Dear Minna,
Last week I wrote you still to Dresden. You left orders, I hope, for letters to be sent after you?
You have given me great joy, and a very pleasant surprise, with the news of your removal to Schandau. Going by steamer was certainly the best thing you could do; I was also pleased to hear that N. remains with you. I hope you won't be too severe upon me for my remark about Charlotte's illness: I grant that, if her condition is really dangerous, it isn't to be excused; for which reason I shouldn't wish to appear too heartless to you, and you will judge it less sternly if you remember how you wrote me last winter from Chemnitz, in not exactly reverent terms, of Ch.'s "fat, in which she would presently choke." It wasn't right of me, to remember those remarks of your own at the very moment I heard of the serious crisis in her illness, and I'm truly sorry I did so; but you ought to have known me well enough, not to take a somewhat loose and random word so strictly. So I beg you to inform me about Ch.'s condition. — To make a thorough clean breast, I have only further to acquaint you that I burnt unread the letter you lately enclosed to me, as you knew everything and wished for no more explanation from myself. May the same thing happen to all remembrances from dismal days!
From my side, dear Minna — shall I say "alas"? — I have nothing whatever to tell you; neither a letter, nor any other piece of news has reached me from anywhere. For a long time past you've been the only one through whom I learn anything of the world outside. The only thing I have to say to you, is that I have determined for my work's sake to endure here till it's finished. It can be managed now with this hotel: true, I shall have to restrict myself in space from next month forward, but even then I hope to preserve the needful tranquillity. The landlord is most obliging to me, and the chief contributory circumstance is their expecting no great influx of visitors this warlike summer. Of course I'm living very dear, tho', and for every consideration the wish to take up a fixed residence with an abiding home again is strong and active in me. Where that will be at last, is still the knotty question. Naturally I should like Germany best, after all; but I suppose I must more and more abandon every hope of that. Nevertheless I almost shouldn't care to decide quite definitely on Paris yet, as I still think my visit to Carlsruhe — which remains certain for the production of Tristan — in combination with the effect of that production, and through my personal acquaintance with the Grand Duke, may lead to a favourable turn yet, and perhaps determine the Grand Duke not to let me go away again. In any case, however, I shall have another look at Paris first: if I can pluck up courage to regard a settling-down there as agreeable alike for my own self and yours, that certainly remains the safest. —
My work is going forward, but slowly. Unfortunately the weather doesn't help me a bit; it rains regularly once a day, and I read your report with great envy, how you had only had a few brief showers since the 18th April. Switzerland, when all's said, is a cloud-trap, and — I candidly confess — I am heartily longing to get out of it again; really I've had about enough of it, and one oughtn't to have the imposingness it offers one too long before him all the time. If I were allowed, I'd very gladly come to friendly Schandau. So there seem to be plenty of animals there, and just as Rüpel made such a gallant assault on the tortoise, I hope Fipps will have been no less energetic in confronting the lizards. Howbeit, you have done very right to exchange that too lively apartment; you know how I wished you to engage a better one before, because I couldn't conceive that anything nice and unobjectionable would be obtained at so low a rent, with present prices. Now let every good power give its blessing, that this stay may thoroughly heal you poor tormented, sorely harassed wife! Believe me, I long for nothing in life more devoutly, than to close it in peace, tranquillity and comfort with yourself. Our still so easily misunderstanding one another will improve in time, and each of us contribute to the other's peace. If I fall into my random mood again, just you take nothing too seriously, even when I run the Schiffner down: you really might have learnt this one thing, that my tongue is often looser than my heart, and even toward the Schiffner I believe I've hitherto behaved quite bearably. However, that will all come back to you, once you have seen me again and can go by the tone of my voice.
I am getting very satisfied with my composition: what I end by making, turns out well; and I admit I'm looking forward with great hope and pleasure to the performance of this music, which is certain to surprise everyone greatly, and of whose transporting effect I am sure. I shall write to Schubert about Lohengrin in a day or two, so as to have someone to rely on in the band. Otherwise I think the Dresden representation will be quite good, even very good: the Ney, after what I've heard of her from you, is most welcome. As this will be your first opportunity of making thorough acquaintance with the opera, please see it twice running; that is a great assistance, and the whole thing has rather skimmed past you heretofore. While hearing it, remember me! — Believe me, I need strong courage and an almost unheard-of mental energy, to endure my situation — toward my works — and still go on creating in face of the most hopeless prospects! —
Now farewell for to-day. Afford me the pleasure of giving me frequent reports on your health, which I really hope is on the mend again. Good times are sure to come ere long, the last storms will disperse, and a pair of good people at last prove themselves such to one another. Greet N., and go on conserving the beasties so well; I am denying myself any, and remain without dog. So farewell; take care of yourself, and — hope!
Thy Richard.
Source: Richard to Minna Wagner: Letters to His First Wife, trans. William Ashton Ellis, Vol. 2 (Charles Scribner's Sons, 1909), No. 176