My dear sweet betrothed,
So I greet you! And not a morning shall pass without this greeting. My pain and grief for you which are turning me to a shadow have made it irrevocably clear to me—though I had never a doubt—I can't live without you any longer. From the unshakable firmness of this thought I am finding new hope. For since I made up my mind to devote myself to you entirely, it can only be that you will devote yourself to me as well. This firm thought and irrevocable resolution brings me a certain reassurance, since I know that I do everything, everything to bind you to me; and you can't do otherwise, you must accept it—see, this is my conviction. May God in Heaven prevent you from believing, and writing to me, that all this could also happen if you remained in Berlin. For the sake of our love, reject such an idea. My two letters of yesterday and the day before should be enough to prove to you that the step you have taken would confirm the complete untruth of your love. I have nothing more to add, and for heaven's sake don't write another word about it; I take a solemn oath that never again will you hear the slightest harsh or hateful word from me, nor get the slightest chiding, if you convince me of your true love by accepting my suggestions; solemnly as I swear this, I shall rely on you not to write the slightest word about your alleged need for remaining in Berlin. I will not allow it now or ever—you are my betrothed and I have a claim on you. We shall marry as early as Easter. What, then, have you to do in Berlin?
You will have somehow to arrange your reconciliation here; you certainly mixed things up thoroughly, and without reason. Frau Bethmann told me you might have said at least a word about having to leave as early as Wednesday and she might have done something about it. But whatever you may say now, you worked out everything—even in regard to me—in such a secretive way that it was already too late to dissuade you when I learned about it. You were certainly fixed in your wicked intention not to return; otherwise you would not have been able to act so dishonestly toward the theater management and me. Properly, I ought to be very cross with you. But since it was through this that you became my fiancée, all resentment has faded away, and you never will hear another reproach. Bethmann, who now as director is in the position of having been offended, can't possibly make the first move, as you demanded. I beg you to write him first a few words of apology (without losing face)—you had to go on Wednesday, as otherwise your whole leave would have been purposeless; you knew that it wouldn't have been granted to you as early as Wednesday and so you made up your mind to retaliate in this way for a greater wrong done to you. Besides, you wanted to assure a guarantee for your roles, etc. Don't miss doing this, dear child, and come back; surely all will be adjusted. And even if the worst comes to the worst, and it fails—ought we to sacrifice our impending betrothal and marriage, as well as the sweet interval of our engagement, to theater troubles? God forbid! I hold to what I wrote yesterday. O Minna, Minna, everything would be dead around me unless this hope were alive in my soul. I am full of ambition and have made up the following plan: If you return and can't come to an understanding with Bethmann, which is in no case likely, we'll leave Magdeburg together in February, so that my luck may come by Easter. Trust me! I'm not reckless and I well realize what responsibility I am taking on for your fate. I will truly fulfill it! God be with you, my dear betrothed, and attune your heart to our happiness. Lebewohl! Lebewohl!
Your
Richard
Source: Letters of Richard Wagner: The Burrell Collection, ed. John N. Burk (Macmillan, 1950), No. 7