Thanks, dear good Minna, for your exhaustive report. Your having suffered so much from hoarseness and coughing again, however, was very unwelcome news to me; you are too careless with regard to chills — my old complaint against you. There's absolutely nothing for it but to entreat you to take better care of yourself; you have no use whatever for coughs and such-like. —
I'm glad you yielded to my wish at once and had a look at Carlsruhe. As for Baden Baden, I really never dreamed of it, and the very last thing I should care to agree to, would be your idea of taking rooms there. All I had in mind, was that a happy chance might bring you up against some eligible abode in Carlsruhe itself which would take your fancy and determine you to settle there. I see quite well that such a thing can't easily occur upon a hasty visit, and yet I admit, it would please me so if you could quickly form a resolution quite agreeable to yourself. Indeed it would be all the same to me, as for my part I've fallen into such great uncertainty this time, that I can contribute nothing more to a decision, but fain would accept everything as the ordinance of Fate. I am scarcely to be blamed, then, if my chief concern is to know that you are spared this roaming, and brought to speedy rest. —
For that matter, the one characteristic of my position is its incredible uncertainty. I appear to myself as new a being as if I had only just returned to this world. No sooner do I try to form a plan, than I encounter vagaries: everything may turn out so, but also otherwise, and never have I fallen into such fluctuation and fumbling. Thus it was doomed to happen to me that precisely now, when I believed I should find my hands full in Vienna, I am put off from week to week through Ander's hoarseness, without ever learning how far we shall get by the next week. Myself I'm forced to guard against upsetting him, and have to do nothing but soothe him, since he is excited enough as it is and his health can stand that least of all. I had already got the length of abandoning all thought of my opera for this winter, and considering what to do instead; for everything depends on this poor tenor, who can't possibly study so exacting a part if he doesn't feel perfectly well; to rid him of all fear of it, has been my chief endeavour. Well, on Sunday I went to the country again with Kapellmeister Esser, and dined with Ander; when I plucked up hope once more: he certainly is better, and expects to be able to sing again soon. I succeeded in reassuring him greatly by promising to alter everything he might really find too trying in his part. Indeed he's very fond of me, and quite unhappy at occasioning me such difficulties; so he will now begin to make closer acquaintance with the part. Hitherto, you see, I had had to let him off entirely. —
Luckily it is different with the Dustmann; yesterday she sang the first act to me so beautifully, that it gave me great delight. She will sing the role quite perfectly! — But I still must keep on waiting, cannot foresee a serious commencement of rehearsals from one week to another, and — for all my disappointment — can only tell myself it's very well that I came when I did and am sticking on, as otherwise the whole winter would have probably passed without Tristan, especially since there of course is no lack of "good friends" here as well who decry my opera as impossible. —
I cannot conceal that I am in a very melancholy humour through it all, and my kind host, Dr. Standthartner, has a pretty bad time with me. Nevertheless I am glad I can remain in his house a few weeks longer; by then the Ander question must have come to its full resolution, and once the thing has a definite good purpose, I shall find more heart to hire myself a room in case of need. Even as it is, my stay here costs an awful lot of money, particularly through all my singers being away in the country; I've also had to pay upwards of 50 gulden for my luggage! So that I still must brush aside all thought of our residing in Vienna some day, because it would be impossible to make ends meet here without a handsome salary, and permanently to let myself in for such a theatre-rumpus again would be bound to become the fresh source of unspeakable sufferings. Ah, a look behind the scenes deprives one of all heart at once, and I can't conceive quiet and small enough the place where I should care to make my home. —
For all that, I'm making agreeable acquaintances here every day: e.g. a young Prince Lichtenstein, who is a passionate devotee of mine; a sweet old Countess Banfy (ancient protectress of Liszt), who has taken Winterberger into her house (at Hitzingen), where I have already dined a few times. Metternich also is here (by himself), and has invited me to dinner to-day. I have twice dropped in to dine at Laube's, where I'm fairly at my ease; we talk a deal of you, and the dogs are petted almost more there than with us.
At the Burg theatre the acting is quite excellent, one must admit, and I have spent many a very entertaining evening there already. — At the opera-house I'm finding out the weak spots now, particularly since those operas cannot be given in which Ander sings. In Fidelio, however, I was much pleased with Beck (Pizarro) and the Dustmann, who sang the aria wonderfully finely, just as she is the most gifted of them all in general. At this performance, which I attended in a parterre box, not far from me I also discovered a nice old gentleman, who was equally delighted to meet me. It was friend B., just taking his honeymoon tour. I devoted one evening after another to him until he left. His young bride is a regular bread-and-butter goose, of the most deplorable Zurich breed: they won't be able to bite each other, as she also has only a few black stumps left in her little jaws. Lord, to think that even Jette might have had a chance, then! Bon voyage to them! Otherwise I was highly delighted with the old chap: he most heartily entrusted me with a thousand regards to Frau Minna. —
Well now, with the great uncertainty of my future, all I can say is, Wait, and let us postpone a decision. Only it distresses me not to know you're better housed. If we had a thoroughly well-to-do family among our intimate friends who would make it a pleasure to put you up for half a year, I should say, Good! — but I can't let you go to Zwickau or Chemnitz for any length of time; that's clear as daylight. So I also tell myself: To leave everything to chance is not quite worthy, especially of a man of my age, who after all should be able to judge his own position and take some sort of measure himself. Listen, then, to what my reason tells me in this regard:
My new works will certainly establish my fame and honour in Germany even still more firmly; but I can't count on substantial takings with them, as they're too difficult and only to be executed at a few of the theatres. Accordingly I must look about for other lasting means of livelihood. — Paris alone, as is shewing itself past denial, may still be the source of important receipts if I can only hold out. I have fresh evidence of that: the interest in me there is prodigious, and the directors will soon be taking up my operas as lucky speculations. More about that soon. — Therefore the whole question would be that of securing oneself a modest, but solid and lasting foundation. After all I've heard of the Grand Duke of Baden's good-heartedness and perspicacity I now consider it my duty, after mature reflection, to write him candidly and confidentially again and inform him of my exact situation and needs, telling him that I shouldn't like to come to a decision without him, that I should prefer to settle in his country, but can't take that step unless he can assure me a yearly income of at least 2000 gulden; in return for which I would promise to assist his Opera and musical affairs in general with advice and deed at all times, though without dislodging any other official from his post. This will prove difficult as regards Kalliwoda, who is a very good fellow, but a musical nightcap, and already somewhat out of favour as such with the serene couple (a fact I've learnt for certain). —
I shall write and send that letter off within the next few days; so we'll at all events await an answer to it before deciding on anything further. In the meantime, however, I believe you would do wisely not to go too far away from Carlsruhe, but after Soden to pay it a visit again — instead of Weimar — perhaps stay a fortnight at Mad. Frankel's, or if that can't be managed, take a furnished room for the same period. Then you will also have leisure to make a thorough search for an abode. — Weimar is hideously displeasing to me, and I consider your visit there completely futile and objectless — so far as I'm concerned. Money, I quite understand, you'll be very soon wanting: I have already assigned a Coburg fee to you on the quiet, and am expecting an answer from there very shortly; should it linger too long, and you be in immediate need of money, please write me at once, and I'll promptly send you some of my small store. —
Badly as things stand with Dresden, still I believe that in a few months' time (after I've been duly watched and observed in Vienna) my fate will undergo a radical change from that quarter. I also mean to discuss that thoroughly with Metternich to-day. —
Now then, poor Mutz, in spite of all misfortunes, do have a little courage! Perhaps all will come out quite endurably yet, and I don't suppose it will be a case of the almshouse for you. Farewell; accept best love; and soon send comforting news to
Thy good Husband.
Mille choses to Jacquot!
Source: Richard to Minna Wagner: Letters to His First Wife, trans. William Ashton Ellis, Vol. 2 (Charles Scribner's Sons, 1909), No. 212