Good people, do something new, new, and once more new. If you stick to the old, the devil of barrenness holds you in thrall, and you are the most miserable of artists.
Well, this is off my heart; he who charges me with insincerity will have to answer Heaven; he who charges me with arrogance is silly.
I can write no more; do not be angry; my head is bursting. Only let me say the warmest farewell that is in my heart. Love me as before, and write soon to
Your
RICHARD WAGNER
ZURICH, September 8th, 1852
84.
DEAREST FRIEND,
After my last letter you will think that I am quite mad. Lord knows how I wrote myself into such a fury. Today follows something very sober, a troublesome thing for you.
Frau Rockel sent me the letter of her poor husband, without giving me his address. I ask you therefore to forward her the enclosed letter, also two parcels, which I have posted to you today—(l) two little pamphlets; (2) a score of "Lohengrin"—both meant for Rockel, and to be sent through his wife. H. was really to have the score, but must resign it to the poor prisoner. He must do this for the love of both of us, and Heaven will find him another copy sooner or later. As I have once begun asking favours, I go on. Be kind enough to send me two things:—