Not until to-day, good Minna, have I had a chance of writing you. Things have gone confusedly enough since my arrival in Vienna, and various disagreeables set me in a fairly melancholy mood to begin with. Even to-day I can't yet write with true tranquillity; you may readily conceive that I have many calls to make at first, and many acquaintances to renew, but the worst I could have heard on my arrival was of Ander's continued hoarseness. Only the day before, he had had a medical consultation, as a result of which he has had to apply for several weeks' extension of his leave. He caught cold last June, while visiting the Emperors' Tombs at Speier, and hasn't recovered his voice even yet. I was quite aghast at this. Yesterday, however, I managed at last to call on him at Mödling, near Vienna, and at any rate my mind is much easier now, as he has considerably improved already, and — after a thorough rest — may count on being completely restored soon; it is more of a nervous affection, which suddenly may vanish over-night, especially when this heat diminishes. Otherwise he was quite well and eager for the fray, so that I had to keep begging him not to disturb himself, not to dream of studying his part, and not to fash himself on my account. Consequently I'm merely faced at present with a delay in the rehearsing of my opera. Of course the first question I asked myself was, of what good I could be here meanwhile; but I found (alas!) that I was neglecting nothing elsewhere, as I really have nothing in prospect whatever beyond this Vienna production. To go away would be highly unadvisable, and my constant presence is needed under any circumstances to keep people up to the scratch; for they had already begun to doubt my really coming (!!).
I had another shock with my lodgings. Good Kolatscheck lives in a frightfully distant suburb, so that I promptly recognised I couldn't stay there, as my cab-fares alone would have cost more than my lodgings. Moreover, it was very uninviting otherwise, and I was on the point of hunting for fresh lodgings when Dr. Standthartner, my highly enthusiastic Viennese friend (a kind of Dr. Schuster), luckily intervened, offering to house me in his roomy abode for as long as his family is away — till about the middle of September. This lies in the heart of the city, and I'm getting to feel quite at ease in it; the only thing I have to procure for myself is dinner. At least so far as lodging is concerned, then, I can quietly wait now and see if anyone else will invite me thereafter, or if I must look out for a furnished lodging for myself, which indeed is what would suit me least. For — now comes the other melancholy item in my communications, which will make it comprehensible to you that I'm not exactly in a cheerful mood!
At Weimar, to wit, the last scales were completely removed from my eyes. On no prince can I rely for anything whatever! You don't make me the proper reproach in respect of the Grand Duke of Weimar: it wasn't I who avoided him, but he me. The reason for all this shy demeanour resides in my Dresden bearings. How things are still standing there, you may infer from the following. Liszt (naturally without telling me a word of it) had set his heart on inducing the Grand Duke to confer on me his Order. The latter made enquiries about it in Dresden, whither he had dealt out half a dozen of his orders a year ago, and received the answer that, if he wanted to give me his order also, they at once would send him back all those he had bestowed at Dresden. Thereupon (still without letting me know of it) Liszt tried to get the Grand Duke to invite me to dinner at Court with him alone; which also the Grand Duke pronounced impossible. On the other hand, he drove to Liszt's one day to pay a call and take the opportunity of seeing me as well; but we were at rehearsal that very moment. From this you may judge how far the Grand Duke of Baden (in any case the best of the bunch) already went when he repeatedly received me in audience: even he couldn't invite me to table, out of regard for his own courtiers, consequently can do nothing at all striking for me; the utmost he can do, is to tolerate my settling quite privatim in his capital. Without any sort of official appointment to provide him the means, however, neither can he support me from his pocket, as otherwise he isn't rich. So — my good Mutz! — no illusions on that side, please. This kind of thing can't change at all until I'm fully amnestied in Saxony. Consequently I mean to wait and see what Seebach can bring off yet; but, with this pitiful disposition at Dresden, I really nurse small hope, and am accustoming myself to lay all further plans of life without reckoning on the aid of German princes, and be only too glad that I've attained so much as the ability to reside in Germany itself unscathed.
At any rate these last experiences have this immediate result: I naturally withdraw entirely from my advice to you to settle down in Dresden. — In your last letter you wrote me that you meant to go from Soden to Weimar for the present, didn't you? Good: but I assume you'll visit Baden and Carlsruhe first. As I very much wish you to decide on a domicile soon, I still give most preference to Carlsruhe. If I put my trust in anyone, it still is greatest in the Badener: Carlsruhe is very cheap, agreeable, and cheery. You do wrong to fret about the gossip that has happened: if I could find no dwelling to my mind straight off, it's quite another matter if you now take yourself a humbler dwelling while I am away on account of my opera-performances, and if I come to you because you are unable to travel with me everywhere and it is easier for me to be put up alone by strangers. Thus your small abode will become the actual focus of our broken home-life for the present, and I should always be returning to it when in need of rest. Such a modest establishment will produce a very good effect, and if my circumstances do not alter very notably, then — in truth! — let it remain so all our life, and I shall have to think that nothing more was destined me! But nowhere can even this modest ménage turn out better or more agreeably than at Carlsruhe, just because of the cheapness there, so that we can always have things much pleasanter for little money than anywhere else. — Please give that due thought! Weimar is really detestable compared with friendly Carlsruhe; everything on a smaller and more beggarly scale. —
You see, dear Minna, how, even under the most unfavourable circumstances (for my financial prospects, alas, are very shaky), I am making it my first concern to bring about the possibility of a speedy habitation: only those horrible last Paris troubles (Beschwerden) have given me a positive terror of any fresh step that might plunge me into similar sad experiences. Wherefore, now that I know that I can count on nothing sure just yet, I definitely withdraw my first proposal; but on the other hand, I feel how absolutely necessary it is for you, at least, to come to rest soon. If I go roaming round awhile, that in fact has its necessity in my vocation, to promote and supervise productions of my works, make acquaintance with the various theatres, and provide for a more distant future. With you it's quite another matter: you can't and mustn't roam about like that, and in particular, I seriously intend you to become a burden on nobody. Therefore I mean to be as thrifty as possible myself, to keep you supplied with the needful; and as for repose, you shall also precede me in that. So soon as I know you're settled somewhere with our household chattels, I shall also know where I'm at home once more; and — believe me — that is a great need to me, a mighty reassurance. I who am so used to domestic surroundings, already I often feel profound dislike and actual sorrow at having to make shift in this way as a stranger, to be nowhere at home. The most brilliant hospitality can't shut my eyes to my dependence, and many a tear do I shed — believe me! — over its being denied me, of all men, to have a peaceful refuge of my own! The first step toward my relief, in this sense, will be your telling me that you intend to settle down. You shall be entirely mistress of your choice and the establishment; yet, after the maturest reflection, I recommend you Carlsruhe. Let us see if your acquaintance there will keep her word and easily find you a pleasant abode. Then try and soon come to a stand, that all may be nicely set up and I can visit you the 24th November, from that day forth to know — in spite of all adversity — where I'm at home again! —
I am taking everything in sober earnest, you see, and cannot join in the jesting strain with which you air all kinds of crotchets. I'm sore at heart, and with great affliction do I see how, with the approach of old age, so little has been granted me by Fate for all my labours, that I can scarce offer my poor wife a good shelter. And yet! that shall be cared for; just you commence, and we'll see if peace won't visit us at last! —
You will understand that in such a frame of mind it tempts me little to narrate you much about the Weimar dissipations: there was no sense in it all, and I did next to nothing but crack bad jokes. When I'm in better humour, tho', you shall also hear of Brendel and the rest. But Esser has this moment come into my room, to take me to the Dustmanns' in the country; therefore I must conclude by merely giving you the following rough sketch of my last adventures. Of a sudden the Olliviers changed their plan, of going to Dresden, and decided to visit Cosima at Reichenhall, which lay on my road to Vienna. Consequently we travelled together to Nuremberg and Munich, where we inspected the really extremely tasteful edifices and art-collections of the old King Ludwig. At Reichenhall, very beautifully situated in the Tyrolese alps — where we found the Bülow looking very well again — I parted from them, to complete my journey to Vienna.
This the outward history of my life since my last letter. — Now I must see how to accommodate myself to my new position and the delay in studying my new opera; you shall soon have reports on all that from me. Write me soon — and give heed to what I've said respecting Carlsruhe; then if you concur with my wish, we'll discuss it all in detail.
So farewell for to-day; be cheerful, and — don't envy your husband!! Greet your human and animal housemates: I will give greetings for you to Fipsel who often — often meets me now, both dreaming and awake: the dear, dear creature! Farewell, and be very heartily embraced by
Thy Richard.
Address as above.
Source: Richard to Minna Wagner: Letters to His First Wife, trans. William Ashton Ellis, Vol. 2 (Charles Scribner's Sons, 1909), No. 211