Esteemed Herr Apel:
I hope you will not be surprised at receiving a letter from me, and a letter such as this. God knows that I would have preferred to begin with words of sympathy for your own misfortune instead of disturbing you with a plea on my own behalf. But my misfortune is that I cannot control my own fate, and I am forced either to turn to you or give way to despair. I shall state the purpose of my letter in a few words.
This morning Richard had to leave me and go to a debtors' prison. I am still so terribly agitated that my senses are in a whirl. The one thing that has enabled me to calm my thoughts a little is a letter from Herr Laube which has just arrived, and which I have opened in Richard's absence.
On the one hand it takes away all hope of assistance in our distress, but on the other it gives me strength to take my ultimate step—a desperate one, I admit. But along with it Herr Laube says that you expressed yourself as friendly and sympathetic; if you could know, worthy Herr Apel, how much we are inured to the unfriendliness and indifference of those whom we are compelled to approach for help, you would understand how this report revived my hopes to some extent. What would there be left for poor me, if I couldn't even attach my hopes to an expression of sympathy? In this you may find what gives me courage to approach you. My poor husband, who as a foreigner doesn't even enjoy the advantages open to a native under such circumstances, is in the hands of a German residing here, who behaves toward him with such stubbornness that I can't count on any softening or release from him. I am quite bewildered at what to do next. Even if I myself had the means to get away from Paris, I would under no circumstances leave Richard in such a position; for I know he didn't get into it by recklessness, but by following the noblest and most natural striving of an artist, as would have happened to anyone else without special help. It was only after much opposition that I had agreed with his plan to go to Paris; but the more closely I understand his projects here, the more I realize that if he perishes without reaching his goal, which would otherwise be possible, it will be due solely to the lack of support. He has by now really got so far that he soon may expect the fruits of his efforts, and it is only the sacrifices he has made until now which stand in his way. He had work and was earning almost enough so that with care I could myself manage our small household; but what has happened today brings it all to nothing. And now it has come to the point where a work of his was to be performed at a big concert. In two weeks there was to be performed the overture of his Rienzi, which he has just finished and of which there was every prospect of a great success. But without his personal presence at the rehearsal this will not be possible. Is this not enough to throw us into despair? What can I do? Poor and alone, of what use is it for me to weep?
Could this really be the end for us? Can it be that you, who for so long have held friendship for Richard in your heart, would allow him to be lost to us because a greater sacrifice than usual is required? God forgive me, I can't bring myself to believe that this is to be the end for us. It is on account of my indescribable predicament, if I am overstepping the borders of propriety in making a plea to you which is prompted by despair. To my horror I learned some time ago how much Richard already owes you. You used to get money for him by your credit; but what was his situation then compared to ours now? Wouldn't this sacrifice be much more adequate now, since there is a sure prospect of paying off such a debt in the course of one, or at the most two years? Believe me, I usually fail to share Richard's exalted hopes, but now I know from what his own acquaintances say that he is within a single step of attaining his goal. My God, what more can I say? I haven't the composure to express clearly to you all that I could say, but I will make up for it later—all I can say is: Help! Help! If you can make this great sacrifice for Richard, and make it as quickly as possible, God will reward you, if Richard's grateful heart and my prayers should be not enough; I can add nothing more; Heaven grant that my prayers be heard and our thanks shall be boundless. Hearty wishes for your welfare from your
faithful friend . . .
Source: Letters of Richard Wagner: The Burrell Collection, ed. John N. Burk (Macmillan, 1950), No. 27