My Dear Faithful Friend!
Today I am writing to you on a deeply intimate subject. — My wife will spend this winter in Dresden. Probably she has already arrived; perhaps she has even paid you a visit by now. — I remember the cheering and comforting opinion on her state of health you so touchingly gave me last summer, after my description of her condition. Now I entrust to you the poor sufferer herself. Be her physician, her adviser, helper — if you can; her comforter, if you cannot. — The deep conviction that a change of scene and of associations, even her temporary removal from my presence, which was always somewhat irritating to her, would in any case serve to give the invalid at least a chance — all this was chiefly the cause of my decision on a separation from her for a period. Dresden will certainly seem homelike to her, on the whole, and prove tranquillizing; she will occupy a little parterre flat in the Rottdorf house where we first lived in Dresden, but at first she will stop with the Tichatschecks.
She recently has been at her brother-in-law's, who himself is a doctor. As I wished some reassurance about her condition, I addressed myself to him, and now enclose his answer which I received yesterday. You can see what little consolation there is to be found in her condition. I am deeply affected!
As to the genesis of her condition, she will be able to give you but little clear information. An organic infirmity (perhaps originating in her gland system — for her mother died of dropsy of the chest) has probably been developing ever since and during our stay in Dresden. The ever increasing shattering of her nerves, however, dates chiefly from the many violent and grievous incidents of our life. In 1853 the over-excitation of her nerves and her insomnia were already very much pronounced; a physician treated her for the gout, and employed hot baths and douches which drove her almost insane. Then she became acquainted with the use of laudanum, which had imprudently been recommended in small doses for her insomnia; when she experienced no result from this, she increased the doses up to several scores of drops, as she confessed to me later. With her increasing irritability, frequent quarrels between us were not to be avoided; and for this reason — I confess it to you openly — our life together had finally become unbearable. — You will soon come to know more of her physical condition yourself. Be entirely honest with me, dear Anton, so that I can conduct myself in everything in the way that will most exactly assist your treatment. My conduct and future attitude towards her will be governed by no other regard in the world than the profound wish to contribute to her healing, her solace and care. Everything that serves towards this end, I shall make my most urgent concern. If we succeed in preserving her life for still a long time, as painlessly and comfortably as possible, my heartiest wish will have been fulfilled; and I am prepared for any sacrifice to attain that end. — For the present I have heard, to my relief, that she has already become somewhat quieted — as was to be foreseen; her appearance also is said to have improved. Let the poor soul, who moves me to the greatest pity, be commended to your noble heart! Be to her what you always can be, and count on my most ardent thanks!
Of myself and my extremely retired life, you will learn a little through my wife; I myself will tell you something of this the next time that I write you, the occasion for which, and for my gratitude, I earnestly hope you will very shortly provide me through friendly tidings of my wife.
Good-bye, best friend! Be greeted and blest by
Your
Richard Wagner
Canale Grande, Palazzo Giustiniani, Campiello Squellini, No. 3228
Source: The Letters of Richard Wagner to Anton Pusinelli, trans. and ed. Elbert Lenrow (Alfred A. Knopf, 1932), No. 21