My best Brother-in-law!
I haven't yet had any news at all from Minna since my letters and I am upset about it. I can't get rid of the terrible thought that she may be seriously ill and that you may be concealing it from me in order to prevent me from a sudden and perhaps dangerous return. If I don't get news soon, or have her here by Sunday, I shall certainly go back to make sure—whatever the consequences. O God, if only she could get over that fear and anxiety and regain her composure, then everything would be all right and the position of both of us would be not nearly so bad as it may appear. The suspicion that might be directed upon me from Dresden can't possibly be so strong that I would be actively searched for—but even if it were, I am safer here than in Abraham's bosom, because every precaution has been taken so that even in the case of a warrant of arrest I would be warned in time by the official authorities and could stay incognito near Weimar as long as I wished. But it must at last become evident in Dresden too that I can't be considered as really guilty, and a general amnesty for Saxony seems to be inevitable.
As for my special plans, I intend to stay in Weimar or near by until my future is safely settled. Yesterday I wrote to Eduard Devrient in detail: I offered an agreement by which I might later return to my position in Dresden again. If I succeed, I should have a half-year's leave in order to effect in London and Paris the acceptance and performance of my operas. If such an agreement were possible (and nobody could arrange it better than Devrient), everything would be fine and better than ever. Minna could safely stay in our apartment in Dresden and could expect me back before very long. But if no agreement is possible, if the hatred and envy should turn out to be so great that I had to lose my position in Dresden, well, then nothing could be done, but even so it wouldn't be too bad. Equipped with everything necessary, I would go to London and Paris, establish my connections there for the future and make contracts. At the same time my friends here would see to it that the Grand Duchess of Weimar would put at my disposal a little house with all necessities on one of her splendidly situated estates, where Minna with father, mother, and sisters could safely settle, perhaps have a small farm to supply themselves, and in any case, well cared for, they could await the development of my fate to come. As soon as I have attended to my affairs in London and Paris, and closed the necessary contracts, I would come to her myself in order to compose, quiet and undisturbed, the new opera which will be in consideration. Then she herself would go to Paris with me and we would never separate again. Our old people could quietly remain on the little farm for the rest of their lives. So this is the plan, toward which everybody here is giving a helpful hand, and the Grand Duchess would be proud to restore Weimar's old glory, that is, to be the protector and promoter of the arts: for you would hardly believe how much I am loved here.
Thus fate is more friendly to me than appears on the surface: I am revived by the hope of being able to exercise again my artistic creative powers. So be reassured and persuade my poor wife to come here as soon as possible to await developments together with me, and then reach a decision on her own account. Is she in Dresden? I suppose so! Mail this letter to her quickly! It is no good for her to stay there now—here she will breathe more healthful air with me.
Again my most heartfelt thanks, my dear faithful brother-in-law, for your devotion and friendship, which I have never so closely realized as in the hour of danger. May Heaven grant that I can reward you for it! Greetings to my dear good sister Clara; thank her for her great love for me and for my Minna. Comfort her too, for things are better, perhaps, than could ever be expected. Adieu, my beloved ones! Send news! Farewell and be happy!
Your
R. W.
Tannhäuser is to be given here Sunday.
Source: Letters of Richard Wagner: The Burrell Collection, ed. John N. Burk (Macmillan, 1950), No. 69