Dear Richard!
Today I believe I can tell you with certainty the day of my departure from here. Of course you will say again: At last! What a long time it is all taking! But I wanted to sell everything that was left, for the sake of the precious money, without which we precious humans can't get along—so as not to arrive with entirely empty hands, and this can't be settled in a moment. People have no money, so don't grumble any more about my delay. On Saturday the 25th of this month I'll surely leave here for Leipzig; on Monday the 27th of August I'll go direct to Nürnberg by train, from there by the good and quick accommodations which go daily from Nürnberg to Augsburg; so Wolfram assures me, for he has made this trip often and cheaply. Natalie will be a cheerful standby for the pets and in the future helpful to have around. I am glad that you saw it this way and agreed to have her come along with me. Perhaps I shall send you some more lines from Nürnberg to tell you the exact day of my arrival. I would certainly have liked to have you meet us in Rorschach, but you forgot to send me the exact traveling route, and now it's too late. Your letter wouldn't reach me here on account of the slowness of the post from Zürich; and I think, since I'm not traveling alone for the first time, I'll reach my destination without any detour by Australia. If I shouldn't find you and you get no further news from me, I shall send a message to your friend Müller, where it will find you, so that we may come together under one roof. I am going to bring along what you requested. The reproach in your last letter about my longing for a lifelong employment, and my clinging to externals like dead furniture, etc., doesn't touch me at all: you have proofs to the contrary. I don't know what egotism is; my personal needs are too slight for that. You shouldn't misinterpret my concern about our livelihood; I don't want to live over again what I went through with you before. The thought of the petty cares which went with the struggle for existence, when I sometimes didn't know what to put into the boiling water because I had nothing: this certainly makes me shudder to contemplate a future when similar things might happen; I have never concealed from you that I have become discouraged.
My Richard, you are planning to give a concert there this coming winter, as in Riga. That is good, and I have no doubt of its success. But a lecture? And for money, by a Kapellmeister—that struck me as a little strange when I read your letter, and the thought of it humiliated me very much. My greatest pride and pleasure was seeing you as the head of the greatest orchestra in Germany.
You may remember that I missed almost no performance which you conducted, I saw only you and was happy. I believed that what I was hearing emanated from you only. Don Juan was your last opera here; it will long remain to me as a sorrowful memory. But the Ninth Symphony will be forever unforgettable to me on account of you. You appeared to me like a God governing all the powerful elements and working enchantments upon men. Don't deny that it gave you much joy to be able to integrate such resources, such strength, and to merge them into a great entity. See, dear Richard, you own the power, the glorious gift of creating something great even as a conductor, and you deviate so much from the true course of art that you now want to bring about a concert in Zürich, but with what forces? How do you feel about it? I feel very sad about it—but no more of this; by word of mouth I shall have much to tell you if my thoughts, which often slip quickly from me, will not have left me altogether. Fischer came to see me. The good old man beamed with joy that you had thought of him. Uhlig was here too and wondered at your cheerful letter; he is going to write you and leave it with me. Both friends shared the opinion we should tell no one that you are in Zürich. So I told them that you won't stay there, so that they may feel reassured.
I have nothing else to write now; keep in good health, that is the main thing. Rent two rooms, not more, for that would be too expensive. Some of the small things I will give to Seebe; it usually takes twenty-two days to Zürich. Farewell now! Please don't take any sudden mountain trip at the time of our arrival. Recommend me to the Müller family. The cholera here is diminishing; you needn't be afraid. Papo calls. Peps barks his greetings to you.
Affectionate greetings from your
Minna
Source: Letters of Richard Wagner: The Burrell Collection, ed. John N. Burk (Macmillan, 1950), No. 80