. . . I heartily thank you for your news about Lehrs and Anders. I am going to write to each of them too. If you only knew how much we miss you here! Whenever something pleasant comes along, Minna and I curse the fate which lets you share with us only the worries and none of the good times. We still lack any substitute for your society, not to speak of the friendship, which never can be substituted. Even with Heine we haven't reached any true relationship; a person who is always believing himself slighted and passed over is an awkward candidate for friendship; with his wife the situation is still worse; nobody can put up with that; they have been on and off at least ten times with Devrient this winter. I mention this to show you that Heine doesn't lend himself to agreeable friendly intercourse, without in the least denying that he possesses all the more basic virtues of a friend. He remains the closest of all to me, only it is too bad that his frequent theatrical hypochondria makes him anything but agreeable. Tichatschek would give his blood and life for me, and rarely have I found such a devotion as his—but he is a bad fellow and a bewildered man with whom I get nowhere. The whole opera company here is really fond of me, and wherever I want one, I could have a friend; but none suits me. I have had some remarkable experiences with Devrient in this half-year; she was going through a crisis of her life; there was the question of marriage, etc. She chose me as her confidant and counselor, and so I have been initiated into some astonishing secrets of this extraordinary female—such an abundance and power of passion, such an impetuous violence of the inner demon beside such genuine womanliness, amiability, and goodness of heart our Creator will not soon again produce. I share with Minna the deepest sympathy with her fate: she is a friend to us in the true sense of the word. Our artistic collaboration has been quite remarkable. I could write a whole volume on her study of Senta in The Flying Dutchman. Recently she confessed she is consumed by my music, and yet—she thinks—I have still to write the real part for her. A few days ago she left us after we had celebrated the twentieth jubilee of her Dresden engagement. Her contract had expired—but she is going to return in the autumn: a new contract for five years has been practically signed. One can't tell yet when her youthfulness will fade. My other associations here still consist of several families of the aristocracy. The wives of von Lüttichau, Könneritz, Serre, etc., are my great admirers. Sometimes I receive invitations from them; that is all. But even when the most trifling thing is undertaken here, I have to be on hand. I have had to become the conductor of the Choral Society, etc.
Lüttichau treats me like a jewel; he is always asking me whether I will be good enough to take over this or that. Friend Reissiger fits in as well as he can, only his wife can't control her venom. Before it was decided that I should be Kapellmeister, Reissiger, with all his friendship, did his best to intrigue against me: thus he had a Kapellmeister Schindelmeisser summoned from Pesth and did everything to put him in Rastrelli's place. But it was of no avail, and all that came of it was that Schindelmeisser tore my Rienzi apart in the Vienna Musikzeitung—so that article is accounted for! Now, Reissiger is behaving quite well, and is working to his own advantage, for otherwise he might have lost still more. . . .
You would like to know something about my arrangements and way of life? It is very simple. I still live with Minna in a furnished apartment in Marienstrasse, consisting of a living room and bedroom. We fetch our food from the restaurant. Only in the autumn shall I get furniture and move to a larger apartment in Ostra-Allee, next to the Loge. For Minna is to go to Teplitz again in May, and this time she is to stay for three whole months.
I shall enclose a few lines to Schlesinger. That scoundrel! He has already reduced the costs for the "Two Grenadiers" by almost 50 fr. Apart from this I owe him nothing for any arrangement: his brother wrote to me last fall, and, in case I have no time to make the four-hand arrangement, he inquires whether or not he may have it made by somebody else. At the moment I agreed with the stipulation that I am to repay him 200 thaler, which I had got for that arrangement by Moritz Schlesinger, either in cash or in manuscripts, and he agreed. Shortly I will send a few songs to the Berlin Schlesinger and so the matter will be settled. Why is this Parisian twaddling about damages? He ought to be glad, I think, if no arrangement were made of Halévy's opera, for he would gain nothing from it.
But now I must begin to write to Cäcilie and our friends; if I wrote it all to you, nothing would be left for the others—so you must learn from them what I have not told about myself.
And so farewell to the person who gives me so much worry, and whom I so heartily wish were here at my side. I'm forever missing you, and perhaps you miss me too. . . . You know that in me you may always count on a true and grateful friend! Adieu, your
Richard Wagner
[In Minna's hand:] Dear, good Kietz, warm thanks for your friendly greetings. I heartily reciprocate them. The pots and kitchenware won't be provided until you give us the pleasant promise that you will delight us here with your dear friendly presence. Without Kietz we can't enjoy a home-cooked dinner, not even potatoes. You need no longer bring along sausages. Hasten into the arms of your true friends and be assured that you will ever be a welcome guest.
Your,
M. W.
Source: Letters of Richard Wagner: The Burrell Collection, ed. John N. Burk (Macmillan, 1950), No. 48