DEAREST FRANZ,
Your letter of 23rd ult. was forwarded to me from Geneva very late, and I saw from it that you were near me,—"in the Tyrolese mountains," you said,—and this raised the hope in me that I should see you and speak to you soon. I must doubt, however, whether my letter to that effect, addressed to you "Hotel de Baviere", Munich, reached you in time, because I have neither seen nor heard anything of you. I feel that my desire of personal communication with you will not be realised, and I therefore write to you as to certain points, in connection with which I owe you an explanation.
Altogether this cannot amount to much; you had to attend to University celebrations, etc., which, pardon me for saying so, appeared extremely trivial to me. I did not press you any more, but I must confess that when at last I received the news of your intended arrival on the 20th, it did not impress me very much.
Of my desire of selecting Venice for my place of abode, I gave you a full account in my last letter from Geneva, in which I also informed you of the satisfactory news I had had from the Austrian minister at Berne. I am in quest of repose and absolute retirement, such as only a larger town can offer to me. My attitude towards my surroundings must be an absolutely negative one; in that manner alone can I gain leisure and the proper mood for my work.
Your warnings and admonitions not to rely on the performance of my operas in Italy I pass over. Whatever can have given you the curious and mistaken notion that my journey to Italy had this ambitious, artistic purpose, I fail to see. I have selected an Italian town because I hate Paris, and because here in Venice I am certain to be removed from any possible contact with artistic publicity. This was not the case even at Zurich, which for that reason had long since become disagreeable to me. That newspaper writers explain my sojourn in Venice as a political manoeuvre in order gradually to open Germany to me, is quite in accordance with the spirit and intellect of such people. I hope you will soon divest yourself of the idea that anything similar was in my mind. As an Austrian city, Venice exists for me only in so far as it does not belong to the German Confederacy, and as I may consequently live there in security. This has proved to be true. Unfortunately I could not prevent my landlord from trumpeting about my stay here, which in consequence was made public sooner than I desired. The police which, once more, asked for my passport, has, however, returned it to me with the remark that there is nothing against my undisturbed stay at Venice. Whether this was the result of the intercession of the Grand Duke, for which I had asked, I cannot tell.
You will be pleased to hear that Venice has not disappointed my expectations. The melancholy silence of the Grand Canal, on the banks of which I live in a stately palace with large rooms, is sympathetic to me. Amusement and an agreeable diversion of the mind is afforded by a daily walk in the square of St. Mark, a trip in a gondola to the islands, walks there, etc. It will be the turn of the art treasures later on. The entirely new and interesting character of the surroundings is very pleasant to me. I am waiting for my grand piano, and hope to resume my work without interruption next month. My only thought is of completing "Tristan", nothing else.
Farewell; accept my corrections in the benevolent spirit of a true friend. Pardon the seriousness which pervades me, and all my opinions and judgments. Let me hear something kind from you, and, before all, answer this letter soon.
Always and ever thine
R. W.
270.