One other matter I have to place before you.  You remember that I wrote to you some time ago that I had at last discovered here an excellent and intelligent copyist for my musical manuscripts.  To him I gave, in the first instance, Klindworth’s pianoforte score of the “Valkyrie,” and he brought me the first act beautifully written; but his charge for the time employed, moderate enough though I found it, appeared to me so high, that I could not possibly afford the expense from my yearly income.  I considered what might be done, and found that, if I really went on with my composition, I should have exactly three years’ occupation for a copyist This would include the copying of the full scores, the pianoforte scores, and all the vocal and orchestral parts.  If the enterprise of the performance should in any way be accomplished, three years’ salary for a copyist might well be added to the estimate of the costs, and the question would be whether one could find, at this moment, a small number of shareholders who would advance the necessary funds.  I should have to engage my amanuensis for exactly three years, and pay him an annual salary of eight hundred francs.  The only awkward part would be that I should have to bind myself to furnish the compositions in this given time.  I might, however, as soon as I found myself unable to continue, give notice to both shareholders and copyist.  For one year I have more than sufficient work for the copyist, and whatever he had written might, in such a case, be handed over to the shareholders as a security.  I think that would be fair enough.  Kindly see, dearest Franz, whether you can manage this for me.  In the meantime I let him go on with the pianoforte arrangement, but as soon as you are bound to give me a negative answer I shall stop him, for, as I said before, I cannot bear this expense from my housekeeping money.

It was an evil, evil fate that we did not see each other last year.  You must come soon, if possible this spring.  I feel that on our meeting this time everything, everything depends.  I am continually at war with my health, and fear a relapse at every moment.  But let us leave this for today.  We shall soon meet.

Many thanks for your letter from Berlin, received today.  Alwine Frommann writes to me every day, always in a great state of anxiety about the positive and permanent success of “Tannhauser.”  It appears that in over-witty and wholly unproductive Berlin everything has to be born anew.  “Kladderadatsch” was quite right in taunting me with the fact that I had surrendered “Tannhauser” to Berlin, solely for the sake of the royalties.  That is so.  It is my fault, and I have to suffer for it as vulgarly as possible.  Very well, I suffer, but unfortunately I do not even get anything by it.

Could I only bring back the state of things of four years ago!  Enough.  It is my own fault, and it serves me right.

Try to be as little annoyed as possible at Vienna.  I am anxious to learn whether you will be at all satisfied.