My dear good Mutz,
To-day I'm merely sending you the most essential answer to your letter just received, and reserve to myself to write again tomorrow in case I forget too much. — I have been ill since the first of November, and only the last two days have I gone into the air again a little, about dinner-time. For three days I was confined to bed; a gastric-nervous fever threatened. The private physician of a Prince Gallitzin has been treating me. Now I'm on the mend, and think of resuming work in a day or two.
Dear Mutz, I won't conceal from you that your last letter from Chemnitz had its share in the development of my illness. The grief of seeing you forever falling back upon that chapter, where every fancy does you harm, convulsed me deeply. Have we taken opposite paths for a while, merely to renew from a distance those conflicts which, alas, were so injurious to both of us when last we were together? Your letters from Zwickau touched me so much, whereas those from Chemnitz only shewed me how recklessly and insanely your wound was being probed again there.
Do please discard the fatal notion that I'm keeping something up my sleeve and mean to break away from you insensibly, or anything like it. For the sake of a clean slate and calmer future for the pair of us, I deemed it best that we should separate at present for a season, precisely to avoid the very thing you keep relapsing into, to my sorrow. Whatever I have said to you, and all I've adduced in support of it, was honestly and truly meant. I reproach myself most bitterly for having let the irritation of the moment betray me into joining issue with you harshly and saying wounding and offensive things; it is that for which you have to forgive me, just as I heartily repent it myself. But nothing more shall shake me in my present resolution to keep all that is wounding or slighting aloof from you. I therefore tell you, please don't challenge me again: 'tis waste of breath, you will not draw me; I shall simply pay you back with gentleness and kindness. But with that on which I'm silent, it is not because I need to circumvent you, but solely since it is not meet (nicht taugt) between us, and must be absolutely ignored and forgotten. This is my only reason for not answering on that point, believe me! I have sworn it to myself for good and all! —
Only take heart, my dear good Minna! Overcome, and steadfastly believe in the intense sincerity with which I now aspire to nothing — nothing on this earth save to make up for what has been inflicted on you, support and guard you, preserve you in all loyalty and love, that your suffering state may also mend, you may regain an interest in life, and together we may then enjoy life's evening as cheerfully and cloudlessly as possible. — Dear good Mutz, what more can I say to you? Would not all else be utterly superfluous and vain? —
Can it be humanly conceivable that they are putting serious difficulties in the way of your residence in Dresden? I'm dumbfounded at it! — Still, I keep hoping it is nothing but a mere scruple of the local police which may easily be set aside. I am writing Pusinelli a couple of lines, which please convey to him at once; my next step shall depend on his answer. I am determined to pursue it if need be right up to the King; in any case I shall write to Lüttichau about it, perhaps within the next few days. My God, what does one really care, tho', for this Dresden? In the worst event I would beg you to join me at Venice immediately, if it were not so dreadful to let you and your pets make a fresh stiff journey in the heart of winter, and to tear you again from a rest scarcely entered. The sole object with Dresden, accordingly, is to afford you a point of repose for this winter, for your medical tending, diversion and recreation, until I can return to Germany myself; when we can't perhaps so well choose Dresden, after all, as unfortunately that stupid old publishing tangle (with Kriete's) hasn't spun itself off even yet, making Dresden still a little awkward to me. I rather think of our settling in Berlin or Vienna; you yourself shall have the casting vote in that, as I am indifferent on the whole to the exact place, provided only it's a large city with good artistic means. The time for us to make our minds up isn't far off now; as soon as I have done with Tristan I shall in any case be able to go to Germany for a while, and the settling of the larger question must necessarily be knit with that. But I anticipate with next-door to certainty that the new change of Government in Prussia will expedite everything; at all events a Prussian amnesty will soon be promulgated there, and if they do not think of me themselves, I am determined to address myself personally to the Prince of Prussia and beg him to sanction my residing in Berlin. I can't help fancying I shall receive an invitation to Lohengrin even as it is, which would almost plunge me in perplexity — firstly, because it would detain me for long from the completion of my new opera (which we really need to live upon), and secondly because, after these 10 years, I shouldn't care to obtain my first hearing of Lohengrin precisely in Berlin, turned to a weariness by their miserable singers, when I would far rather choose Vienna, where the representation is said to be unsurpassably fine. — But more about all that tomorrow; for to-day only thus much: I definitely assume that we two poor married folk shall come together again from next summer onward, no matter where!
But just you behave! For God's sake don't play havoc with yourself like a maniac! Neither be afraid you might never be able to see me again; Tröger has written me, and the only thing to fear for you is a very wearying malady if you do not yourself help to abate, improve, and make your sufferings bearable through tranquilness of mind, which is the only thing to help here. But you have just got to be a bit stronger and sounder when I see you again! —
And now farewell. I see I've still a deal to write to you; so a second letter tomorrow!
Farewell, good, good Mutz. More tomorrow from
Thy Richel.
Get a warm carpet for your lodging at once; I command it!
Venice, 14. November 1858, evening.
So, my good Minna, now I am quieter I'll write you again at once, that nothing may remain forgotten, and everything, if possible, be made still clearer.
Once more, I meant to have written you a couple of days after your last letter, as I hoped to have overcome by then the truly disheartening impression your excited letter had produced on me. Meanwhile, however, my own illness became more and more critical; I lost all appetite, could keep nothing down at last, had fever, and was utterly wretched. As soon as he heard of it through Karl, Prince Dolgoruki sent me Prince Galitzin's private doctor, when we parried the outbreak of an apparently very bad illness which seems to have been brewing in me for a long time; and at the end of 14 days, as said, to-day I've been out for the third time already and feel set up again, only that I must still be very careful with my diet. So that is done with, and let us hope, for long!
Then at the beginning of this week came good, good Frau Pauline's answer, for which I am deeply obliged to her. She wrote me about yourself as well, saying you intended to write me next day — quite calmly and nicely, she hoped. I confess I waited gladly for that promised letter, which would certainly have made my answer easier; but it did not arrive, alas, until a few days later. You poor good Wife, for Heaven's sake don't plague yourself so shockingly! Never again will you move me from my fixed determination, which distance itself makes the easier for me in its first stage, since I there am master of my mood and able to consult nothing besides my duty to you. Only believe me, all else is quite useless, and — as I already have written you to-day — if I keep silence on certain points, it is not that I have anything to conceal from you, but simply and solely because I know too profoundly how foolish and unprofitable it is to keep returning to such a subject, whereas oblivion is the only anodyne even for yourself. Enough of it, I beg and implore you by all that's most heartfelt and earnest; never another word on it! Attest to me thus that you really are fond of me. Think of nothing but our reunion, and to make that a thoroughly great and enduring boon to both of us, attend to nothing else whatever now beyond your health; toward which you can do nothing, nothing in the world, unless — you tranquillise your mind! Fulfil my prayer, and believe me, nothing now can grieve me more than the knowledge that your malady is positively being increased by those gloomy thoughts; whilst nothing can more rejoice me than to hear of your improvement, since it at the same time is proof to me that your mind is finding ease about me and you are according me belief. That you can only do by firmly carrying out the instant resolution not to speak another word on that which still is so unsettling you, and that to no one; then it at last will happen of itself that you won't think so much about it, until it finally will vanish from you like a murky shadow, and in its place the Present shall approach with fostering, uplifting, liberating hands. Open your eyes, and look unprejudiced on all that can afford you joy, amusement, occupation. Gladden yourself with the performances of my operas, and — if you really must have something to unsettle you — be thoroughly impatient in your expectation of my license to return at last, to present my works in person and restore myself to the exercise of my art. At Zurich we were far too buried and thrown upon our own resources; in the long run that was bound to act injuriously and set us grousing. Once we are back in a big city where I can busy myself with performances, and you can tend me after tiring labours and rejoice with me at their success, — it will seem to yourself all a dream that we ever were tucked into a crib like that and only with an effort could get a reasonable guest or two into the house from time to time. Well, well, all that will alter and a whole new life begin, full of honours, fame and recognition, as much as ever I desire; so get yourself in trim to enjoy this harvest with me after a long and arduous seedtime. Keep this future in eye, and if you will, be thoroughly impatient for it to come about at last: that sort of impatience won't harm you at all; on the contrary, it will heal and regale you! — And it won't be long in coming now; only give me free leisure to finish my Tristan — which, if I'm left undistracted, will be done by next Spring — and my return into Germany is ensured me already. Perhaps it will come even sooner; but should it chance that I'm not let return at all (which of course is inconceivable!) — why, then you must return to me, and we should have to say Valet to the pleasant prospect of Germany. Then we should have to transplant ourselves to Paris, where I should push the presentation of my operas with all my might, and in the meantime Tristan must provide us with the means to live agreeably there. So, if I am not amnestied by next summer, you would come to me again with dog and bird, and we'd definitively emigrate to Paris; which I should never quit again, however, even if I were amnestied later. —
Well, only don't grow too impatient, good Mutzinius; that also is not well. — No, my own temper is so calm and steady now, my outlook on the world so clear and void of hate, that I shall get on very well with it henceforward; only you, poor Wife, disquiet me: nothing — nothing else! — so calm yourself, too, and nothing then will lack me any more. —
But it is imperative that I should get done with this confounded Tristan; it must bring us in much grist next year. Rienzi unfortunately refuses to go down at all! I really had been reckoning on Hanover for certain; but, apart from Breslau, not a theatre has taken it in earnest yet, and we should have a very poor look-out if I had written none besides this opera of yours! You know I had to pay Heim back his 1000 fr. last month; I had counted on Hanover, but nothing came in, — then my good Tannhäuser (already a long way off being so good as Rienzi!) helped once again: the Stuttgart people addressed themselves to me for it at last. You know that I had strictly meant to keep them dangling, but I grappled to and wrote that if they sent me 50 louis d'or at once, they could have the opera, so far as I cared; I received their cash at once, and was able to repay Heim in the nick of time. Good old Tannhäuser! rotten Rienzi! — At Pesth, too, they want to have Tannhäuser. I've offered Lohengrin to Cassel. Dingelstedt writes about Rienzi for Weimar — naturally only with Tichatscheck; probably that will remain my last transaction with Rienzi. — But that is not to say that things are standing badly with us; Tannhäuser and Lohengrin are still inexhaustible. Only the other day there was another Berlin performance of the former; consequently another tantième, which the entirely good Minna shall have for New Year's gift. Lohengrin also is bound to be coming out there soon, and even though the advance must be worked off first, still there will be good receipts to expect from Berlin again by Easter. And by then I shall have finished my Tristan (God willing!) and pocket another 100 louis d'or from Härtels. I also hope to get a supplementary 500 gulden for Lohengrin from Vienna this winter itself; there have been 12 performances already, at the least, and they have to pay me again after the 20th. Moreover, Tannhäuser is set down for next season at Vienna; consequently I must be getting my 1000 gulden again for it in the summer. Then will come Tristan, which everybody wants to be the first to have, and doubtless will bring me in a tidy sum in no time. —
It is Vienna that gives me most delight, though. Kirchberger, the pupil of Liszt's who was with him at Zurich two years ago, has arrived here — with a Russian princess whose sons he is teaching. He has seen all the Vienna performances of Lohengrin, after hearing it often at Weimar, and says it would be quite impossible to imagine anything more perfect and entrancing, — compared with Weimar (in spite of Liszt!) he absolutely would not have recognised the opera: all, all were so excellent, from the first to the last, that it was one continual transport; Ander as Lohengrin bewitching, and everything, orchestra, chorus and all, unsurpassable. Prince Dolgoruki confirmed that also. And above all, the success! How would that have formerly been possible in Vienna with Lohengrin straight off? The audience is said to applaud like mad, and each representation to be a perfect festival. — I confess, it would give me joy, at last to hear a thing like that. Naturally I have acquired a great predilection for Vienna, and the place — I think — would also please yourself. Well, we shall see; only not too impatient! But one of these fine days all will suddenly become magnificent, and we shall stare at each other and ask in amaze, Where, wherever have we been all this time? Were we dreaming? —
There now, I've picked up nearly all I know about myself to tell you; may it please you to some extent! — Just as winter has descended on the whole of Europe, so on Venice too. What as a rule one experiences very seldom even in the hardest winter here, actually came at the beginning of November: snow lay on the ground for several days! Not bad. And then the poor protection of abodes here, ridiculous stoves, etc.; it was awful. I've been having fires all day long, especially during my illness, and wood is the reverse of cheap here. It's really getting time that we were done with it! Now I have had windows and doors duly protected with list, the stoves repaired, and at last it's quite comfortable; moreover the weather has turned mild again. — For God's sake, do keep yourself sheltered! I expected it, those d — d parterre apartments aren't fit for winter. Mind you have a thoroughly warm carpet laid at once, else you shan't have that New Year's tantième! — But that fearfully good Pauline, isn't she good? It's almost more than one can bear, so good as that! What you write me about her has rejoiced me exceedingly; moreover it has done me an amount of good it can scarcely have done even yourself, to know that you are surrounded by such kind people. Only see a lot of the Tschekels; they'll soon drive away all your doldrums, and help to divert your impatience. — So you haven't been to Heine's or Fischer's yet? Soared straight to Lüttichau! Well, I'm glad to hear that he expressed himself so nicely. O, if the man had only treated me a shade more delicately then, as with an artist of my stamp, how much might have happened quite differently, or never have happened! But oblivion of that as well! I harbour no ill-feeling against anybody now. — For sure he'll send you decent tickets; otherwise Devil take him, and you'll proudly pay your money for the amphitheatre. — I cannot yet conceive their raising serious difficulties against your stay in Dresden; but your having to attend the police-court yourself is really shocking: is there no one who at once will see to all this rumpus in your stead? There I recognise the seamy side of Dresden at a glance. Pusinelli must undertake it; he is the most suitable person: in case of need he is to recommend you a good lawyer who will take the whole thing off your hands. It quite revolts me to think of your going yourself! —
For the rest, the fact of Zschinsky's place as Minister of Justice not being filled yet is a good sign to me: they are waiting to see what Prussia means to do about the amnesty, to shape their course accordingly. —
And now farewell for to-day; may you very soon give me the unspeakable joy of your writing me quite calmly, trustfully and hopefully! Greet Fipsel and Jacquot, the good, good beasts; I often dream of them as well. — I shall write a couple of lines to N. myself. — And in conclusion, another hearty salute and kiss from
Thy good Husband.
Source: Richard to Minna Wagner: Letters to His First Wife, trans. William Ashton Ellis, Vol. 1 (H. Grevel & Co., 1909), No. 150