Paris, April 6, 6i, Best Child, I think you did me an injustice when you shewed yourself a little sensitive at my having merely forwarded for you to read, the other day, a not insignificant letter that had reached me, without accompanying it by a single word of my own. Has silence lost its meaning to you, and could you possibly imagine that in such a case I really had nothing to say ? Nay, that would not be right interpretation. — To tell the truth, I'm tired of eternally giving my friends concern ; from the whole objectionable Paris adventure I have no other residue than this bitter feeling. The disaster itself left me fairly indifferent, at bottom. Had I made for mere outward success, I should naturally have had to tackle many things another way ; but that's — just what I can't. In my mind that success could only count as a result of the thing's inner succeeding : the chance of a truly fine performance of no matter which of my works had tempted me ; so soon as I was forced to abandon that, I was already done for and defeated. What actually occurred to me, was the appropriate punishment for my giving way to another illusion ; it affected me no deeper. The representation of my work was so foreign to me, that its reception didn't really matter, and I could look on at it all as a spectacle. Whether the incident may have consequences or not, is a point that still leaves me cold : all that I feel in its regard is — lassitude, disgust. — Indeed the only thing that stung me, was the quick recovery of consciousness that from such incalculably mad odds, as those of a Parisian success of one of my most intimate works, my whole lot in life must so onerously depend withal. This is so cruel and insane [a fate] that for a while it really seemed to me the most sensible course, to renounce, and radically, an existence so utterly awry and undisposable ! I am wearying my friends past all conscience, and dragging loads along with me that I really cannot bear much longer. — Good Billow, who felt my pain most deeply, has been probing German soil to find a somewhat reassuring outlook for me. I have— little trust, and suppose that in the search for rest I must gradually wear myself down till I find the last rest. Yet I have duties that keep me still erect ; Care lends me life anew. — Nothing further can I tell the child about myself; but I reserve a broad smile for the very next time, that— deceived by falsely judged appearances — one thinks one may congratulate me prematurely, — as happened to me not so long ago.— Whither, my child, has flown the comfort of those Calderon evenings ? What evil star was it, that robbed me of my only worthy haven ? — Believe me, whatever you may hear that sounds unlike it, — when I left that Asyl my star was doomed to its descent ; I can but fall and fall ! — Never — never let a contrary belief arise in you ! Hold fast to that alone ! I do not murmur, 1 complain of nothing : — it had to be ; but, if you would remain just to me, — never forget it yourself! — This I still have wished to say to you : oh, stamp it deep upon your mind ! — And now give Otto my best greetings. His presence in that evil time afflicted, rather than rejoiced me, albeit I protest from my whole heart that his care and sympathy, his entire being, profoundly moved me. Personally, however, I could be so absolutely nothing to him ; it was one perpetual racket, and the real miscarriage of my undertaking so exactly coincided with the period he was here. I suffered most at those rehearsals, during which my work grew more and more unrecognisable and alien to me. The performances, on the contrary, had the mere effect of purely physical blows, that simply woke me from my soul's distress to consciousness of — my outward misery ; the blows themselves I felt but superficially. — Tell Otto also that there will shortly be a report by myself to read, presumably in the Leipzig Illustrirte, on the whole Paris Tannhäuser affair ; * I had promised a relative something of the kind. — Fare you well, Lady-friend ! In a few days I must go to Carlsruhe for quite a brief stay, then speedily return, as I still have far too many things to settle here. — With a thousand greetings ! R. W. [Billow's diplomacy had been at work, sounding the Grand Duke of Baden as to Wagner's "outlook" — see p. 267. Wagner goes to Carlsruhe, obtains a promise that Tristan shall be given in September, and returns to Paris by April 24 / whence he starts for Vienna May 7 or 8 — in search of special singers, and in response to an announcement of " Lohengrin," — arriving there May g.—Tr.]
Richard Wagner
Source: Richard Wagner to Mathilde Wesendonck, translated by Ellis, No. 115