Dearest Minna,
That’s how it is! As a result of my eagerness to ensure that my birthday journey could go ahead as planned, I have in fact made it impossible for me to carry out that plan. I had resolved that, if I managed to sort out the scene with David, I would travel to Frankfurt on Tuesday evening and then continue my journey to Dresden on Wednesday morning. But it so happened that on Sunday I so forgot myself in my eagerness to get on with my work that it was not until half-past-six that I got up from my desk and went out to eat, not having had anything since a drink of tea at breakfast-time. I bolted down the meal and then, in spite of the bad weather, gave myself some vigorous exercise by walking to Wiesbaden, caught a chill on the way back, and on Monday felt thoroughly wretched, with weakness and diarrhoea, which on Tuesday was joined by a mild but debilitating fever. Today, at all events, I already feel better, and my indisposition is at least of no further consequence; but it would have been impossible for me to undertake my journey today without arriving in Dresden feeling genuinely ill. And so I regard it as the workings of fate, which at least has the advantage of allowing me to add a further 100 thalers to what I sent you last time. Would you be kind enough to let me know whether you think you can survive until around the second half of July?
I intend writing to Frau v. Bülow and asking her to send you details about Reichenhall: I believe it is still very cheap there and fairly primitive. -
It would give me great pleasure to be able to collect you from Reichenhall on the 5th of September and accompany you as far, say, as Nuremberg: my work (I hope!) will permit me at least one such excursion - especially at around that time. That this work dominates every aspect of my life is something you will by now have learned to appreciate; it renders me indifferent to everything else, e.g. whether I hear Tichatschek or Schnorr. This work alone, and my actual completion of it as soon as possible, is also my excuse for having set up this temporary refuge here: without such a goal I would be forced to regard even this interim arrangement as irresponsible. And I shall remain here only until this goal has been achieved: I hope to have reached that point by the late autumn and, assuming this to be so, I plan to move in with you in Dresden on the 24th of November.
Provisionally, I still think that my decision to regard a home in Dresden as your home is a wise and prudent one, and one that best accords with my present circumstances. Looked at closely, my position is so abandoned and helpless that I should consider it unjustifiable for me to think of settling down on a permanent basis and living a life of comfortable ease. My prospects for the future are provisionally those of complete uncertainty and possibly of total destitution, so that only a major new success may now alter the situation. In much the same way, Countess Pourtalès, who has generously helped me out with much-needed funds, beseeches me to expect very little or, even better, nothing at all from the Court despite the absolute trustworthiness of the Grand Duke of Baden. And so, when my new opera is finished, I see myself helplessly cast out into the world, and only by taking in hand some new work could the idea of settling down temporarily in this way in the future seem necessary and therefore responsible. - In these circumstances my wife would of course have to share my inconstant and uncertain fate. But since she has already shared so many similar upheavals and inconveniences, my first thought is to give her at least a sense of security, and offer her a permanent place to live, and I am delighted to discover that a most suitable place has already been found, inasmuch as you yourself have often declared of late that, now that you are there again, you feel happiest living in Dresden. My only thought in all this is to keep your Dresden refuge safe and secure for you, and at all times provide you with the necessary means to lead a decent existence there. For my own part, I plan to think of my home always in terms of a little room in your house, while leaving it entirely to you as to how you can best make me feel at home there. In the course of time and, I hope, as the result of a successful new opera, I reserve for myself the right, as soon as I have any firm prospects, of extending the Dresden establishment so that it meets all my needs, while ensuring at all costs that you yourself remain secure there, since this can be achieved by relatively modest means. -
In the face of these clear and self-evident arrangements, I now have to endure the pain of being told that I am driving you out into the world, and that you regard it as a mercy to be invited to Russia by relatives with whom you were once on a personal standing of open hostility! - There is nothing I can say to this. —
Following the unfortunate outcome of Tannhäuser in Paris, I was advised (more especially by Liszt) to visit Rossini, who had allegedly been told all manner of distressing things about me; indeed, Rossini himself sent word to me one day that he would be pleased if I were to visit him. It seemed to me that a false and, for me, humiliating construction could very easily be placed on this visit, and since I realized that the dear old man would never be able to understand me, and that nothing but confusion could ensue, I did not visit Rossini, preferring instead to live with the self-reproach of having offended this kind and genial old man. - I have now been brought an article, dated last year, from a German music journal, containing a long and detailed account of a visit that I am said to have paid Rossini following the Tannhäuser affair, in order to win him over & persuade him to intervene on my behalf, whereupon Rossini is said to have dismissed me with a scornful display of his wit. Everyone has naturally taken this to be true, and Weissheimer has urged me belatedly to refute this lie. I have grave - and very melancholy reasons for not doing so, and for letting the matter rest. None the less, this episode will no doubt find its way into my biography. But what will not be found there? Anyone who finds letters from you in my possession will read there that my wife calls me and my behaviour towards her “heartless” “brutal” & “vulgar”. So this will no doubt also find its way into my biography.
There’s nothing I can do about that!
But let us say no more about all this - and, above all, complete the Mastersingers! I am full of confidence. Then let us see what happens next!
Kindest regards to Madame Huber, and - sincere good wishes to you from your
Birthday Man.
Source: Selected Letters of Richard Wagner, trans. and ed. Stewart Spencer and Barry Millington (W. W. Norton & Company, 1988), No. 277