Paris, 19 Quai Voltaire, Dec. 21, 1861. Were you by any chance thinking I should not congratulate you on your birthday ? But there, you knew my Christmas-eve is antedated by a day ! — Prosperity and happiness, with all my heart ! — I have cast myself into the arms of my old beloved : — Work has me once more, and to her I cry : " gieb Vergessen, dass ich lebe ! " [Tr. u. Is. ii.] I left Vienna three weeks since, direct for Paris. Nobody wanted me ; I can't produce the Tristan ere a twelvemonth — a twelvemonth how and where ? I have had no happy time of it. Metternich's invitation alone kept faith, but in consequence of the mother-in-law's sudden death an unexpected relative had come to Paris and seized the apartment meant for me ; I can't move in before the beginning of January. I couldn't stop in Vienna ; nowhere else was I welcome ; so I started for Paris right at the beginning of December, and am making shift till January with a small room on the Quai Voltaire. I have got so far, however, as to look forward to the imminent blessing of reception into a well-regulated household with good attendance, and without any outlay needed for nice sustenance. I'm sure you will be glad of that ! — Here I am taking the greatest of pains to deny myself ; if it doesn't succeed altogether, I make the pretence, to myself at least, as if people weren't aware of my presence : for three days in succession, now, I've contrived to be obliged to speak to no one (that horrible speaking !). At the restaurant I saw Royer, director of the Grand Ope>a, but pretended not to notice him ; very soon afterwards I saw him again, and meantime had read the announcement-of-issue of a translation by him of some lost stage-pieces by Cervantes : of a sudden the man interested me. It was droll to find myself accosting him, talking with him for fully half an hour, and so completely ignoring the opera-director that our only topic was Cervantes. He sent me his book next day. The poet's preface moved me beyond words : what profound resignation ! — I have often to laugh out loud when I raise my eyes from my work-bench to the Tuileries and Louvre straight opposite, for you must know that in reality I am in Niirnberg now, and mixing with somewhat blunt, three-cornered folk : there was nothing else for it, but to get among such company. The journey back from Venice to Vienna was most lingering ; two whole long nights and a day I sat helplessly wedged between Erst and Now, driving home into the grey : a new labour it must be, or — an ending ! Unfortunately my visual functions are growing ever duller ; nothing rivets my gaze, and each locality, with all that appertains thereto — were it the greatest masterpieces in the world — distracts me not, remains indifferent to me ; my eye I have for nothing but distinguishing of day from night, now, light from gloom [cf. p. 200]. It really is a palsying against and toward the Outer ; I see no pictures more, save inner ones, and they clamour for nothing but sound. But no empassioned vision would consent to lighten me on that grey journey ; the world itself appeared a toyshop ; and that took me back to Niirnberg, where I had passed a day last summer and there are plenty of pretty things to see. At once it resounded to me as an overture to the Mastersingers of Nürnberg. Arrived back at my Vienna inn, I worked the ground- plan out in curious haste ; it made me feel quite well, to find how clear my memory had remained, how fluent was my fancy in invention ! 'Twas a rescue, nothing less ; just as the advent of insanity may even save one's life ! So I wound up left and right, thrust the twelvemonth's bolt on Tristan, politely thanked for invitations to triumphs in various cities of my exquisite German fatherland, and — finally arrived just where I am, " zu vergessen, dass ich lebe ! " — Your own home-coming, across the sainted Gotthardt, cannot have been precisely pleasant ; yet I was glad that you were not beside me on the journey to Vienna ! For once I was so narrow-hearted, as to congratulate myself on having to accuse myself of no complicity in a discomfort for yourself and husband ; neither did Iphigenie [his own revised version of Giuck's] come off punctually on the day supposed. On the contrary, it calmed me to think of your reaching the green hill sooner, where you could gladden yourself with the children once more. Your husband's condition grieves me much ; he is a palpable hypochondriac. It really is to be doubted whether the seclusion of Zurich is beneficial to him ; for it will have been remarked that amid the distraction of great cities, much company and so forth, he thinks far less about himself, and then is perfectly well. Probably he is not made for fruitful self-absorption : reading can help him but little, since he lacks too much of what one must gain in comparative youth and cannot make up for later ; so he falls into unprofitable brooding. I believe, dear Lady-friend, that you ought seriously to contemplate some change in this direction ; for it is evident, especially to one who has been away from you some time, that it is a question here of maladies which have their root far oftener in little, than in deep complaints. — Perhaps you'll smile at my solicitude and my advice ? — Ah ! I know it's not my rightful 'business. But when one has arrived at helping oneself the way I now am doing, one becomes quite presumptuous, and tries to take too much upon oneself, maybe, in seeking to help others also. At least this presumption, however, is kindly meant ; so don't be angry with me for it ! — And now forgive me for my Nürnberg mastersingers ! They'll come by quite a pithy meaning, and quickly make their tour of all the German theatres, perhaps by the beginning of next winter, when I shan't trouble my head much more about them; The production of the Tristan still remains my eye's chief mark. That once successfully effected, I have not much more to do upon this earth, and would gladly lay myself to sleep beside Master Cervantes. For my having written the Tristan I thank you from my deepest soul to all eternity ! — Now fare you well ! Reign calmly on, both learn and teach ! Patience already is yours : and that I now have learnt myself ! A thousand fine wishes for the birthday ! Your R. W.
Richard Wagner
Source: Richard Wagner to Mathilde Wesendonck, translated by Ellis, No. 124