[...] I remain cold and untouched by the things which, almost without exception, set the world in motion. Fame has no power to sway me, gain only in so far as it may keep me from want. Seriously to undertake anything for the sake of either would be impossible for me. [...] Renewed contact with musicians, singers and the rest, has wrung many a sigh from me and has provided much strengthening nourishment for the virtue of resignation in me. I see more and more plainly how immeasurably far my artistic culture (among other things) has removed me from this basis, so unalterable in our modern life. I confess that now, when I suddenly cast a glance upon my Nibelungs, on Tristan, I start up as from a dream and say to myself, "Where have you been? You have been dreaming! Open your eyes and see—this is Reality!"
Yes, I do not deny that I really consider that my later works are impossible to perform. But, nevertheless, when I feel the impulse stirring within me to actualise even this impossibility, I know that the only way to achieve my end is to let my mind rove back again into the world of dreams. [...]
If there is anything that spurs me on to the Tannhäuser enterprise here, it is really no more than the ineradicable tendency of my nature to be excited by artistic activities. All day long I force myself laboriously to be interested in the affair, but once I am at rehearsal the immediate contact with art takes hold upon me. I squander myself and my energies, and all for an enterprise which, apart from that moment, leaves me indifferent. [...]
O my child, where am I to look for my one and only consolation? Once I found a heart, a soul which understood me in these moments, to which I became dear just because they could understand me, comprehend me, at those times! To this soul, then, I flee, relax all my limbs like one weary to death and let myself sink into the soft ether of another's sympathetic nature! All I have had to go through, the deep emotions, troubles, sufferings of the past, dissolve like thunder-clouds in refreshing showers which bathe my burning temples. Then at length I know refreshment and rest, sweet rest. I am beloved—understood!
This rest—I offer it to you! In the blessed consciousness of what you are to me—my angel of peace, the guardian of my life—may you, too, find the sublime source which shall water the desert of your existence! Share my rest, receive it wholly to-day just as I enjoy it at this moment, sinking myself wholly in you! This is my wish—my gift to you!
R. W.
Source: Letters of Richard Wagner, Vol. 2, selected and ed. Wilhelm Altmann, trans. M. M. Bozman (J. M. Dent & Sons, 1927), No. 481