Poor dear Minna!
I have just learned from Wolfram, who writes me on a business matter, that there has been another loss in your family, that you are stricken by the death of Charlotte, and that this has left you feeling extremely weak.
Minna, if you could see the many tears I often shed for you, and which at this moment almost prevent me from writing, you would learn what to think of my apparent hardness toward you.
So much I know: if I come to see you, it could only be to stay with you entirely and without interruption; no other agreement would be feasible. But I can't yet bring myself to make this decision, out of anxiety for you as well as for me. I therefore considered it better to be entirely silent. Should I give you any hope today, as my heart would so much like to do? Life is so grave and terribly hard; who can clearly tell what is the right thing to do? Poor Minna! Fate has linked you to one of the strangest of men. Daily experience makes it ever more clear to me how little I actually am understood, how I stand alone and abandoned by the world! No wonder that you have much to suffer from it. For the present, I feel only one immediate necessity: the most unheard-of interruptions of all sorts have so delayed my work on Die Meistersinger that I feared at the beginning of this winter I should have to stop work entirely. By deciding not to undertake anything else of outward importance this winter, and not to go to Petersburg again, I forcibly compelled myself to tackle my work and to stay with it. I now hope to be able to keep at it uninterruptedly so as to deliver it to the theaters next winter. My internal and external welfare depends on seeing it through. I beg you to contribute to this result by using the utmost patience. You will be able to do it, above all, by your early recovery. Care for your health as much as you can, dear Minna, and think of the joy you would give me and how you would make my life bearable. I'll try to save 100 thalers especially for the care of your health this summer. You may count on it.
If I had succeeded in securing my livelihood by a fixed income, some share of it would have been allotted to you. Now—more than ever before—everything is fluctuation, insecurity, dependence on good luck—and luck doesn't favor me. Now I'll try to force my luck by this work; unfortunately it demands a good mood which I am losing more and more. When it is finished and life somehow presents a more friendly face, we two shall have another reasonable discussion. Who knows, Minna, what will seem advisable to us then? Perhaps it will be just what we both wish. Certainly! Summon up courage and don't neglect your health! Believe in my most heartfelt assurance that it is only your well-being that I care for.
My fondest greetings and kisses. If you feel like writing to Chemnitz, tell Wolfram how much I thank him for his letter. Farewell, really well, dear Minna!
Your
Richard
Source: Letters of Richard Wagner: The Burrell Collection, ed. John N. Burk (Macmillan, 1950), No. 268