Dear Mutz,
I see I must break my firm resolve, and once more give you explanations I wished to be relieved from for all time.
Between me and you stands no one, but your own suspicion and the illusion with which you plague us both. Lay this to heart: it is the unadulterated truth. The arrival of letters and a parcel during your visit to Biebrich was a most remarkable coincidence. I hadn't even informed Frau Wesendonck of my departure from Vienna, but when I was about to leave Paris also at the end of January I forwarded a brief account to Zurich of my outer fortunes, together with some remarks on my new opera-poem. Through those letters to Biebrich I learnt that M. W. had sent me a Christmas present to Vienna, but, after much travelling to and fro, it had returned to Zurich. Acquainted at last with my whereabouts, she sent the things on to me, worked by Myrrha, she said. Afterwards her husband informed me that his wife was very ill, which was making him particularly anxious as she is to become a mother again in June or July. Thereon I answered him, and there's an end of it. Now I beg you, let Madame Wesendonck be confined in peace, and for God's sake let no grey hairs be added to your head on that score. — It really almost makes me laugh, to see you so madly mistaken; but as this illusion makes you suffer so terribly, my laughter leaves me, and — as you have repeatedly experienced — genuine despair takes its place, to think that nothing can teach you the true state of affairs. —
I have had my say, — and now — please, please, not another word about it, since it drives one silly! —
What put me out so much in that letter of yours of the end of April, was your facing me with "I appear to be wanting to impose the Dresden residence on you" after everything stood so peaceably between us. For me that had a sense which quite unspeakably annoyed me, and seemed to contain the seed of some fresh discord. However, as I wrote you after receipt of a second letter, I then regretted having at any rate attached too much weight to your expression, ascribed it to my own bad humour, and to some extent apologised to you. — I can say nothing further: all the rest, that you've made out of it, is utterly erroneous. Only you remain entirely unjust to my position, and refuse to believe the clearest reasons for my arrangements as regards the Dresden household. How am I to cope with that?
My things were already packed for the journey to Dresden, and my few acquaintances believed me on the road; only the doctor knew I wasn't travelling, and why. — I paid for one despatch to you at Biebrich: what created the confusion of a double telegram, I do not know. —
I don't destroy your letters; I have them all. —
I mean Dresden in earnest; God grant you strength for it. —
For the present I can't help you, but only you can help me, by allowing me mental repose for my work, without which things won't go at all now, and from which nothing ought to turn me. I must forgive you for my livelihood cares being indifferent to you. About a most affecting conversation with the Grand Duke regarding Devrient, and the results thereof, I will tell you another time. Nothing is so important, for the present, as my being able to give Schott soon a part of the full score; otherwise I know not whence to draw money for late-summer.
The Vienna management has now informed me that the rehearsals for Tristan (with Ander!!) are to begin in mid-September. On the whole I'm pleased, as I hadn't written another word to Vienna; I don't quite know as yet, tho', what attitude I really ought to adopt towards it. I already had my eye on a production at Dresden next winter; and I think of also going in for that sub rosa.
So, brief and to the point: Come to yourself, shake off your illusion, and believe my words! Thus you will profit your own health, and thereby help me too!
With his whole heart's wish for prompt recovery, and kindest love,
Thy Richard.
Source: Richard to Minna Wagner: Letters to His First Wife, trans. William Ashton Ellis, Vol. 2 (Charles Scribner's Sons, 1909), No. 247