My dear Richard!
Just a few words today to give you a greeting!
A week ago was the black day on which my husband left me, and I still feel the same grief. God knows if I'll see him again, or when; too much happens in one year. Your last letter did not contain even the slightest consolation for me, on the contrary. Now I have to put up with so much, perhaps I'll get used to many an unnatural thing in this world. Our little house has become a house of mourning, whereas things are quite merry not far from me, which, I would say, really offends me, but this too I shall no longer see. I was pleased to find in your letter that you miss the little dog; there is still a spark of feeling left in you for us poor creatures. I'm convinced that it won't be long before you'll be yearning for your comfortable, pleasant home life, perhaps, but very much later, even for me who may no longer be living, but that doesn't matter; but later you'll curse yourself for having broken away from everything and cast your faithful wife from you so willfully. I, and perhaps several others, cannot understand it. But I really didn't want to write you about all this at all; that will stop too, but it flows from my pen involuntarily and a feeling of revenge rises up in me; unfortunately there is no God! I'm not a noble woman at all, but better than many others, if that is any blessing; whether noble or not, I only regret that I was so for such a long time; it is shameful that it has come to this. I'll probably never go to Dresden, nor to any other city either; I don't know. All my dear friends and acquaintances came to see me, but I can never say anything because I have to cry; oh, if I only had gotten over all these insults, then it would be well with me. I didn't want to write you this either, but this is the third letter to you which I've started and I always come back to it. I have no time, it will have to stay this way; forgive an unhappy, offended woman. It is also possible that you'll get really cheerful letters from me some day; this, like many things, we cannot know in advance.
Since I take care of my affairs with so much pleasure, I must tell you that I have just come from the warehouse where I was to store your furniture, etc. I haven't found any place in the whole Enge where the stairway was wide enough for your sofa and the big cases, and I would have had to pay 100 or even 120 francs rent while the warehouse charged hardly half of that. This won't hurt your furniture; I asked about that. Write me oftener, a few lines, but at least once a week, not because I wish it, as you wrote me; but I would rather have it come, as usual, of your own free will; this, too, I wish I had gotten over, not to have to beg any more; it is sad! May God protect you and enlighten my once good husband!
Affectionate greetings from
Your
Minna
The good little Fips keeps out of Friedrich's way, only because he thinks that he'll tie him up again and even take him away from me. He clings to me with unexampled love and faithfulness. Whenever he sees a man, he jumps toward him joyfully, thinking it is you.
Source: Letters of Richard Wagner: The Burrell Collection, ed. John N. Burk (Macmillan, 1950), No. 188