Dear Minna,
God, what an excited letter you poorest soul have written me again! Who would have ever expected it! That sleepless night explains much, it is true, and on the whole I must say I had fears for you on that day; only, the letter previously received from you seemed just meant to reassure me about it. It was that which pleased me in it, after your earlier letter from Chemnitz, in which you complained so much of the unrest of travelling, had made me anxious. I was thinking of nothing else whatever when I lately wrote you that I always grew anxious if a letter took longer than usual; do banish all else from your head! —
On one point you are right: your having to receive the announcement of so late a Wiedersehen precisely now, was bound to depress you; I had no need to touch on that at present. Only, God knows, Mutz, just think of me, too, and the position I'm in! As if I could always keep my tongue tied, or always have calmness enough to smother up the seriousness and hardship of that situation. Indeed it's bad enough for me to have to regard an invitation such as Prince Metternich's as a kind of harbour of refuge to enable me simply to tide over a hard year of patience in front of me! It was no sugarplum, suddenly to have to decide on forgoing all my other plans for a whole year, and — as nothing save a new work could help me to survive that period — have to be glad that somebody had offered me the needful sanctuary where I could pass that evil season undisturbed, without direct outlay for lodging, board and firing. — To have thought of deciding on and carrying out a home for both of us at once, would have really been sheer folly, nay, impossible. Hotel life, on the other hand, I could no longer have continued under any circumstances: I require much more than you, to tell the truth, and can only be rescued from very dear living through such an invitation. Then, I was so glad to know that you would be able to pass this equally hard time for yourself — (ah! I grant you that!) — at least in such similarly tolerable circumstances as you had described to me from Dresden. I knew you'd have the best surroundings there — for such an evil time! — at least would be fairly at home — and that (under these sorry conditions!) was something of a consolation to me. On the other side, I was honest enough not to conceal from you that this acceptance of the Metternichs' hospitality was calculated for as long as my work's completion should demand. The thought of my not even seeing you throughout that time indeed was gloomy to myself as well; but it seemed to me a necessary consequence of my truly unparalleled fate! And then — indeed, Mutz — I'm also bound to consider it good that you should likewise live exclusively for your repose, for your medical treatment, awhile now; nay — before I come to a permanently better position, or at least am personally attuned to a better, calmer, less irritable mood — I should have accounted it a crime to urge you once more to a premature step of reunion that might simply renew the old mischiefs between us.
Consequently, my meaning was simply this: — My situation is perfectly hopeless till next winter; I shall try to bear it through complete retirement and concentration of all my powers on a new work that is to provide me a great improvement in it: to you I cry — "Employ that time on your recovery and resting; I can't assist you to that better, than by making an undisturbed life possible to you for that period." — With next autumn I then shall reappear, and in course of next winter I expect to settle my fate for good, in one way or other, and as result thereof to gain a definitive domicile. Then, by when you'll also have recovered — moving in, Silver and golden wedding at once! What person of common-sense, after a careful survey of my situation, will not rather admire, than blame my courage, my endurance, my firm adherence to the hope of a final good turning! Only regard it thus, and whatever is hard in it — for yourself as well — don't lay at my door; but rather reflect that I shall suffer under it as much as, perhaps more than you! — Great Heavens, do tell yourself that, and remember me too, and my tribulations! —
For that matter, this certainly does not exclude our seeing each other even earlier. As a rule I hate the life at spas, but if a spa is specially ordered you next Spring to which I can go also, and where one can succeed in finding me a quiet lodging, no doubt it will be possible to arrange for me to complete my work there at your elbow. All that remains to be seen; I merely sketched you out the general plan to begin with. —
You made a correct guess, you shrewd Wife, with the Meistersinger. But keep it to yourself now, do you hear? Not a word to any one about it! —
Immediately on receipt of your letter to-day I telegraphed to Tichatscheck, telling him I would remain at Vienna for the rest of this week if he would come here at once. Did I do right? — True, I am longing to get away from here and to my work, but it has turned out that I may still devote a few days with advantage to the study of some books I can obtain from the Library here; consequently, that would be no absolute waste of time. — In any case, too, I can't start before Thursday; I'm so preoccupied to-day, that I cannot get to packing. —
So, if Tichatscheck still comes to me, you can write me to Vienna at any rate once more; which would give me great joy, particularly if you let me off this time the bruises I already feel on leg and arm. (God, what a woman you are!) — If Tich. doesn't come, I shall write you again before I leave, and you shall hear all particulars. —
I mean to write to Lüttichau as well, thanking him, and begging him to give you that seat at the theatre for the whole of your sojourn in Dresden. —
Now farewell; it's to be hoped you will have passed a better night since, and write another time by day! — Child — Night is man's enemy: one should write to nobody one's fond of then, but bear in silence what is paining us, and pray the Redeemer for assuagement and rest! I've my nights, too, believe me! —
Two nights before the Wedding-day, however, I had very pleasant dreams. Listen: 1. You received me in a most comfortably furnished abode; I recognised our own old things, and said: See now, how good it was, that I wouldn't have anything sold; it's quite a pleasure now! — 2. I was a very young lad again, and heard my father in the next room tell my mother: "Only think, our Richard has won 7000 gulden!" I reckoned it out quickly in francs, went in, embraced my father, and was congratulated by both my parents on the prize. —
Those dreams, I confess, have put me in somewhat good humour. May it be the same with you! You see, my thoughts are really running on what we need.
So, farewell! Add no new crotchets to the old! Help me to bear, and console yourself with me! The very best and fairest wishes,
Thy poor Husband R.
Source: Richard to Minna Wagner: Letters to His First Wife, trans. William Ashton Ellis, Vol. 2 (Charles Scribner's Sons, 1909), No. 220