. . . God! I am very depressed: often when I am alone I am seized by the same anxiety as when we were still without any prospects. Nothing, nothing gives me pleasure. I intended to be very diligent during your absence: Heavens! I don't feel like working at all and I hate the empty apartment. I dine usually with Heine—but have been once with Tichatschek and once at home. Today I am to dine with Fischer: shortly I will go to the old folks. Besides, on one evening I was with Mad. Weber. What a pitiful life this is! Without Mienel and without Peps! Yes, laugh; I rather feel like crying! The Flying Dutchman is progressing well—it is certain in any case to be given on the second of the Christmas holidays: Die Jüdin has been put aside for it. Although we've not yet had many rehearsals for it, the main thing is that Mad. Devrient is learning it beautifully. She sings the Ballad without any hesitation. Rienzi may be given on Sunday too—Devrient, by the way, is the same slut as ever. Nobody ever knows what to expect from her. Only in the Dutchman has she surprised me by knowing her job.
Source: Letters of Richard Wagner: The Burrell Collection, ed. John N. Burk (Macmillan, 1950), No. 44