Well-beloved Brother Fischer,
There has again been a long pause, for which I can scarcely forgive myself, as your last letter indeed caused me very great joy. Well, I had really nothing very pressing to say to you, except to thank you for your letter, and to send heartiest greetings: these I have always sent in my mostly business letters to Uhlig, and I hope you have always been duly served with them. Now I have cleared up several — by no means "political" — works: spring is at hand, and with the beautiful month of May I wish to set to the composition of my Siegfried: but I will first pay my debts, so far as I can, with pen and ink! and so I am going to write to you and Heine. The most difficult of all was to write intelligently to Heine — poor fellow! So I first commenced with him, and gave him all the news about myself, which I should then have had to repeat to you, had I not hit on the ingenious scheme of sending Heine's letter unclosed to you, so that you might read it through and then send it on to Heine. Please do this! Does Heine still live in the Jägerstrasse? You will write the address, won't you?
Now you have learnt how I am; and if you are satisfied with that, I must first of all assure you that nothing in your letter rejoiced me more than your wish that you might come to me here in Switzerland when you receive your pension. That is the most sensible thing you can do! Believe that, and sleep over it every night until you come. In spite of all temporary misère, I feel here the courage of a dog who has got over a whipping; by a whipping I mean the eternal soul-and-body-destroying, aimless, and useless fight with Impossibility, such as I had to carry on for six long years in Dresden, in my relations with ignorance and insolence. Now I only do the possible, and am therefore in inner harmony with myself, from which at last something or other shall come forth; for from here I can exert a far more decisive influence upon our art-doings than there, where in everything, even in my own thoughts, I was fettered. Only wait: the ice shall yet break. In Dresden I should, as Capellmeister "loci," have become thoroughly rusty, because always spitefully attacked, pulled to pieces, and therefore rendered powerless. In my book, Oper und Drama, which will appear shortly, you will, moreover, read to your comfort that I do not consider true art possible until politics cease to exist. Won't this make you smirk?
I have read your last letter through again, and perceive that I owe you many thanks for looking after the matter concerning the Prague composer: with that you have lifted a weight off my heart, for the Bohemian tone-poet really imagined I wished to commit an artistic theft on him. With regard to the music I left behind, I think the shortest way would be for you to take the stuff into your own hands. Only, if you did not know what to do with it, and the things were in your way, I should after all be glad if they remained at Professor Hähnel's! But if you really will trouble about it, do whatever you think fit: Hähnel, at any rate, will be only too glad to be rid of the stuff. You will probably not need a special authority: I think it will be sufficient in any emergency to show this letter. Perhaps I may ask you for one or two of the numbers. The whole lot you could place, my good, careful friend, wherever you think fit. If you come to Switzerland, then we will make further arrangements.
The principal thing is for you gradually to train down the Dresden choir to such a pitch of badness that Krebs will exert all his power to get you pensioned: that settled, you will come to the Lake of Zurich. You will not be the only one of the colony: others are thinking about it. Who knows but what we then may both begin to give rehearsals! In any case, you shall lead a comfortable, independent life here with us. Give greeting from me to the old … I mean old X. With this poor, careful man I have endured no small trouble. Oh that I should ever have thought of making anything by my compositions! Anyhow, that kept the pot a-boiling. Yet I hear that the business is not doing so badly after all: if it were indeed to prosper, I should for many reasons be heartily glad. Kind greetings to yours from us, especially to your daughter who is with you. Rejoice us soon with news of your welfare, but, best of all, of your arrival.
Farewell, my good old friend! Remain good to me, and soon get your pension!
Your
Richard Wagner.
Heavens! if I could only see the dear, honourable D. once again. I almost fear you do not greet him from me. I would willingly hear from Ed. D. Give a right hearty kiss to L. from me; but press R. to your heart for me.
Source: Richard Wagner's Letters to His Dresden Friends, Theodor Uhlig, Wilhelm Fischer, and Ferdinand Heine, trans. J. S. Shedlock (Scribner & Welford, 1890), No. 102