My dear, good, old friend,
I have often felt the need, when suitably stimulated, to write to you at length about myself. You know that I have kept on meaning to visit you in Dresden: I was once on the point of doing so, but repeatedly failed even to make a start on so brief a trip down memory lane. To explain this properly, I should need to tell you my life-story, since there is little about that life that can be understood ex abrupto, as it were. But help is at hand in finding the right expedient in this sense: for about 5 years now - at various periods - I have been dictating my complete life-story to a creature who is closer to me than anyone else, and only the last 10 years are still missing. The true meaning of this exercise will become clear to you when I tell you the purpose for which it is necessarily intended: the material itself cannot be published until long after my death. In the meantime, however, it sheds light on too many incidents for it not to seem very important that my friends should know of the existence of a document which could emphatically refute all the distortions & calumnies which circulate about me, as they do about nobody else. To protect such a manuscript against loss, I am now in the process of having a very small number of copies of it printed at my own expense. These shall in part be left to my family; but even during my lifetime I should like to give a copy each to you and perhaps two other younger and entirely trustworthy friends, in return, of course, for the most faithful pledge never to let it out of their sight, nor to publish it after my death. Against this, it will be of use to these few people even now, since it will enable them to contradict false statements that may be made concerning my life (more especially these absurd biographical sketches that appear from time to time) by relying for whatever corrections may seem necessary upon the dictated material itself.
For the present I have been sent a trial print from the press, which I am sending on to you straightaway with my kindest good wishes.
This life of mine really has been the strangest affair. Anyone who reviews it in detail is bound to find in it the expression of but a single need, a single aim, namely: that of finding peace and tranquillity, albeit endowed with whatever degree of comfort is necessary for artistic creativity. On the other hand, the outward course of my life appears such that not even a lunatic hell-bent upon high adventure could have fashioned a more turbulent and vicissitudinous life for himself. The attentive reader of my biography will soon see the reasons for this contradiction: they are of an ideal & a practical nature. In the first instance, they are to be found in my particular artistic bias, because - as an “opera composer” - I am condemned to the most trivial of all artistic spheres for my life’s work, and because it is precisely here that I intend to create a work of art that utterly transcends all other artistic genres. The practical reasons reveal two main obstacles in my life: my total lack of financial means, and my premature and utterly unsuitable marriage. But want of property was certainly the worst of all. Inherited wealth may be great or small, but it alone can provide the independence necessary to a man desirous of something serious and genuine: given my own inclinations, and, more especially, given the sphere of my activities, having to earn my money in order to live is an absolute curse. Many great men have felt this already, and many have perished as a result of it. I am convinced that the possession of even moderate means would have made me completely stable as regards the outward aspect of my life, and spared me so much unrest. However, the complete opposite of this has made me, too, indifferent to the value of money, almost as if I had known I could never actually “earn” any money for myself. Given the other bias in my life, towards the ideal, I have had to suffer unspeakably from the consequences of this indifference.
You have seen from my fateful encounter with the young King of Bavaria - at a time when I was already well advanced in years - how extraordinary are the ways along which fate was to lead me before I could find any kind of compensation for my lack of property. Nor will it have escaped your notice that the advantages of this gain have brought down upon my head only renewed and quite unprecedented troubles, not least as a result of envy and the unusual nature of our situation. Only very slowly am I managing to turn to good account the very real advantages of this financial assistance, an assistance which has undeniably freed me, gradually but completely, from actually having to earn my living, and which has helped me pursue my real aim in life. But there will always be an element of extraordinary difficulty and anxiety here, an element that is based very much in the character and destiny of my royal friend, for all that he is devoted to me with such rare affection. - There is only one relationship that has become fully satisfying and truly redeeming for me, but which, at the same time, has brought with it the most painful sufferings. Even though supreme self-sacrifice was shown me here, and the saddest sacrifices had to be made, there was really only one thing that constrained me to accept it all: a deep and unshakeable awareness. If my life thus far has been aimless and storm-tossed, my ship of life has had to suffer the most unprecedented hardships before reaching port. But - I have now reached port. And now I must live gladly and joyfully. A handsome, sturdy son, high of forehead and bright of eye, Siegfried Richard, will inherit his father’s name and preserve his works for the world. - Forgive me, my friend, for observing the discreet silence of one who, as long as only his own assurances can speak for him, must await the time when action and a clearly recognizable status speak for him. That time is not far off. You were no doubt enlightened long ago as to your error concerning the bridegroom of my niece Doris Brockhaus: although (as such) it made me smile, it also touched me deeply, and pleased me to think that it had prompted you to send me your heartfelt congratulations. - Almost the same thing happened to me again on the occasion of the false rumour that I had supposedly been taken ill, only this time I was able to reply to your kind concern with a smile of reassurance.
God knows what people have to get up to with me! I could straightway publish a newspaper simply to refute all the false and worthless things that are said about me every day. From what I hear, you all seem to have been splendidly entertained at my expense last summer in Dresden: the source of it was easy to guess in a certain I. Reuter, who, as a friend of Frau Schnorr’s (who was absolutely determined to marry me), had for her part taken it into her head a few years ago to have me introduce her to the King of Bavaria. Since that was not possible, I incurred the hatred of both these ladies to a quite unprecedented degree; that this, in part, should have been cooked up in Dresden, where the would-be royal bride is living, was to be expected. Well, on this point there are still various things worth reporting for the last ten years of my life, but most of it I shall have to pass over in sheer disgust! -
As far as my health is concerned, I appear - more especially to the experts - to be an example of a particular species of human being destined for long life and work. Although very sensitive and irritable, quick to grow feverish and perspire, I do not ever really become ill, and generally recover from any indisposition so quickly that people laugh at me. The only thing that plagues me is my lower abdomen and rectal inflammations. It soon passes the moment that tranquillity of mind and an often explosive cheerfulness are restored. Only in the summer of 1868, after I had returned from the Mastersingers in Munich, was I seized by a persistent and debilitating fever. But I knew where I was with it, and resolved never again to return to Munich (my hell), but to rescue from there what would have perished without me. I have achieved this. And now there will be peace and quiet, for my health as well.
I shall soon have completed my 57th year of life, and I can see now that it was simply tranquillity that I lacked in order to have retained my strength until now in its purest and most effective form. Last summer, on the very day on which a handsome son was born to me, overjoyed as I was, I finished composing “Siegfried”, which had been interrupted for 11 years. An unheard-of case! No one thought I would ever return to it. But you must hear this final act, Brünnhilde’s awakening! The finest thing I’ve ever done! - And now I have also made a start on the Twilight of the Gods. I need a lot of time, because what I write down is all superlative. But I shall stick at it, and then tell myself (whatever they may say in Munich) “well, I’ve done it after all.” And in years to come - my boy will have to see to what’s right. In this way I derive new strength from everything. - It is only my young King who still causes me real distress: but it is not so easy to say in what this consists! It was particularly bad with the “Rhinegold” last summer: but he would not let himself be dissuaded. Let anyone try to preach any sense here! But now the word has gone round: everything! everything! as long as it doesn’t mean doing without a performance of my new works for any length of time! I am to give the orders, and everyone will obey me. It is all very worrying again. God knows how I shall set about achieving anything of this nature so that it gives me any pleasure. But I shall try my best, and - perhaps - it is possible that I shall perform the “Rhinegold” and the “Valkyrie” next summer. -
But listen here, my dear Anton! Do you, too, not want to be present when it happens? Rietz has burned down your theatre for you, so that he won’t have to conduct the Mastersingers any more (for which God be praised!) And so, do come by and by, if ever I set things going again! Best of all, however, would be if you were to come and inspect us here at Tribschen. Can you not manage a Medical Councillor’s trip to Switzerland? - You must see, my dear Anton, that you are the only person in my life to stand before me in perfect purity and amiability! Believe me, best of friends, I know what I am saying: the only one! - You see, that is why you are the first person this year to whom I have written such a long letter. Now do you believe me? And I hope you will also give my kind regards to your wife and children? Let all of you come here, rather, for I am very fond of you all. You see, two or even three of you can easily be accommodated here in this large farmhouse of mine. You are bound to like it here; and at the same time everything, but everything here & about me will be properly ordered. And so: stop turning it over in your mind, but think instead that it must be so! I’ll play you something you’ll enjoy. - But enough of this chattering in jest & in earnest! Fare you well! I am and shall always be
your loyal and grateful bosom friend
Richard Wagner.
(Call on Heine, give him my regards, and tell him about me, and let me have some news of him!)
Source: Selected Letters of Richard Wagner, trans. and ed. Stewart Spencer and Barry Millington (W. W. Norton & Company, 1988), No. 388