18 - WAGNER (Richard). Autograph letter signed “Richard Wagner,” in German, to the pianist Agnes Street-Klindworth. Biebrich-am-Rhein [now part of the city of Wiesbaden, across from Mainz], March 26, 1862. 4 pp., in-8; small tear at a restored fold. Complete transcription enclosed.

WAGNER (Richard). Autograph letter signed “Richard Wagner,” in German, to the pianist Agnes Street-Klindworth. Biebrich-am-Rhein [now part of the city of Wiesbaden, across from Mainz], March 26, 1862. 4 pp., in-8; small tear at a restored fold. Complete transcription enclosed. “Dear Friend! The misconception that my silence in response to your last message may have caused you is far too embarrassing for me not to feel compelled to dispel it! But please do not hold it against me that, at that time, I set everything and anything aside in favor of my immediate concerns! The fact that you were unable to receive me was, admittedly, a new disappointment for me, but only in the sense that I had to curse my ill fortune. IT IS TRULY HARD TO BELIEVE WHAT DIFFICULTIES AND OBSTACLES HAVE STOOD IN THE WAY OF EVERY SINGLE ONE OF MY STEPS IN RECENT TIMES, and truly, not that I wish to complain about the people with whom I am on friendly terms: they were and remained, strictly speaking, what they are and can be to me; whoever my personal misfortune was, it turned all my circumstances against me as soon as I sought to enter into them. I’ll cite for you just one particularly bitter instance: that, PRECISELY AT THE TIME WHEN, AFTER 12 YEARS, I WAS FINALLY ABLE TO TAKE UP A POSITION WITH LISZT, THIS HOSPITABLE ALTENBURG OF HIS—which, in the event of a pardon, I had looked forward to for years as my ever-welcoming refuge—HAD TO BE CLOSED AND SEALED! – But that’s how it went with everything for me! When I wrote to you saying I was coming to Brussels, I asked myself in advance, “What misfortune will now also close off this refuge I’ve long had my sights set on?” Truly, I had to laugh aloud and bitterly when I received your reply, which was so embarrassing to you: I was, to a certain extent, already aware of it in advance. – But now I feel that I must speak out against you, so that you do not think I am taking my misfortune out on you. But prove to me that you have not merely avoided me simply to have nothing to do with me! Since you yourself, as you wrote, are now without a fixed abode, perhaps you might travel up the Rhine for a change. I have finally settled in (on my own) in two beautifully situated little rooms here right on the Rhine, and AM NOW WAITING FOR A VISIT FROM MY MUSE, INTO WHOSE ARMS I COULD FINALLY THROW MYSELF ONCE AGAIN! COME, with or without Papa, and visit me sometime: I NEED SOMETHING HUMAN AND FRIENDLY! BRING IT TO ME! Since you couldn’t take me in, perhaps I can take you in: the first floor of my house is empty; I could quickly set up a few rooms for you there with some furniture from Wiesbaden. I long so very much for a stroke of genius to come my way, even if I had to set the stage for it to some extent. So please accept my warmest regards for today, and give my very best regards to your diplomatic father—and may you both still hold a little love for me!... » Translation: “Dear friend! The false impression that might be drawn from my silence regarding your last message is already too painful for me, even though I should have felt compelled not to distract you! But please do not see this as malice; it is simply that, caught up in one worry after another, I have completely neglected everything! That you were unable to welcome me was, however, yet another disappointment—but only in the sense that I curse my cruel fate. IT’S REALLY ALMOST HARD TO BELIEVE WHAT DIFFICULTIES AND OBSTACLES HAVE ARISEN AT EVERY TURN FOR ME LATELY, and truly, not that I have any reason to complain about the people with whom I have friendly relations: they were and remain, strictly speaking, what they are and can be to me; my own personal bad luck has thwarted every opportunity I had at hand, whenever I wanted to visit them. I’ll give you just one strangely painful example: PRECISELY WHEN I WAS FINALLY ABLE TO VISIT LISZT ONE DAY AFTER TWELVE YEARS, HE WAS FORCED TO PERMANENTLY CLOSE HIS HOSPITABLE ALTENBURG—which I had for years looked forward to, in the event of an amnesty, regarding as a pleasant refuge that would be open to me as if it were my own home [Wanted by the Prussian and Saxon police since 1849 for politically revolutionary writings, Wagner had just been granted amnesty, but Franz Liszt had left the Altenburg villa in 1861, where he had lived in Weimar since 1848.] That was how it was for me in every respect. Even as I was writing to you to ask you to come to Brussels, I found myself thinking in advance: what ill fortune will now also close off this refuge that I have had in sight for so long?