Lucerne, July 9, 59. It was truly kind of you, dear Child, to send me your news for once, and I'll see what I can find to tell you in reply. The return of the cousin [Otto] by now will certainly have also brought you many a piece of news, and gladly would I profit a little myself of his reports on my birthplace and youthful home [Leipzig], No doubt he went to Dresden too ? Lohengrin he would miss there : it is not to come out, as I hear, till the second half of this month. Meanwhile I have gone through much. First and foremost : — a week ago to-day I moved, i.e. they had me moved, and transported me to No. 7 on the 2nd floor of the " Ur-Hotel," in the " Independence " — Ind^pendance. I feel somewhat degraded, pretty much as Count Giulay after Magenta ; to my agreeable big salon in the " Dependence " even my thoughts dare fly no more. The unkindest cut of all, though, was my having to renounce my Margravine [the " marquee," see p. 127] : the republican monster of a landlord forbade my further intercourse with her. So it's all up with my beautiful morning hour at the open window : a closed shutter bars me from the sun, and at a pinch I can imagine myself sitting in gaol. There you see that I'm not so spoilt and pampered yet, as some folk would like to cry out. I take it in good part, however, as my fellowprisoners, Tristan and Isolde, are soon to feel quite free; and so I now renounce together with them, together with them to get free. Mostly every other day I am at least happy in my work : in between I usually have a less good day, as the good day always makes me overweening, and then I overtax myself. — This time I don't feel that old dread lest I should die before the last note : on the contrary, I'm so certain of finishing, that the day before yesterday I even made a folk-song of it on my ride : " Im Schweizerhof zu Luzern, von Heim und Haus weit und fern — da starben Tristan und Isolde, so traurig er, und sie so holde : sie starben frei, sie starben gern, im Schweizerhof zu Luzern — gehalten von Herrn Oberst Seegessern " — Sung to a folk-tune, I assure you it goes quite well : in the evening I sang it to'Vreneli* I'd make it a present to mine host if he hadn't forbidden me the Margravine. — But Vreneli is my guardian angel ; she leaves no crafty stone unturned, to keep unquiet neighbours off me ; children are not allowed in all the 6tage. Joseph, also, has padded the door to the adjoining chamber with a mattress, and hung one of my curtains over it; which gives my room quite a stately theatrical air. As soon as I've finished my work, though, the heaviest ground of my claims on Abode will have vanished. In Paris I shall hide my diminished head in a chambre garni, and calmly let Fate pass over me ; only when I have my travails in view, do I trouble for a superfine cradle. Moreover, I am growing more and more conscious of my position in life, and the greatest retrenchment now becomes a duty. Perhaps I shall sell my lovely indoor-clothes as well then : you can let me know, if you want to have any of them for your future cabinet of curiosities.— Such are the reductive thoughts, you see, that come to me in my present house of degradation ! — Never mind : it's nearly all over with Tristan, and Isolde, I fancy, will also have given up the ghost this month. Then I shall throw the pair of them and myself into Hartel's arms. Otherwise I know absolutely nothing of the world ! Not a creature bothers about me, and that's really beginning to put me in good humour. God, how incredibly much one can do without ! Only your company, my child, I forgo most unwillingly : once and for all, I know nobody to whom I unbosom myself so gladly. With men it can't even be attempted : at bottom, their only concern — for all their friendship — is never to come out of their shell, to stick to their private opinion, and let themselves be touched as little as possible. It strictly is so: the male lives on himself. But when I think how many good things you have enticed from me already, I can only rejoice at your having never had the least intention to, yet drawing out the best that was in me. How it delighted me, that I introduced S. Bach to you the other day ! Never had he given such delight to myself, and never had I felt so nigh him. But a thing like that doesn't occur to me when alone. When I have music-ed with Liszt, it has been something quite different ; it was music-ing, and technique and Art with a capital played a big r61e : there's always some hitch between men. But, dull as I perhaps appeared to you the last time at Lucerne, yet our being together has borne me good fruit — as you now may gather from my imperturbable mood for work. Is that no proof that I am grateful to you ? and that as a genuine friend ? Don't be surprised, if you don't get rid of me so soon yet ! True, the fine weather is helping too. Even if one has to stay shut indoors the whole day, one knows that it's bright and fair outside, and the evening pertains to enjoyment. If it is hot, still the very breeze that sets the sky so clear, is sweet and comforting. Upon me it has quite a directly perceptible influence : a little agitating, but agreeable. Moreover, it's so beautiful to have the body's needs grow less and less ; I'm living on next to nothing but air now, and merely my heart bleeds at having to pay my landlord just as much for " board " as if I had to stock an English stomach. — For all that, my relish for the gay preponderates. Just think : while working out the herdsman's merry welcome of Isolde's ship the other day, there suddenly occurs to me a still more jubilant melodic strain, almost heroically jubilant, and yet quite popular in cut. I was on the point of turning the whole thing inside out, when I at last discovered that this melody does not belong to Tristan's herdsman, but is Siegfried's to the life. I at once looked up the closing verses of Siegfried with Briinnhilde, and saw that my melody belongs to the words : "Sie ist mir ewig, ist mir immer, Erb' und Eigen, Ein' und All'"— etc. That will have an incredibly dauntless and jubilant air. — If at a whiff I was back in my Siegfried, ought I not still to believe in my life, then, in my — holding out? — Your having found such pleasure in Koppen's book [cf. p. 53] shews me how well you know how to read : / was provoked by so much in the book because I could not stop myself from reflecting how difficult it must make a clear knowledge of Buddha's doctrine to others ; so I'm glad you were not thrown off the scent. Yes, child, that is a view of the world compared wherewith all other dogmas must surely look parochial and petty ! The philosopher with his broadest thought, the explorer of Nature with his most extensive deductions, the artist with his most transcendent fantasies, the man with the widest heart for all that breathes and suffers, — all find in this wondrous, this quite incomparable world-myth a home the least confined, and in it their whole full selves again. — Tell me, now that you have been dwelling there, how our lordly European New-world looks to you ? Do you not find in it either the crudest running to seed, or — the very crudest rudiments of an evolution which blossomed with that noble ur-folk long ago? — Railroads, — civic moralisation ! O ! O ! The repellent effects of our historic Present I can mostly ward off me in no other way than by a quickening drink at that sacred wellspring of the Ganges : one draught thereout, and the whole thing shrivels to the traffic of an anthill. Within there, deep within there, is the world : not there outside, where only madness reigns ! — Well done, then, even Koppen has not harmed you ! — And so we are soon to have peace, after all. Surely the Cousin at Leipzig brought the armistice about ? Perhaps this peace may prove somewhat rotten — but : " who, then, is happy?" — one must remind oneself of that again. In any case Hartels will have helped much towards it, so as to be able to pay me twice the fee \Ring ?~] upon prospects improving. I really meant to charge the Cousin with some such commission for Leipzig ; now he seems to have guessed it. Compliment him on that. — And next time we three are together, I still have a number of tales from my youth to relate to you ; but they won't work loose until we are together. Till then, have all of you good cheer ; praise the Most-gloriously-perfect [p. 103], and keep a corner in your hearts for — my Insignificance.
Richard Wagner
Source: Richard Wagner to Mathilde Wesendonck, translated by Ellis, No. 82