Dear Franz,
Here you have the “babble” back again, the possession of which I do not envy you. Let us put this disgusting nonsense on one side; on hearing the jargon, devoid of honesty or character, which these stupid souls call “prudence,” one feels as if a hundred thousand fools were gathered together. Our fortune lies at bottom in the fact that we do not yield to such people, and our perseverance in this is sufficient gain. To “get” something by it is of course more than we can expect. Thus in this instance I am quite satisfied to know that we shall not do what X. wants; this is alone sufficient to put me in a good temper; what happens otherwise is a matter of indifference to us. Berlin to us has been the occasion of celebrating a feast of friendship. What else have we to do with or to care about Berlin? A thousand thanks for all you are doing and the way in which you do it. As regards “success” in X.’s practical sense, I shall probably never have it. It would indeed be a kind of satire on my situation and my being. On the other hand, I should at any moment be prepared to die gladly and with a smile on my face if only a really fine opportunity would offer itself. What more can one desire? As regards my personal future, I sincerely wish for nothing more than a beautiful death, for life is somehow out of joint. I often feel sorry that things around me do not seem to tend in that direction. Every one seems to care chiefly for a “long life,” however narrow, thin, and poor it may be. This is sad.
Of all this we will talk when you come, for that you will come is certain, Lord be thanked. Bring your symphonic poems with you; that will strengthen my thread of life a little. Do not look out for a copyist. Madame Wesendonck has given me a gold pen of indestructible power, which has once more turned me into a calligraphic pedant. The scores will be my most perfect masterpiece of calligraphy. One cannot fly from his destiny. Meyerbeer years ago admired nothing so much in my scores as the neat writing. This act of admiration has been my curse; I must write neat scores as long as I live in this world. You will not be allowed to see the Rhinegold till it has been completed in this worthy fashion, and that can only be done in certain idle hours of the long winter evenings. At present I have no time for it. I must begin the composition of the Valkyrie, which I feel joyfully in every limb. Greet the Princess and the Child with the full power of greeting. For today I must be satisfied with this request; I can write no more, not even with my gold pen. I might say a good deal more if I were not taken with a fit of weeping, as once on the railway. I have just been called out; an eagle was flying over our house. A good omen! “Long live the eagle;” he flew splendidly. The swallows were very anxious.
Richard Wagner
Source: Project Gutenberg eBook #4234, Correspondence of Wagner and Liszt — Volume 2, No. 159