Dearest Friend! Heavy at heart, yet firmly resolved, I turn to you to-day once again for help and counsel in deed and word. The great storm, which at last broke after a long period of almost unbearable sultry heat, was so violent and so awful in its effects that none surely who were near the storm centre can have remained untouched in character and soul. I hope you and your family have escaped unharmed from the Dresden catastrophe. Both chance and my own sympathies involved me in many ways. As long as I was able to understand the Dresden Rising, I was, as a matter of course, in full sympathy with it, a fact which I did not, indeed, reveal by any overt act to the masses, though I expressed my mind to certain individuals. I held no brief for the Red Republican fables but, open-eyed, I saw the banner of the German Constitution as the symbol of the very natural indignation of citizens and people against a prince who called in foreign troops to coerce public opinion, and also of the fury of local patriotism at seeing Prussia stepping in to take the rest of the country.
No man of sense will believe that the revolution was deliberately planned; had this been so, at any rate the most important strategical positions in the town would not have been left from the first to the military. The storming of the Arsenal was the violent act of an unarmed people, who felt themselves betrayed when the parade of the City Militia was prohibited. I was a close and exceedingly anxious spectator of every overt act, particularly the setting up of a Committee of Public Safety at the Town Hall, which, after the terrible things that had occurred, seemed to me to hold out hope of keeping the movement within proper bounds, so that further bloodshed might be prevented and the King might be brought to yield.
With this idea in mind, on the second day, when the town had already been barricaded, I did what I could, without publicly putting myself to the fore, to prevent further conflicts between the people and the military. I suggested to soldiers at the barracks near the Arsenal that, when next they found themselves face to face with the people, they should tell them they would be with them when foreign troops were to be dealt with. I said the same to the men at the barricades as I passed, pointing out that instead of irritating the military they should simply ask them whether they would hold for them against foreign troops. This question was actually written on a placard and affixed to the barricade. To me it seemed of the first importance that by this means, or some other, fraternisation should be brought about between the troops and the people, not only that a Prussian invasion might be successfully withstood, but more particularly that the Movement might be set from the first upon the right lines as regards internal affairs. Only common opposition to the Prussian invasion and common support of the German Constitution could have brought about a real alliance of the Saxon troops with the Saxon people.
On Saturday and Sunday I was an inactive spectator of the struggle from the tower of the Kreuzkirche, since despite my wife's entreaties I could not stay quietly at home. Early on Monday I once more tried at the Town Hall to get information as to the state of affairs, and saw that there was at any rate a great change. The pressure of circumstances and the necessity of conducting the defence on absolutely military lines had led to a search for strategists. A certain Pole was recommended as versed in strategy and urgently pressed to undertake the preparation of a military plan of defence. It is untrue that Poles took part from the first. Irresolute, uncertain as to my own present attitude to the Movement, I left the town on Monday morning at 8 o'clock and took my wife to Chemnitz. On the way we were met by numbers of men riding in from the outlying parts of the country, and the keenness, courage and endurance which I found on all hands quite overcame me. Towards evening I met the whole Communal Guard of Chemnitz, who surrounded our carriage asking for news from Dresden. My news upset their plans and they wanted to arrest me on suspicion of being a deserter. I could only clear myself of this by promising to return to Dresden next morning after having escorted my wife to Chemnitz. My word of honour was demanded and I could not go back on it, but I felt it necessary to return to Dresden to look after some relatives there and to see how matters stood. Arrived at the Town Hall, I learned the true state of affairs. The timorous Todt and the cowardly Tzchirner had fled, and Heubner was the only one who had remained on the spot, showing dignity, persistence and presence of mind.
The subsequent embittered and ruthless resistance of the holders of the barricades was due not to Red Republicans or Blue, not to Poles or Russians, but simply and solely to the subjective, personal rage of citizens and people against the military. All this has shown me that we are none of us revolutionaries, I least of all. We want a Revolution in order to be able quickly to build up something good upon it, and for this cause Revolution disowns us utterly. The true, the victorious revolutionary must desire destruction only, and his strength must be found in hate alone, not in the love which governed us.
I am now in danger of reactionary accusation and do not feel safe returning to Dresden at present. Other considerations press me to decide my future. The way of art which I have chosen is a thorny one, and I can no longer look on indifferently while my whole artistic nature is crushed to powder. My disgust at my official position, the oppression under which I languished because of it, and the paltriness of official undertakings all combined years ago to reduce me to a state of despondency. The only thing which really kept me alive was my creative work. My new opera Lohengrin had been finished two years ago, yet I had nowhere received encouragement to produce it, and for two years I had frittered away my creative powers without object or satisfaction. Thus I at length became a revolutionary in opinion, if not in deed, and could not recapture any joy in creation.
The late catastrophe has partially brought me to myself by making me fully aware of my unhappy and disordered condition. At first I hoped nothing, desired nothing but to get away somewhere quietly with my poor, hardly-tried wife and just pass my life away without action, yet also without guilt. Arrived in Weimar, however, certain friends I had won through Tannhäuser immediately set my feet on another road. Liszt, with the concurrence and support of the Grand Duchess, told me at once that I must go to Paris and London; that my place was now there, to work for the future and use my powers for the present too, away from Germany where I was surely being stultified. Means and influential support of other kinds are offered me to pursue my aims in these places and, to all appearances, quickly to attain them. I have therefore decided to accept the invitations and proffers of my friends here, and after a few preparations shall set out on my journey, probably first to London.
The only remaining question is my attitude to Dresden. I should already have felt obliged to break with Dresden completely if I did not feel assured that, however fiercely I am being accused at present, the matter is bound to be cleared up as no actually punishable crime can be laid to my charge. It would therefore be well to try to discover indirectly whether there is sufficient ground for proceeding against me at law. No one but yourself can be in a position to adopt the right line of action and take all possible steps to preserve for me the right of return to Fatherland, perhaps even with retention of my appointment there. If all goes well, the form of the compact should run somewhat as follows: leave of absence be granted me for the ensuing half-year to go to London and Paris and supervise the production of my operas at the theatres there, and to negotiate for the production of a new opera in one of these places. My immediate object is to get my latest opera Lohengrin translated into English and first performed in London.
I have absolutely no news from Dresden and also none for four days of my poor wife, which makes me exceedingly anxious. Ah, my dear Devrient, do not be angry with me now for the wild, disturbing friendship I have dragged into you with myself! Do what you can to make it possible for me to be just the artist again, nothing but artist and man, and then you will be better pleased with me. Send me a letter under cover to Liszt here at Weimar. It will reach me here or be forwarded after me. But soon, soon, let me have some news!
Richard Wagner
Source: Letters of Richard Wagner, Volume 1, ed. Altmann/Hull (London: Dent, 1927), No. 149