You make me blush! without a blush I can scarcely read what you are going to tell the world of me; and now you want me to interpret it. Only if you earnestly desire it will I grant your prayer, a prayer which flatters me too much to call it a "prayer." Would that I could be of use to you! My last letter must have appeared dissonant to you. I do not know what moved me to speak bitterly of newspaper notices. One reason, however, I may tell you: many things have determined me at last to speak in a literary way once more. I am occupied with a work the title of which is to be "The Essence of Opera." In it I mean to speak clearly and definitely about opera as a type of art, and to indicate as plainly as possible what should be done to it in order to develop the hidden germs to full bloom. I should have liked to dedicate this book to you, because in it I announce the salvation and justification of the musician qua musician. I should do this if I did not think it better not to drag you into this address to the musical world. In that manner I shall preserve greater liberty to you. The book therefore shall be a surprise to you. As in this book I intend to explain my view of the essence of the musical drama, I can find nothing more annoying than to see the most contradictory opinions of me spread amongst the public by witty litterateurs. The world must take me for a muddle-headed and false priest if I preach the drama in words while it is said of my works that musical confusion and noise reign in them. But enough of this.
Your letter to B.'s mother was another noble thing of yours. Best thanks.
I once more go to battle with my deadly enemy the winter. I must think a great deal of the preservation of my health, and before the spring I cannot work at "Siegfried" with a will, but in the summer it shall be ready. Let me soon hear something of your works.
One word more in confidence: at the end of this month I shall have spent all my money; Zigesar has sent me less than you made me hope. Towards the new year I again hope for some assistance from Frau R. in D., but that also is uncertain. Can you—but how shall I express it? If you have to do something beneath your or my dignity, you cannot; that I know. The rest will be all right. God bless you. I think the devil will not get hold of me just yet.
Farewell, best of men. Send me your scores. Farewell, and remain kind to me.
Your
RICHARD WAGNER
ZURICH, October 8th, 1850
48.