Dearest Richard!
This will be my last letter to you from here. A week from today I shall be traveling to Dresden with dog, bird, and Natalie, whom I expect here next Tuesday with Jacquot, and we shall immediately move into my little flat with the old Fräuleins Rottdorf, 9 Marienstrasse, which suits me very well. Good Pauline Tichatschek wrote me a few days ago that she had my little apartment fixed up quite prettily; she had had it supplied with all necessary implements for my convenience, even with some kitchenware, which I probably shan't need, since I don't care to do any cooking for myself alone. I was really very pleased with the good lady; at least one person cares for me. I shall see whether I may keep the furniture during my stay there, for it would, of course, save me great expense if I needn't have my things brought from Zurich. I had written to Pauline Tichatschek that I would have my belongings sent, and forced her to betray the surprise she had prepared, which made me very sorry for her sake.
I was pleased and surprised to receive such a quick answer to my letter; here I must be considerably closer to you than in Zwickau, for there I often received your letters only on the sixth day, while here they come on the fourth day. The dear lady also wrote me that the forgotten 50 louis d'or would be sent to you from Hanover; the intendant and the musical director were present again at the ninth performance, for which no tickets could be obtained after ten o'clock in the morning. The directors would be real fools if they should throw away their chance of good profits by not performing Rienzi. You are right to tease me about it; with my extreme modesty I really felt funny myself on mentioning the gift of Rienzi only jestingly, so I was glad that you took it that way; I'll not do it again.
And now, my dear Richard, your enclosure to Clärchen and the threat to write to Mathilde oblige me to assure you most solemnly that the good creature is innocent; she does not know anything about the last affair; she had written to me while I was still in Zurich, quite shocked, and with the most fervent sympathy for us, whether it was true that we were going to be divorced (from which may God ever protect me) because you wanted to marry a rich and very courted baroness; a certain Frau Kälberle, who had spent the summer in Zurich, had spread this pretty news in Dresden. I wrote at once to Mathilde that nothing of this ugly gossip was true, which made her most happy; she knows nothing more, so she will be very astonished to get a letter from you. Anyhow, my dear Richard, you must not imagine that the true reason for your departure from Zurich is not known; don't consider what I tell you about this matter as a reproach; I myself appear to people far more quiet than I am inside: at the utmost a tremor may be perceived in my voice, but certainly I shall not give away anything; even to Clärchen I would not have admitted anything if she had not already known everything before my arrival. Her eldest son had brought the pretty tidings from the singing club; I had to tell you this in answer to your unjust accusation, though I should have liked to keep it from you. Some day, when the time comes, I shall tell you the news from Dresden, but as you will see it did not come from Mathilde at all. Believe me, I have no external cause to tear my wounds open; people see that quite well and avoid talking about it. These wounds bleed freely in any case; they were too deep; you may even believe that I pray God to make me forget them, but unfortunately it has been in vain so far; when once they shall have healed I also shall be saved. You have made me very miserable by all the offenses and insults which I have had to suffer on account of your liaison. You know very well that no word against you nor anything had passed my lips as to that former Bordeaux affair, but then I was not made to suffer as much as during the last one.
Source: Letters of Richard Wagner: The Burrell Collection, ed. John N. Burk (Macmillan, 1950), No. 195