Milan, March 25, 59. So I have taken leave in your name, Lady-friend, of my dreamy Venice. Like a new world the hum of streets surrounds me, a world of dust and dryness, and Venice already seems a fairy dream. — Some day you'll hear a dream I brought to chiming there ! A few nights ere my departure, though, in reality I had another wondrous pretty dream ; so sweet that I must tell it you, albeit it was much too beautiful to bear the telling. All I can describe of it, was somewhat as follows : — A scene I witnessed in your garden (which looked, however, a trifle otherwise). Two doves passed over the mountains ; I had despatched them to announce to you my coming, and there were two of them : why two, I cannot tell, but pair-wise they flew, close together. When you espied them, of a sudden you soared aloft in the air to meet them : in your hand you were swaying a mighty bushy laurelwreath ; with that you caught the pair of doves, and drew it fluttering toward you, playfully waving the wreath and its prisoners to and fro. Then suddenly, somewhat as the sun bursts forth after a storm, so blinding a radiance fell upon you that it woke me up. — Now, you may say what you like, I really dreamed that, only infinitely more beautiful and exquisite than it can be described : my poor brain could never have invented such a thing of set purpose ! — Else, I am tired, and, presumably from the onrush of Spring, had of late been very agitated, with thumping heart and boiling blood. When I took your violet in my hand, to wish myself something, the poor thing trembled so between my hot fingers that the wish came to me quick : Quiet blood ! Quiet heart ! And now I confide in the violet, for it has heard my wish. — I was in the Brera to-day, and gave S. Anthony your greeting ; it is a glorious picture. Not far from it I saw the S. Stephen of Crespi, the splendid martyr between two churls who stone him — realism and idealism directly side by side : of profound significance ! I cannot understand how these subjects, in such wonderful execution, have not always been recognised by everyone as the sublimest pinnacle of art ; whereas many, and Goethe himself, have regarded them as oppugnant to painting. It is certainly the supreme glory of the newer art, that, what philosophy can only conceive in the negative — as worldrenunciation — this has been able to give us in such positive, appealing truth, and so beautiful withal, that I hold as poverty-stricken every image of the joy of life and every Venus, against these sacred transports of the martyr-death such as van Dyck, Crespi, Raphael, and so on, portray them. I can find nothing higher, more deeply satisfying, more beautifully ennobling. — I have also been into, and on to the roof of, the marble cathedral ; but really that is imposing to tediousness ! — And now tho' I shall get no more letters at Venice, the weather is favouring me, the snow of the Gotthard about to revive me, and I soon shall no longer be far from you. I'm uncommonly glad at the thought of Lucerne, VENICE LETTERS 1*3 and promise myself great refreshment from weekly rides on the Rigi, Pilatus, Seelisberg etc. I mean to beat up glorious quarters there, and some day you must .come over to see me with all the Wesen-hood of Wesen-home — friend Swan [pfte] is already en route, — If you give a great big party soon, in memory of our house-concert, bear myself in mind a little too. — Bless Antonio and Stefano, and all the saints. Hearty greetings to Wesendonck and my little girl-correspondent. I cannot rightly bid farewell, as I'm coming so near you that almost nothing but " Ave ! " seems fit. To-morrow ahead to the Alps ! Adieu, Lady-friend ! Your R.W. " Luzern, Poste Restante." LUCERNE APRIL TO AUGUST 1859 "5
Richard Wagner
Source: Richard Wagner to Mathilde Wesendonck, translated by Ellis, No. 63