My dear Wendelin,
Better a brief word now than nothing at all!
Once again, my sincere thanks for your kind letter on my birthday. Good luck with your work, in which I take the liveliest interest: I hope it all turns out a success! - you have a lot on!
As for myself, well, thereby hangs a tale: I can’t go on. My 50th birthday, which I spent alone, in total isolation, without a single soul to call my own, has left a deep impression upon me, an impression which, in its repercussions, has developed into a decisive turning-point in my courage to face life. I cannot go on, I feel such a total stranger in a world in which I find myself so utterly thwarted in everything, be it art and life, or will and disposition.
I have lost all sense of pleasure: the shocks I have suffered and my recognition of the powerlessness of the individual are too great and decisive. This is something that someone of your age will not really be able to understand. Of me it is true to say quite simply that I am - tired of life. What I lack is nothing less than all that is necessary to live a life of human happiness.
Great as is my need for peace and quiet, what continues to alarm me most of all is the total lack of any future prospects as far as my actual theatrical plans are concerned. In order to rid myself of this fear to some extent, and to see for myself whether this kind of excitement can restore any of my optimism in life, I intend from time to time to undertake concert performances similar to the ones I gave in Vienna. Since I do not care to inflict myself upon Russia again so soon, and since the money I saved there has finally dried up (as a result of my ordering all the furnishings and fittings for an entire house, together with other heavy losses), - thereby reviving my cares concerning the future - , I have again been considering places where I can find decent orchestras and where I know there are people subservient to my wishes. In this context I have also written to Schindelmeisser in Darmstadt, asking him whether Dalwigk might prevail upon the Grand Duke to place his musical institutions at my disposal for a major performance similar to the one in Vienna, and to allow me to keep the receipts, at increased prices. Perhaps at the beginning of September, if the Grand Duke were to act generously in this regard, his action would do honour to both him and me, and might also set a good example for other princes to follow. Sch. has just replied to say that neither of the two people concerned is there at present, but that the matter is not urgent, and that he can raise the question, in accordance with my wishes, as soon as an opportunity arises. —
If it is not too much trouble, I would ask you to seek out Sch. and make things hot for him. I am prepared to appeal directly to Dalwigk or even the Grand Duke as soon as I am given to understand that this will serve any useful purpose. -
Please let me hear from you soon in any case. I am living a life of utter seclusion here, and have not yet been able to bring myself to give any further thought to Tristan! - Until now I have been busy scoring the Mastersingers. But progress is very slow: I confess that the luxuriant spring of good humour and the courage to face life, from which all such delight in one’s work must flow, has now dried up within me. Nor do I know where I might rediscover it, given the pitiful state of our theatres. In this respect, at least, it would have cheered me to see Tristan launched.
If anything comes of Darmstadt, I promise you that I shall certainly give the Cobbling Song an airing there (in other words, for the first time), perhaps also the “Awake!” chorus & so on.
Perhaps all this will revive my sense of enjoyment. At present everything looks so utterly wretched. - Well, kind regards to your most admirable Papa and to your kind mother: and remember me, too, to your sisters and brother. - It is always with deep emotion that I recall the sufferings and cares that I caused you in Vienna.
Sincerely and ever yours,
Richard Wagner.
Source: Selected Letters of Richard Wagner, trans. and ed. Stewart Spencer and Barry Millington (W. W. Norton & Company, 1988), No. 290