My Dear Friend!
Tell me, then, how are things with my wife? It disturbs me to have to cause you also trouble and pain in this matter: but to whom am I to turn? Indeed, it seems to me that my wife does not, even will not, have near her an understanding person capable of influencing her. Therefore, I must at least turn to the physician, scarcely venturing also to appeal to the friend.
While I do not long and strive for anything more in this world than peace and quiet in order at least still to work out the projects I have in mind and to bequeath them to the world as my works; while I, persecuted by fate through misfortunes of every kind, have sought with the most unbelievable efforts to win only a refuge, as secluded as possible, for my work, and instead of this have had to endure disturbances, difficulties and burdens of all sorts — my unfortunate wife, so it seems to me, has had no other purpose than to render this peace of mind impossible for me and to torment me incessantly so that I have often been close to final despair.
It's not to be told, what I suffer through her. My uninterrupted efforts to make life as easy as possible for her, to dissipate her ever recurrent false and tormenting notions, have not made the least impression on her. If we are together, then no day passes without annoying allusions on her part, discord, mistrust, above all: finally I lose my patience, and then come scenes of the most disgusting sort; and yet in the end I cannot prevent it either. Then if I am away from her, she sends me letters, which are often so insane and so filled with vulgar outbursts of rage that as a rule I am incapable of any work for days. Recently matters have again come to a climax: all her ideas of my relations with other persons are entirely the obsessions of an insane person which the clearest and most definite assurances on my part have not been able to alter. Naturally, the result of this is that with time I am becoming less and less inclined to live with the unfortunate woman.
For quite some time already I have felt no further need for this life together: I do not even miss the domestic comfort, since I know how — for the sake of my peace of mind — to help myself with everything. Only one consideration can still induce me to live with her, and that is the supposition that I might by this means have a calming influence on her false ideas and thus help to mitigate her suffering. But am I the man of even and calm temperament who can carry out such a task according to his wish? Experience has proved to me that in spite of the most sincere and best intentions, I am incapable of doing this continuously; indeed, I have been obliged to observe that when she is away from me and has companions who are suitable to her, she prospers better by far than when with me, and so I really have to ask myself what good it would do for me to put up with the actual torture of her now continually discordant society? — Now it's a question of settling in Dresden. No attention was paid to what I produced, out of the uncertainty, indeed, the complete helplessness of my personal position, in order to enable her to have this establishment on a scale which — though modest — would first of all be suitable for her: but the most absurd motives were attributed to me with mad obstinacy.
Hence I admit that I am entirely perplexed about any decision with reference to further living with my wife, and certainly I have no other basis in the world for this feeling than the fear that with this woman it would be impossible for me to achieve that peace of mind which is likewise of the utmost necessity to me.
But why should I burden you with all these declarations? As a physician, you will quite accurately recognize only symptoms of a disease here. Therefore, I really ask you almost only as a physician: what am I to do? How is the unfortunate one's state of health? She seems of late to have suffered fearfully: will Reichenhall be of any value to her again? But you know the character of such terrible heart-diseases: what would be more soothing and advantageous for her? If I correctly divine her thoughts, she believes firmly and positively that I no longer intend to live with her; however, I wanted to discover, by means of a fresh attempt at it in Dresden, whether, after all, this might not still be possible in the future. My heart discourages this hope; but my will is still for it. Should this attempt be undertaken again? Or since she obstinately holds fast to her craziest ideas, would it be better to let her know, in a suitable manner, all at once and definitely, that we should henceforth live apart and correspond as little as possible? What is the state of her illness? Would she be able to sustain such a sudden declaration? Or should one avoid just such a decisive step? — If she could stand this without any serious immediate effect on her state of health, then I should believe, judging by previous examples, that in the long run she would recover better in society that was agreeable to her than with me. That was proved last winter by her strikingly improved condition. She was not particularly troubled by worries over me, when I was truly in a wretched state, pursued by every conceivable kind of misfortune: also my financial worries do not seem to trouble her now: on the contrary, agreeable companions of her own kind and diversion such as she had in Dresden last winter have affected her agreeably. Her violent illness was first brought on again by her personal conflicts with me. — I am, as I said, perplexed, I waver back and forth. And there is no one who could help me! What to do? What to leave undone?
At least your medical report shall now give me some support. Should you also feel uneasy and wish to give me more definite counsel, I would ask you to visit my sister, Luise Brockhaus, in Neustadt (I believe it's Leipziger Strasse, No. 5). Share this letter with her, please, question her and take counsel with her. On the occasion of my amnesty, she and her daughter wrote me in such a friendly way that in them I saw a prospect of drawing close to a part of my family, and this quickly inclined me favourably towards the plan of settling down in Dresden. Unfortunately, I communicated this feeling to my wife: at this she immediately expressed herself in a burst of jealousy and envy, and hoped indeed that I would thrive under her care alone: which at once put me again into a bad humour, so that I became suspicious of the whole project. So it always happens with me. — Well, of course! You will find that my sister is a friend who is understanding and just, and who also wishes my wife well. Confer with her: and even if you both do not arrive at anything decisive, nevertheless I long very much to hear some opinion, in order no longer to remain opposed alone, in this awful position, against my unfortunate wife who fails to understand me at all.
So don't be angry with me, and if I should be bothering you, consider wherein I am to be excused!
A thousand hearty greetings from friend to friend, my dear Anton! May I at all events see you soon again!
Your
Richard Wagner
Source: The Letters of Richard Wagner to Anton Pusinelli, trans. and ed. Elbert Lenrow (Alfred A. Knopf, 1932), No. 27