Venice, March 2, 59.* Best thanks to the fair Fairy-tale-teller, she tells so beautifully, and yet is a long way off having such experienced wrinkles as the Grimms ! I'm in good humour owing to the second act's success. Of evenings of late I've had Ritter, and Winterberger into the bargain,f to play me the chief portions bit by bit, and so it seems I've done a pretty thing : all my earlier works, poor creatures, are thrown into the shade by this single act ! Thus I'm storming away at myself, and ever reducing my children to one. — Ah, dear Heaven ! Thou knowest what I will ! 'tis pure, clear and transparent as Thyself when Thou spread'st Thy fairest crystal o'er me ! From my truest inner man not a cloudlet rises more, that could cloak from any human soul the aspect of my clarity ! Out of themselves they blow them across to me, those clouds ; how much longer must I scatter them, to shew them that I'm, after all, a good pure man ? Nor is it for my own sake, I scatter the clouds — fain would I remain what I am ; but they hide themselves away from me behind those clouds, and I cannot rejoice them ! — Lady-friend, my case is hard, oh — very hard ! But in return, my guardian angel also becks to me. It comforts me, and gives me rest when I need it most. Therefore will I thank it, and tell myself : " Thus was it bound to be, that — so it might be ! " — Only he knows the palm, who has worn the wreath of thorns : and it rests so soft, so swaying in the hand, and bows above the head like the airiest angel's-wing that cools and supremely revives us with its fanning ! — * As I still am very poorly, without exactly being ill, the other day I set my heart upon a land excursion. I wanted to go to Vicenza, but a train was leaving in the other direction, and so I arrived at Treviso. After a miserable night, as the sun was shining I started on a good long walk of about three German miles [14 English]. Out through the gate I made straight for the Alps, which proudly drew their splendent chain against me ; my thoughts were many. Tired out, I returned to the city of lagunes that evening, and asked myself my chief impression of this trip to the main land ; I was so melancholy at finding nothing in my memory but the dust and poor tortured horses, which I lit on again. I looked mournfully down on my silent Canal : " Dust and poor wretched, tortured horses — eh, those thou hast not here ? — but they exist in the world." Then I put out my lamp, prayed my angel for its blessing— and my light went out too, — dust and torment blew away. — Next day work was resumed. — And then I had letters to write — but I have told you that before. Tomorrow I intend to work again, but this letter had got to be written first. With it I glide across, away into the night, where the light goes out, where dust and torment vanish. — Have thanks, child, for this convoy ! could anybody grudge it me? — And a thousand greetings, a thousand good, kind greetings ! R.W.
Richard Wagner
Source: Richard Wagner to Mathilde Wesendonck, translated by Ellis, No. 61