Several times, dearest friend, I made an attempt to write to you on serious, and to me important, matters, but I had many things to settle in my own mind first. At last I feel sufficiently mature, and will tell you in plain words what is in my heart. Your last visit, much disturbed as was our intercourse, has left a decisive impression on me, which is this: your friendship is the most important and most significant event of my life. If I can enjoy your conversation frequently and quietly, and in my own way, I shall have all that I desire, and the rest will be of subordinate value. You cannot have a similar feeling, because your life is just the opposite of mine. You love diversion, and live in it, and your desire of self-concentration is therefore temporary. I, on the contrary, live in the most absolute solitude, and therefore want occasional diversion, which, however, in my meaning, is nothing but artistic stimulus. That stimulus the musical world cannot give me; you alone can. All that I lack, especially as a musician, owing to nature and insufficient education, my intercourse with you and no one else can alone give me. Without this stimulus my limited musical capacity loses its fertility; I become discontented, laborious, heavy, and producing becomes torture to me. I never had this feeling more vividly than since our last meeting.

I have therefore but one desire, that of being able to visit you when I wish, and of living with you periodically.

Well, seriously speaking, how does this matter stand? This letter will find you at Weimar. What news have you to give me from the Grand Duke? I ask you urgently, let me have conclusive and definite information soon. Much depends upon it. Let me explain about Weimar. I want to come to the Altenburg, not to Weimar; and if it were possible I should be quite willing to live there incognito. As this will be impossible, my existence might be noticed by the Court. If the Court wants anything of me, I am prepared to appear there in person, either reading my poems, or performing fragments of my music, such as the first act of the "Valkyrie," in conjunction with you, and after our fashion. I do not want to go before the public at all. Can this be arranged, and can the possibility of my visit to Weimar be accelerated?

Concerning my income and my recent hopes of a pension from the Weimar Court separately, or in conjunction with others, you have given me some important hints, which I have not left unnoticed or unconsidered. I should prefer to remain without subvention from that quarter which would make any subsequent relation to the Weimar Court much easier to me, because it is my nature to give rather than receive.

I do not deny it would be very desirable if you could soon make an arrangement with the Hartels about the "Nibelungen," for which object, in accordance with your kind offer, I gave you discretionary power. If you should succeed in this, it would certainly be advisable to interest the Weimar Court in my work, to the extent that it might for some time grant me certain advantages on account of the honorarium which I should receive for the publication.

If you could not ask this without loss of dignity, my only way would be to give up the "Nibelungen," and begin a simple work such as "Tristan" instead, which would have the advantage that I could presumably dispose of it to the theatres at once, and receive royalties in return, although, as you know, the music trade would give me nothing for it.

Let me express my sincere regret at giving you again care and anxiety. If you decline to meddle with what I ask you, I shall think it quite natural on your part; but more depends upon your decision, and especially upon your success, than you may perhaps imagine. I cannot drag on like this.

Since my return from St. Gallen I have not seen a soul except Herwegh. Solitary walks, a little work and reading, constitute my whole existence, in addition to which there were some unpleasant attacks on the little rest I have, which did not allow me to breathe freely, and impaired my health to an unbearable extent. The correspondence between Goethe and Schiller alone pleased me much; it reminded me of our relation, and showed me the precious fruits which, in favourable circumstances, might spring from our working together.

Your Munich news showed you to me in your ever serene artistic element, which I cordially enjoyed with you. Your encounter with X. I regret. All I told you of the man was, that at one time I was pleased with his voice and manner, but could form no judgment whatever of his method. As you were no longer able to hear him sing, and as none of his pupils was sufficiently advanced to let you hear some real thing, I can well understand that the poor man must have bored you terribly with his theory; but I thank you for the trouble you have taken, and shall make use of your hint. I thought you would have been able to let me know something about Dingelstedt, and his conduct towards "Tannhauser," etc. Probably there was nothing pleasant to tell, and you remained silent in consequence. A thousand thanks to the most excellent Princess for the most astonishing cushion, and especially for the famous German letter. I sent her a short answer to Munich, but it probably did not reach you.

To the good Child I shall write shortly; continue to love me all three of you. I need it. Best remembrances from my wife. Farewell, and let me soon hear something comforting.