Tell me, my Angel, is this kind of you? Like a man thirsting for a drink I have been waiting for a few lines from you! Come, come, this is not right, you might have sent me a word or two to let me know that you still love me—which I often doubt. I am only half alive here or not at all. I am always restless, excited, and so full of a boundless impatience that I truly wonder at being able to sit calmly and write to you. It will take me a long time to feel at home here, and, strange to say, Magdeburg with you seems more desirable, with all its trouble, confusion and miserable conditions, than the uneventful leisure here, where I am without interest and love. Ah, come to me soon—you could never imagine how I long for you! I am always moved when I walk through the Grimma'sche Gasse. There is a shop with your name over it; and yesterday while walking through the Rosenthal I met a man whom I had known but never noticed. But when I saw him, it came to me that his name was Planer, and so I shook hands with him and walked with him for almost half an hour. I often imagine seeing you, but it's never you. So, do write to me! Look, I love you so much and you don't love me at all! Not at all! O God, when I stop to think that you may have already forgotten me, that I may have reason to be jealous, then I could just break everything—even myself. Look, Minna, if you never felt for me before and if you really do so now, cling to this feeling, you may call it love or what you will, cling to it and don't forget that it is bound to ennoble you more than all vanities of convention; cling to it and don't give it up. If your love—God forbid—should cool toward me, never let its warmth die in your heart, and if you ever love again, love with your whole heart. Ah, what have I said? I have been speaking of cooling of love, of another love, but how could I stand it? You see, these thoughts come when you don't write to me, when I don't hear anything from you and have to be brooding and suspecting all the time. Write, write!
How are things going with you, with your family? I'm afraid it is going badly with them. What do you intend to do—stick to your last plan? I haven't yet found any suitable occasion to see Ringelhardt about the Haas; maybe I'll do it today. If so, I'll write her at once. By the way, you need not show her our letters, not on account of the letters, but because of the complete distrust I have for her. Through Apel I have learned here some of her utterances that make me ask you to withdraw your confidence from her as well. I'm sorry for her.
Goodbye, my beloved girl, give my regards to anybody you deem worthy of them, say also to the widow Dahnert that I was thinking of her, not because I like her, but because she was fond of me. I kiss you a thousand times, but don't forward those kisses to anybody else, do you understand? To nobody else, no, no! But save them until you see me again. Oh, how much I have to atone for, for having been overexacting so often; I'm quite alone, quite alone! Goodbye, goodbye. I press you to my heart in desperation.
Adieu! Adieu! Your
Richard
Source: Letters of Richard Wagner: The Burrell Collection, ed. John N. Burk (Macmillan, 1950), No. 3