Cosima WAGNER. 3 L.A.S. "Cosima", [Berlin and Munich 1864-1867], to her half-sister Claire de Charnacé; 4 pages in-8 each. Beautiful and long letters about politics, music, their mother Marie d'Agoult, the visit of her father Liszt (who wanted to convince her to postpone her separation from Bülow). [Berlin, January 4, 1864]. "One is only betrayed by oneself, I realize that, my dear Bugler, by rereading your letter, the date of which proves that I have been a long month without writing to you; this hot, rainy, senseless December has flowed through my fingers, Christmas celebrations, a trip to Dresden, a trip to Silesia, with their accompaniments of errands, toiletries and other shopping, that is what has scattered my time [...How sad I am for you, my dear, about your father's state of health, from what you tell me I think I can guess that it's the weakening of the mind that saddens you so; alas! The spirit is shedding its leaves like the tree, it is stripped before going to sleep, a sad spectacle, a desolate spectacle, even for those who do not touch us closely, an overwhelming sight for those we love! But you are right to continue to live, as well one never belongs to his pain as one does, unless one locks oneself up alone at the top of a tower like the stylites of former times, or the Buddhist saints their predecessors, better therefore to throw oneself resolutely into the current which willingly or unwillingly carries us along. [...] What a galimatias that European politics is! [...] I will grant you whatever you want as far as France is concerned, but if you were to follow the affairs of Germany you would admit to me that you are in the Eldorado; in your country things are in a bad state, in ours it is the race that is rotten; it seems that Germany is predestined to subsist in disorganization and disarray, and that metaphysics and music have absorbed all its vital forces. Finally, she speaks of Berlioz's Les Troyens and Les Joyeuses Commères de Windsor, "a charming comic opera by Nicolaï, a distinguished musician who died in poverty some fifteen years ago. To be enchanted, all I needed was to love comic music; but it is not the laughable that is missing in life, it is the sublime, and I ask art to make up for it, I do not want it to amuse me (men do) I want it to transport me and make a string vibrate that is too often at a standstill in me. .... [Munich] May 31, 1867. "And I too believe in society and devotion, my dear Claire, and by hearing your voice I feel my belief become exact! I cannot tell you what good your letter did me; first of all it came from you and it was worthy of you as I have loved and admired you since I have known you [...] As for mother, you have reassured me a lot; the thought that you are taking care of her affairs, that you are in her neighborhood, and the news that Mr. de Flavigny wanted to manage the rest of her fortune, are a real consolation to me. As for the ruin, we had foreseen it; I still remember a conversation we had together several years ago, where we came to the conclusion that sooner or later mom would be reduced to the bare necessities. I must confess that I am a little angry with mother, or to put it better, that I am distressed that she only thought it appropriate to confide in me the deplorable state of her affairs at the last moment and in terms so vague, so confused, so exaggerated, that I could only answer her with the greatest reserve. Yesterday she wrote to me that her fortune is indeed lost, I stick to what you tell me my dear Claire, and that is sad enough. If her cerebral faculties are intact after this terrible shock, I like to think that this change of life will throw her into literary work, and perhaps what seems to us to be a great shock will form the basis of a new, more serious, stronger, truer existence. But I say this only to you, at this moment such a hope might seem sacrilegious to mother. When I read her letter, I had only one thought: where is Claire? Now that I know you are with her, it seems to me that all is well"... She has been in Munich "for six weeks, my husband [Hans von Bülow] is choirmaster and he is in charge of organizing the music school of which he will be the director. This is a great triumph considering the opposition that had formed, which had used all the weapons from the dark side. We do not enjoy it much because all the successes of the world cannot brighten the look that we have been able to throw in the lowest human turpitudes. What keeps us afloat is work, the curse and the blessing of man. Now we have work over our eyes. .... [Munich, October 29]. She deplores Claire's problems with her husband, who is suing her: