O my dear Minel!
If I could be with you today, I would give the whole of Italy for it! My state of mind is beyond description: You know how we once made fun of Eisner in Paris, and now I am doing the same as he; I have only one thought: how I may quickly get home to you again!
Certainly that change in my mood has been brought about by my sickness. The main trouble is that a drink of fresh water is here out of the question; now I perhaps took too much ice and ice water; to be brief, within three days diarrhea all of a sudden appeared and consequently an increasing weakness, dizziness in the head, and feverish inclination; a very depressed melancholy mood followed. On Saturday evening, as I already wrote you, I embarked on the sea; I thought the sea air would help me. We had a strong headwind and a rough sea: nice old recollections. People succumbed to seasickness all around me; I too willingly delivered overboard my noon meal taken on land, but then I lay down in my berth and from that time on I was spared from seasickness by lying down stretched out for the whole night.
Yesterday morning we arrived in the Gulf of Spezia. The diarrhea had subsided, but the dizziness and heavy nausea had rather increased. Thus nothing could delight or distract me. Though I soon started out to wander in the mountain region for an hour at sundown, and though everything was glorious and beautiful, the marvelous flora astonishing—nothing worked well with me. My mood became more and more sentimental, and when I thought of your birthday being tomorrow, and me a five days' journey away from you, I felt like crying aloud in my misery. My depression almost choked me. After dinner I took a carriage and let myself be taken around on the gulf for a few hours of idle driving. It was Sunday, everything trim and orderly! This also I couldn't stand, and went back to my room, swore never in my life to take a trip by myself, and finally yielded to my weariness. But before falling asleep I grew so anxious that I inquired for a physician; but then a quiet night followed. Unfortunately, my dizziness and nausea are the same as before; my mood is unbearable and the thought of being so far away from you lies upon me, pressing me with a heavy weight. Now I feel so helpless here and so pitiably alone that I am hardly able to think any longer of continuing my journey. Still, today or, at the latest, tomorrow morning I will return to Genoa; let's see then how I feel! If I still feel as I do today, nothing can help me but an immediate return. I'll then give up Nice and hurry as directly as possible to Lago Maggiore so as to return to Zürich across the Gotthard: in that case it would be wonderful if you would come to meet me at some point, perhaps as far as Flüelen, provided you feel well enough. But if my condition should improve a bit and if I should feel able to continue the journey as planned, I certainly would still go to Nice, and, if my passport matter is straightened out, even as far as Paris. But about this I can't tell you anything at all definite yet. Well—if you would come to Nice, this would change matters. With all my heart, and beckoning you with both hands, I invite you to come! But will your state of health permit it? I am afraid that now such a long trip can't be imposed upon you. But see Dr. Rahn, my good Minel, he may finally permit it after all.
O God, I'd hate to think that my trip has been in vain; and whatever I can do in order not to run away à la Eisner, I should like to do it. But my present state mustn't continue any longer; otherwise I can think and plan nothing but my return. In order to reach some sort of provisional decision, we will agree to the following. You answer this letter to: Nice (Kingdom of Sardinia). If I should not go to Nice, but return home from Genoa, I would telegraph to you from Genoa, so that you would get the telegram before this letter. If you don't get any telegram, but only this letter, that will mean that I have gone on to Nice. So as soon as I telegraph you that I am coming home, you must hold all the letters from that moment; whereas you should send them to Nice if you haven't got any telegram until the arrival of this letter. (Unfortunately no telegram can be sent from here, otherwise I would certainly have congratulated you today.)
God knows what may happen to me today: at this moment I believe I'll be coming home rather than going on. My condition is awful, and how much I yearn for a friendly soul can't be described. After all, I am a much too emotional man to find delight in alien things for any length of time. I will never again take a long trip without you, or at least without a close friend. Otherwise all of a sudden a feeling of misery arises in my soul which completely chokes me. Then introductions to strangers are of no avail. In Genoa I finally delivered Caronti's letter. I didn't meet the man; the other day he didn't meet me; and so I continued my trip. Well, if I were younger and if fate had not subjected me to so many fateful experiences! Now only those I know can help!
Today it started to rain at last; it's possible that it helps a bit in my state; so far I have had bad luck, since the horizon has been never quite clear but always shrouded by a heat haze; so far I have nowhere found one of the beautiful Italian evening illuminations.
The whole Sardinian court is now staying here in Spezia, with the exception of the King himself; even the Saxon Princess was married here; but I have not seen her yet.
Once more: Alas, if I were only with you today! I must not seriously think of it; otherwise I'd burst with sorrow! Today as I write this miserable letter my jubilant letter from Genoa will probably arrive. What irony! Soon you will learn more about my decisions; farewell, my good Mienel! Be merrier than I! Greet Pepsel and keep in good health when we meet again. Adieu! Adieu!!
Your very melancholy
Richard
Source: Letters of Richard Wagner: The Burrell Collection, ed. John N. Burk (Macmillan, 1950), No. 129