Dear Friend!
I don't feel well these days, I am quite out of humor, and so I'll reply to your nice and confidential letter with only what is most necessary. First of all there is the arrangement of Rheingold and Walküre ordered by you. You certainly don't need the score for this. The difficulty with Klindworth's piano arrangements is that while they make it easy for the musician to grasp the structure of the score, on the other hand they presuppose that the pianist knows the method of modern piano playing, that he knows how to make the notes sound. You will surely understand what I mean. Anyway, by using this very clearly outlined arrangement your work will be facilitated considerably. Well, good luck and some pleasure too! I was quite touched by your conscientiousness about the newspaper story. Indeed, I had simply trusted your word, and I felt no grudge against you on account of it. You may have realized from your own report how one has to shut oneself off from the world, especially nowadays, when the press nuisance exposes one's naked body in the streets. I no longer write anything about myself to anybody and have made up my mind to be strictly silent about my personal affairs. But I have to put up with the fact that just this may give rise to any desired interpretation. On the other hand, I shall also see to it that the true circumstances of my life and experience do not remain unknown to my really sympathetic friends. I have reached as far as the forty-ninth year of my life in my very conscientious, and at the same time strict and detailed autobiography. Parts of it I shall have published before long. As for Die Meistersinger—it will fare as God pleases. I have lost all desire to have any part in such productions. The people gobble up whatever comes along—good performances and bad. Anything goes, but I don't want to know about it. In Vienna it might go well; perhaps it only needs my assistance. But Vienna too has become repugnant to me. I suffered a lot there, and now as a reward your Jews and heathens are dragging me through the mud as if I were there for no other purpose. Dearest, count yourself fortunate that you have no further traffic with any opera theater. No one can get the better of this monster. Anyone who deals with it for any length of time becomes bogged in its mire. This was the bitter feeling I had when I believed you were acting under Dingelstedt's influence. But, not another word about this! Keep well, and you may still derive some joy from your life and work.
With warmest greetings—
Richard Wagner
One more favor! Could you get me six boxes of Faber's tooth powder? You can't send it collect from Austria to Switzerland. But I'll send you or Faber the amount some time, if I know how much. Don't be angry!
Source: Letters of Richard Wagner: The Burrell Collection, ed. John N. Burk (Macmillan, 1950), No. 304