[...] I have been completely on my own again for several days now, and feel as though I am living in a haunted castle. I cannot deny that such utter solitude is very bad for me at present: believe me, it is a wretched state of affairs, and I shall no doubt bleed to death from it. Unfortunately, even while I had friends to stay, the place still seemed as though it were haunted: there was no sense of benediction or peace. Poor Bülow arrived at the beginning of July utterly exhausted, his nerves overwrought and shattered; he had cold, inclement weather the whole time he was here, and, as a result, had an insalubrious stay, which resulted in his succumbing to one illness after another. And, on top of everything, a tragic marriage; a young and quite unprecedentedly gifted wife, the very image of Liszt but intellectually superior to him, - who, only a year after their marriage, - when the two of them were visiting me in Zurich for the second time, - tried to take her own life in her despair at having committed the error of marrying; since then she has made repeated, and conscious, attempts to contract various fatal illnesses, but has finally found the strength to persevere and suffer patiently as a result of her visionary tendency towards the sublime. Her husband, sensitive and sufficiently self-aware to see where he stands, curses himself for having chained this woman to him; he seeks to dull his pain by striving too hard in the execution of his art, indeed he is deliberately trying to ruin his health in order to forget and - to die. - This, then, is the cruel basis upon which qualities of the greatest kindness have been developed on both sides, revealing the most touching concern for each other’s well-being which now binds them both together. If only I were made in such a way as to be able to obtain my rightful share of pleasure from superficial things and circumstances! But I am not made like that; I am foolish enough to take everything seriously. The most important thing here was to tear Bülow away from his insanely exhausting activities as an artist and find him a nobler field in which to work. It was easy to persuade the young King - for whom, in turn, it was a matter of the first importance - to appoint Bülow his performer. I now hope that I shall soon have the Bülows living here permanently with me. There is only one means of redemption for us all, and I have promised it to both of them: to create works of art and work together with a single common interest. - This will oblige us to persevere and undertake new enterprises, - in spite of the sweetness of feeling so utterly weary of life. - You see, with me nothing goes smoothly! Not even a case like that of Lassalle’s death: the unfortunate man was here (because of Bülow) exactly a fortnight prior to his death, appealing to me to intervene with the King of Bavaria against his ambassador in Switzerland (Dönniges). (I am regarded, you see, simply as an all-powerful favourite: my help was recently sought by the surviving relatives of a woman accused of poisoning someone!) What do you say to that? I had never met Lassalle until then; and on that occasion I disliked him immensely: it was a love-story inspired by sheer vanity and false pathos. I saw in him a typical example of the great men of the future, a type that I can only call Germanic-Judaic. -
I am still without anywhere to live in town: I should dearly like something that promises to be permanent, but can find nothing. People tell me to have something built specially, but that takes two years. Shall I live as long as that? Yes, I shall. My young King is saving money by suspending his father’s building works etc., in order to collect together enough for a performance of the Nibelungs. I have not had a single day of proper peace and quiet so far: I keep on hesitating as to what I should start on first. In the end I expect I shall put everything aside and complete the Nibelungs: if I tell the King this, I shall be even better off. -
But listen now: on the 2nd of October, when the King will be making his first return-visit to the theatre, I shall be presenting a model performance of the “Flying Dutchman” for him (the only one of my operas which can now be given properly here.) We are all set for an outstandingly good performance. For mid-October I have promised a grand concert of pieces from my newer works, as in Karlsruhe. Will you come? - In May of next year “Tristan” with Schnorr. - Will you come to that, too? -
How are you getting on with your novel? - How are Wille and your sons? Do give them my very best wishes! - How is the “haunted region”? Are you still fond of me? Do you believe in my gratitude? - Do you believe in me? - Answer me properly.
Cordially yours,
Richard Wagner.
Source: Selected Letters of Richard Wagner, trans. and ed. Stewart Spencer and Barry Millington (W. W. Norton & Company, 1988), No. 310