Most excellent Muzius,
I cannot write you anything definite about the next concert, even to-day. Tuesday evening Sainton told me the programme had already appeared in the newspaper, and my Tannhäuser march was upon it. Therefore Prince Albert must have demanded some of my music, and, without a word to me about it, these stupid devils of directors blindly set down this march since it chanced to be still in reserve. For we had run through it at an extra rehearsal before the 5th concert, that it perhaps might be given in course of the concerts as a closing number. After the 6th concert, however, when I attended a committee to arrange the programmes for the remainder, they shewed me a written sketch of the last two concerts (before they knew whether the Queen would attend one of them), and behold you, they hadn't included this march in it. At any rate, then, the undecided success of the Tannhäuser overture had made it advisable to these gentlemen to give nothing more of mine; whereas I in the meantime had made up my mind, should they still want the march, that I wouldn't consent to it, since I have lost all desire to produce myself here. For all that, these gentlemen behaved very shabbily in vouchsafing me no word about it, but slinking away like cats from hot broth; so I have just taken my revenge. Immediately I heard of the programme arranged with Prince Albert, I wrote the latter: It much rejoiced me to perceive that the Court wished to make acquaintance with some of my music, but I regretted that the directors of the society, without consulting me, had fixed upon a march that was merely a piece of scenic decoration, and to myself did not seem qualified to give a sufficient idea of my music; consequently, if the Court insisted on its wish, I besought the Prince to command an execution of the Tannhäuser overture, which had certainly been given once before, but in any case could only gain through better understanding by the audience on a second hearing. — Sainton himself delivered this letter next day at the Palace, where he had to give a lesson. At the same time I wrote to the directors, telling them that this march, which they had considered unworthy to set on the programme of their ordinary concerts, was bound to strike myself as still less worthy of an extraordinary concert, if it were a question of giving the Royal Court, in compliance with its desire, an adequate idea of my music; consequently I had written to Prince Albert, and begged him to demand the Tannhäuser overture. — Well, it appears that the Prince has at any rate fulfilled my wish and asked the directors for the overture, as I'm bidden to an extraordinary committee for 5 this afternoon; whereas if the Prince had not entertained it, he would certainly have told me so direct through his secretary, for which purpose I had written him my address. It would be droll, accordingly, if in this way I arrived at a minor amende after all; although I could have done quite well without it, as this whole London expedition simply strikes me as a sin committed by me, for which I heartily admit the justice of stern punishment. — For the rest, we have a thorough good programme, and one that — if it weren't for too much music — may give me pleasure: the lovely symphony of Mozart which I conducted once at Zurich; then the 8th symphony of Beethoven, the second movement whereof we once had to repeat at Zurich (by request!). So we shall see: I'll write you after the concert; meanwhile you may assume with tolerable certainty that the Tannhäuser overture will be given. — Thank you for your 4-leafed clover, though it will have caused you no very great effort, as you hardly find any but 4-leafed clover; it shall be a token to me, however, that you are well and in good humour. I am equally glad that you're satisfied with my economy and my purchases: I'm not quite at the end of the latter yet, and you shall get something pretty besides; neither did you need to give me any orders for lace insertion; instead of 1½ ell I had already purchased several, which I hope will suit you. The stockings I've bought you will certainly be considerably finer than the previous ones; they are of the best quality.
The other evening I went with Praeger and Lüders to the Surrey Gardens, where there are wild beasts in variety (among them many lions), and Sebastopol is so surprisingly represented in the open, that I really didn't know at first where I had got to. When it grew dark, the bombardment was copied in fireworks, ending with the final capture of Sebastopol while the band very touchingly played "God save the Queen." The irony of the thing became complete for me when I learnt that the same soldiers were employed for this sham fight who had been in the Crimea and, after fighting in reality, returned here wounded, to go through the thing again with pasteboard, canvas and rockets, but victoriously this time. The public naturally feels very gratified: what more would one have? —
Otherwise I have nothing to communicate from here, except that I'm counting the days to my longed-for departure already. Liszt has written me very amiably: at Düsseldorf, where he also was invited to the Music-festival, he likewise heard on all sides that I had left London, at which all the world felt hearty joy (namely, at my having been kicked out); a joy Liszt spoilt for them by the assurance that it wasn't true. Ah, this adorable crew of musicianers; how odious I seem in my own eyes for its having assumed the appearance again as if I were one of themselves! — God preserve me in future even from that appearance! — Farewell, best of all Minnas; continue so sensible and bright, and you shall be rewarded by having in me the very dearest of husbands, who now presents himself with olden love as
Thy superlatively faithful partner and spouse,
R. W.
Source: Richard to Minna Wagner: Letters to His First Wife, trans. William Ashton Ellis, Vol. 1 (H. Grevel & Co., 1909), No. 97