Dear Mietzel, I cannot write you much to-day, feeling fairly done up: in the second week of the cure here it's said to go like that with everybody. Tomorrow will be the end of half the cure-time; Sunday fortnight I travel back.
Your letter might have made me very sad, had I not noticed that your unwellness itself makes you strongly inclined to a melancholy temperament now. If R. displayed anxiety, it certainly was with the good intention of spurring you — who are a very bad patient — to a strict observance of his orders. By all means you need careful handling of your health; your blood is greatly out of order, and if you do not take care of yourself, you may certainly look out — in your old age — for the sufferings of your mother: you know her asthmatic condition. It also is quite understandable that poor Jette's fate should be haunting you now; but the bare idea of your having any tendency to consumption is really nothing but a figment of your fancy. Remember myself and my throat troubles of 18 years back! No, in that regard my mind is quite at ease about you; but from this time forth, now that you have grown alarmed yourself, it's clear enough that you must start another mode of life. You ought to, and must lead a life of ease and comfort now: it must be your entertainment to dress as slowly and nicely as you please of a morning, and you shall presently receive from me a cosy pretty négligée; let your occupation be a little embroidery, and above all, pleasant reading, receiving callers, dressing at leisure for out-of-doors, paying calls, and so forth. In time I shall buy a smart little carriage, and leave it at a coachman's with whom I'll strike a bargain for the horse he is to place at my disposal; then I shall take you for nice afternoon drives. In short, you must thoroughly lead the life of a fine lady now; you're not to bother about housekeeping an atom more than may amuse you: it's the only way for you to get on the high road to the manner of living you need. What money can do towards it, will soon be seen to; believe me, as things stand now, my future may become extraordinarily brilliant, and there is no telling how far it may lead when Germany is run through and London and Paris are laid under tribute, which will then depend on no one but myself.
Even for next winter the prospects are very auspicious. Hamburg has signed for 50 louis d'or; I am receiving a note for the end of November. Leipzig has written about Lohengrin; I had grounds for not demanding over 20 louis d'or. Darmstadt, Carlsruhe, Hanover, Brunswick, have all applied already; Cologne, Magdeburg, Reval, Olmütz, even Ballenstedt, are asking for Tannhäuser. In brief, it's certain that the whole of Germany must walk into our pocket soon. Berlin also (at Kroll's) is a certainty now, and that is sure to bring me in a couple of thousand francs. —
So: you must and shall become a fine lady: to please me, you must wear nothing but velvet, silk or satin, yet not so as to interfere with your comfort. For — if any woman has such things, you deserve them too: that's what I shall tell all who may envy or sniff at you! — Undoubtedly, Herwegh has a number of coloured cravats; but for all that, he doesn't seem bent upon conquests. He sticks to his room and his muzzing all day; when he comes out of it, he barely mumbles. On the contrary, it is I who have to keep a sharp look-out here; for the fair local world is all setting its cap at me, the famous betorched composer. Luckily I know no one, and no one attracts me to do so. — This morning we had rain for the first time; but it has ceased already. My former room was very noisily placed; repeatedly I could not sleep. To-day I've removed to a quieter room in the first storey. Many thanks for the fresh consignment, though you may make a pause until I ask for anything again; the food here has somewhat improved now. I was the only one to open his mouth; no Switzer would ever dare to, and Herwegh still less. — Well, 15 days more and there's an end to it! —
You might get Mathilde, please, to tell them at the Post to send my money-letters also here — till further orders; they may always contain an enquiry I shouldn't like to leave unanswered a whole week, that is to say, for the time you're at Baden. — Upon your return, order the money-letters to be delivered to you as before. Don't misunderstand me! — Apart from business letters, I answer none now; I really have to save myself during the cure. See, even this letter to yourself has grown too long; that exertion, though, is not to count, I have made it so gladly. —
Now, my good Minna, farewell, hold your head up; think of the comfortablest life you can possibly conceive, of the little carriage — na! and — I say no more! You'll be bound to put up with me a while longer! Adieu; greet Peps!
Thy Richard.
Have you written to the Wesendonck yet? He wrote me that they were going to Wiesbaden on the 21st for Lohengrin: the performance took place, I've received a playbill and a criticism: Frau Moritz sang the Elsa very well.
Saturday, 5 A.M.
See, Mienel, I have to re-open this and add to it. Quite a pile of letters came last evening with all sorts of tidings, foolish and good, 1., from yourself, with the Wiesbaden Lohengrin snuff-box, which amused me vastly. You good Uetli-ascender, you! Otherwise I've nothing much to answer you, except that I am doing tolerably. The doctor may well talk of warm douches; good Lord, they are simple enough with their bath here, and douches don't exist! — 2., from Liszt an uncommonly cheerful, kind and splendid letter: the Grand Duke thought very highly of my letter to him: Liszt has had to tell the Princess of Prussia a lot about me. The music from Bauer can wait till I return. — 3., From Karl. — 4., The enclosed letter to yourself, the address of which deceived me; when I saw from whom it was, I read it through. You can scarcely make any other reply to the crazy young lady, than that the Carlsruhe Music-festival is the 20th Sept., and at it things from Tannh. and Lohengrin will be performed; beyond that you know nothing. — Now I must be off to the spring. Farewell, bathe prettily, and get quite well. Adieu, Mienel!
Thy R.
Source: Richard to Minna Wagner: Letters to His First Wife, trans. William Ashton Ellis, Vol. 1 (H. Grevel & Co., 1909), No. 51