Monsieur,
No, I did not judge it necessary to reply to the editor of the Papillon, who began by sending me several somewhat vulgar letters and who finished up writing that my Tannhäuser was as stupid as it was bad. You know that I am beholden to M. Victor Cochinat, editor of the Causerie; I got to know him through the kindness of M. Leroy. The last time that we spoke about it was at Tortoni’s, and what I was promised was fairly interesting. You know better than anyone how much money I need to earn in order to live. For these unhappy and disagreeable days have been worse than merely sad for me from this point of view. I have earned seven hundred francs in all. You can well imagine that this is not enough to repay me for all this wasted time, and for this opera. Among my friends, there are some who reproach me for the fact that the Opera has spent more than 300,000 francs on me. I am accused of ingratitude. But these young people who came to welcome me and console me have comforted me, and I am perfectly contented. I number you among them. M. Auber is astonished. Not I, for I have always been attracted by young people, and I love all that is young, all that is beautiful. Oh! yes, all that is beautiful. In this regard, I have had some very fine experiences with the young people of this town. I like them because I feel friendly towards them. And one cannot be another person’s friend unless one loves him.
Ah! love and friendship! It is this that makes up for all I have suffered. I have emerged victorious; I have triumphed over the misfortune which this society of jockeys has caused me. What have I done to them? I sinned, oh! yes how many times have I been told that I sinned against the sacred spirit of this society, which was unable to come at the agreed time. And the ballet had ended. This ballet which had been written for them. Yes, this ballet without any stars. It is the fault of these young people that I failed to be crowned. And you know how much I have suffered because of this idea. But other young people were behind me. And that is why I am infinitely grateful to those among you who are so good. M. Leroy was no less kind. I confess that M. Catulle Mendès immediately opened up his review to me. I bless this beautiful child whom God created in a moment of great happiness. And he promises me a great deal. I need it all, monsieur. M. Auber would not understand me, any more than all those other old men, not to mention D . . . , who maltreated my poor Tannhäuser.
I see that youth, if it does not belong to the jockeys, has a great deal of good sense. It understands me. And you, you devote some very fine pages to my work. You are in the vanguard of these dear and devoted young people. Yes it is necessary to be beautiful to be loved. I never understood this as well as I do now. Beauty and friendship are the two most beautiful things in the world, and one cannot love what is unattractive. All these young people are a society of honest friends distinguished by their beauty. And that is why I believe it was the old men who whistled.
Love is a grandiose bond for intelligence, and love binds friendship, as one of your youngest colleagues says. For there is love in every friendship. There is certainly love, for I cannot explain how one might be truly loyal to a man unless one loved him sincerely. And that is why I am happy to have met you.
May I thank both you and, especially, M. Leroy once again. He came running to meet me on my arrival in Paris. That is what I call love and friendship. If one could not love a friend, one could not be an honest friend. And how sad life would be then! It would be worthless. Men and women have a mutual need of this love. I love you because you are my friend, and that is why I am writing to you.
Yours, etc . . .
Richard Wagner.
Source: Selected Letters of Richard Wagner, trans. and ed. Stewart Spencer and Barry Millington (W. W. Norton & Company, 1988), No. 267