Dear Minna,
I cannot help writing to you once more, ere going far away. — It has remained unknown to me, as indeed I could but wish, how you received the decisive step I announced from my side in my last letter to you. As you have so often entertained the thought of living apart from me and so recovering your independence, I presume and also hope that, though surprised perhaps, you were not alarmed at my decision. For my part I live in hopes that in separation the mutual recollection of our past life will take a more benign, even a more consoling aspect, than would have been the case had we gone on living together, — when the constant friction of our radically different and opposing natures might have only given rise to strife and rancour.
It was the news I have to impart to-day, however, that formed my very special reason for writing you again, since I have a feeling as if it must soften for you all the possible bitters of our separation. I am on the point of starting for Marseilles, to wit, whence I shall take an English boat to Malta, and thence go on to Greece and Asia Minor. I have always felt, and the most strongly in these latter days, the need of issuing from this narrow life of books and thoughts, which so consumes me, to look a little round me in the world for once. The modern world is closed behind me for the present, since I detest it and want to have nothing more to do with either it or what its creatures nowadays call "art." Germany can never become a field of interest to me again until all its conditions are totally changed; any endeavour to set myself in tune with them could only make me boundlessly unhappy, and more and more sick of my life. So my longing of late had again been directed much farther afield, to a complete withdrawal for a time from our modern conditions, and the restoration of my body and mind by change of scene, sight and hearing, in other climes. In this last crisis, then, I conceived the plan of a journey to Greece and the East, and am lucky enough to see the means of executing it now placed at my disposal from London. For in London I have gained a new protector, one of the most eminent English lawyers, who knows my works, and in return for a certain obligation — the assignment to him of the original manuscript of everything I write in the future — will accord me his support.
I believed this news must bring some reassurance to yourself, dear Minna, in case you need it; under any circumstances I hope you will not grudge me the execution of my project, and — providing you do not believe you must sever yourself from me completely — here you obtain a good screen against any public remark. You can tell all the world that, after the abandonment of my Paris plans, I had found there was nothing suitable or of profit for me to do at present either in Germany or France, consequently I had gladly seized a sudden opportunity of carrying out an old pet wish, namely of spending some time on a visit to Greece and the East; and that, alike for reason of the urgence of the opportunity, and to spare myself the pain of a personal leave-taking — I had started on my travels without seeing you first. That would be telling no untruth, particularly as regards the last point: it would have been quite impossible for me — in all the circumstances — to visit you again at Zurich, to see yourself, take leave of dog and bird; much as I have suffered already, that personal goodbye would probably have ruined all my future. Believe me, it had to be so; it is better for yourself so — equally with me.
So let us be parted now! If we retain our health, if times and circumstances alter, we shall always have the hope of meeting later. But separation for the present will do us good. —
From London you will soon receive the needful for your maintenance. If you would rejoice my heart exceedingly, you will arrange your life as pleasantly as possible; lay out a tiny garden somewhere for yourself, cherish dog and bird, and — hope for the future. I could almost wish you not to write to me once more; for, in whatever sense you do write, it is certain to affect me painfully. But should you have a kind farewell to bid me for the present, then write poste restante to Marseilles. To tell the truth, I don't think I can wait for the letter there, as, according to my information just received, the boat will be leaving May 7, so that I shall have the greatest hurry; but I'll leave word behind to send my letters after me.
Farewell, then, dear Minna! sore-tried Wife to whom I can make no recompense, alas, and whom — perhaps for her own healing — I even must forsake. Farewell, and — if you can — remember me with kindness! Tidings you shall have from me, — and — surely we may still hope for a Wiedersehen!
Salute your parents, salute our friends! Do not be angry with me for having to part from you all! — Farewell! Farewell, dear good Minna! Farewell,
Thy Richard W.
Source: Richard to Minna Wagner: Letters to His First Wife, trans. William Ashton Ellis, Vol. 1 (H. Grevel & Co., 1909), No. 37