Dear soul! - Benedictus has fallen substantially in my affection now that I know he writes music - the same thing happens to every new acquaintance that I make, the moment I discover he is another musician who also composes music, but then everyone composes music nowadays, and they are almost always contemptible men, not least because of their weakness and indolence. When I think how much music there is in the world, and for how few works of music I can feel any real affection, to the extent that these few works could be said to contain all that I understand by the name of “music”, you would be amazed if I told you. But I am not saying that. The “daring innovations of instrumentation” of which you speak sadden me: when all these young people begin, all that I hear are “daring innovations”, either of instrumentation or harmony, - but never of melody!
But Benedictus is your “brother”, and consequently my cousin. I am a very bad musician, I read very badly, a new score distracts me, and I feel nothing. In a word, let my “cousin” risk it! -
But now to more serious matters: first of all, the two chests which have not arrived. Well! They will arrive, and I shall immerse myself in your generous soul. Cancel the pink satin entirely: there would be too much of it, and it would be good for nothing. Can I expect the two remnants which I mentioned in my last letter? - The brocade can be reserved: I’m inclined to order 30 metres, but perhaps the colours can be changed to flatter my taste even better; in other words: the fawn striped material would be silver-grey, and the blue my pink, very pale and delicate. - In the mean time I have intercepted a letter from Felix to C., offering her a black velvet dress at a very reasonable price. I asked for this dress two weeks ago in order to have it before Christmas. Time is short, I don’t have Felix’s address any longer. Would you call on him, and tell him to hurry? -
Ah! and the Japanese dress: I spend every hour of the day looking at your magnificent painting: with black hair? (Is it you?) You frighten me with all your “oils”. I shall make mistakes with them: in general I prefer powders, since they cling more gently to fabrics, etc. But, once again, be prodigal, above all in the quantity of oils to put in the bath, such as the “ambergris” etc. I have my bathtub below my “studio”, and I like to smell the perfumes rising.
For the rest, do not think ill of me! I am old enough to indulge in childish pursuits! - I have three years of Parsifal ahead of me, and nothing must tear me away from the peaceful tranquillity of creative seclusion.
Come, - Come even if you have to bring my cousin! -
The exhibition? - Oh!, let it come here, and be put on display in my studio!
Oh! beloved soul, dearly beloved soul! All is so tragic, all that is real! But you will always love me - and I cannot do otherwise, however strong my will.
A thousand kisses.
R.
Source: Selected Letters of Richard Wagner, trans. and ed. Stewart Spencer and Barry Millington (W. W. Norton & Company, 1988), No. 460