Your last lines made me feel very sad; for a long time I could not answer them. The thought of our meeting in Vienna had grown so familiar, that at last I felt perfectly sure of it. To tell you the truth, for ever so long I did not believe in it; and now when faith had come at last, I have to give it up again! What we leave in the hands of the future, is taken from us for the moment, perhaps for ever; the moment is our very own, but who can tell what the dim Mother hides in her dark bosom? — Foreseeing the difficulties that might confront the birth of a Tristan, it was chiefly our meeting that lay in my mind; and had we known that you would only stay such a short time in Vienna, we should certainly have come sooner. It was not to be!
But now I cannot rest. We will go and waylay the Mother where she still is awake; Otto and I intend starting for Venice on Monday. We shall not stay there long, however; in a fortnight, or three weeks at most, we shall be back again. It will strengthen, refresh, and stimulate us, before the winter sets in, as I hoped Vienna would have done. For, even if life does appear an idyl here and there, a proper gaze would soon find out the material for tragedy; reciprocal short-sightedness protects mankind from this discovery. Then "seeing" is painless in itself, but "being" always painful; you worshipper of Schopenhauer, you really should know that! It follows that the people who see much and are nothing, are certainly the happiest! And "to be happy" is the main thing, is it not? To be great, to be good, to be lovely, does not satisfy man; he wants also to be happy, — strange caprice! It seems to me that if one were either of those three, he would never need the hollow, toilsome apparatus of the other! Yet, what do I know of it?
There have been great changes among the notables of this place. Gottfried Keller has been made Town Clerk and taken possession of Reg.-R. Sulzer's old quarters in the Chancellery. Thus the poor mother of the "grünen Heinrich" has lived to taste the joy of seeing her son a recipient of outward honours and dignities as well! Moleschott, moreover, has been called to the University of Turin as Professor of his faculty. His life here had been entirely forlorn of late, and almost friendless.
And last but not least your Herwegh has received a summons to Naples, as Professor of "Comparative Literature." It was high time, for his affairs were perilously near to utter ruin. Perhaps he may retrieve himself through an honourable occupation so suited to his favourite pursuits. The worthies here are shaking their heads over the levity of de Sanctis; but for my part I am glad that a few well-sounding names should get noised abroad for once: it is such a very rare thing in Germany. What is sounded there, rings mostly false, and only those whom people do not talk about are worth the trouble.
What will be the next tidings from my friend? I share with him the chagrin of his latest disappointment. Whither will the Fates lead him next? Will a time ever come, when he can take a rest on our green hill? Let us hope on, altho' it seems so hopeless! Thanks for the photograph, and sincere affection!
Mathilde Wesendonck.
Source: Richard Wagner to Mathilde Wesendonck, trans. William Ashton Ellis (Charles Scribner's Sons, 1905), No. 155