[...] Think of nothing but our reunion; that it may be a beautiful, enduring and blessed one for us both, you must care for your health to the exclusion of all else, and you can do nothing, nothing in the world, to this end unless—you achieve peace of mind! Do as I ask and, believe me, nothing can pain me so much now as to know that your sufferings are still being increased by these gloomy ideas; whereas nothing can rejoice me so much as to hear that you are better, as that proves to me that your mind is at ease about me, and that you are putting faith in me. This can only be if you steadily persist in not saying another word in future to anyone about the things that still upset you so. [...] Enjoy the performances of my operas—and if you really must have something to worry about, wait impatiently for me to get leave to return to produce my works myself and practise my art once more. We were far too much buried and thrown back upon ourselves there in Zurich. In the long run that was bound to do harm and make us captious. [...] Only give me plenty of leisure to finish Tristan—which should be done by the spring if I am undisturbed—and by then my return to Germany will certainly be assured. Perhaps it may happen even sooner; but if I should never be allowed to return at all (which of course is unthinkable), well, then you can rejoin me and we should have to say "Valet" to the pleasant prospect of Germany. Then we should have to settle in Paris where I would work with all my might to get my operas performed, and in the meantime Tristan would have to provide us with the means of living there in comfort. [...]
But I simply must get finished with this confounded Tristan; it has got to bring us in a lot of money next year. Rienzi, unfortunately, is not going at all well! [...]
It is Vienna, though, that still gives me most joy. Winterberger, Liszt's pupil who was with him in Zurich two years ago, has arrived here with a Russian princess whose sons he is teaching. He saw all the performances of Lohengrin in Vienna after having often heard it before in Weimar. Well, he says that anything more perfect and entrancing it would be impossible to imagine; compared with Weimar (in spite of Liszt!) he simply would not have recognised the opera again. [...] And above all, the success! How could it have been otherwise, after all, with Lohengrin in Vienna? They say the audience applauded like mad, and that every performance was a regular fête.—I confess it would give me great joy to hear something like that some day. Naturally I have now acquired a great liking for Vienna and—I think—you would like the place too. Well, we shall see! But don't be too impatient! Some day or other everything will suddenly turn out splendidly and we two will look at each other and ask amazed, "Where on earth have we been all this time? Have we been dreaming?"—
There now, I think I have caught up with all the news I can think of to tell you about myself. I hope it may please you a little!—Winter has come upon all Europe and on Venice too. What rarely happens here even in the depths of winter happened actually early in November—a snowfall which lay for several days! Not so bad! Add to that that the houses here are badly protected from the weather, have absurd stoves, etc. It was awful. I have kept fires burning all the time, particularly when I was ill, and wood here is far from cheap. I suppose we shall be done with it some day! I have had the doors and windows properly protected with beading and the stoves repaired and it is quite comfortable now. Besides the weather has grown mild again. For God's sake look after yourself properly! Just as I thought, those d——d parterre rooms are not fit for the winter. Go and get a good warm carpet put down at once—otherwise you shan't have your New Year's dividend! But how frightfully good Pauline is! Isn't she good! Such goodness is almost more than one can bear! I was uncommonly delighted with what you wrote to me about her. [...] Do see a lot of the Tscheckels; they will sweep away your cobwebs and ease your impatience!—
And so you haven't been to the Heines' and the Fischers' yet? And stand-offish with Lüttichau! Well I am glad he expressed himself so nicely! Oh, if the man had handled me rather more gently in the old days, as is due to an artist of my stamp, how many things would have happened differently, or not at all! Well, let us forget all that. I bear no grudge to anyone.—He will send you good tickets, of course; otherwise may the Devil take him, and you will proudly pay your money for the gallery—that's understood.—
I still cannot conceive how they could raise serious difficulties in the way of your residence in Dresden. But it really is shocking that you have to report to the police! [...]
Source: Letters of Richard Wagner, Vol. 2, selected and ed. Wilhelm Altmann, trans. M. M. Bozman (J. M. Dent & Sons, 1927), No. 375