Dear friend,
Your letter has given rise to renewed uneasiness about you. My wife will write you at length on this subject in a few days, but I happen to have a free quarter of an hour on the second holiday, and this I am going to devote to you, possibly to your annoyance. I must let you know what we have been saying about you; one thing was that never in my entire life did I have such opportunities for masculine companionship as you seem to have in Basle; but if you are all determined to be hypochondriacs, then this intercourse will be of no value to you. There seems to be a lack of young women, but as my old friend Sulzer used to say, "Where can we get them unless we steal them?" I should say that in a case of extreme necessity one would be justified in stealing. Of one thing I am firmly convinced, and that is that you must either get married or write an opera. One would do you just about as much good—or harm!—as the other. But of the two, I advise you to marry.
In the meantime I can recommend a palliative, but you are so in the habit of looking after your own apothecary that it is impossible for any one to prescribe for you. For example, when we built our house, we made arrangements to offer you an asylum at any time, such as was never offered to me even in the time of my direst necessity. The plan was for you to spend your entire summer vacations here with us, but no sooner has winter set in than you cautiously announce your intention of spending the summer on a high and remote peak of the Swiss Alps. Can that be otherwise construed than as a refusal of our invitation in advance? We could be of great help to you. Why do you scorn this assistance on every occasion? Gersdorff and all the others always enjoy being here. There will be a great deal going on here. All of my Nibelung singers will be passed in review, the scenic painter will be at work, the machinist will be busy fitting up the stage, and all of us will be head over ears in the matter. But—every one knows this and other peculiarities of our friend Nietzsche.
I shall say nothing more on this subject, however, as I realize that it is not of the slightest use. For Heaven's sake, do marry a rich wife! Why was Gersdorff born a man? Or go off on a long trip and enrich your mind with all the beautiful experiences which make Hillebrand so versatile and enviable (in your eyes!), and then write your opera, which I know will be scandalously difficult to perform. What Satan made a pedagogue of you? You see how radical I have become under the influence of your letter; but God knows, I cannot look on and remain quiet.
By the way, Dr. Fuchs gave me great pleasure by quoting a passage from Overbeck's book, which interested me so much that I am now re-reading it.
For the second time, by the way! Full rehearsals next summer (with orchestra) in Bayreuth. The Festival in 1876. We cannot be ready before then.
I am taking daily baths, because I can no longer endure the misery in my abdomen. Do you also bathe, and eat meat?
Heartfelt greetings.
Source: The Nietzsche-Wagner Correspondence, ed. Elizabeth Foerster-Nietzsche, trans. Caroline V. Kerr (Boni and Liveright, 1921), No. 46