[...] Two words to show you how the land lies! You know my retort to my critics. Well, here it is again. It is disingenuous in one thing—in its presentation of the limitations of my relations with the King. Needing rest as I do, I only wish it were so. But if for peace and quiet's sake I renounce the privileges given me by the King's wonderfully deep, fatalistic affection for me, I still cannot see how I can reconcile it with my heart, with my conscience, to evade the duties it imposes upon me. You may guess that those who have been hounded on to attack me publicly are but tools; that is of no consequence and slander is already playing its last despairing card. But the motives? I shudder at the thought of withdrawing within the bounds required for the sake of my own repose while I leave him—to his entourage.—
I shrink to the depths of my soul and I ask my daemon, "Why this cup? Why must I find, in the very place where I sought peace and leisure to work, a responsibility forced upon me involving the welfare of a divinely gifted fellow-mortal—and perhaps of a whole nation?" How rescue my heart here? And how continue to be an artist? He has not a man about him whom he needs! It is this, this that is veritable anguish to me. The mere outward game of intrigue, played simply to break down my guard and lure me to some indiscretion, quickly recoils on itself, but what an output of energy, utterly and permanently destructive of my peace, I should need to snatch my young friend forever from his entourage! He remains loyal—touchingly beautiful in his bearing to me, and denies himself to everyone at present.—
What do you say to my fate!—My longing for the last repose is inexpressible. My heart cannot bear this confusion much longer! [...]
Source: Letters of Richard Wagner, Vol. 2, selected and ed. Wilhelm Altmann, trans. M. M. Bozman (J. M. Dent & Sons, 1927), No. 602