Best Friend,
You must make much of the fact that I write a few lines to you to-day! I wished to work, but found myself in such a bad state that I was forced to spend the whole of the forenoon on the lazy-couch, half asleep and half awake. A change must be brought about: something must happen to tear me from this mere world of thought! This occupying myself with art par distance is death to me. No joy is lasting — not even the Breslau news — for I cannot satisfy myself with mere "news." What the change shall be I cannot conceive, for not at any price would I apply for an amnesty! But this I know: a flying trip to Weimar or Berlin, to hear my operas and do something real for them — that would have a highly beneficial effect on me.
I thank you for seeing to my mother-in-law: let a Tannhäuser ticket reward your good wife for her trouble! When you receive the R.'s money for me, take at once twenty thalers from it, and give them to the old Planers. Don't forget this! Don't be uneasy about my present money-wants; but you are squandering a fortune on your letters! Whatever does your wife say to it?
Everything is in the best order with Berlin: they are even thinking of soon following up with Lohengrin. The Princess of Prussia saw it again lately (October 2nd) at Weimar, and has probably made things hot for Hülsen. You have done well to write to S.: the score must be snatched from the rascal's teeth. I have declared to S. that on no terms do I now give my consent to Tannhäuser in Leipzig, so long at least as the present theatrical conditions are in force.
What you write to me about X. again begins to touch me: above all am I affected by the adherence to the new ending, which X. never liked.
Your "Miniature" choice-reading I have not specially mentioned, because I found the matter altogether too trifling and commonplace: I have nothing to say about it.
Liszt sent me lately, at my request, my Faust Overture, with a delicate and intelligent remark — a wish for something lacking in it. Remind me to tell you about this another time; to-day I feel exhausted.
I much covet your soda-water machine: I will inquire whether I can get one here; if not, you must send me one. We have already made exchanges in matters of medicine and diet. I am very glad that your hoarseness has gone. Now there only remains my last orders about your appointment.
In the abjectness of our life and of our occupation lies at the present the determining cause of our prostration. In spite of Schlurk, I will never become acquainted with the Ritter vom Geiste. In that matter I stick to a terribly severe diet! I have not even read Heine's Romanzero. I anticipate my complete ruin if I took to that sort of thing.
My principal care is still the Nibelungen poem: this is the only thing that really and powerfully elevates me whenever I give myself up to it. The thought of posterity is repugnant to me, and yet this vain illusion comes before me unawares from time to time, when my poem passes from my soul into the world. All I can and all I have is contained in this one thought: to be able to carry it through and have it performed!!!
I have now decided on the titles: Der Ring des Nibelungen, a stage-festival play (Bühnenfestspiel), to be performed in three days and an introductory evening. Introductory evening: Das Rheingold. First day: Die Walküre. Second day: Der junge Siegfried. Third day: Siegfried's Tod. The introductory evening is really a complete drama, fairly rich in action: I have finished quite half of it. The Walküre, entirely. The two Siegfrieds, however, must still be thoroughly revised, especially Siegfried's Death. But then it will be something!!
I was fearfully depressed at not being able to work to-day! How willingly would I have gone off for a few days, but the weather is too bad — quite December!
If there is anything I have not noticed, or which I have forgotten, please forgive me! And make my excuses also to J. Schäffer!
Frau R., of course, had written to me, as always, in the kindest manner. We visited the Kummers at Tiefenau near Elgg, which delighted them: but it is a fearful place. Heaven preserve me from such a water-establishment! I would rather burn away in fire — best of all in that of Hafis. Do study Hafis carefully: he is the greatest and most sublime philosopher. Certainly no other writer has given the great question so sure and irrefutable an answer. There is only one thing — that which he commends: and all beside is not a farthing's worth, however high and noble it may call itself.
Something similar to this will also be shown in my own Nibelungen.
Farewell! Be precious cunning, and take things in a wickedly easy way!
Ever your friend, who truly prizes and honours you,
R. W.
Source: Richard Wagner's Letters to His Dresden Friends, Theodor Uhlig, Wilhelm Fischer, and Ferdinand Heine, trans. J. S. Shedlock (Scribner & Welford, 1890), No. 86