O Mutz! how can you seriously believe I've been dancing ballet here? You know that, spite of every invitation, I never have been able to consent to it even in the largest towns of Europe; and I'm supposed to have done it before the little public of this place, where it wouldn't even have been duly reported! No, that's just another of your fancies. — For that matter, the good Lucerners are nuisance enough to me with their promenades in front of my abode, where I like taking a bit of a stroll up and down of a morning, before work, on the gallery that runs all round the house; I have to submit to being nicely gaped at, and don't quite know whether it is due to my celebrity, or to my lovely dressing-gown. As regards the latter, I've long been waiting for you to ask me after it; for you might have presumed that the old one fell at last in tatters off my body. But, since you have shewn yourself so unconcerned for my chief passion, I mean to let you guess hard how the new has turned out. It is very beautiful, and although I had it made for me in Venice days, it's still as good as new, I spare it so. —
I really felt no great enthusiasm for the dress you destined for the X, and probably shall leave it for the present on your shoulders. In things like that, I stick to it, you are a shade too generous. What has the lady done, then, except to get out of having to take you into her house? You might have accepted that as a simple return for his reception into ours; had he lodged and boarded at the hotel instead, probably he would have had to pay more than you now would owe them for the hire of their furniture. If people of this sort behave absurdly, I generally make up my mind never to ask anything of them again, and so we're strictly quits; however, as you promised it her in the first fit of sentimentalism, you must give her the following message from me now: — I meant to buy the dress in Milan, especially as there would have been no duty to pay from there, but unfortunately I chanced upon two feast-days when all the shops and magazines were closed; I'll see to sending her a dress from Paris in its place. And there's an end to it for the present. Don't you go spending money on it, do you hear? — I shall turn disgracefully stingy to friends in time — as I've told you once before.
Child, you're mistaken about the number of Lohengrin performances in Berlin; I have it in black on white that down to the 1st of April only seven took place, which haven't quite covered the advance yet, leaving 50 thlr of it still to be worked off. If there have been another two representations in April, so much the better. I hear from Vienna that Ander is going to Berlin in May, and will sing Lohengrin there; of which I'm uncommonly glad. He is certain to have a great success; for if Formes is somewhat better this time than he was in Tannh., it's only because (after having grumbled at the "tedious" part) he heard Ander in Lohengrin at Vienna, and so at any rate acquired a different opinion. I know everything, you see! —
I read your letter of to-day with great delight at breakfast on the open balcony in beautiful bright weather (at last!) between puffs at my Turkish pipe — concerning which you've made me no reply as yet. I treated it as a little gossip hour, and so, to round the gossip off, I'm writing to you at once before I set to work. What puts me in good humour most of all, of course, is the news of your improvement; one can see it from your letters at a glance, and when you specially assure me of it in addition, I can wish for nothing better. So continue; so will all be well, and this summer cure will crown good Pusinelli's work — (who in return is also to get a morsel of his capital paid back!)
Nothing certain from America as yet. Yesterday Wesendonck sent me a letter from his brother-in-law, according to which the director was away and not expected back before 2 days; consequently, definite news soon. Meanwhile he merely intimates that the director has big ideas for next winter, but had just lost money in Philadelphia. At this very time — he writes — they have given Tannhäuser in Newyork at a second-rate theatre (with very insufficient means); of which I naturally knew absolutely nothing, and owe it to that absurd Herr Kriete, who — in spite of my counter-orders — kept urging the Dresden publisher to sell full scores as well; whereby I suffer double injury: in the first place, no more copies to be had; and 2ndly, cheating out of my fees from Holland and Newyork. I really should like to sue Herr Kriete for compensation: he is getting the uttermost farthing of his capital, and I shall still have to pay him the interest as well; but who will pay me anything for my damages? And when the lawyer is proving to me clear as day that the lamented Meser did me out of at least 2000 thlr! — Please rub that under Kriete's nose a little, and somewhat lower the pitch of his pretensions.
And now for something about this precious war which stands in immediate prospect. Child, this infamous war will not do me damage yet, for it is doing so already. Lucky I got my piano out of Venice in time: my box of books, music, manuscripts (among others the Young Siegfried), linen etc., I haven't yet. Three weeks ago the carrier wrote me from Venice that the military transports had taken exclusive possession of the railways, and he must wait until the lines were freed again. You may imagine how vexatious that is to me; but I may congratulate myself if the box doesn't get lost entirely! — On the whole, however, I don't believe the war need alter anything material in our plans, and for the following reasons: either it will be confined to Italy — when it won't make any difference; or it will become a universal one — when every place will be unsafe, but Paris the safest of them all. Should the French Emperor lose, that will be decided somewhere else, and apparently the Orleans would return to power; what preceded that, would be more a military matter, and it wouldn't arrive at a revolution in Paris at all. Should he win, however, Paris of itself would be completely unaffected. But whatever happens, in such an enormous city one can live so tranquilly and unmolested, you see, almost without learning what is going on. I also think we shan't take rooms exactly in the Rue St Denis, but farther out, towards the Champs Elysées, whither an émeute never trends. Moreover, as I'm no longer a German (thanks to the beautiful Saxon Government!) but come from neutral Switzerland, under no circumstances will any obstacle be placed in the way of my journey. Should it come to a war with Germany as well, I should certainly have to return to Basle first — on the detour for Carlsruhe — and go on thence to Baden; similarly, we should both have to cross the Swiss frontier from Carlsruhe to Paris. For the present I can foresee no greater difficulties, and only wish I hadn't to go to America first, but to Paris straight off for good. Consequently I should like the Tannhäuser there to be brought about this coming winter; a point on which I also am awaiting definite tidings. —
My Amnesty affair isn't worth wasting another word on. I saw this issue in advance; still, I had to take that final step as well, just to be able to appeal to it in the proper quarter. At Carlsruhe I shall see how far the Grand Duke means to meet me, then to make my last attempt with the Bundestag: namely, to effect that individual princes such as himself, the Prussian and perhaps the Austrian, should be released from the extradition proviso with Saxony in the exceptional case of my wanting to reside in their territories awhile for the production of my operas. I have the chance of such an egress being found in course of time, and should then have strictly all I need; for I am determined now in any case to settle down in Paris. So — no more commotion on that! —
For the rest, I'm awaiting the "lucre" you so thoughtfully dreamt of with my ballet-dancing. I fancy everything will turn out well, and indeed have no ground to be dissatisfied upon the whole; last year cost an awful amount of money again, and yet in the end so much came in that we both had enough, and I — no debts! Everything at Zurich is paid off to the last farthing. Even if America and Paris were to yield no tribute for the present, we could manage abundantly with what I have in prospect, and — all of it's earned by myself; not a creature is contributing me anything more.
So congratulate us, and — be of good cheer! Charming greetings to all! Get well, and hold
Thy splendid Husband dear.
Source: Richard to Minna Wagner: Letters to His First Wife, trans. William Ashton Ellis, Vol. 2 (Charles Scribner's Sons, 1909), No. 170