As to the rest, my pleasure in life is not great. All is quiet and lonely around me, and I frequently feel as if I were dead and forgotten.
But how are you? Have you quite recovered? I frequently dream of
Weimar and of you—wild, confused things.
Let us say nothing more about "Wiland"; I am heartily sorry that—you are right.
Have you still courage? Are you in good spirits? Do you really still care to live amongst the majestic people of the Philistines who rule the world nowadays? Ah! as long as we possess fancy we can pull along somehow.
My poor dear little parrot is also dead! He was my spiritus familiaris, the good brownie of my house.
Farewell, and forgive me.
Always and wholly thine,
RICHARD WAGNER.
ENGE, ZURICH, February 18th, 1851.
56.