My most honoured friend,
You have had no word from me for a long time, and may perhaps have been labouring under the delightful delusion that I no longer exist. But I do still exist, albeit a hundred miles from the cultural centre of Germany. You can well imagine with what manic desire I cling to everything that the distant world still has to offer me in the way of future hopes. You, too, form a part of those hopes, & you must forgive me if I cling on to your coat sleeve at least. But let me come to the point. I am eager to make a start, in the hope of one day achieving something. You know that at the end of last year I completed an opera: the Ban on Love, or the Novice of Palermo; libretto based upon Shakespeare’s Measure for Measure. The d. . . . only knows why, but I consider this opera to be not at all bad, and our friend Banck more or less shared my view when I showed it to him. But the thing isn’t suited to German tastes, neither with regard to the subject-matter nor the music, and even if I wished to adapt it to meet local needs, you know what enormous difficulties an unknown German composer has in getting his works accepted in Germany. That, indeed, is the plight from which the whole of German opera suffers. I really do not know at what point to make a start; I burnt my bridges in Leipzig right at the outset, since the great Ringelhardt could not stomach the subject. I shall encounter similar obstacles in every other German opera house, the more so since I am now exiled to Siberia, and my presence is not permitted in those places where only my personal influence could achieve anything. But then, what use would it really serve me if I were to meet with success in places like Breslau and Brunswick, where my hopes are pinned at present? Nothing would come of it. No, what I intend is a bold demarche in the direction of Paris. The thing is made for the Opéra-Comique. Some time ago I sent Scribe the outline of a scenario for a grand opera in 5 acts; it’s a most splendid subject, and I have asked Scribe to lend me his name, his adaptation and his patronage. I have not yet received a reply from him, presumably he has not got round to answering, since he is always away on business. I am inclined to send my comic opera directly to the director of the Comic Opera, he can ask Auber and God knows who else to look over the music and the scenario; if he likes it, he can have the libretto adapted by anyone he wants and then altered to fit the music. It’s not at all a bad idea, I think, - heaven knows, Auber can’t turn out a new opera for him every month, and why shouldn’t he be impressed by the novelty of the idea? At least there’s no harm in trying. But I’m first turning to you once again; after all, you have a great many contacts with the authorities in Paris; could you perhaps recommend the best course for me to adopt in order to reach my goal? Or, if that is not possible, could you at least let me know, via one of your correspondents, the exact address of the entrepreneur of the Opéra-Comique, and the easiest way of ensuring that something reaches him? See what can be done here. If you yourself discover some means by which I might best set about this undertaking, I would send the score to you in Leipzig, so that you would have a vague idea of the sort of thing you were dealing with. Tell me, most honoured Patron of the Romantic School, what you think of it, what hopes may be attached to it, and what is to be done. After all, you are at the centre of operations, and will undoubtedly be able to offer me some more sensible advice than would be the case here in Prussian Siberia. At all events, such is my confidence in your cosmopolitanism that I know you will not ignore my request, and I beg you most sincerely to let me know your answer.
Sobolewski told me yesterday that someone had presented him with one of your sonatas; I intend visiting him today or tomorrow, and getting him to play it for me, since I’m far too incompetent a pianist to wish to murder the piece by attempting it myself. - I have at last received a further batch of copies of the Mus. Zeitschrift; I had lost touch as a result of my various travels; I now have all the copies up to around the end of July; could I ask you, if possible, to let me have the remaining ones as well? - I assume you haven’t accepted the article I sent you at the end of May from Berlin; presumably you were embarrassed by the kind of polemical attack it contained on Rellstab? No offence intended!
My very best wishes to Herr Banck and my few other friends in Leipzig. You yourself may rest assured of the sincere respect and friendship with which I remain
Your obedient servant,
Richard Wagner,
Musical Director.
Source: Selected Letters of Richard Wagner, trans. and ed. Stewart Spencer and Barry Millington (W. W. Norton & Company, 1988), No. 22