but it is useless to demand the
impossible, and I was in the wrong.'

"It is thoroughly characteristic of Wagner to regard his sufferings as
so much more important than those of the husband whom he wronged.
Wagner always thought well of himself. But poor Isolde is dead at last.
She must have been very old and very sorry for the past. Let the
orchestra play the 'Liebestod.'"

Judging from external evidences, there is reason enough to accept such
a theory of the relations of Wagner and this sympathetic, beautiful
woman. In fact, it stretches credulity to the bursting point to accept
any other opinion. And yet, it is only fair to say that Wagner put a
very different construction upon the friendship, and to confess that
stranger things have happened in real life than the purely artistic
wedlock, which Wagner claimed for the intimacy of the two. Mathilde was
a poet, and Wagner set to music some of her verses, notably his
beautiful "Traume." Besides, she was the inspiration of his Isolde, and
she gave him the sympathy Minna denied.

According to a recently published article in a German review, Wagner
wrote a long letter to his sister Clara, explaining why Minna had left
him, and making himself out to be as thoroughly misunderstood
domestically as he had always been musically. It is a long letter, but
quoteworthy, the italics being mine:

"MY DEAR CLARA:--I promised you further information regarding the
causes of the decisive step which you now see me taking. I communicate,
therefore, what is necessary to enable you to contradict various pieces
of gossip, to which indeed I am indifferent.

"What for six years has kept and comforted me, and especially has
strengthened me in remaining by Minna's side, in spite of the enormous
differences in our characters and natures, is the love of that young
lady who, at first and for a long time, timid, doubting, hesitating,
and bashful, finally more determinately and surely grew closer to me.
As there never could be any talk of a union between us, our profound
affection took the sadly melancholy character which keeps aloof all
that is common and base, and recognises its fount of happiness only in
the welfare of the other. From the period of our first acquaintance she
had displayed the most unwearied and most delicate care for me, and in
the most courageous way had obtained from her husband everything that
could lighten my life.

"He could not, in presence of the undisguised frankness