My sincere thanks, you dear kind soul! - Your second letter was more than usually welcome - since it brought me your new address. Your first letter arrived in the midst of the most appalling weeks of my life: I soon forgot where I had put it, and as a result lost your address.
The worst is over. I shall not waste time describing the events of last month; that kind of thing is best forgotten! I had finally no alternative but to importune my diplomatic friends here: though it cost much effort and distress - and a great deal of goodwill besides (as I am only too ready to attest) - we managed to scrape together the barest essentials; and it consoles me to think that my wife really noticed very little of my distress. After we had spent four more ghastly days in the house together, she left here with the parrot 2 weeks ago to the day. She, too, has made an incredible effort, after her fashion. No doubt she will now have a chance to recover.
The Prussian ambassador invited me to stay with him as long as I have to remain in Paris, an invitation which I was glad to accept - not least on account of his beautiful garden with its tall trees and black swans. I am treated as a member of the family, I have my grand piano in one of the beautiful high-ceilinged rooms, and might even be prepared to put up with it all if only so many of the more agreeable things that might yet befall me were not so late in coming: apart from the briefest moment of contentment - brought about more especially by a pleasant lack of noise - I am now utterly unaffected by any kind of agreeable sensation. - My eyes are always filled with tears, and the whole affair strikes me as increasingly distressing and meaningless! - To be alone, - to be completely alone - is ultimately the only thing that still appeals to me!
The Flying Dutchman is making only slow progress in French: finished or not, I am resolved to leave here on Monday evening. I intend spending a day in Soden with my wife and saying goodbye to her. I’d have preferred to have done without Liszt: I learn, however, that if I do not come, I shall make him unspeakably miserable. Then on to Vienna, where I shall no doubt remain somewhat longer. Whenever my glance falls on my Tristan score, I still cannot think of it as a real possibility!! -
Gasperini is also coming to Vienna. And so, my kind, dear friend, it may console you to know that I have once again escaped from the final extremity: that I have lost a good deal in the process is unfortunately something I feel more and more; two precious years have been utterly wasted - and I feel extraordinarily tired. What I have lost in art I may perhaps have gained in life: one final lesson, deeply inscribed, not to try to force things to happen that are not decreed by fate!
You can see now how to get by in future, now that you know what fools we all are to grope and wallow in vain! - I often think of you, so you must not think me insensitive to your fate! Let us talk of it some other time!
Kind regards to Klindworth: when shall I see him again? -
Fare you well, and remain ever friendly towards your
Rich. W.
(Weimar until the 6th of August. Then Vienna, Imperial and Royal Court Theatre.)
Source: Selected Letters of Richard Wagner, trans. and ed. Stewart Spencer and Barry Millington (W. W. Norton & Company, 1988), No. 269