Esteemed Sir!
It may not have happened for a long time, and it is less likely to happen again, that the head of any theater makes an offer to a creative artist of just my kind, as you have done. While no theater can be found which, even equipped with the best means, would perform one of my dramatic works, you not only undertake that task, not only sacrifice time and money, without assurance or hope of any gain or even costs, but you yourself invite me to deliver to you new works which nowhere else would even be considered, and along with this you offer me a financial aid enabling me easily to devote myself to my artistic work, a money offer which the best endowed art institute would not or could not afford for that purpose. I considered this act as such an extraordinary one, that I wish to express to you first of all my most sincere joy that such a thing can be possible in these times, even regardless of the fact that I am the one to whom this has happened.
Permit me at this point to refer to something that may enlighten you about my attitude. In my essays, and even recently in a book, which is to appear under the title Opera and Drama, I have elaborately expatiated on the subject of art and its relation to life. I have been able to do this only by establishing an ideal which I consider attainable for mankind. The artist or man who never gets to the point of pursuing an ideal contrary to the prevailing standards, an ideal in which the noblest ability of his spirit appears as the desire of his soul, will never progress a single step beyond the commonplace. Only by the strength of that ideal does he gain the power to rise above the usual level and to take part in what we call an advance, or a progressive development. In order to establish that ideal in its unmistakable purity, I must free it from any influence of present reality: for this reason I must first of all deny that reality, reveal it as futile, before I gain the ground on which my ideal can be conceived, and conceived in such a way that in my conviction of its existence I now find power and courage to take the next step toward attaining my ideal, that is, to create something new.
Whenever in real life I get in immediate touch with existing reality, I should have to remain a most incapable man if I did not strive for a possible success in such a way as to attain it. Thus I must deny existing reality only in the sense of laying hold upon it with the most noble intention, that is to say, with an intention which, derived from my ideal, overcomes the existing reality by ennobling and exalting it.
So I beg you: Don't consider anything I say about reality as an insult to you or anybody else, even if it seems to reflect upon a position like yours; for, as soon as I approach the actuality of the moment, I may attack a position in a generalized way without in the least losing sight of the fact that such a position, when filled by a man of noble intentions, is the only means of achieving something useful at the present time.
If I ever had any doubt about this, then you would be the man to remove that doubt for good, and therefore I ask you: consider this warm expression of my respect for you as completely sincere and unqualified.
To come to the point, I have to communicate the following to you: in any case I would have turned to some comprehensive work of art, even under the most distressing conditions; the incentive for it had come from our friend Liszt. My deliverance from this distress is something for which I heartily thank you. But along with this an idea had already come to me through an intuition which shapes the character of my prospective work in such a way as to facilitate its performance on the stage and to insure its success with the public. The more the thought of seeing my Siegfried's Death performed on the stage occupied my mind, the more distinctly I faced the difficulties it would present to our singers, unused to such a task, and to the public, unused to such a plot. This I considered as a threat to its success, nay even to the possibility of a performance. But at the very same time my fantasy became engrossed in another plot (which is in a very desirable preparatory relationship to Siegfried's Death): it is the lighthearted and almost popular plot of a Young Siegfried. At this time I can only indicate to you the following details about the advantages of that plot.
The Young Siegfried, which is most lighthearted, engaging, and warm in character (qualities, of course, not taken from the Nibelungenlied), contains the conquest of the Nibelungen hoard and Brünnhilde's awakening as its principal moments. Little or almost no knowledge of the myth need be presupposed on the part of our public for the understanding of that plot; rather do they become acquainted with the plot itself in its most popular features, without any need of deep or coordinating thought, but in a playful way, so to speak, as children learn by a fairy tale. After a performance of this lighthearted drama (which by the way is a complete unit in itself), the audience immediately senses conditions extremely important for a ready understanding of Siegfried's Death (a complete unit again)—and that second, more serious drama, performed later on, will make such a definite impression as could hardly be attained now without the first one. When both dramas have been performed in the specified order, each of them can be given at any time you like or is possible. Another important advantage, however, is that the singers in Young Siegfried, which is much closer to their present customary routine, are naturally educated for Siegfried's Death and thus are made able to sing it. We only have to be concerned about one thing, that is, an amiable, fresh, and slender tenor!
I hope to write my poem, for which I am now concentrating my thoughts, in June, and to start with the music in July. By the 1st of July next year, in any case, everything—poem and music—of The Young Siegfried will be in your hands.
Now I beg you, dear sir, to accept the assurance of my most sincere and cordial thanks for your successful care for me, and know that I shall never cease to be most respectfully your
very faithful
Richard Wagner
Source: Letters of Richard Wagner: The Burrell Collection, ed. John N. Burk (Macmillan, 1950), No. 102