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 caligraphic pedant.  The scores will be my most perfect masterpiece of caligraphy.  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.

Farewell in the sign of the eagle.

Your

R. W.

160.

Let me tell you that tears prevent me from reading on.

Oh, you are unique of your kind!

It has struck me like a thunderbolt.  Heavens, what have you written to me there?

You alone know it!

161.

A thousand thanks, dearest Franz.  You have helped me out of a terrible difficulty after I had exhausted all other resources.  By the autumn, I think, my affairs will be in better order.

When are you coming?  I am going to Canton Valais in a few days, but intend to be back soon.  I have no money for roaming about, and while I am enjoying my work nothing else attracts me.

The “Valkyrie” has been begun, and now I shall go at it in good style.

How curious these contrasts are—­I mean, between the first love scene of the “Valkyrie” and that of the “Rhinegold.”