Well, I've shaken down, dear Mietzel. The first morning that I can pass in peace — for many days — I mean to devote forthwith to writing you a bit more rationally than hitherto could be the case. I'm full of tales to tell you, even if nothing at all extraordinary. You know I didn't mean to travel on Friday, but not to leave Paris till Saturday; neither did I catch sight of our old friends till very late. Kietz doesn't seem to be on very good terms with his concierge: even the next day he hadn't shewn her his face, and hadn't had my note at all; not finding him in again, I left stricter orders. At last I got sight of the foolish young man and his friend Lindemann the evening of the second day. He was in the thick of a money-lending trouble with his tailor again — of course — but he and Lindemann refused to hear of not treating me and Anders at their restaurant the last evening. Anders has become incredibly childish; he can't trust himself to cross a boulevard now, but waits for an omnibus to arrive and take him over; he had fallen down in the Bibliothèque a few days previously, smashed his glasses, etc., a regular to-do.
This time I saw the Rachel also, in Cinna: it was really instructive to get such a notion of that kind of virtuosity; she pained me greatly. With her acting, even if the lady sang like a goddess, I couldn't use her for any of my operas. More by mouth on that another time, when I get back. —
The journey to London went off quite safely. The passage from Calais to Dover lasted only two hours, with good weather; though I felt a little bad, and was obliged to lie down. At Dover, stupidly enough, we had to wait 4½ hours before the train moved off.
It is singular that I should have bad weather all the time in Paris, whereas I arrived in ill-reputed London with a beautiful clear sky. The cabman took a whole hour driving me from the station to Praeger's, and that at a sharp trot; I might equally have driven all the way from Zurich to Dr. Wille's at Mariafeld. It's a horribly big city, and so far as size goes, Paris is a mere hamlet in comparison! — As I wrote you yesterday, Praeger has been very friendly and obliging; but he at once explained to me that, if I wanted peace, I must pay my visits quickly to begin with. I complied, and we drove about London as if it would never end; Praeger accompanied me, and consequently made a sacrifice of his precious lesson-hours. By dinner-time yesterday we got finished at last; then we hunted for lodgings, and found one I like very much, where I hope to work quite quietly and undisturbed — which is still the main affair with me, whereas the concerts are really the secondary. So I am living on the skirt of one of the most beautiful parts of Regent's Park, not at all far from the Animal-garden: in front of the house a little garden down to the street, and across the road the fine trees of the park; so that I may look joyfully forward to Spring, when it all will grow nice and green. God knows it needs such hopes, too, for me to tolerate the prospect of spending four whole months here on a task so wholly foreign to me. If I can only get done with my work Walküre so as to be able to begin the Young Siegfried at once on the dear Seelisberg, I shan't so much mind.
But my lodging naturally isn't cheap; it costs two pounds a week. Still, an agreeable abode is really my principal aim, else I couldn't hold out here; I mean to save in other ways. For the present I still go to Praeger for my meals, as he lives only a quarter of an hour off — a cat's jump here; how to arrange it later we shall see. Mr. Anderson promptly invited me to a big banquet of the Queen's Band on Thursday; which I declined with due thanks. In general I mean to abide by it: I conduct my concerts, but there's an end! These people shall see that I'm even more of an Englishman than themselves. I am in much dread of the concerts themselves, however; the orchestra, though very good, is said to be completely unable to play piano; nothing but forte, without any nuance. It is also correct, that they have only one rehearsal, and at that two symphonies, two overtures, and the other concerted pieces are played through every time. How am I to do anything with it? — When I enquired after the programme for the first concert, the first joy they gave me was their having chosen Lachner's "Prize Symphony" as novelty! No, I struck that off at once, and told the gentlemen they mustn't expect me to handle such rubbish. Of course the foolish devils recognised their error immediately, and begged me to attend a committee to-day, when they would dispose the repertoire entirely according to my wish. So I fancy we shall give a symphony of Haydn's and the Eroica or C minor symphony of Beethoven; for the overtures they had already selected the Magic Flute (to have something by Mozart) and Fingal's Cave (to have something by Mendelssohn): I have nothing against it. Ernst plays a concerto by Spohr; I don't yet know who sings. If nothing happens in particular, I shall write you after the rehearsal (on Saturday); I am waiting with impatience for a letter from yourself by then. Ah God, if you could only give me quite good news, especially about your health and feelings; it really is too bad that I should have to leave you by yourself again!
Believe me, dear Minna, even if we don't quite think alike in some respects, and express ourselves differently about this and that from time to time, yet neither of us can survey our life without seeing how near we stand to one another through what great proofs of love and staunchness in the most difficult and often the most appalling situations. Only think of the memories thronging to my mind as I re-tread this London where we roamed in such distress and fearing 16 years ago! What you have had to pass through with me, has really been hard! And truly, if I could make things altogether smooth and smiling for you now, it certainly would gratify my inmost soul. But my not quite understanding how to do so, and actually continuing to cause you worry and distress, has come to be my singular fate, which I often heartily lament for your sake. It touched me very much, how hard this parting came to you again; what I can do to make the time of separation pleasant from afar, be sure it shall be done. Good news from me, I know it, will be the liefest to you: that I can only give you if I feel quite free and easy at my work, which has become in fact my solitary life-task worth the while. It rejoices me that you yourself expect no more from hence than honour and a good success to my artistic efforts, however restricted the latter. Rich my art will never make me, and nothing save the consciousness of finding a few devoted souls can constitute my riches; for them alone can I go on labouring in this world. In this sense I hope to be able to give you none but good accounts of myself; but even that will depend on my having to keep an eye on nothing else. I am heartily glad to know that you now think entirely the same with me on this point! So — await nothing but good, and thus abridge the time of severance, just as I propose to by my darling work!
Now, heartiest greetings to our valiant, precious friends. Give Uncle and Aunt Wesendonck, dear creatures, my best of thanks for their attachment. To the ferocious Sulzer, the melancholy Boom, etc., convey my respects. Greet Nette also, whom I somewhat forgot at parting; which has remained a grief to my remembrance. I often see Peps before me of a sudden, but always as he looked when young; really the old scamp is hardly to be recognised. Teach Knackerchen the loveliest things, that I may also have my joy in him when I return. — And so farewell, all you who love me; I'm ever thinking of you here! Farewell, dear good, much-tried Wife; take the full amount of joy in me you can; no one needs it so much as yourself! Farewell, and hold quite dear
Thy Richard.
Only now have I learnt the exact truth, that the affair with my Tannhäuser overture did not occur at my, but at the new Philharmonic; the conductor was Herr Lindpaintner.
Source: Richard to Minna Wagner: Letters to His First Wife, trans. William Ashton Ellis, Vol. 1 (H. Grevel & Co., 1909), No. 76