You have done capital work; I am amazed at it, you have exceeded all my expectations! This must be the first time you have heard anything like this from me, for you know I am chary of praise. I have always been restrained with you, now I can no longer be so! Every page brought fresh tears of joy and emotion to my eyes. I recognise something quite remarkable in your Columbus. You know how deeply I entered into, assimilated and sympathised with your idea. I know now what to think of you and am prepared to argue it with anyone: you have accomplished something great. It does not matter to whom you show it; show it to the whole world, have it printed, and you will give pleasure to everyone who comes to know it. It far surpasses expectation. Wherever I open it I find proof of your talent and an amazing maturity, astonishingly rapidly attained. I and my friend [Dr. Ziegert] enjoyed ourselves yesterday like children; we read many scenes two or three times over and pointed out their beauties to each other. Most of all I am transported by the colourful, forceful brevity which strikes one everywhere, the lovely poetical light over the whole, the excellent delineation of character and the many individual master-strokes. I see the thing before me like a new and beautiful star, fallen into this everyday life of ours to enchant us all.
I cannot praise your diction enough, it is so simple, noble and unaffected, so free from any straining after effect. I am struck by your scenic adroitness and the consequent excellence of the close of the third act. The beginning of the fourth act quite carried me away. What can I say to you? When, in the fifth act, Vincent enters to Columbus with "Columbus, light of my soul, the day has broken," and they sail away certain of victory, I shouted for joy. An overture is constantly running in my head.
And must I now consider my own miserable existence, the paltry standing which is all I have achieved so far, and the pitiful necessity of proudly proclaiming that existence glorious, at least to my family? I shall never again know content till I have disentangled myself from every species of folly, and I have to admit that I am myself to blame for a great part, perhaps the greater part, of the burden of debt. I have been so ill a judge of my own affairs and got myself into such a slough of debt by all kinds of foolishness that the very thought of it makes my hair stand on end. In the first place the negligence there used to be in the payment of wages has burdened me most heavily, and now, instead of turning to my family, natural vanity holds me back and prompts me to assert my proud independence. Extravagances of many kinds have further involved me. Last time I brought 180 thalers away with me from Leipzig, and they just sufficed to give me a first complete view of my embarrassments. Believe me, I need at least 200 thalers to clear me entirely. I must admit that my own irresponsibility is the guilty cause of much, but disappointed hopes now adopt a different attitude, at least to my relatives. Ah, it is horrible! Read me a lecture, I deserve it, and will gladly take it from you. Tell me if you can possibly make a man of me again and rescue me from all this sorrow and wretchedness.
I turn to you, God knows, before going to Brockhaus, who would be bound to help. I implore you to take the small sum of 200 thalers and lend it to me; you will at most lose the interest, for I cannot possibly offer you that, but I pledge you wholly the happy and vigorous temper which will be mine when you have freed me. Before the famous spring of 1836 I will certainly be out of debt to you; be assured of that! It hurts me and shames me deeply to have to enclose such very different matter in a letter that began as this did. For the rest, do not be anxious, do not be prevented from visiting me at the time arranged by fear of finding me still in gloom. By then things will have solved themselves by this or some other means. Only don't leave me any longer in uncertainty.
Ah, I breathe again, a heavy weight is off my heart. See, it was in such a state that your Columbus found me, and even as I read the title all the fair memories of the summer, all bound up with the Columbus idea, inspired me anew. Yesterday evening and to-day were devoted to your work, and I threw off all my sorrows. You can see from this how deep the impression was. The book is now a part of my life; it refreshes me merely to think of it.
Early to-morrow I shall give the book to the manager, Schmale, and let you know at once what happens; there is no need at all to doubt that it will be produced. I have not so far said a word of my opera, I am too crushed and am unwilling to think of myself and my affairs.
Richard Wagner
Source: Letters of Richard Wagner, Volume 1, ed. Altmann/Hull (London: Dent, 1927), No. 12