As regards my fate, I look forward with patience to calm, clear, quietly active years.  My work has become dearer to me than ever.  I have resumed it lately; it flows from my spirit like a gentle stream.

In all my relations to the suffering world one thing guides and determines me—­pity.  When I give myself up to it unconditionally, all my personal suffering ceases.

I have at last got my Erard.  It stands in the large echoing hall which serves me as a study.  There “Tristan” is to be finished this winter.  The first act, dearest friend, is quite complete; ask the Hartels to give you the proof-sheets of the full score, which is already engraved.  In the completion of the second act, which I have only slightly sketched, I am continually interrupted by visits.  I have just begun working at it again; it will be very beautiful, and is to be finished and printed by the end of this year at the latest.  By March the last act will follow, and if all goes well I shall witness the first performance about Easter.  You are aware that, through Eduard Devrient’s intercession, the Grand Duke of Baden has acquired a right in this work.  If he can arrange to get me permission to go to Carlsruhe for the performance, it will take place there.  But of this hope also I do not make a vital question; I can wait.

Venice continues to be most sympathetic to me; my choice was guided by instinct, and has turned out well.  This kind of retirement is most pleasant to me.  I see just enough to occupy my fancy agreeably; nothing disturbs me.  That, looking upon this peaceful scene, I also was allowed to look upon you, and that you appeared to me in so beautiful and blissful a light as you did in your last letter, has crowned my happiness.

Be thanked my dear, noble, unique friend!  Shall I say more?  You know all that these words imply.

Greet the Princess and the good Child; they are to be annoyed by nothing in the world, and they are to love me as much as they can.

I hope that these lines will affect you as sympathetically as yours have made me happy.

Farewell, and be always assured of my responsive love.

Your

Richard W.

It would be a good omen if this letter were to reach you on your birthday.

272.

Venice, October 23rd, 1858.

After I had settled with R. on the 21st that we were to congratulate you jointly on your birthday, he came to me on the 22nd and told me that he had just sent you a telegram.  By way of revenge I ordered a dinner with oysters and champagne in the Square of St. Mark, to which a military band played the overture of “Rienzi” most excellently.  We drank your health and clinked our glasses, and had a most pleasant evening.

Of this I send you documentary evidence by this letter.

Your

R. W.

273.

Venice, October 26th, 1858.