My beloved King,
My uniquely gracious friend,
Since returning to my refuge I have been ill and, in consequence of feverish and violent attacks of night perspiration, have suffered from persistent and increasing lassitude from which I am only slowly recovering, so that I cannot as yet give any thought to beginning my mineral water cure, necessary though this cure is to me. My first moments of new-found spiritual freedom should have been devoted to a solemn letter to my exalted friend: but fate would not have it so. Our friend informed me today of the recent letter which you were so very kind as to address to her; it contains — in addition to an assurance of the generous trust which you place in your friends and which we ourselves would never for a moment have questioned - a piece of news which, precisely because it came from you, has had a deeply dismaying effect upon her great and free-born soul. She begs me to lay her farewell greeting humbly at your feet, and to entreat you to be so kind as to excuse her from having to reply to your letter. In her soul she will always retain her gratitude towards you, but she has now been rendered incapable of giving you any further expression of the feelings which she harbours even for me. I would understand, she believes, how certain protestations must inevitably strike her after the tenderest heart-strings of a woman’s nature have been wrenched in so hurtful a way, and after her justifiable pride as a woman has been thus offended for a second time. -
As for the affair itself, what is at issue here, in my own estimation, is a calumny on the part of my old friend Röckel: I shall never believe so worthless a claim, at least until such time as I hold in my hand the most incontrovertible proof. Having lived away from me for so long and having had no dealings with me during that time, Röckel has no doubt begun to associate recently with those of my acquaintances who, on account of their false assessment of my relations with my exalted royal patron and because of the senseless demands they have made on me as a result, have irked me and frequently persuaded me to entrust our uniquely understanding friend with the task of correcting their foolish ideas: sacrificing herself on every side, she has often protected me from these tiresome people and, in her own way, disabused them with forceful candour. As a result these people are now agreed amongst themselves that Frau v. B. holds me in her power, that she is isolating me from my friends, and so on. Many people have also wondered why, since I have been a widower for two years, I have not remarried; indeed, friend Röckel even had one of his daughters lined up for me: since no one knew what to make of me in this respect either, it must have occurred to them quite spontaneously that Frau v. B., who was in any case said to have great power over me, was preventing me from marrying again. Where is the man who is not exposed to such gossip, especially when he finds himself in a position like mine? It is possible that Röckel, too, may on occasion have expressed himself in this thoughtless and foolish vein: but that he might deliberately have accused me of a crime I consider completely out of the question.
But it is enough that things have again been stirred up: and to what end? It is as plain as the day: it is not I nor Bülow whom people are now warning of some false friend or other - no, they go straight to the King himself and tell him what is going on.
My King! - this is an abject way to behave, and the ill intent is only too clear for there to be any doubt as to the source of the rumour in this instance. There is nothing more for me to say in this matter either: I know how people are getting their own back for the supreme glories of my life. Everything is now lost, and no hope remains. -
My most gracious King! Frau v. B. will leave Munich during the next few days, presumably never to return. Her doctors have insisted that she should seek some milder climate; she will probably choose to stay in Italy next winter, presumably close to her father or other relations. It must then be asked whether artistic conditions in Munich will prove sufficiently promising to persuade Bülow himself to persevere there in a position which will then have become so much more difficult for him; if not, he would of course have to appeal to your generosity to release him from his appointment. -
So much for my friends who, as I realize, are once again being made to pay for the fact that they are the most devoted and self-sacrificing friends of the Master whom you yourself, my glorious monarch, have honoured with such extravagance. -
If we can set aside all these pretexts and grounds for abject and hostile machinations which, although persistently ineffectual, have always gone unpunished, my beloved friend and I may finally find peace. If all that remains is two individuals, who even now have become almost legendary (for who, even now, could regard Ludwig II and his friend Richard Wagner as a pure reality?), what will soon emerge, clearly and plainly, and entirely in accord with the deep relationship that lies behind our lives together, is the task that we both must needs perform, so that even your courtiers will finally have nothing more to which to object. -
The first Mastersingers evening is behind us: great and beautiful, thanks to your wonderful love, the like of which has never been known in the whole of history. Was it your intention to release me from a vow of mine by dint of your sovereign power? If my vow had included this first Mastersingers evening, I should have had to break it in any case: the need to keep a watch on my performers kept me in the theatre where no one else was supposed to know of my secret presence. But you discovered me there, and drew me, stunned as I was, into a realm of splendour such as no poet before me had ever known: and in the midst of such splendour, I felt myself warmed by the heart of my dearest and truest friend. Who can grasp the beauty of your action? - But I have not broken my vow: if I once swore I would never attend a first performance of one of my works, it was because of my aversion to the sight of the audience at an ordinary theatre performance and because of my reluctance to deal with them directly.
It is quite a different matter when it comes to my great vow, which I hold sacred because I impute to it a magical power. You know what it is. On the 1st of January last year, when I first saw the model of the Nibelung Theatre in Zurich, I was suddenly struck by what a tremendous potential for guiding the whole of modern art back into its true and sacred path is contained within the idea of actually building this theatre and of realizing the ideal that such a structure implies: in return for so great a gain, great was the sacrifice I had to offer, and so I swore that, if I lived to see the building completed and the Nibelungs performed in it, I would absent myself from the festival, remain deaf to the tremendous impression that its dedication must inevitably have, and silently and in secret, humbly and in fervent prayer, pay homage to my guardian spirit and godlike friend, to him who is my consummation. - This was the oath I swore. Shall I live to see the day when I may be allowed to keep it?? -
No matter! My life belongs to you. I shall now build up my strength in order to devote my new-found powers to serving you alone, and to the completion of my work. This is the other thing that needs no vow. And so: God speed! - I hope I shall always be in a position to tell you news of our matchless friend: she is so profound, so unusual that she - does not belong in this world. That is why she must disappear from the world like all that is noble, which can exist only by dint of its effect on the world. And yet we shall remain as one. “Apart, who shall divide us?” -
Once more: God speed! A thousand good wishes of homage from your eternally grateful, loving friend from afar
Richard Wagner.
Source: Selected Letters of Richard Wagner, trans. and ed. Stewart Spencer and Barry Millington (W. W. Norton & Company, 1988), No. 369