My foolish friend, are you still letting yourself be led astray by talk? Well then, let me tell you the simple literal truth. Apart from Herr von Kistner and the local managers and singers I have not done business with a soul in Berlin. Consequently I do not know if I have been thought of for any kapellmeister's position, but I do know that I have not my eye on one here. As long as I have got to be a kapellmeister for my livelihood I had much rather be one in Dresden than here, and this for a thousand reasons, each of which I am ready to swear to on oath. You know how much I should like to have a modest pension so as to be able to read the many books I possess and others which I should like to buy, but as long as I have no such pension I will bear my kapellmeister's yoke in Dresden.
There is no doubt that it would be a good thing if Hennig were pensioned off. The singers say he is past his work, but I see that he goes on with it, and will, I imagine, for some time to come. Taubert told me he had heard that Lachner had an eye on the supposedly approaching vacancy. The latter is intimate with Kistner, and if the day of pensioning Hennig could be hastened it would doubtless be Kistner's dearest wish to appoint Lachner.
I had been lying very ill when your letter came. A little before, I had received an anonymous letter from Leipzig reproaching me vituperatively for what I am supposed to have said about Mendelssohn's death, from which I can only suppose that some baseness or other has been attributed to me and spread abroad. What am I to do? That I have a considerable number of enemies in Dresden is natural enough. My retired habit of life is to blame for all manner of foolish rumours about me. When I am not at work I am always at my house, which is very secluded, and any malicious calumniation of my character is readily believed, few being in a position to deny it authoritatively as very few are intimate with me.
I wrote at length about the libretto of Die hohe Braut, or Bianca and Giuseppe, set to music by Kittl. The change of ending hurts me most. Do you know what the close of a piece is? Everything! I counted very much on the intense stormy swiftness of this close. The terrible catastrophe on the exit from the church ought not to be softened down in any way; the thing that throws it into high relief is the approach of a great world event, here personified in the French Revolutionary Army which, as it sweeps on in its terrible glory, tramples underfoot the wreckage of the old order, the family. In my view nothing ought to be done to weaken this effect if the close is to be, as I planned it, the greatest moment of the whole. The general public need not go so deeply into things, but it receives the right impression instinctively when that right impression is clearly and forcefully conveyed.
I earnestly implore you to take heed to what I say to you for your good. Do not put my name on the bills. I think you might put it thus: “Die hohe Braut, Great Tragic Opera in Four Acts, after the Romance of the same name by H. Konig, set to music by J. Kittl.” Farewell, my dearest Hans. God give you happiness and fame and spare you trouble as far as may be, so that your slim figure takes no harm.
Richard Wagner
Source: Letters of Richard Wagner, Volume 1, ed. Altmann/Hull (London: Dent, 1927), No. 134