My dear and faithful friend,
I am turning to you today in a matter that touches me deeply. - My wife will be spending this winter in Dresden. She has probably already arrived, and may perhaps already have visited you. I recall the cordial and comforting information concerning the state of her health, which you so touchingly sent me last summer in response to my description of her condition. I now entrust the poor patient to you in person. Be her doctor, her adviser, her helper - if you can; her comforter, if you cannot. - The sincere conviction that a change of scene and company, and even her temporary removal from my vicinity, which has always tended to make her somewhat irritable, would at all events serve to offer the sick woman at least a chance of recovery - this conviction has contributed in no small way to my belief that we should live apart for a period. On the whole, I have no doubt but that Dresden will appeal to her as being both homely and, ultimately, restful; she will be moving into a small ground-floor apartment in the Rottdorf house where we first lived in Dresden, but before then will be staying at the Tichatschecks’. -
She was recently at her brother-in-law’s, who is himself a doctor. Since I wanted some reassurance about her condition, I addressed myself to him, and am now enclosing his reply, which I received yesterday. You see what little comfort I can draw from her condition. The news has affected me deeply! -
As for the origins of her condition, she herself will be able to give you little clear information. A weakness in one of her organs (perhaps originating in her glandular system - for her mother died of dropsy of the chest) has probably been developing ever since, and certainly during, our time in Dresden. But the increasingly shattered state of her nerves dates chiefly from the many violent and sorrowful incidents in our lives. By 1853 her nervous irritability and sleeplessness were already very pronounced; a doctor treated her for gout; using hot baths and douches which almost drove her insane. She then learned of the pleasures of laudanum, which was incautiously prescribed to her in small doses for her insomnia; unable to detect any improvement in her condition, she increased the doses to a score more drops at a time, as she later confessed to me. As her irritability increasingly got the better of her, it became impossible for us to avoid frequent quarrels; and - as I freely admit - this was the reason why our living together finally became intolerable for us. - You will soon find out more about her physical condition for yourself. I beg you to be honest with me, dear Anton, and tell me everything, so that I may do everything possible to support you in your treatment as scrupulously as I can. My conduct and future attitude towards her will be determined by no other thought in the world than the sincere wish to contribute to her recovery and her relief, and to showing her every consideration. I shall make it my most pressing concern to do everything that may serve this end. If we can prolong her life, and make it as painless and as comfortable as possible, my most heartfelt wish will have been fulfilled, and I am prepared to make whatever sacrifices are necessary to achieve this end. - For the present I hear, much to my relief, that - as was to be expected - she is already somewhat calmer; and she is said to be looking better. Let the poor woman, whom I pity from the depths of my soul, be commended to your noble heart! Be to her whatever you can, and count upon my most ardent thanks! -
As for myself and my extremely secluded life, you will learn something about all this from my wife; I myself shall tell you more about it the next time I write, which I most urgently hope you will very shortly give me occasion to do by kindly informing me as to my wife’s health, and, at the same time, allowing me to express my gratitude towards you. -
Fare you well, best of friends! Accept the good wishes and blessings of
Your
Richard Wagner
Source: Selected Letters of Richard Wagner, trans. and ed. Stewart Spencer and Barry Millington (W. W. Norton & Company, 1988), No. 225