Dearest Spouse,
Yesterday completed the 9th week of my dog's-life in London; 7 weeks from to-day I put an end for ever to this joy. It's all calculated out already. Tuesday, 26. June, I depart in the evening, reach Paris Wednesday forenoon, and the only question is whether I shall leave for Basle on Thursday morning, when I should get to Zurich on a Friday, which you may not like. Write me whether I shouldn't start from Paris a day later, so that I might arrive at Zurich on the Saturday. You see, I'm counting nothing but the time for leaving here and reaching you again; everything between this and then appears to me a hell! —
When I had closed my last letter, and asked myself if I hadn't forgotten anything, it finally occurred to me, too late, that I hadn't answered your question about the band here. At first I thought of making up for it at once in a letter to Boom; then I reflected that Sulzer might take it amiss, perhaps, if I wrote to him before him. So I shall report on that enquiry to yourself to-day. Unfortunately the orchestra of the Philharmonic Society, which also is that of the Italian Opera, consists of almost none save — Englishmen: only one trumpeter, a trombonist, and a third, are Germans; of Frenchmen likewise only 3; all the rest are good English. Not that there aren't many German and French bandsmen here; but Costa, who had the appointment of the bandsmen, in his time, always engaged English in order to ingratiate himself. Now, these gentlemen play quite well, no doubt, have thoroughly mastered their instruments, and can take anything that is set before them; but — like machines, exactly like Geneva snuffboxes. For instance, they strictly have only one volume of sound, and can't well play softer or louder. The Paris orchestra is far superior. These Englishmen are blocks of wood, and I would rather fan a German dance-musician into fire, than one of these wearisome fellows. Moreover, it comes very difficult to me to make myself intelligible to them; French, of course, is no help at all, and whenever I have a minuter explanation to give, Sainton has to translate it, excepting a few short phrases which I have picked up, such as "Once more, please!" i.e. "noch einmal!" However, I have been rewarded at last for my bassoon long-sufferings at Zurich: the first bassoon here, a Belgian, is truly excellent, perhaps the best musician in all the orchestra, excluding Sainton; he often has made me quite happy. — The oboist — albeit an Englishman — is also first-rate, and especially devoted to me; on the other hand, the clarinet — one of the directors — is bad, and I much preferred Ott-Imhof (you may get him told that). But Sainton is a long way preferable to the good Hessian Heisterhagen; he is the best leader I have ever had — by no means barring Dresden. If I ever produce the Nibelungen, he is to be with me. Last Friday he had arranged a quartet at his rooms in my honour, with — Piatti, the first violoncello-virtuoso in London; to anyone who knows the ropes here, and that these gentry are not in the habit of handling their bows under 10 pounds apiece in the season, it was an enormous distinction. —
So much for the orchestra. — These last few days I've had the pleasant occupation of studying the scores of the magnificent works to be extra-rehearsed the day after to-morrow for performance in course of the ensuing concerts. Sterling English compositions; as unimpeachably correct as an example in arithmetic, but without one trace of fancy or invention: the joy it gives me to be let conduct these tone-poems, you may readily conceive! My bitterness is awful, and only with the most ferocious irony, which it is lucky that no one understands here, am I able to stand it any longer and hold out. However — I don't intend to start that tale again! —
I have had to submit at length — in the month of May — to putting my skin into an under-vest; naturally not of flannel, though, but of knitted silk, such as Dr R. recommended me at Zurich before. Everybody here wears such a vest, and declares it impossible to survive here without one. Hitherto I had rebelled; but my catarrhal state became so serious with the persistent cold wind, and so affected my brain in particular, that I yielded to the advice of my friends here at last. I have worn the under-vest the last 3 days, and at any rate feel somewhat better for it already. I bought them with Eduard Röckel, and luckily found a bargain; a remnant of exactly 2 vests of a pattern now gone out of fashion, for which reason I got them at 18 schill. apiece after 24 had been asked. As I have been compelled to wear a foulard under-vest at Zurich in the winter, this will be of further service to me there as well, I hope; so tell R. that I've followed his former advice. The trouble given me by this everlasting chill quite baffles description; now its seat is in the lower regions, now in the brain, and I'm so tormented all the time, that I could often cry aloud at this eternal obsession by an evil spirit. And you, too, don't appear to have been quite the thing again of late, since you speak of having been so hoarse? I haven't suffered yet from that here excepting at the concerts, where I've always had the best occasion for catching cold thereafter. Well, take the greatest care of yourself; if N. tends you nicely, I may bring her something back as well. Sulzer's indisposition is nothing serious, I suppose? I wish him good recovery, and hope my wish may come too late. Send the Major word he's to be up and about again soon, and I'll bring him a superb collection of corns: meanwhile he must be strengthened with chicken-broth from you — without eyes. —
Hülsen's not having sent the money yet is most provoking! I'm simply waiting for your answer to my last enquiry, to write the gentleman at once, to whom I had to send my receipt in advance. — How fatal it is to me, good God, I can't possibly tell you! — Neither has Anderson made me another payment yet; he's in a horrible fix himself now — which I'll narrate to you by mouth. —
All my friends here are taking it into their heads to visit us in Switzerland; I shouldn't be surprised if Praeger came nearly as soon as myself. Ed. Röckel, who wants to see his father at Wiesbaden at the same time, will visit us almost for certain. He really is a very decent fellow; last Sunday he treated me and the Praegers to a famous fish-dinner at Greenwich. To-day I go to Sainton and Lüders, tomorrow, to Praeger's; yesterday Klindworth dined with myself. Liszt has written me in a very friendly tone again; he will visit us in Switzerland next September. May I only have recovered my voice then; but I fear the wretched thing will never return. —
There, I have talked myself dry for once again; which often is a need to me in this shameful existence. For your Sebastopopopol news I thank you most sincerely; it's enough to make one laugh, that you should have to supply me from Zurich with that sort of thing. At bottom, however, this Popel is indifferent to me; the whole affair is arrant nonsense scarcely worth a glance. How happy I shall be, on the contrary, when I breathe the pure delicious air of Seelisberg again; here I simply grow stupider day by day. Often I stare at my music-paper for half an hour at a stretch without the remotest idea what to write; as for that, I am assured it's the same with everyone here, the heavy English atmosphere seeming to choke all volatility and freedom of the mind. I hardly think I shall get even my second act finished now, so slowly my work is crawling on. What a folly it was of me, by God, to come to London!!! — No matter, one must buy one's wisdom. — Fare splendidly well, good old Mienel, take plenty of hip-baths and think of your poor husband, who well deserves that one should let Spinster Breck come again!
Na, that will be a joy; I hold my tongue! — Once more, then, be well and of good cheer; I've already been here 2 weeks longer than I have to go on being here. Salute left and right, and hold him dear — who — Virtue — is — itself!!!
Source: Richard to Minna Wagner: Letters to His First Wife, trans. William Ashton Ellis, Vol. 1 (H. Grevel & Co., 1909), No. 89