My Dear Good Friend!
Your telegram with the sad news was retelegraphed to me here from Geneva; this could not have been done in Geneva earlier than yesterday evening, because I set out from there last Monday, changing my stopping-places very frequently since, and not until yesterday afternoon did I send word there that for the present I would await letters and dispatches here. Consequently, I don't even know the date of your Dresden dispatch, since in Geneva they copied it with merely the addition of "Dresden" to your name. Hence it is possible that my poor wife's death really occurred earlier than the "last night" in your dispatch lets one suppose. — I left for southern France in order to see whether I could find here somewhere an establishment that would satisfy my need of absolute seclusion and quiet, and I have been wandering here and there, led on by various bits of information. Now I am compelled to delay here for several days more by the necessary care of an injured finger which I neglected on the journey and the inflammation of which has finally become unbearably painful. Just as I had gone to rest last night and had been sleeping for an hour, I was awakened to receive the mournful tidings. I had had a presentiment of it, and had communicated it to some of my friends, and so, after all the terrors and sorrows which have assailed me for so long and in an ever mounting degree, I must expect that the next news of misfortune will either entirely undo me or else find me well-nigh insensible to it. And now this morning, after a wretched night, I can only describe my state as one of complete stupefaction, in which I sit brooding apathetically — brooding — without knowing what perchance to devise! — My measure is filled and running over: and a nature made for uninterrupted creation and artistic invention, amid lovingly fostered peace, at last finds itself so positively abused, so falsely employed under the dispensation that life has imposed on it, that in the end I must yield to a smile which the world may well regard as a kind of madness! — Enough!
Let us consider what is to be done next! — To say any more here is of no consequence!
I shall expect a letter from you in Geneva in reply to my today's telegram, and I hope to find it there perhaps at the beginning of next week. I shall thus learn exactly how everything happened, and how I have been represented by you and my Dresden relatives. I may assume that your friendly care has, in my name, shown the same honours to the body of my unfortunate poor wife that I would have shown her if she had departed happily beside the husband made blessed by her. Entirely in this spirit I beg you to arrange for her resting-place. — At the wish of the deceased I gave her last year a warrant of power to dispose as she might see fit of all goods in her possession, whether ours in common or belonging particularly to me: I assume that she has disposed of everything by testament, and I believe, therefore, that there is no need for me to intervene further. I beg you now, my dear friend, to give me immediately an account of the expenses of the funeral, resting-place, and so forth, not to be met out of the bequeathed property, in order that you may receive this amount in return from me.
Peace, peace to the fearfully afflicted heart of the lamentable one!!
All my own undertakings and endeavours have but one significance, to shelter myself, at any price, from the most excessive disturbances of my peace, so that I may at length still find the composure to create and complete my works, because I feel on the other hand that this I still must and can do. For this reason, I am now compelled to reply most determinedly to my youthful friend, the King of Bavaria, who passionately wishes to have me near him once more, by Easter; for I have resolved only to work, and to produce no more. In this direct intercourse with a king, which exposes me fearfully to jealousy and hatred, it is impossible to find the peace necessary for work. This is now my struggle. He is disconsolate: I fear that he may bring himself even to abdicating the throne. Judge, then, to what agitations I am exposed by the only solution possible to this situation! — Thus everything combines to afflict and alarm my heart! It must have been made sound and strong, indeed, in order to be able to sustain all this. My poor wife succumbed, since for this she was less well endowed organically. What need! What misery! — Oh, she is to be envied, she who finally cut short the struggle painlessly! When, when shall I — find — peace?
Good-bye, dear noble friend! Some day I shall come to Dresden, once for all, and for a short time make claim to your hospitality. Thanks! Sincere and heart-felt thanks!
Your much-tried friend
Richard Wagner
Source: The Letters of Richard Wagner to Anton Pusinelli, trans. and ed. Elbert Lenrow (Alfred A. Knopf, 1932), No. 43