Most excellent of all Wives,
Since you will it, you shall also have a letter from me to-day, though it wasn't until yesterday I wrote to Wesendonck — as you wished — and therewith conveyed to you pretty well all that there was to report — even if not precisely much to rejoice at. Consequently I have little to add about my sojourn here to-day, excepting — that you may think yourself lucky not to be sharing it. Indeed I should be unspeakably sorry for you, if you were here with me now; I'm in nothing better than penal servitude, and one pleasant day in my house would be dearer to me than all these indifferent pomps of the world-city. That is a long story, however, and we'll see how I survive it; but in no case will it lead to anything remarkable, and I stick to it that my coming hither was a sacrifice. Whether I still shall give pleasure to the gentlemen here, or not, is quite immaterial to me; but even that will not be much: there are too few rehearsals, the choruses are miserable, and a performance of the Ninth symphony like that at Dresden simply isn't to be thought of. So I'm just making the best of it, and have the greatest difficulty not to succumb to a sudden attack of Swiss home-sickness and take to my heels.
My setting up is fairly finished. A splendid Erard grand has arrived; I have had a standing-desk built for me, and have already picked up again, as well as I can, the threads of my profitless work. With Economy I'm also getting even, by degrees; already I have hopes of coming out of it with what was settled. If I'm not invited out, I take all my meals at home now, where I get them best and cheapest; these people only charge me for their outlay and the fire, and all in reason. Generally I eat nothing but rostbeaf, with a dozen oysters first; for what they understand by soup here invariably is nothing but an enormously dear big tureenful of appallingly thick spiced fluidity, which I can't endure. For that matter, I notice no great mischief from the diet here as yet; the air is very healthy, always wind and sea-breezes, so that I scarcely can clothe myself warm enough or eat to satiety. I'm wearing double under-hose beneath my black leg-garments now.
For the rest, I haven't had sight again of so much of London as that time with you; it doesn't attract me at all. Klindworth has been and still is ill; when he is up again and the weather fine, we mean to have a day on the Thames. Long excursions into the country, on the other hand, I probably shall be unable to make; I shouldn't know where to find the money, if I mean to save, for you have no idea at all of the expensiveness in England. How much dearer everything is than in Paris, you may judge by my having to give 2 schilling here, i.e. 2½ fr., for the same pastilles de Vichy I pay 1 fr. for there. An omnibus there costs 6 sous — here 6 pence; exactly as much again. Yesterday afternoon I paid another call on Semper, who lives an immense distance from me, before his departure: I only went by omnibus, but had to take two different ones each way; making 2 schilling — for nothing at all. By the by: Semper will not come to Zurich till summer — July; he has work to do in Paris first, for the exhibition. They have been leading a wretched life here; when I dined with them, they ruined my stomach with pork. To-day I dine with that delightful fellow, Sainton; tomorrow at Benecke's, to whom I was introduced by Wesendonck. Otherwise I stick indoors, now working, then reading. Beyond an obstinate cold, however, my health is passable.
(I've just been interrupted by a caller, and so have lost the time to get this letter finished before post; also, I must dress to go out. So you'll have to wait a day longer; perhaps I may add something sensible tomorrow!) And still, I'd rather try and wind this letter up to-day, that you may not have to wait — Sainton's soup can wait, for choice. Indeed I should have liked to fish up this and that, to tell you plenty — Halt, there comes somebody else! I can't help it now; you will have to wait until tomorrow! —
I have just got home, 10 in the evening, and don't want to go to sleep before ending my letter, which couldn't have gone off to-day in any case, since it's a great English Day of Penitence and Prayer (on account of the Crimea) and on such a day the English are too pious to attend to their post after 11 in the morning. I should be glad to report a great deal more to you, as you set some store by it; only — God knows — I don't rightly know what. You mustn't fret about the Times etc.: to me their yelling is terribly indifferent; I get a little of it told me, that is all. The whole thing springs from purely personal interests, as to which I'm accurately informed now: other motives, people here — as mostly everywhere, no doubt — never have. There is nothing to be done against it, except to retire if one doesn't feel up to it, which is just what they want; as I do feel up to it, however, I shan't retire this time, but let them go on bellowing their nonsense: in the end — I am told — they will stop. Moreover, I have really nothing else in mind here, and if I only were earning more money, should be quite content; for it strictly is indifferent to me whether I'm thought something of here, when I see what charlatans have been thought something of before. Besides, there's nothing to be expected even of the Court; everything is hollow and rotten there — as I strictly had known long since.
I will write to Henniger of Dresden (my haberdasher) and try to regulate the old debt. My last letter to Liszt was a very tough job for me: I know I am not pleasing him with my decision about Berlin; yet it had to be, and the thing is done. I wrote the Frommann at once, also to Fischer concerning the score. Hülsen is to pay me an advance of 100 louis d'or on the tantième, if possible, and send it to Sulzer forthwith: if he does, you'll be well provided for a long time. How and when I shall get my money here, is very uncertain still, as these fees are not paid till the end, as a rule, unless one asks before. I must see how to manage it, though I don't quite care to dun for money.
Tell me a lot about Pepsel and Knackerchen next time. Odd, but I really couldn't get myself a puppy here; it would strike me as a hideous disloyalty while the good old chap is still alive; just you keep him going and lively — by diet. So soon as the weather turns warmer, I mean to visit the Zoological Garden with its animals very often; it's not worth while at present, as they are all shut up. An overworked horse dropped dead before my eyes the other day; that is said to be something quite usual here: how glorious! — There, you have your sheetful now, and it is late; pick out the best of it, be well and tranquil: I'm holding out! Farewell, dear good old Minna, sore-tried Wife, and hold me dear. Adieu, Adieu! —
From your letter of to-day I see it only cost you 55 cent.: here I have to pay 11 pence; I should almost be inclined to go on writing unfranked, yet will buy myself stamps; only, I cannot do it at this time, and a post-office for franking will be too far out of my way tomorrow: so, pay once more.
Source: Richard to Minna Wagner: Letters to His First Wife, trans. William Ashton Ellis, Vol. 1 (H. Grevel & Co., 1909), No. 79