[...] I have had much hardship to combat in my life, and the ironical combination of complete impecuniosity with an intractable temperament like mine, has at all times given rise to bitter conflicts. No one understands this rightly, and yet it is obvious enough. For instance, let anyone observe my conduct now, now when I should be snatching at anything which might lighten my burdens and yet can so little condescend to concessions that I told the director of the Opera [Royer] yesterday that Tannhäuser should either be given as it is (without the ballet in Act II.) or not be given at all. Now that you know my situation, you are in the best position to judge what such obstinacy means. For I must confess that in the eight years during which my operas have been given in Germany, I have never known anything like my present circumstances; I always had some income and could live somehow. Now, however, my earlier operas are quite played out, my new ones held up, enormous losses and—no one to help me! All I ask is for credit during a period of cessation! Impossible! I lay my heart bare and get nothing for it but shame. I read in the papers that I have got 10,000 francs, but the accompanying mockery is all I have ever seen of it. [...] I have had, day by day, to stave off summonses, with most humiliating wants in the house, and my wife agitated and sleepless. She has been ordered to the baths at Soden and I cannot provide the money. And so it goes on, and will do, for another six months at least, that is if it can go on. And this happens to me, who am always being told on all hands of the enthusiasm I arouse here, there and everywhere, etc. Of all the people to whom I turned I had the best right to think of Madame Szemere as the one being able actually to rise up and help me. As things have turned out, I may truthfully assure you that I have acquired a great respect for Madame Szemere. When I remember how you came to me on that day of urgent need and handed me the big sum necessary, I cannot but recognise that it was she alone who provided it. Tell her that. Do not be surprised that I do not sing your praises, although I saw your hand in what Madame Szemere did. [...] There can be no more talk about the subscription—everything here has failed root and branch. [...] There is nothing left me but my debt, my gratitude and my regret as regards Madame Szemere (that I can't repay her at once), and further—the hell from which I have not the remotest inkling how to escape. It is still a matter of 5000 francs, the remaining deficit, till I get to the performance of Tannhäuser.
Nevertheless, I have been able to maintain my interest in Garibaldi all this time, and I assure you I always open the evening paper with eagerness. As you very rightly remark, it is the only thing which could cheer me, Art being unavailing in situations like mine, for one needs freedom for that and not merely the will to be free. In the same way, in such moods I cannot get mental freedom for reading about art, and then Plutarch offers me the necessary distraction. I had, indeed, been much struck again by his life of Timoleon, which I lighted upon quite by chance. This life has the exceedingly rare distinction of being entirely happy to the very end, a most exceptional case in history. [...] Well, there were a number of points of contact which recently made me connect Garibaldi with Timoleon. He is still fortunate! Can it be possible that he is to be spared from the very extremes of bitterness? From my heart I wish it may be so. Yet I often tremble when I see him as a mere fly in the huge European spider's web. Many possibilities remain open; perhaps the fly is too big and strong. He ought not to count much upon his people but very much upon his Alpine chasseurs! For the rest let treason, and the skill to direct it, help him. Through the wickedness of the wicked, one sometimes conquers the insolence of the wicked. [...]
Source: Letters of Richard Wagner, Vol. 2, selected and ed. Wilhelm Altmann, trans. M. M. Bozman (J. M. Dent & Sons, 1927), No. 469