Dearest Friend!
Frau Holda does not quite yet want to come out of her mountain, and still I should like to tell you something very gratifying; of course this is always my wish, but it is especially so on the day when your eyes rest on these lines and when all of us feel the separation so keenly! I need not repeat to you the assurance of my sincere friendship and my profound interest in you—you must know that my dearest wish is to see you happy and content. The most gratifying event for you and for all of us would be first of all your early return—that you have wished for long enough! Could I but bring you its realization! I had expected quite different developments there, and now I share your burden with you! Thus I can only wish you strength, courage, endurance, confidence. Say to yourself: "It must be so," and scorn the vulgarities which confront you. These, too, will pass, and later you will not look back on your London stay without satisfaction when, returned to us, you discuss what depressed you and what made you happy. In the distance then, the Seelisberg beckons, and in its light the glory of Die Walküre, veiled by envious clouds, will rise again. Therefore, don't torture yourself there. Do just what you think is best about staying or leaving; for each one of us can only decide for himself what is best—but one may listen to and weigh the advice of friends. A crown will certainly be yours, even if it be a martyr's crown! You've also grown richer in London, for you've won friends there. It is really a melancholy birthday letter which I'm writing you here—but sympathy should also be welcome to you there, and you will recognize, of course, what is behind all this.
When you return I shall greet you thus:
You have fought, O daring minstrel,
With arms which God had given you;
You have triumphed! Even though
Vulgar minds should harry noble thought yet longer!
My dear wife sends you a purse completely filled with our best wishes. Thanks to the complete rest she is taking, she is quite well.
Hard work is being done on Hochwyl—but one must be patient—it will then turn out nicely.
Let me shake your hand and bid you farewell.
Your
Otto Wesendonck
Alfred Jaëll has won great praise in Frankfurt am Main by performing his transcriptions of your works.
Source: Letters of Richard Wagner: The Burrell Collection, ed. John N. Burk (Macmillan, 1950), No. 153