Dear Mutz,
Here I am in an hotel again! A nice life this! And with it all, to have no other wish than to be able to work in peace and quiet! I must admit that if nobody will credit me with patience and endurance, I should like to know to whom those qualities should be imputed! —
Your having seen Cornelius in the interval, affords me great delight; I feel as if I had been with you myself. So far as I remember, you took a great fancy to Cornelius when you were at the Altenburg; myself, I only drew towards him in Vienna very gradually, but ended by discovering that he's truly a most rare, uncommon creature in all respects, alike as regards character and mental ability. He really is the only one among the younger generation (although he's well on in the thirties) to whom I can attribute actual genius; whilst his temperance, modesty, contented mind and great moral worth, place him on a pedestal apart. I could only wish this winning soul would come to us for ever; but he is following his own independent plan of life, which I respect. —
Well, he will have told you much about me and my plans. With everyone else, he considers a settling down at Biebrich by far the fittest for me. The advantage of it lies in this: if I never mean to enter fixed relations with a theatre again, it is highly important that I should be able to reach them all by way of easy trip, while retaining my actual place of residence in quiet and agreeable retirement. Now, in this respect the situation of Biebrich is quite unique: in 10 minutes by steamboat I'm at Mainz, where the Schott family spreads its hands beneath me, and quite a passable theatre, outwardly in fact most imposing, offers a certain interest; Schmidt (from Frankfort) is kapellmeistering there now, and I fancy will be for some time, which suits my book. In 10 minutes also I'm at Wiesbaden, which has a good theatre both summer and winter (to-night I'm to see Gounod's Faust there). In an hour and a quarter, Frankfort; in ¾ hour, Darmstadt; in 1½ hour, Mannheim (all considerable theatres). In 3 hours, Carlsruhe: i.e. about the distance of Leipzig and Dresden from each other. For Vienna, Berlin and Paris, almost exactly in the middle. Then, the place itself is charming: on foot, the pleasantest of walks to Mainz or Wiesbaden; to the right, down stream, the heavenly Rhine-lands for expeditions at any moment. Moreover, at the Schloss a wonderful big park with glorious trees. Adjoining this park I've noticed very pretty dwellings; if I were to find one of them completely suited for our domicile, it might prove very difficult to me, so tossed about and craving for domestic order, to resist the temptation to rent it. For my own part, I should be quite satisfied that such a settlement would fully meet my needs; for — I have come to know myself now, and can lay down the measure for the rest of my life. Work, new creation, that's my element: producing it, well and good if I'm begged to, and if people meet me at all points; then shorter or longer excursions, but always with the prospect of returning to my quiet work-hearth directly after the exertion. That's the main consideration: that I must keep alone in eye, for that depends upon myself. All outer things are out of my control, may come or not come; for my tranquillity I daren't depend on them. Such is the lesson this last year has painfully taught me again! —
At Carlsruhe I had a whole hour's talk with the Grand Duke (his wife was taken ill); he will invite me to come again in a few days' time, and if possible — conduct Lohengrin also. I can't help saying that I gave the dear fellow a hearty squeeze of the hand on taking leave. It was palpable that his relation with me had been preying on his mind since the last letter (which I hadn't answered him); he really was pained, and supposed I was vexed with him. I found him in a strange confusion of ideas regarding my circumstances, and almost think our good excited A. must have caused a little muddle here. Thus it transpired that he actually hadn't grasped the simple nature of my proposition, and assumed other things (such as heavy debts etc.) behind it. Nevertheless it delighted me that he repeatedly confessed he felt it his duty to stand security for my mental repose and freedom from care. Thereon I told him very quietly, I had defined that in my letter plainly, and therefore simply reiterated to him: As I was without any inherited property, there were only two ways open to me of maintaining myself: 1°, to turn out works such as should quickly provide me with a capital on the interest of which I could live — which, with the wretched scale of fees in Germany, was impossible; or 2°, to accept a post as Kapellmeister, which it was to be hoped that he would be the last to ask of me, since one could use other people for Kapellmeister service to better purpose than productive poets and composers of my stripe. The Grand Duke didn't raise the least demur to that, but declared I must be so disposed of that not the smallest obligation should be laid upon me; it must be left entirely to my own free will, whether I would bother about a performance or not; the only thing, was for me to live in peace and free from care. Very well, said I, that is perfectly simple: let those who recognise it club together to pay me an annual pension; but no one seemed inclined to understand that. Liszt had told me he had conveyed that to the G. D. of Weimar, but found no hearing; I had already told him something similar myself, and again he hadn't found it feasible. What remained for me, then, but to scrape through a wretched life from hand to mouth, and be glad if I found a publisher who would advance me about enough on my work to enable me to keep alive while engaged on it? — No, exclaimed he, that must not continue; I will place myself at the head forthwith, and hope by my example to influence a few other princes friendly toward you to unite with me in seeing that a fixed pension is ensured you. Tell me quite candidly: how much do you believe you'll need as annual fixed stipend? — God, said I, if I got it regularly and for certain, quite a little would suffice; and if you can guarantee me 1500 to 2000 gulden under those conditions, I shall know where I am, cut my coat accordingly, and make both ends meet with my other chance receipts. He was very glad to hear that, and undertook to see to my desire being fulfilled as speedily as possible. Not to fall out of rapport again, he then begged me to visit him once more at Carlsruhe shortly, attend a rehearsal of Lohengrin, and if it satisfied me in all respects, give them the great pleasure of my conducting this work myself. Which I promised, of course. — Beyond that, my plan of settling down at Biebrich met his full approval; he wished me entire independence, but would account it all the higher to me if I would favour him from time to time. —
In spite of this really very beautiful, and (I do not doubt) eventful resumption of relations with the Grand Duke, I have completely abandoned the notion of a settlement at Carlsruhe; and chiefly on account of Devrient, whom I didn't even call on this time. I could never get on peaceably for long with that stiff old pedant, who makes it a set principle to bolster up the mediocre, and moreover has continually harmed me with his infamous talk about the unperformableness of Tristan: my patience would give out some day, and — Lord bless me! peace and quiet is my motto now! It might happen to me, you know, to get into a thundering passion with a dodderer like that. If I go there now and then, on the Grand Duke's invitation, it will be another story. —
That, good Mutz, is about the present complexion of my outer affairs. I have told you exactly my requirement, my desire, ay — under circumstances — my intention. One sole thing fills me with anxiety: how you would feel about it. Would you care to settle down at Biebrich? Would you like it? Would you not prefer another place? — You will understand that if I've made my needs my first consideration here, it's bound to worry me whether my choice will also correspond with yours; consequently I have a dread of carrying anything out which might possibly be repented again before long! The place is excessively quiet, and offers few resources in itself — for winter; to which I'm naturally most indifferent, as I have remarked in Paris and everywhere that I strictly like nothing but being at home. True, even in the winter here we can at the same time be living at Mainz and Wiesbaden, for the journey is no longer than if one took a fiacre from one end of a moderately big city to the other, only much cheaper and handier. It would therefore be a question of trying it. As for myself, I'm glad to be commencing here in winter, precisely to see how it answers. I can have company at any moment; I only need to invite myself in Mainz or Wiesbaden. The very trip is a refreshment. — So I think I shall just let it depend for the present on the success of my studious endeavours to find a quite fitting abode. That would have to be the case; for one would never care to be merely roughing it under such circumstances. Whether I shall find that abode, is still a very open question, but things are said to be most cheap here, provisions and all: one can get a whole tip-top flat, they say, for 250 to 300 fl. — So — I mean to set about it leisurely and hurry nothing, as I have had a thorough sickener of remorse. — Let us see, then. If I find it, my need of home convenience is so great now, that it will really turn the scale: you would then have to try if it pleased you also. —
A little dog will soon be procured! —
Probably I shall quite give up the Berlin visit now, in any case. My God, I hadn't a soul in Paris to whom I could have shewn as much as a verse of my new poem; so I just thought of an evening with you, the Fromm-jumbfer and the Bülows: which certainly would have been very nice. We should have convinced each other we were still alive, and had a talk: all of which would have been famous! But now this ado to begin with even as to where one is to sleep and dwell 2 days, one of us at one place, the other at another; then the Albert's — concerning whom I really hadn't given it a thought that they were still in existence there; the Fromm-jumbfer with her terror of the King; the Jews no doubt, too, and reporters; and God knows what besides! Ah, I could do without all that! No: that was not exactly what I wanted! I hope Cecilie will allay her sisterly affection, and arrange for it another time. I am thoroughly sick of this travelling, packing and unpacking; ah, and the money it costs! I'm not speaking of the regular expenses, but merely the tips. No: God preserve me! — last evening, when I reached here and had another good hunt in my trunk for this and that, salt tears ran down my cheeks, poor devil. And that with such a splendid work in my head, for which one cannot even find a quiet nest: it's shameful! —
I'm expecting the Erard in a day or two, when the Devil shall be loosed! — Congratulate me on it, and hold me a wee bit dear, you old Dresd'ner.
Farewellkie for to-day.
Thine most sincerely, R.
(You shall have some more money in course of this month, self-understood, Mutz!)
Source: Richard to Minna Wagner: Letters to His First Wife, trans. William Ashton Ellis, Vol. 2 (Charles Scribner's Sons, 1909), No. 234