Dearest Minna,
You give me much anxiety whenever you keep me waiting too long for a letter. Thus I really was very uneasy already to-day; the hot weather, in which you have never been well, gave me all kinds of misgivings that you might be feeling severely knocked up. Your letter, thank God, has reassured me again, and I willingly accept the pretext of "too many callers," providing the callers themselves were agreeable to you; which seems to have quite been the case. So we'll pass it this time. —
It is natural that you shouldn't remark much effect from the cure yet; in fact, it will fatigue you at first. Only keep nice and quiet, and take care of yourself, when you'll feel better by the autumn. — What you write about N. worries me most; if her tantrums were to start again, it would be highly deplorable, for you require very placid and good-humoured company. If it doesn't tire you, please write me about it again soon, and perfectly candidly.
As for myself, ever since the good weather my humour has also kept good. And that was needed, to support my existence in general here; for I had to shift a week ago, and that into the main building and a smaller and none so quiet room, where Joseph has regularly had to palisade me, to prevent my being too much disturbed by neighbours. Naturally I'm by no means so well off here as before, when I was all alone in the house, had a beautiful balcony and a big salon, and yet came off cheaper than now. In the fine lodgings, however, nearly always bad weather; now fine weather, but — . Enough, tho'! I am glad enough to have got what I have, and to be able to end my work without another break. Solely to be undisturbed in my work, speaking strictly, have I such hard-to-satisfy needs in respect of Abode. To satisfy those needs abroad, and in some sense as a traveller, is fearfully hard. In small towns it is only the inns, and the first of them, that can supply one what's needed; pensions are impossible for me, since they're all merely reckoned for "company", possess none but small rooms, apart from the coffee-room, and everybody is noisily huddled in everybody else's lap. As I didn't want to go to Paris yet, I could do no otherwise than what I have done. My work once completed, however, and if I take up nothing of the sort so soon again, the question of abode will be far more indifferent to me; and for the first spell in Paris, as long as I'm alone, I shall jog along with little fuss. —
Tell me, dear Mutz, you very often still seem longing to return to Switzerland? I cannot blame you, and shouldn't care to forsake it entirely myself; but merely for a periodic stay. When I depart I'll go via Interlaken and Thun again, and take the opportunity of looking out for a nice little house one can rent for the summer, so that one may have something in view for the future. On the whole I am glad to be quitting the mountains now; in spite of the glories of Nature, what I very much miss are fine forests, or parks: here one gets nothing but panoramas. In that respect I have a sort of hope of Fontainebleau — not far from Paris; its famous forest or park (many miles square) is said to be something unique. I confess, I can conceive nothing finer for summer, than to roam about among such lordly groups of ancient trees. — But, the future must wait! —
For the rest, we have a real message of peace to-day; the two little emperors have provisionally concluded an armistice. I don't yet know what may come of it; we soon shall see, though, and meantime it's permissible to hope for that speedy peace which will be quite extraordinarily welcome to myself. In every respect I could wish for it, alike for our stay in Paris, where everything will be at full tide after a triumphal treaty, and in particular for my little businesses, in which everyone is silent just now. (Get no more fads into your head about America: that seems to have quite blown over, and the manager to have altered his mind; all the same to me!) Moreover, peace will come in capitally for Tristan! Work's going nicely forward: Tristan waggled his jaw for the last time to-day; by the end of the month, I think, Isolde will also be done for. This last act promises quite famously; I drew profit for it even from my Rigi excursion. At 4 in the morning we were roused by the boots with the alp-horn; I jumped up, saw it was raining, and returned to bed to try to sleep; but the droll call went droning round my head, and out of it arose a very lusty melody which the Herdsman now blows outside to signal Isolde's ship, making a surprisingly merry and naive effect. —
To change the subject, my riding suits me admirably. In this heat I really can't walk out till very late, half past 7, and then I perspire immediately I attempt much of a promenade; besides, a little hour on horse-back is better, in respect of its effect, than 3 hours' walking. Only this horse already isn't mettled enough for me: I trot quite famously now, and don't fall off; but my young steed is 20 yearlets old and always has to get a wee bit warm before he'll break into a trot. Otherwise it's a very handsome beast, only it isn't I who have it for riding on, but it has me for scaring flies. You know my compassion for animals: presently I shall have to mount it with a fly-whisk in lieu of a riding-crop: it will look quite splendid, when I sally forth like that. —
Otherwise I neither see nor hear a creature, beyond Joseph and Vreneli; but Herwegh fired me the other day. I enclose you his poem; really it is very fine, and it did me such good to hear a thing like that from the man, that I congratulated him upon it very cordially and invited him to pay me a visit. That's just my way! —
Now give the hare-hunter my kindest regards; in Switzerland at any rate he never saw a hare run. And Mr. Jacquot! — But don't greet Nette if she's in her tantrums; Ksch! Ksch! — And write me nice and punctually, do you hear? I fret each time a letter's overdue. Think of nothing else at present than your cure and health. Let bon Dieu take all thought for the future now; things will all come right! Very best of greetings! Fare well and in good humour!
Thy RiRaRichard.
Source: Richard to Minna Wagner: Letters to His First Wife, trans. William Ashton Ellis, Vol. 2 (Charles Scribner's Sons, 1909), No. 180