In the morning, 8:30—
Minna, my state of mind can't be described—you are gone and my heart is broken. I'm sitting here hardly able to think and crying and sobbing like a child. Great God, what shall I do? How and where may I find consolation and peace! When I saw you leaving, all my feelings and sensations painfully broke loose in me; the morning mist in which I saw you drive away trembled through my tears; Minna, Minna, all at once I felt the terrible certainty that the coach was bearing you away from me for good. My dearest girl, in doing this you are doing a terrible wrong—I am bound to you by chains a hundred thousand strong, and now I feel as if you would throw them around my neck and would strangle me with them. Minna, Minna, how you have changed me! I'm sitting now in my quarters, thoughts are whirling around me; a ghastly void—nothing but tears, pity, and misery. How are you now, yourself? A large beautiful city—oh, I can't continue!
But all the same, I have to continue, my heart is too full; what shakes me so deeply and gnaws at the core of my soul is that you miss the importance of this crisis in our fate so completely—Minna, look, we are still living in such a tender stage of our love; a mere gnat crossing our love's whims is enough to disturb us. Even to face the thought of a twelve days' separation is enough to shake me to the depths of my soul, and—good God—to you a separation for a full half-year is some slight affair that you slip into without any emotion. You didn't even make it a matter of an understanding between us. Well, I must tell you again what I so earnestly told you before: I left Magdeburg in May of this year with a deep love for you in my heart. I felt no longer free, I felt bound to you. The short separation clearly proved to me that I couldn't live without you. How could I come to possess you? By marriage. To attain this goal, it was necessary to change the whole course of my life, all that I had outlined for my reputation as a composer.
In accordance with my situation, I had arranged my career as follows: I wished first to remain in Leipzig to finish my new opera, which I planned to perform there in the winter. Then, having succeeded, I would have gone to Berlin, Dresden, Munich, Prague, Frankfurt, etc., in order to have my opera performed in those cities. If it had been successful everywhere, I would have gone on to Paris the following summer and from there I might have hastened to go to Italy in the winter together with Apel. This was the definite plan for my career. But such a plan would allow no place at all for marriage with you. On this restless path a single person might manage, but the two of us would need a more tranquil life. To attain this I had to abandon all my plans and take up a practical career, the only one which could lead to our goal. So I gave up everything and procured a new engagement in Magdeburg, for the double purpose of starting my changed path of life and remaining permanently near you. How happy I was, my Minna! Now at last I believed I could propose to you and make our union the single goal of our life together. We have a full half-year ahead to prepare it. Either I shall succeed in getting in this time a sufficiently secure position by myself or, if luck is not so good, the two of us together should have enough to marry on.
Minna, I sacrifice many other beautiful things to this beautiful plan. I am young; with the desired good fortune my future as a composer may not lack glory—to possess you I sacrifice a colorful, happy life which I could attain only in a different way. And you? Minna, all my faith is leaving me; a pitiful theater-intrigue, sure to blow over soon, is important enough to you to destroy our living together, brought about by many sacrifices on my part. And don't you feel any grief or pain as you are heading toward this long separation which will necessarily keep us apart for good? Minna, didn't I implore you—"Give me this half-year, don't leave me, and I swear to you to consider this as a sacrifice on your part which irrevocably shall bind and oblige me to you; make this slight sacrifice to your vanity and I will give you in return my whole life"—and you were silent and then coldly answered: "I can't act otherwise, I must have my roles." Do you have a human heart? Have you any feeling for sublime love and fidelity? Minna, Minna, does not this voice penetrate your heart? My God, my God, what else can I tell you, my heart is breaking! Once more I say: I sacrifice all the conditions of my life for you and can you not sacrifice two roles for me? I am beside myself—I have once more laid bare my soul to you; if you don't want to accept it, I have spoken for the last time to you with such ardor. From now on you shall get only quite calm letters from me. I am at the end of my rope.
Your
Richard
Source: Letters of Richard Wagner: The Burrell Collection, ed. John N. Burk (Macmillan, 1950), No. 5