Dear Natalie!
This time I am sending the money for Minna to you, asking you to forward it to her at once.
I had already intended to do so: a letter from Minna which I received today confirms me in it.
She writes me fairly and justly from her viewpoint; she is even almost gentle and friendly. In the final analysis she is right in everything, as she sees things: but I see them differently, and that's where the misfortune lies.
Believe me, good Natalie, my heart has been bleeding for years: for I realize clearly and distinctly that I cannot live with Minna any longer. It isn't a question of any blame which I attribute to her nor of any reproach: but experience has shown me that the greatest calamity for us would be to live together again. Despite the fact that I have realized this for some time, I still kept wavering as to how to carry out the bitter resolution. The consideration for her health usually decided the matter, and I avoided final, decisive statements. If I could only hope thus to set matters straight, I would gladly continue that way. But I see that I only prolong her torture and thus also mine. In the end she still keeps clinging to a hope which I cannot fulfill, and she is thereby prevented from leading that kind of life which under these circumstances is the only thing that could bring her peace. I used to think that it would be all right if I visited her from time to time: that is what one first thinks of, but it could be done only in the case of quite different, more easy-going people. She has developed a distrust, an uneasy diffidence toward me, which really makes every hour we are together an agony. Despite my best will and my deepest, most sincere pity for her, I feel this so clearly that I always shrink from the thought of visiting her. Certainly I don't hate Minna: I want to do good for her as much as I can; but the difference is too great, and the dissension caused by sad experiences is so obvious that there is no use trying to deceive oneself.
Therefore, I must now ask myself what further purpose it could serve if I keep the poor woman in a state of uncertainty which tortures both her and me? Even our letters can never be completely harmless: something will always contribute to the misunderstanding and produce statements which are bound to be troublesome. I must seriously believe that it is better to stop writing also. When I say this, you may rest assured that it costs me a terrible inner struggle, and that my heart suffers more from this apparent harshness than all of you probably imagine. Better, though, if I keep my softness for myself: if I revealed it to Minna it would only produce new confusion. My only consolation is that there is no person who knows us both who is not of the opinion that it is better this way for both of us.
Now Minna also writes me that she wants to give up the large apartment. She should certainly do so, and I shall do what is necessary to give notice for October 1st. Only she should not think of moving into a furnished apartment! If she cannot use some of our things in a smaller apartment, she should give them away or sell them, but always keep what she can use. I also wonder whether it would not be better if she would move to Zwickau near you: there she could live very pleasantly on the money which she will regularly receive from me, and she would have her relatives with her. In Dresden her position toward me would become unbearable for her (I realize that!). She really should start an entirely new life! But it is not proper for me to advise her, least of all to prescribe anything for her: alas! I have to leave it completely up to her how she is going to help herself from now on. The only thing I can contribute is to put an end to the uncertain condition in which she cannot live in peace. She is absolute owner and proprietress of all those things which she at present has with her: she should do with them whatever she likes. If, however, she wants to send me something, I'd like to have the silver laurel wreath and the goblet which were once presented to me; perhaps she would also share the silver with me equally, she already left me some of it in Biebrich. I would also ask her for the fire screen, if I did not sincerely consider every emotion as injurious and harmful at this time; but the arrival of this screen would affect me very much.
Natalie! I'm writing this to you amid bitter tears. Perhaps I should have waited longer; for both of us now have to show the greatest control and calmness.
But when I thus express, in the form of an urgent request, the desire, even the need, of so arranging my dealings with Minna that she won't entertain any more mistaken expectations, I also declare that she shall always remain my wife. I will never consider divorcing her. I'll stay by myself, and no one shall take her place.
Only we can't live together again: it won't work. It won't work! Rather bear everything else than the sad relationship into which we would fall! Let Minna take to heart what I express in this statement, and I hope she will find in it a proof of my true and sincere respect for her.
My lot is loneliness: my life—work!
I'm not going to add anything more to this. I know especially that explanations of any kind between me and Minna are completely useless. Here no one is right and no one is wrong: only he would henceforth be wrong who would casually and superficially suggest new attempts to live together!
Greet Minna for me with a bleeding heart! She should accept the inevitable! It will perhaps be more difficult for me than for her!
Best regards to you too, dear Natalie, and to the good Tröger and to Charlotte!
Your
Richard W.
Source: Letters of Richard Wagner: The Burrell Collection, ed. John N. Burk (Macmillan, 1950), No. 265