go to Weimar, or whether I should prefer another "engagement," and I explained to him that the only advantage I expected from my amnesty was, to be able to visit Germany periodically, and that for that purpose I had chosen your house, because it was your house, as my pied-a-terre. That house, fortunately, being at Weimar, the only danger would be that you might refuse to receive me, and his wish of having me at Weimar would entirely depend upon your friendship, which, therefore, he should try to perpetuate. With that he was quite satisfied.
You have given me great pleasure with little Tausig. When he came into my room, one fine morning, bringing your letter, I shook you cordially by the hand. He is a terrible youth. I am astonished, alternately, by his highly developed intellect and his wild ways. He will become something extraordinary, if he becomes anything at all. When I see him smoking frightfully strong cigars, and drinking no end of tea, while as yet there is not the slightest hope of a beard, I am frightened like the hen, when she sees the young ducklings, whom she has hatched by mistake, take to the water. What will become of him I cannot foresee, but whisky and rum he will not get from me. I should, without hesitation, have taken him into my house, if we had not mutually molested each other by pianoforte playing. So I have found him a room in a little hole close to me, where he is to sleep and work, doing his other daily business at my house. He does, however, no credit to my table, which, in spite of my grasswidowerhood, is fairly well provided. He sits down to table every day stating that he has no appetite at all, which pleases me all the less, because, the reason is, the cheese and the sweets he has eaten. In this manner he tortures me continually, and devours my biscuits, which my wife doles out grudgingly even to me. He hates walking, and yet declares that he would like to come with me when I propose to leave him at home. After the first half hour he lags behind, as if he had walked four hours.
My childless marriage is thus suddenly blessed with an interesting phenomenon, and I take in, in rapid doses, the quintessence of paternal cares and troubles. All this has done me a great deal of good; it was a splendid diversion, for which, as I said before, I have to thank you. You knew what I wanted. Of course the youth pleases me immensely in other ways, and, although he acts like a naughty boy, he talks like an old man of pronounced character. Whatever subject I may broach with him, he is sure to follow me with clearness of mind and remarkable receptivity. At the same time it touches and moves me, when this boy shows such deep, tender feeling, such large sympathy, that he captivates me irresistibly. As a musician he is enormously gifted, and his furious pianoforte playing makes me tremble. I must always think of you and of the strange influence which you exercise over so many, and often considerably gifted, young men. I cannot but call you happy, and genuinely admire your harmonious being and existence.
My wife will return in a fortnight, after having finished her cure, which will have lasted three months. My anxiety about her was terrible, and for two months I had to expect the news of her death from day to day. Her health was ruined, especially by the immoderate use of opium, taken nominally as a remedy for sleeplessness. Latterly the cure she uses has proved highly beneficial; the great weakness and want of appetite have disappeared, and the recovery of the chief functions (she used to perspire continually), and a certain abatement of her incessant excitement, have become noticeable. The great enlargement of her heart will be bearable to her only if she keeps perfectly calm and avoids all excitement to her dying day. A thing of this kind can never be got rid of entirely. Thus I have to undertake new duties, over which I must try to forget my own sufferings.
Well, and how about you? Will you come to my assistance again this year? Your kind heart promises me to do so every year, but, during the nine years of my exile, I have succeeded only twice in tearing you away from your great dense world. Although you have promised me your visit for this year, you will find it natural if I am not too certain of seeing my wish fulfilled. I must add several marks of interrogation and of prayer. Cordial thanks to the dear, heavenly Child for her last letter; I hope my silence was eloquent. A thousand greetings and cordial responses to you three dear ones! I also wish to be remembered to F. Muller, who sent me a beautiful letter of congratulation on my birthday. I shall write to him soon, without fail.
Richard Wagner
Source: Project Gutenberg eBook #4234, Correspondence of Wagner and Liszt — Volume 2, No. 260