Dear Mienel,
Now I still have five more concerts to conduct! The third went off yesterday as well — as possible: there is not enough time for rehearsing; at our one rehearsal a fearful mass of music must be just played through, and really it is only owing to my great adroitness and energy that the principal pieces always go as I want them at last, even if not with that perfection of finish they would if there were less music and more rehearsals, so that the orchestra could get a thorough grasp of everything. What I do bring to pass, notwithstanding, naturally is something quite fresh to these people, and — whoever knows how to appreciate it, is beside himself for joy. Thus in particular with the C minor symphony this time and the Euryanthe overture, which was demanded da capo: a repeat, however, was disagreeable to the orchestra this time, on account of the great heat in the room and the exertion this overture costs the violinists in especial; wherefore the leaders begged me to quit the platform (as it was the closing number in the first part) in order that the applause might cease; which I gladly did, and so friend Publicus calmed down at last. For that matter, I conducted with a touch of malice this time, which highly amused my closer acquaintances down in the hall and up on the platform. The first part, you see, began with the poor Mendelssohn symphony announced to you before, followed by various boring vocal and concerted pieces. Well, hitherto I had always appeared on the platform in white gloves, but taken them off to conduct (which no other conductor does here); this time, however, I kept them on, and conducted Mendelssohn and the rest most gingerly — precisely as the others do, without letting my equanimity be ruffled in the slightest. But when it came to the Euryanthe overture I pulled off the gloves, laid them aside, and went at it in my way; I looked round, and observed how Praeger and the others were nearly splitting with laughter.
After the concert I took Praeger and Lüders (who always would like to devour me) to my rooms, to consume 4 dozen oysters with me. At any rate I make these people — and their like — most happy, for they declare point-blank they never knew Beethoven &c. before. Publicus also was fairly animated. I have already told you of the abominable fashion of quitting the room before the end of the concert: this time we wound up with the overture to the Water-carrier, which I am very fond of, and which also was played very well; after the preceding vocal number — by Mad. Rudersdorf-Kückenmeister (of Dresden memory) — the exodus commenced; so I took a chair quite placidly and watched, firmly determined not to begin again till quiet had returned, even if I had to wait for the whole room to empty. For which reason I said to Sainton fairly loud, in French: Only wait; perhaps we shall not need to play the overture at all! This seemed to have been caught by a very refined and intelligent-looking aristocrat and his wife on the front bench, for he and his lady smiled at me most approvingly, which I reciprocated. The others also seemed to understand my attitude, and soon the greatest quiet reigned; so that I had much relish at last in conducting this overture for the remainers.
But to-day, poor hack, I feel as tired as a dog again, and all to pieces; I can't place myself at the desk to write this letter, my legs are cracking under me. Good God, I always exert myself far too much for this world of scamps; if I continue doing it another 30 years, no doubt I shall have had enough! — Perhaps people will leave me at rest then; my only consolation. — To change the subject, we are having wonderful weather now; it is so warm that I suddenly don't know how to clothe myself lightly enough. Naturally the wadded paletot will not do any longer, and so as to have something lighter to throw on, and not finding anything suitable in stock, I've had to order a Spring cloak à la Talma, only with sleeves (similar to my cast-off blue summer paletot); which, as it is to be all lined with good silk, will cost 3½ pounds, somewhere about 90 fr., but wouldn't have come much cheaper after all at Zurich. The other day I bought a pair of very fine razors, with which I now remove each morning's beard so easily that I never know what has become of it. — As it's so beautifully warm now, I also treat myself to a hot bath now and then, from which I'm expecting dispersion of the pains in the limbs and heaviness of body that have been regularly plaguing me again here. Beyond that, I go on vegetating lonesomely — from Praeger to Sainton and Lüders, and from them in turn to Sainton: no other acquaintance tempts me in the least to cultivate. Klindworth (a Hanoverian, by the by) used to come and fetch me for a walk or lounge, which was very agreeable to me; but the poor devil is constantly ill now, and I call on him daily without being able to take him out. He is the best of the bunch to me here, and reminds me much of Uhlig; a strikingly handsome young fellow, plays the piano quite extraordinarily, and came here, on Liszt's recommendation, to make his fortune. He appeared in public once, and — as others assure me — played better than anyone else in England; but he was so pulled to pieces by the press — especially the Times — that nobody would let him play again: such are these valorous English, these free and independent — scamps! — He has been struggling along ever since, gives a lesson here and there, and remains on the whole without prospect. So I have settled with Praeger — who is a good-hearted chap — that we shall arrange a special matinée (with the Ney, it is hoped, who has left her card on me already) at which Klindworth shall get himself properly heard for once by a select invited audience. Let us hope that will help him! —
Kietz, crazy creature, has also written me; like the rest, of course he imagines I am playing a big role here and can procure him any amount of orders from Englishmen. Lord, if the asses only knew how I'm simply marking time here till the 8th concert, to take it out on the beloved Seelisberg. —
You asked me the other day, altogether good woman you, what superfine thing you could make me for my return; I could think of nothing right, but the new-come warmth and coming summer-heat inspire me with a very wanton wish. For the winter, you see, we have invented a splendid indoor costume for me, which also is to be a standing order; now you must further invent me a summer suit to match. My luxurious imagination is enceinte with the following: a roomy loose jacket, something like my winter house-jacket, of velvet or stout silk, but not wadded, only lined with silk; to go with it, a handsome pair of trousers, such as I also got you to consent to in the end, but likewise not wadded, merely lined with foulard: linen I no longer can bear on my body, even in summer, and cotton I hate like sin. So have a good think how to make things nice and heavenly for this poor devil of yours when I return to you; which latter is the fondest occupation of my thoughts. To give you some solid background for these voluptuous ideas of mine, I may tell you that Herr von Hülsen (that divinely handsome man in your eyes) has also written me to-day and announced the bringing off of that advance. I intend answering him this very day, and assigning the money to Sulzer; thus the latter, too, will get his disbursements repaid. I also shall bring some money back from here in any case, and quite goodly orders stand in prospect for this autumn again: Hanover will certainly soon order Lohengrin (at 50 L. d'or), and so on. It is sure to be of great service to me, also, that Berlin is at last taking the lead; for Germany still remains my field. At Hamburg, I hear, the Lohengrin is having greater and greater success. —
Otherwise I here learn strictly nothing of the world; it is always the way in great cities like Paris and London, where one never arrives at a comfortable dip into the papers, as at home. Murder and sudden death may occur here, and the foreign newspapers report on it like madmen: one hears nothing at all of it, at least if one lives as I. Yesterday, however, the illustrious Emperor of the French arrived here with his consort. Sainton has named someone to me who, when Louis was loafing around here as adventurer, exclaimed on his announcement to him: By God, that inconvenient person again! To-day they act as if possessed with him. O glorious world, proud England! Perhaps I shall become Emperor of Germany myself one day! —
Unfortunately I have had many sleepless nights of late again. Once, upon waking from my troubled half-slumber, I suddenly heard a nightingale trilling quite close in the Park. A flood of tears poured from my eyes! I hear the dear thing often now, of an evening and morning. Ah, if it were not for this touching Nature, truly I couldn't hold out any longer among this race of men! How glad I am that you have so much sense thereof yourself, and are so fond of animals; to a feeling heart they really constitute the only comfort in a world where Man displays his higher reason by nothing save dissimulation and all manner of paltry insanities. How charmingly truthful these animals are; and behind all his show, what else than they does the average human being strive for, except that they are frank and never play the hypocrite? —
There — that's enough for to-day from your poor tired-out, battered, over-vigilled husband: he's a rogue who gives more than he has! Your last letter rejoiced me again; I see you are well and looking at my situation here quite sensibly: if everyone would only do that! It is their expecting Lord knows what from me here, that worries me; but if you judge my position so calmly and sagaciously, then all is well, and we shall get on with each other quite comfortably. Look you, then I myself gain that sense of tranquillity, and even of humour, needed to carry the thing to its close; but if I have to will a thing I cannot will, I become downright insane. Poor thing, you experienced that once; if you only knew what I suffered for you then! I'm sure you don't believe it! — But all's well now, and we shall see how to bring our old age to a blithe and happy ending yet.
Farewell, dear Wife. Kind regards to our friends, and hold me tremendously dear!
Source: Richard to Minna Wagner: Letters to His First Wife, trans. William Ashton Ellis, Vol. 1 (H. Grevel & Co., 1909), No. 84