My good Minna,
No, believe me, it isn't Venice that is harming me. How should this ever-pure air, this cloudless sky, be guilty of that? But I might even be in Paradise, and whence could I derive a sense of wellbeing? Is there aught that does not give me worry, care, unrest, or everlasting labour? What on the contrary affords me merriment, nay, so much as distraction — to say nothing of joy? What gloomy thoughts have I not to digest every day! It is medically established that the majority of human beings go to ground through an excess of cares and troubles given no sufficient counterpoise by exhilaration, and that this is the cause of most illnesses. I have found this plainly verified since yesterday and the day before. Your last letter came the day before yesterday, and just as I took it into my hand with the usual misgiving, thinking, "God, what will the matter be this time?" so the reverse effect of its calmer and brighter contents was highly beneficial to me; so that I suddenly felt as if a cramp, that had been wringing my vitals, were loosing its hold. And yesterday's letter from Pusinelli confirmed this good effect still more. His faithful, circumstantial and very minute report on your case and cure is the first thing that has really had a profoundly soothing and comforting effect on me for an inconceivable length of time. Tell him so, I beg you, and thank him a thousand thousand times for this benefaction, — for he thereby has given myself as well the best physic to help me now. So courage, confidence and hope! Keep faith with Pusinelli; give rout to that frenzy of fancies; look free and clear into the world; take people as they are; make things as pleasant for yourself as possible, and attend to your health: when it will soon improve perceptibly and greatly. And if you won't let Pusinelli talk you out of Consumption, why, stick to it: after all it's better to imagine such a thing, than to have it in reality, when one generally refuses to believe it! No, I have been relieved by our good friend in all respects. Keep watch on your heart, and all will be well; and one ought to end by getting that a little under one's control! —
Only leave me here for the present, at least till I've finished the composition of the 3rd act: then I can instrument it somewhere else. Where? — What do I know! I'm longing for mountain air this summer: Lucerne pleased me much the last time; perhaps I shall ferret out a quiet cottage there, and thence make regular excursions up the Rigi and upon the mountains. But all this is merely scheme and dream; I've settled absolutely nothing yet.
I am delighted with Schandau for yourself. It is really very pretty, and you will remember what youthful pranks we played there, which may make the place not altogether disagreeable in your eyes: just think of that brown Rüpel with the tortoise. The air will do you good there, and as for money, I'm already seeing to as much as you can anyhow require. —
Dear Mutz, only the other day I wrote you at considerable length; next time I'll write you more again: to-day I merely wanted to tell you that I feel somewhat better after these last letters. My fingers are perfectly stiff with writing; I wrote to Tichatscheck yesterday. — I will tell you about business the next time. As to the dress for Frau Pauline, I must wait until I've money for it; which also is bound to arrive. — You already know of my letter to Lüttichau, also that I will never submit myself to a judicial examination in Dresden: give the four gentlemen my politest and profoundest thanks for their beautiful self-sacrificing sympathy; but never and under no conditions would I tread the road on which they thought of helping me, and I therefore thank them also most profusely for their noble aim.
Farewell and let this be enough for to-day. More again shortly. I thank you for your last letter, and breathe a little freer! Be greeted heartily, and go on being of benefit to me and to — yourself!
Thy Richard.
Source: Richard to Minna Wagner: Letters to His First Wife, trans. William Ashton Ellis, Vol. 2 (Charles Scribner's Sons, 1909), No. 161