our friend with such obvious pleasure and satisfaction was of the greatest value to me.
This I have confessed to him candidly. It would appear almost trivial, mean, and in a certain sense offensive on my part to repay the sum already received on account of that agreement, for it was given to me, not in order to place me under any “obligation” towards you and Zigesar, but with the friendly desire to relieve me as far as possible of domestic cares during the composition of an opera. Nevertheless this agreement has still another meaning, which appears all the more serious at this moment because Zigesar has, temporarily at least, a successor in the management of the theatre. Towards this successor I am simply in the position of a debtor; and as I am not able to execute the commission I had accepted, I am bound formally and materially to dissolve a contract which cannot exist any longer. Fortunately I am in a position not to cause you any disagreeable difficulty as to this point.
After all these explanations, I send you, my dear friend and brother, the poem of my “Young Siegfried”, such as I designed and executed it when I still thought of its separate performance. In connection with the other dramas it will naturally have to undergo many alterations, and especially some beneficial abbreviations in the narrative portion. Many things will strike you in it, notably its great simplicity and the few characters amongst whom the action is distributed; but if you think of this piece as placed between the “Valkyrie” and “Siegfried’s Death”, both of which dramas have a much more complicated action, you will, I have little doubt, in accordance with my intention, receive a peculiar and sympathetic impression from this forest scene, with its youthful, fearless solitude. As I told you before, I can now send you this poem willingly and without fear, for you are no longer required to glance from it anxiously towards your public. You need, for example, no longer trouble about what will be thought of the “woman” by people who see in “woman” only their own wives, or at the outside some girl, etc., etc. From this anxiety also I know you to be free, and am glad that I can disclose to you my artistic intention without fear of a real misunderstanding. Could I but succeed in engaging your favour and sympathy for my plan whenever and wherever it may be accomplished! I firmly hope for a future realization, for there is too much creative impulse in me not to nourish hope along with it. My previous continual anxiety about my health has also now been relieved by the conviction I have since gained of the all- healing power of water and of nature’s medicine; I am in the way of becoming and, if I choose, of remaining a perfectly healthy man. If you wretched people would only get a good digestion, you would find that life suddenly assumes a very different appearance from what you saw through the medium of your digestive troubles. In fact, all our politics, diplomacy, ambition, impotence, science, and, what is worst, our whole modern art, in which the palate, at the expense of the stomach, is alone satisfied, tickled, and flattered, until at last a corpse is unwittingly galvanized–all this parasite growth of our actual existence has no soil to thrive in but a ruined digestion. I wish that those could and would understand me to whom I exclaim these almost ridiculously sounding but terribly true words!
But I notice that I am straying from one thing to another, and therefore will conclude at last. I ask you fervently, my dear Liszt, to write me soon and fully what you think of this letter and parcel. May I always find in you the kind friend and protector that you have been and are to me, and whom at all times I shall embrace with grateful, fraternal love.
Your deeply obliged
RICHARD WAGNER.
ALBISBRUNN, November 20th, 1851.
When you receive these lines, I shall be back in Zurich, where my address will be “Zeltweg, Zurich.”
68.
Your letter, my glorious friend, has given me great joy. You have reached an extraordinary goal in your extraordinary way. The task of developing to a dramatic trilogy and of setting to music the Nibelung epic is worthy of you, and I have not the slightest doubt as to the monumental success of your work. My sincerest interest, my warmest sympathy, are so fully secured to you that no further words are needed. The term of three years which you give to yourself may bring many favourable changes in your external circumstances. Perhaps, as some papers state, you will soon return to Germany; perhaps by the time you finish your “Siegfried” I shall have other resources at my disposal. Go on then and do your work without care. Your programme should be the same which the Chapter of Seville gave to its architect in connection with the building of the cathedral: “Build us such a temple that future generations will be obliged to say, ‘The Chapter was mad to undertake so extraordinary a thing.'” And yet the cathedral is standing there at the present day.
I enclose a letter from Herr von Zigesar, the contents of which I know, but have by no means inspired. Zigesar is a sure, excellent, sterling character, and you may always count upon his friendship in that capacity. I hope that as soon as his painful disease of the eyes will allow him he will resume the management, probably by next spring.
Your well-accounted-for and justified fears as to my Weymar activity I pass by without reply; they will be proved or disproved by facts during the few years that you dwell amongst your Nibelungs. In any case I am prepared for better or worse, and hope to continue quietly in my modest way. Raff has finished a thick volume of preparatory studies for the composition of his new Biblical opera “Simson” (pronounce Schimmeschon), The opera itself will be finished next year. Cordial thanks, dear friend, for sending me “Young Siegfried”. Unfortunately I was last week in such a turmoil of business that I could not find a quiet hour to read the book. Can you let me keep it till Christmas? When will your three dramas “Flying Dutchman”, “Tannhauser”, and “Lohengrin” appear? Have you rewritten the preface? H. promised it to me, but up till now I have received nothing. Have you perhaps changed your publisher? Let me know about it on occasion through B., who is writing to you at the same time with this. Farewell, and live, if possible, in peace with the upper world and with your lower stomach, to which in your letter you attribute many things not quite pertaining to it. People may think as they like, I cannot get rid of the definition “L’homme est une intelligence servie par des organes,” and that your organs serve you excellently well is proved by your writing the Nibelung trilogy with prologue.
May the living God bless you and have you in His keeping!
Your cordially devoted friend,
F. LISZT.
WEYMAR, December 1st, 1851.
69.
MY DEAREST FRIEND,
Today only a few lines of thanks for your last letter, which has rejoiced me unspeakably. I showed it to every one who is in the least near to me, and told them, “Behold, I have such a friend!”
The full and unconditional approbation with which you receive my new plan is the best proof to my mind that I have hit upon the right thing. To be understood by you, and in the peculiar circumstances, in an undertaking which, besides thwarting your personal wish, can, on account of its unmeasured boldness, be understood by almost no one but him who is impelled to it by inward necessity–this, my dearest Liszt, makes me as happy as if my plan had been successfully accomplished. To Herr von Zigesar also I ask you to express my most cordial thanks for the very kind manner in which he has received and replied to my last communication. He has by that means laid me under a new obligation, and I can only wish that I may be able to show my gratitude.
As far as I am concerned, I am still occupied in resting from the finally somewhat powerful effect of my cure. I shall not undertake much this winter, but shall get everything out of the way, so that the whole poem may be ready by the beginning of summer.
How could you think that I had sent you “Young Siegfried” only to look at? The copy which you have has been made specially by me for you, and I ask you to accept it, although it is not written as beautifully as might be. One thing I must ask you to do for me: send me your medallion, so that I may give it to myself as a Christmas present. I had wanted a long time to ask you for this; and now that, after a prolonged fugitive state, I begin to be a little settled in my small but cheerful dwelling, I want you amongst my Penates in one form or another. If you have a really good portrait, I should like to have that too. You need not be ashamed of hanging on my wall; at present I have there only Beethoven, besides the Nibelung design by Cornelius.
“Oper und Drama” has long been published, as you probably know. The three operatic poems, with a communication to my friends, will appear at the end of this month, together with the pianoforte score of “Lohengrin.” Please order a copy at once; you are nearer to it than I. I bet that the preface will interest you very much. The conclusion I have recently altered a little, but in such a manner that everything referring to Weimar remains unchanged.
Farewell, dear friend, and let me very soon again hear from you.
Your
RICHARD WAGNER.
ZURICH (ZELTWEG), December 14th, 1851.
70.
DEAREST FRIEND,
I am very late in telling you how we have all been delighted and enlivened by your splendid work. How can we thank you for it? How can I more especially express my gratitude? B. and Br. have written to you that the sixth performance of your “Lohengrin” has been, comparatively speaking, a satisfactory one. What I wrote to you at once after the very feeble and faulty first performance has actually happened. The comprehension and interest of the actors, together with those of the public, have increased with every performance; and I feel convinced that the seventh performance on Saturday, January 24th, will be even more successful. Next season we shall without delay attack your “Flying Dutchman,” which, for local reasons explained to B., I did not propose this winter. We shall then probably be able to add and improve several things in regard to the scenery, etc., of your “Lohengrin.” You may firmly rely upon me for bringing your works at Weymar more and more up to the mark, in the same measure as our theatre in the course of time gets over divers economic considerations, and effects the necessary improvements and additions in chorus, orchestra, scenery, etc. Excuse my bad German style; I am better at doing a thing than at writing about it.
Cordial thanks for your splendid gift of “Siegfried.” I took the liberty of arranging a recital of it for the Hereditary Grand Duke and his wife at Zigesar’s. Zigesar, who had previously read your poem, is in a state of enthusiasm about it, and the small circle of about fifteen persons whom he assembled on that evening was selected exclusively from the most zealous Wagnerites–the real creme de la creme. I am very curious as to how you are going to execute the work musically, what proportions the movements will have, etc.
Go at it as soon as possible. Perhaps you will be able to complete the whole work in less than three years. As regards the performance, we shall manage to arrange it somewhere by strictly observing your orders and indications. With all the genius of your fancy, you are so eminently experienced and practical that you will of a certainty write nothing unpractical. Difficulties are necessary–in order to be overcome. If, as I do not suppose, you should not be back in Germany by that time, I charge myself with the whole thing, and shall only trouble you to give me an exhaustive programme of all that you desire and expect in the performance of this gigantic work. To that I shall strictly adhere. Persons and things shall be provided somehow. But I look forward to the pleasure of enjoying your Nibelung trilogy more quietly from a stall or a seat in the balcony, and I invite you for four consecutive days to supper after the performance at the Hotel de Saxe, Dresden, or the Hotel de Russie, Berlin, in case you are able to eat and drink after all your exertions.
Of the conclusion of the preface to the three operatic poems I say nothing. It has hit me in my heart of hearts, and I have shed a manly tear over it.
My portrait I shall send you through H.; the medallion I must order from Paris, as there are only galvanoplastic copies in Germany.
The Princess has written a few words to you after the performance of “Lohengrin,” which I enclose.
Farewell, and live as tranquilly as possible, my glorious friend. Let me soon hear something of you.
Your
F. LISZT.
WEYMAR, January 15th, 1852.
71.
Just returned home, with my eyes still moistened by the tears brought to them by the moving scenes of “Lohengrin,” to whom should my thought turn at this moment but to you, sir, with the desire that you could have witnessed the effect produced by your beautiful work, better understood as it is every day by executants and spectators? I cannot tell you with how much zeal the former endeavour to respond to the efforts of Liszt for the worthy interpretation of your drama. Having been ill and absent from Weymar for a year, I was this evening able to judge how indefatigable Liszt has been in his instruction, recommenced again and again, and becoming ever more fruitful. You would certainly be satisfied with the progress they all make at each new representation.
Fraulein Fastlinger having left our theatre, Frau Knopp Fehringer takes the part of Ortrud. The former having been generally successful, both as a singer and an actress, opinions are divided as to the latter; and you, as the creator of the part, can alone decide which of them is really preferable. The former had the undoubted advantage of eighteen years, a pretty face, a slim, tall figure, which qualities, as they placed her in age and in beauty near to Elsa, suggested the idea of secret rivalry between woman and woman. One thought that she not only desired to win the throne of Brabant, but was also jealous of Frederick and of the charms of her from whom she had torn him away. The timidity natural to so young an artist gave to her movements the restraint which is characteristic of youth and of the instinct of a rival. Frau Knopp has over Fraulein Fastlinger the advantage of consummate and very impressive dramatic talent, but she is not very beautiful, in spite of regular features, and not in her first youth, besides which her figure is rather thickset. Her action indicated every nuance with admirable eloquence; she rendered the disdain, the hatred, the rage, which alternately inspire her with gestures and pantomimic actions of such striking reality that she might be compared to the greatest artists in the most famous parts. But she could not be more than an ambitious woman. Between her and Elsa the spectator’s mind could not see any comparison or rivalry, and this has no doubt put out many of the audience without their being able to account for the reason, for nothing could have been more admirable than the acting of Frau Knopp, infinitely more energetic, more richly coloured, more living, more certain, more bold, than that of Fraulein Fastlinger.
It is then for you, sir, to say whether in general it is better to give the part to a young and beautiful artist, whose acting is naturally less experienced and more subdued, or to a woman of mature talent, who gives us an Ortrud less young, but more inflamed and devoured by the secret flames of the hatred of one who is vanquished and the revenge of one who is oppressed. As to myself, I cannot say which of these two conceptions produces the greater impression; the second has certainly something more sombre, more inexorable, about it. One trembles in advance for Elsa on seeing that such hands will fashion her destiny; one is inclined to say that the premeditation of a whole life gives more grandeur to the struggle between ambition and innocence.
Pardon, sir, this long digression; it will show to you how much your poetic conceptions occupy us here. I must not close these lines without telling you how I have been touched by the manner in which you speak of him whose glorious name I am soon to bear. Who could fail to speak of his spirit, of his genius, of his intelligence? But one must have a high-toned and delicate soul to understand the infinite tenderness of his soul, which so few can feel or divine. He will, no doubt, write to you soon. This evening, after the close of the performance, he accompanied some people who had come from Leipzig to hear your “Lohengrin”. Good- bye, dear sir. Permit me to thank you for all the rare pleasures we owe to you by the contemplation of your beautiful works, and accept the expression of my distinguished esteem.
CAROLYNE.
WEYMAR, January 4th, 1852.
72.
MY DEAR FRIEND,
Accept my cordial thanks for your last kind letter, and for the beautiful performance of “Lohengrin” which you have again accomplished; according to all accounts, it must have realized my wishes in a high degree. In such circumstances my longing increases to enjoy my work, of which hitherto I have only felt the pains of giving birth to it; and my grief at being condemned to the fate of a blind and deaf man towards my own artistic creations begins to have a more and more depressing effect upon me. The existing impossibility of seeing and hearing my works makes the inspiration for new creations so grievously difficult, that I can only think with sorrow and with an unspeakably bitter feeling of the execution of new works. I tell you this for the sake of truth, and without accompanying my complaint by wishes which, as no one knows better than I, must remain unfulfilled.
As regards my “Nibelung” drama, you, my good, sympathetic friend, regard my future in too rosy a light. I do not expect its performance, not at least during my lifetime, and least of all at Berlin or Dresden. These and similar large towns, with their public, do not exist for me at all. As an audience I can only imagine an assembly of friends who have come together for the purpose of knowing my works somewhere or other, best of all in some beautiful solitude, far from the smoke and pestilential business odour of our town civilization. Such a solitude I might find in Weimar, but certainly not in a larger city. If I now turn to my great work, it is done for the purpose of seeking salvation from my misery, forgetfulness of my life. I have no other aim, and shall think myself happy when I am no longer conscious of my existence. In such circumstances my only joy is to know at least that I may benefit my friends by my art; in their sympathy with my works lies the only enjoyment I find in them. For that reason I am very pleased that you are thinking of performing the “Flying Dutchman”, and I hope that those who love me will reward you for your trouble. As to the representation, and especially the scenery, I shall come to an agreement with you in due time; in Kassel it is said to have been not unsatisfactory, and some communication with the scenic artist there as to the arrangement of the ships, etc., would therefore seem desirable. Do not begin the copying of the orchestral parts until I have sent to you from here a copy of the score, in which, in accordance with my more recent experiences of orchestral effect, I have revised the instrumental parts.
As regards “Tannhauser”, I am glad to learn that you think of complying with my wish to have it given in the form on which I have fixed as the best. On that condition only a permanent success of that opera at Weimar can be of interest to me. I had not the slightest fault to find with you for thinking certain omissions necessary when you first rehearsed “Tannhauser” at Weimar. You did not do this because you objected to the omitted parts, but because the artistic resources which were then at your disposal filled you with natural diffidence. I know in particular that in this manner arose the large cut in the finale of the second act which displeased me so much when I attended the rehearsal at Weimar. This is the scene where Elizabeth throws herself in front of the knights to protect Tannhauser. In scenes of this kind, before all others, my feeling for the perfect truth and nature of things impels me to use all the means of art which are within my grasp, and the grandeur of the situation can only be rendered if not the slightest of its essential parts is wanting. In this scene it is necessary that those who rush at Tannhauser should not be driven away from him like children. Their wrath, their fury, which impels them to the immediate murder of the outlaw, should not be quelled in the turning of a hand, but Elizabeth has to employ the highest force of despair to quiet this roused sea of men, and finally to move their hearts to pity. Only then both fury and love prove themselves to be true and great; and just in the very gradual calming down of the highest excitement, as represented in this scene, I discover my greatest merit in the interest of dramatic truth. After you have in “Lohengrin” solved much more difficult problems of representation, it becomes–I tell you so openly, dear friend– your duty to give this scene completely, and I know that success will reward you. It is the same with all other things. In Tannhauser’s narration (Act III.) the trombones in the reminiscence of Rome cannot produce the right impression unless this theme has before been heard completely and in fullest splendour, as I give it in the instrumental introduction to the last act, etc. I ask you therefore to adhere strictly to the full score which I had sent to you from Dresden with all my marks; and I will only add that the song of Tannhauser in the first act should be sung in its entirety (the three verses): the real climax, especially in its effect upon Venus, is otherwise totally lost.
Concerning the new conclusion of the last act, I was very angry that it was not given at Weimar from the first, as I assumed at the time that it would be. Even then I did not want a new public to know the first version, which was caused by a misapprehension on my part of the essence of the scene, as to which unfortunately only the first performance at Dresden enlightened me. Nothing that lies within the possibilities of representation on the stage should be only thought or indicated, but everything should be actually shown. The magical illumination of the Venusberg was, however, no more than an indication; the magic event becomes reality only if Venus herself appears and is heard. This is so true that the afterthought of this situation brought me great wealth of music; consider the scene with Venus in the last act, and you will agree with me that the previous version stands to it in the relation of an engraving to an oil picture. It is just the same with the appearance of the body of Elizabeth. When Tannhauser sinks down by the side of that body, and sighs, “Holy Elizabeth, pray for me!” that is realized which was formerly only indicated.
As I said before, if the performance of “Tannhauser” in Weimar cannot be a complete one, it loses all value for me, for in that case I shall not have drawn the public up to me, but shall have accommodated myself to the public, and that I do not care to do any longer.
Through B. I hear that the “Liebesmahl der Apostel” is on occasion to be given at Weimar. I call your attention to the fact that the orchestration of this work was designed for a vast space (the Frauenkirche of Dresden) and for a chorus of a thousand men. For a smaller room and a less numerous chorus the brass orchestra should be reduced to the usual limits, and especially the four trumpets should be reduced to two. That reduction will have no great difficulties, and B., if I ask him, will be quite able to perform the task well.
To Princees Wittgenstein, who has delighted me with a very friendly letter, I ask you to express my best thanks for her kindness. The deep interest which she has again shown in my “Lohengrin”, particularly at the last representation, is of priceless value to me. Her intelligent remarks on the character of Ortrud attracted me especially, as well as the comparison she makes between the efforts of the previous and the actual representative of that part. To which side of the question I incline your valued friend will recognize at once when I explain to her my view of the character by simply saying that Ortrud is a woman who does not know love. By this everything that is most terrible is expressed. Politics are her essence. A political man is repulsive, but a political woman is horrible. This horror I had to represent. There is a kind of love in this woman, the love of the past, of dead generations, the terribly insane love of ancestral pride which finds its expression in the hatred of everything living and actually existing. In man this love is ludicrous, but in woman it is terrible, because a woman, with her strong natural desire for love, must love something; and ancestral pride, the longing after the past, turns in consequence to murderous fanaticism. In history there are no more cruel phenomena than political women. It is not therefore jealousy of Elsa perhaps for the sake of Frederick which inspires Ortrud, but her whole passion is revealed only in the scene of the second act where, after Elsa’s disappearance from the balcony, she rises from the steps of the minster, and invokes her old, long- forgotten gods. She is a reactionary person who thinks only of the old and hates everything new in the most ferocious meaning of the word; she would exterminate the world and nature to give new life to her decayed gods. But this is not merely an obstinate, morbid mood in Ortrud; her passion holds her with the full weight of a misguided, undeveloped, objectless feminine desire for love: for that reason she is terribly grand. No littleness of any kind must occur in this representation; she must never appear simply malicious or annoyed; every utterance of her irony, her treachery, must transparently show the full force of the terrible madness which can be satisfied alone by the destruction of others or by her own destruction.
She of the two actresses who approaches this intention most nearly must therefore be thought the better of the two.
Once more, dear friend, my best compliments to the Princess, and my warmest thanks for her communication. Permit me to recall to your memory the medallion I asked you for; it will give great pleasure to me.
Farewell, best of friends, and make me soon happy again by a few lines from you.
Wholly thine,
RICHARD WAGNER.
ZURICH, January 30th, 1852.
73.
DEAREST FRIEND,
I send you enclosed an explanation of my “Tannhauser” overture, written for our public here, which, I have reason to hope, will soon hear a very good performance of that composition. When I had finished this programme, I read over once more what you have written about this overture, and had again to give way to the utmost astonishment. Herwegh has had the same experience with regard to your work. Only he can fail to understand your style who does not understand the music either; to see how you express precisely and keenly in words the feelings which music alone can evoke in us fills every one with delight who himself experiences those feelings without finding words for them. This perusal, which really filled me with astonishment, has once more roused in me the wish, expressed to you some years ago, that you might become your own poet. You have the necessary qualities as much as any one. Write French or Italian verse; in that direction you might produce something quite new and cause a great revolution. Let me hear about this from you, dearest friend.
Of my health B. probably gives you news occasionally; he writes to me more frequently now, and I always reply to him. That B.’s article about the S. has caused such a disastrous sensation amongst you confirms my opinion of the deep decay of our artistic and public conditions.
One thing grieves me: that the Goethe foundation had applied to the S.; and one thing pleases me: that her assistance came to nothing, and that a complete breach with the spurious element was thus effected.
My letter to you about the Goethe foundation will, with your permission, be published; many things are said in it which had to be said at this moment, and which, if I had wished to say them in a new and different form, would have withdrawn me again from my artistic projects. I will have nothing more to do with literature. As soon as the air grows a little warm and clear the poem will be begun.
Let me hear from you again.
Wholly thine,
RICHARD WAGNER.
ZURICH, March 4th, 1852.
74.
How are you, most excellent of men? It is too long since I heard from you. The rehearsals of Cellini, many visits from abroad, several pieces and transcriptions for the pianoforte, have much occupied my time during the last month. Of the performance of Berlioz’s opera H. gives a most detailed account in Brendel’s paper. This much I may add: that the motives which made me select this opera proved to be right and favourable to the further progress of my work here. “Why Cellini at Weymar?” is a question which I need not answer to the first comer, but the practical solution of which will be such that we may be satisfied with it. Perhaps you yourself did not at first look upon the thing in the practical light in which it will appear to you later on. In any case I believe that you will agree with me, unless you are inclined to aim at thin air. I have just been positively informed that you have handed in your petition for a free pardon at Dresden. How is this? Write to me as to this point, in perfect reliance on my discretion. I might possibly be of service to you in the matter.
A few days ago I saw here Madame B. D. She looks very well; and her husband is a handsome, decent gentleman. Amongst other things, she told me that she had been unable to understand the part of your preface which referred to her, and that her husband, after reading the passage several times, had remained in the same state of ignorance. As to the rest, she speaks well of you, and wishes very much to see “Lohengrin” here. Unfortunately Fraulein Fastlinger has left for Dresden, and Frau Knopp is continually ill, so that there is little hope of an immediate performance of that opera, for which even those are longing who formerly were of the opposition. Moreover, the deep court mourning in consequence of the death of Duchess Bernhard leaves me little hope that a performance of “Lohengrin” will be given by command. For next season, in February at the latest, the “Flying Dutchman” is set down.
It would be a beautiful and gladsome thing if by that time you were back in Germany. We should then sing your finale of “Tannhauser”, “Er kehrt zuruck,” with seven times seventy-seven throats and hearts. Have you any particular instructions for your “Liebesmahl der Apostel”? I think of producing it here in the course of the summer. At the next concert of the Gesangverein we shall have your “Faust” overture.
Farewell. Be as much as possible at peace with yourself and others, and write soon to your cordial and devoted friend,
F. LISZT.
WEYMAR, April 7th, 1852.
75.
My best thanks, dearest friend, for your last letter, which came to me quite unexpectedly, for you have weaned me from expecting letters from you, so seldom do you write to me. H. also has again been owing me an answer some time.
I feel so-so; the beautiful spring weather cheers me after a somewhat dreary winter, and I shall begin my poem again. If I lived in Naples, or Andalusia, or one of the Antilles, I should write a great deal more poetry and music than in our grey, misty climate, which disposes one only to abstraction. I am in the midst of rehearsing my “Flying Dutchman”. Some of my friends here would not leave me in peace; having heard my “Tannhauser” overture, they wanted absolutely to have a taste of one of my operas. I allowed myself at last to be talked over, and am now about to introduce to the imagination of my friends a travesty of my opera, as closely resembling it as possible. Everything as regards scenery and orchestra is done to help that resemblance; the singers are not a bit better or worse than everywhere else; so I shall find out what can be done by the best intentions and a fabulous faith in me. So much I am confident in saying, that the performance would not be uninteresting to you, and therefore I invite you quite seriously, after receipt of this letter, to get leave for a week, trust yourself to the railway, and visit me at Zurich. The first performance takes place Wednesday, April 21st, and between that and May 1st there will be two repetitions. Are you no longer capable of this piece of folly? I am sure that you can if you will, and you would rejoice in the joy which your visit would give to me. Nothing else you could do in these days would compensate you for it. Do come! To Germany I shall not return; I have no hope and no wish for it. There are too few people whom I should care to see again, and those few I should like to see anywhere but in Germany. You, my dearest friend, for example, I should like to see in Switzerland. Please contradict most positively the rumour that I have pleaded for grace; if it were to spread and to be seriously believed, I should feel compelled to make a public declaration, which, for every reason, I should like to avoid.
Leave this matter alone; if the return to Germany were open to me, I should certainly use it only to make perhaps an incognito visit to you at Weimar.
Apropos! Ernst was here, and gave concerts, and he told me that the hope of seeing the “Flying Dutchman” had induced him to remain in Switzerland till the end of this month. You would therefore see him too.
Bring the Hereditary Grand Duchess along with you. As you are going to give the “Flying Dutchman” at Weimar, you would be interested to see the scenic arrangements which I have made for a small stage.
What is this you have heard about me in connection with your performance of “Cellini”? You seem to suppose that I am hostile to it. Of this error I want you to get rid. I look upon your undertaking as a purely personal matter, inspired by your liking for Berlioz; what a beast I should be if I were to criticize that liking and that undertaking! If every one would follow the inner voice of his heart as you do, or, better still, if every one had a heart for such a voice as you have, things would soon be changed. Here again I must rejoice in you. But where a pure matter of the heart is submitted to speculative reason, I must find that mistakes creep in which a third person can perceive. In the consequences which, as I am told, you expect from the performance of “Cellini”, I cannot believe; that is all. But can this my unbelief in any way modify my judgment of your action? Not in the least. With my whole heart I say, you have acted rightly, and I wish that I could say as much to many people.
I am sorry that you have not produced “Lohengrin” again; you were in the right swing with it this season. What a pity that only a single performance should have been possible! This shows of what use half a year may be.
That Madame D. and her husband were unable to understand the passage in my preface proves their exceedingly fine tact. This was, no doubt, the best way for them of saving themselves a painful impression, and I am glad that they were able to do this, for it was really and truly far from my mind to annoy them. Ah, I wish I could this summer make at last a beautiful journey, and that I knew how to set about it! To this sigh only my own voice replies as echo from the wall of leather which surrounds me. This longing for a journey is so great in me that it has already inspired me with thoughts of robbery and murder against Rothschild and Co. We sedentary animals scarcely deserve to be called men. How many things we might enjoy if we did not always sacrifice them to that damnable “organ of sitting still.”
Alas! this “organ of sitting still” is the real lawgiver of all civilized humanity. We are to sit or at best to stand, never to walk, much less to run for once in a while. My hero is the “bold runner Achilles.” I would rather run to death than sit still and get sick. That is your opinion also, is it not? and therefore I may expect you for the Flying, not the lying-down, Dutchman.
We shall see. Live gloriously and well! Wholly thine,
RICHARD WAGNER.
ZURICH, April 13th, 1852.
76.
That I was unable to fly to your “Flying Dutchman” was not my fault; how genuinely glad I should be to see you again, and what beautiful enjoyment your splendid work would give me, I need not tell you, most excellent friend. The news I received from various sides as to the performances of the “Flying Dutchman” could not but greatly please me. Next winter you shall have news of our performance at Weymar, for we must not delay it any longer, and hope that it will be a success on the part of the artists, for as to the work itself there can be no question. Be kind enough to let me have as soon as possible the exact alterations, additions, and omissions you have made in the score, for I want to have the copies made at once. Quite lately I again expressed the principle that our first and greatest task in Weymar is to give the operas of Wagner exactly selon le bon plaisir de l’auteur [according to the good pleasure of the author]. With this you will, no doubt, agree, and in consequence we shall, as before, be bound to give “Lohengrin” without cut and to study the whole finale of the second act of “Tannhauser,” with the exception of the little cut in the adagio. This will be done at our next representation. Send me therefore the necessary instructions about the study of the “Flying Dutchman,” and be assured that I shall not deviate from them by a hair’s breadth.
For your kind offer of the designs I thank you, and accept it eagerly. Send them to me soon; we have here a very clever young scene-painter and engineer, Herr Handel, late of the Hamburg theatre, who will take every care to comply with your demands. I have advised Baron von Beaulieu-Marconnay, the intendant, of the impending arrival of your designs, and the honorarium (five louis d’or) will be sent to you by the end of August. If you would rather have this small sum at once, I will remit it by return.
I have asked B. to tell you of the crime committed by me during the visit of his Majesty the Emperor of Russia. “Tannhauser” had been announced for the evening, when it was hoped that his Majesty would visit the theatre. Knopp and Milde wereunable to sing a note, and Frau von Milde also was hoarse. It was impossible to give a whole opera, so I coolly took the first act of “Tannhauser” as far as the end of the Pilgrims’ Chorus, closing in G major, then after a pause commenced again in G major with the prelude to the third act of “Lohengrin,” and so continued with the whole act to the end of the duet, winding up the performance with the overture “Carneval Romain” and the second act of “Benvenuto Cellini,” omitting the baritone air.
Fraulein Fromann was present, and has probably written to you about it.
By the end of this month the Empress of Russia is expected, and “Tannhauser” is again announced for the 31st. Beck takes the part of “Tannhauser,” and the entire finale of the second act will be sung. The new close, however, must unfortunately wait till next season, for a new scene is being painted for it, which cannot be finished; everything else is ready and copied out.
For next season we have Spohr’s “Faust,” with new recitatives, and shall give Schumann’s “Manfred” at the beginning of June. Of the Ballenstedt Musical Festival, with the “Tannhauser” overture, and the “Liebesmahl der Apostel,” you have probably heard.
Your “Faust” overture made a sensation, and went well.
Farewell, and have a go at “Siegfried.”
Your
F. L.
77.
DEAREST FRIEND,
Today I write only a few hurried lines in order to avoid a misunderstanding. Herr C. has made the sketches for the “Flying Dutchman;” but, as I look at his work, it weighs heavily on my heart that you are to pay five louis d’or for it, which, according to my inmost conviction, it is not worth. (The man is altogether extremely mediocre, and the only thing that attracted my attention towards him was that he became acquainted with the subject under my own extremely painstaking direction, and in accordance with my most special intentions.) I have told him that the management at Weimar had a good scene-painter, and that you would only make occasional use of his sketches; if he would send them to you, you could offer him no more than the small remuneration of fifty francs.
If he sends the sketches, please make Herr von Beaulieu acquainted with this arrangement, so that he may reply to him in the sense above indicated and send him the honorarium to his own address.
Pardon me, but I could not make up my mind to allow you to pay five louis d’or for this trifle. About everything else I shall write to you at greater length within the next few days.
Farewell.
Your
RICHARD WAGNER
ZURICH, May 25th, 1852
78.
DEAREST FRIEND,
In addition to my last hurried lines, I write to you today a little more comprehensively. First of all, I must thank you for the news of the continued activity which you employ in the propaganda of my works. Expressions of praise on that account I omit once for all, for you are far above praise. Of the performance of the “Faust” overture I had heard nothing beyond your own brief notice. I cannot be angry with this composition, although many detached things in it would not now flow from my pen; especially the somewhat too plentiful brass is no longer to my mind. If I knew that the Hartels would pay me a nice sum for it, I should be almost inclined to publish the full score, together with a pianoforte arrangement, which H. would have to make; but I should like to be warmly persuaded to this, for on my own account I do not care to propose such things. Am I really going to figure at the next Musical Festival? People say that I am a famous “made” man; if that is true, who is the maker? Do not forget to add to the programme the explanation of the “Tannhauser” overture which I wrote last winter for the Zurich performance, and which I consider indispensable, because it gives briefly a condensed picture of the poetic subject, which is conceived in the overture quite differently from what it is in the opera itself. (In that sense you are quite right in saying that this overture is altogether a work by itself.) A copy of my explanation you probably possess; if not, Uhlig has plenty.
I really cannot understand why our numberless male choir festivals, etc., have never yet produced the “Liebesmahl der Apostel.” But so many things are now to me inconceivable and yet quite conceivable. In a large room, and with a strong chorus, you may leave the instrumentation as it is; but I call your attention to the fact that at Dresden I was compelled, after certain important divisions of the composition, to have the key indicated by two harps: the larger the chorus, the more inevitable is the dropping of the pitch from time to time; but of this you would probably have thought yourself.
Concerning the (future) complete performance of “Tannhauser” I have still many things on my heart, of which I do not find it easy to unburden myself. First, certain minor matters. I do not know exactly whether Walther von der Vogelweide in the contest of the minstrels sang his song with you in the original B flat major or in C major. There is here some inconsistency. I am aware that B flat does not agree with the rest of the somewhat high-lying part, and a singer who has the voice for the whole part cannot make much effect in B flat, for which reason I was compelled at Dresden to transpose the piece to C. But this C major is altogether out of relation to the other songs of the singers’ contest, and more especially it destroys the transition to the bright tone of the ensuing song of “Tannhauser,” who, with his C major, is supposed to go beyond Walther. Apart from this, the song of Walther loses by means of this higher C major much of the calm dignity which is its character. The dilemma can be solved only by the part of Walther being sung by a low tenor and that of Heinrich der Schreiber by a high tenor. The two parts therefore must be rewritten, and in all the ensembles Walther should sing the notes which in the score are assigned to Heinrich der Schreiber, and vice versa. Only in the first finale Walther retains all the solo passages. This is what I should like. I further hope that you will give the scene between Venus and Tannhauser in its entirety. The necessity of three verses of the “Tannhauser” song I have, I believe, already pointed out to you.
But now comes the principal thing; i.e., the great adagio of the second finale. When at Dresden, after the first performance of “Tannhauser,” I made the cut in this adagio, I was in complete despair, and in my heart cut every hope of “Tannhauser” as well, because I saw that T. could not understand, and therefore much less represent, the part. That I had to make this cut was to me tantamount to abandoning altogether the purpose of making my “Tannhauser” really understood. Kindly look at the omitted passage, dearest friend, and realize what it contains. While previously everything was grouped round Elizabeth, the peacemaker, she being the centre, and all the others listening to her and repeating what she said and sang, “Tannhauser” here recognizes his terrible crime, and breaks down in the most terrible repentance. When he once more finds words for his emotion, which he can scarcely utter, because he lies on the ground in a state of semi-consciousness, he suddenly becomes the principal person, and the whole scene is grouped round him, just as before it was round Elizabeth. All else is thrown into the background, and in a manner only accompanies him as he sings:–
“Zum Heil den Sundigen zu fuhren, Die Gottgesandte nahte mir: Doch ach! sie frevelnd zu beruhren Hob ich den Lasterblick zu ihr! O! du, hoch uber diesen Erdengrunden, Die mir den Engel meines Heil’s gesandt: Erbarm’ dich mein, der ach! so tief in Sunden Schmachvoll des Himmels Mittlerin verkannt!” In this stanza and in this song lies the whole significance of the catastrophe of Tannhauser, and indeed of the whole essence of Tannhauser; all that to me makes him a touching phenomenon is expressed here alone. His grief, his sad pilgrimage of grace–all this springs forth from the meaning of these lines; without hearing them, and hearing them in this place, the spectator sees in Tannhauser an inconceivable, arbitrary, wavering, miserable creature. (The commencement of his tale in the last act comes too late to make up for that which here must penetrate our mind like a thunderstorm.) Not only the close of the second act, but the entire third act, and in a sense the whole drama, receive their true significance only when the centre of the whole drama, round which it develops itself, as round its kernel, becomes perfectly clear and lucid in that particular passage. And that passage, the keynote of my whole work, I was compelled to cut at Dresden.
This I declare: no representation of “Tannhauser” answers my purpose if that passage has to be omitted. For its sake I will, if need be, consent to the cut in the allegro of the finale, which contains what is really the continuation of that passage–I mean the place where Elizabeth takes up the B major theme as canto fermo, while Tannhauser at the same time gives passionate vent to his wild despair. If at some future time a performance of this opera were wholly to satisfy me, Tannhauser would have to sing this passage also in such a manner that it would not appear long.
You will ask me, “What are we to do? How can we expect a minor singer to do what T. failed to accomplish?” I reply that T., in spite of his voice, failed to accomplish many things that were not beyond much less gifted singers. At the Tannhauser rehearsal which I attended at Weimar the invalided Gotze brought out passages and interpreted intentions in respect of which T. remained my debtor. This latter has nothing but either brilliancy or tenderness in his voice; not a single true accent of sorrow. The singer of the “Flying Dutchman” here did a great deal more than those at Dresden and Berlin, although they had better voices. Try what you can do with Herr Beck, and explain to him what is the important part. Only in case this passage comes out well the Weimar public will see what the whole is about. (I add a technical remark: If the singer in this passage is quite sure, let him take the tempo freely; all the others must go with him: he rules alone.)
If a performance of Tannhauser were to be quite perfect, the last finale of the opera would have to be given as it stands in the new edition of the pianoforte score, including the song of the younger pilgrims. Your score of the Flying Dutchman you can send to Uhlig, who possesses a newly revised score, and will arrange yours in strict accordance with it.
When the time for the rehearsals comes, I will let you have some further details. For the present I shall be satisfied if the parts are copied in accordance with Uhlig’s score and if the scenery is painted after the sketches which I hope C. will send you.
The “Flying Dutchman” has made an indescribable impression here. Philistines who never go to a theatre or concert attended each of the four performances in one week, and are supposed to have gone mad. With the women I have made a great hit. The pianoforte scores sell by the half-dozen. I am now in the country, and feel tolerably cheerful. My work also pleases me again; my Nibelung tetralogy is completely designed, and in a few months the verse also will be finished. After that I shall be wholly and entirely a “music-maker,” for this work will be my last poem, and a litterateur I hope I shall never be again. Then I shall have nothing but plans for performances in my head; no more writing, only performing. I hope you will help me.
Are you going to make a trip this year? How about the rendezvous which you made me look for as long ago as last summer? Are we never to meet again?
H. also ought to write to me again. Is he so busy with his compositions? Of the Imperial Russian “Tannhauser”-“Lohengrin”- “Cellini” theatre bill he told me nothing.
Are you going to have “Tannhauser” the day after tomorrow? Good luck to you! Make my compliments to the sovereign lady of all the Russias. I hope she will send me an order, or at least traveling money for Italy, where I should like to roam beyond anything. Tell her so. I hear those people throw plenty of ducats out of window just now. I am sorry to think that you will not be able to manage “Lohengrin” for such a long time; the pause is too long. As a punishment I shall dedicate the score to you when it appears in print. I do not ask you whether you accept the dedication or not, for punishment there must be. I must ask you to send me the score of my “Faust” overture; I do not possess a copy.
Farewell, and be greeted with all my heart.
Your
RICHARD WAGNER. ZURICH, May 29th, 1852.
79.
DEAREST FRIEND,
I have a favour to ask.
I am hard at work and eager to finish the poem of my “Valkyrie” in a fortnight. Some recreation after that will be a necessity; I want the change of traveling, and should especially dislike to finish my last poetic work, the great introductory play, here, where the monotony of my accustomed surroundings oppresses me, and where troublesome visitors put me generally in a bad temper. I want to go to the Alps, and should like at least to have a taste of the frontier of Italy, and to make a short sojourn there. Such extravagances I cannot afford from my ordinary income. For next winter I expect some extraordinary incomings (“Tannhauser” at Leipzig and presumably at Breslau). But, before all, I reckon upon the money which you will get me for the “Flying Dutchman” at Weimar. This latter I may calculate at something like twenty to twenty-five louis d’or. Could you get any one to advance me that sum?
Unless Zigesar is again at the head of affairs, I should think it inadvisable to apply to the theatrical exchequer for this advance of honorarium, but perhaps some benevolent private person might be found who would not refuse to disburse this sum for me. You would at the same time furnish the best guarantee that the money would really be forthcoming, for your zeal secures the performance of the “Flying Dutchman” at Weimar during the winter. This advance would give me great satisfaction, but I should want the money by the end of June at the latest. Kindly see how you can arrange this.
My “Valkyrie” (first drama) turns out terribly beautiful. I hope to submit to you the whole poem of the tetralogy before the end of the summer. The music will be easily and quickly done, for it is only the execution of something practically ready.
Farewell, and let me soon have news of you. Did the Imperial Russian “Tannhauser” come off? You are in the midst of great Musical Festival troubles, are you not? Much luck and joy to it!
Wholly thine,
RICHARD WAGNER
June 16th, 1852
Do you know anything about “Tannhauser” being contemplated for Munich next autumn? I know nothing. It would be nice of Herr Dingelstedt to think of such a thing.
80.
Herewith I send you a bill for one hundred thalers, and cordially wish you good luck and a good mood, fine weather externally and internally, for your Alpine trip. Let all be well with you, my glorious friend, and proceed bravely with the completion of your tetralogy. When do you think it will be ready? Is there a possibility of thinking of its performance in the months of August and September, 1854? Do not allow other undertakings or claims to detract or detain you from this great enterprise, the task of your life.
For the dedication of “Lohengrin” I thank you most cordially; I am delighted with it.
The “Flying Dutchman” will most certainly be performed here next February. Send me the designs soon, so that all may be prepared in good time. Zigesar will probably resume the management before long, at which I am very glad.
Beaulieu has taken leave officially, and is gone to Kreuznach.
The “Liebesmahl der Apostel” was satisfactorily given by the Pauliner choir of Leipzig, under the direction of its conductor, Langer. I was truly delighted with it, and mean to repeat the splendid work as soon as there is a good opportunity. Although external success and a certain (very uncertain) pleasing quality are a secondary consideration with me in the case of works which are decidedly above the public, it was agreeable all the same to see that success and that pleasing quality as fully confirmed as one could have desired.
The chorus was not very numerous (about a hundred and twenty), but well balanced, and the whole sounded beautifully. Milde and his wife sang the duet from the “Flying Dutchman”, which was much applauded, and the “Tannhauser” overture went splendidly, and was repeated by desire at the close of the Musical Festival on the second day. The orchestra and the public were unanimous in their enthusiasm, as indeed must be the case wherever the performance is adequate.
Long accounts of the Musical Festival you will find in Brendel’s “Neue Zeitschrift” (Brendel himself was at Ballenstedt), the “Signale”, “Rheinische Musikzeitung”, and “Berlin Echo”.
Your
F. LISZT
June 26th, 1852
Perhaps you can spare a few minutes before starting on your journey to write a few friendly lines to Langer about the performance of the “Liebesmahl” at Ballenstedt. He has behaved as excellently as might have been expected, and the chorus of students is splendid. Without it the performance would have been impossible, because the other singers were only just sufficient to strengthen the chorus. Send your letter to Brendel, who will give it to Langer, and let me have without delay the designs for the “Flying Dutchman”.
81.
Cordial thanks, best of friends, for sending me the money, in connection with which I am troubled by one thing only: you do not tell me that the hundred thalers have been advanced on account of the honorarium for the “Flying Dutchman”. I asked for the sum on that understanding, and no other, and only if I may assume that no one has been inconvenienced in this manner will it give me pleasure to spend the money on a trip of recreation. That trip, on which I start tomorrow, has come just in time; uninterrupted work has again strongly affected me, and the nerves of my brain are so overwrought that even these few lines put me in a state of violent excitement, wherefore I must ask you not to be angry if I make them very short. I feel that I am still capable of doing good things, but only by keeping very strict diet, and especially by frequently interrupting my work and entirely diverting my thoughts before going on again. The “Valkyrie”, the poem of which I finished on July lst, I wrote in four weeks; if I had spent eight weeks over it, I should now feel better. In future I must adopt this course, and cannot therefore fix a term for the completion of the whole, although I have reason to suppose that the music will not give me much trouble.
I am surprised that you ask me for the designs for the “Flying Dutchman,” because I have left the whole matter to the designer, Herr C. This man, with whom I do not care to have any further dealings, because he has a passion for borrowing from a poor devil like me, wrote to me lately to say that he had applied by letter to Weimar in this matter, but had as yet had no reply. If you care to have the designs, all that is necessary will be for the management to reply to C.’s letter, and I ask you therefore to see that this is done.
Uhlig will arrange the score for you as soon as he receives your copy.
A thousand thanks for all you have again done for my works lately. I was not able to read the account of the Ballenstedt Musical Festival with anything but deep emotion. I am sure that by these performances you have again won many new friends for me, and I have no doubt that if ever I come to the fore it will be your doing.
Farewell, and be happy!
Your
RICHARD WAGNER
82.
MOST GLORIOUS FRIEND,
You have once more given me real, God-sent joy by your dedication of “Lohengrin”. Accept my most cordial, most fervent thanks in return, and be convinced that it will be the task of my life to be worthy of your friendship. The little that so far I have been able to do for you and through you for the honour of art has chiefly this merit: that it encourages me to do still better and more decisive things for your works in the future. But what do you mean by occupying yourself with the bad jokes which have been circulating in a few newspapers, and by even accusing me of having been the cause of them? The latter is quite impossible, and H, has probably told you already that the manuscript of “Siegfried” has not been out of his hands for months. Some time ago I lent it, by your desire, to Fraulein Fromann alone, and the reading that took place at Zigesar’s at the beginning of last year for the Hereditary Grand Duke cannot very well have originated the bad joke in the “Kreuzzeitung”. However, that joke is quite harmless and insignificant, and I ask you urgently to ignore totally this kind of gossip once for all.
What can it matter to you whether people indulge their silliness in connection with you and your works? You have other cats to flog–“d’autres chats a fouetter,” as the French proverb has it. Do not therefore hesitate on your account or on my account to publish the “Nibelung” tetralogy as soon as it is finished. Hartel spoke to me about your letter in connection with this affair about two months ago; and, in my opinion, you cannot do better than give the poem to the public while you finish the score. As to the definite performance of the three operas we must have a good talk when the time comes. If in the worst case you are not then back in Germany (and I need not tell you how I wish that this worst case should not happen), I shall stir in every possible way for the production of your work. You may rely on my practical talents for that purpose and have implicit confidence in me. If Weymar should prove too mean and poor, we shall try somewhere else; and even if all our strings snap (which is not to be expected), we may still go on playing if you give me full power to organize an unheard of music or drama festival, or whatever the thing may be called in any given place, and to launch your “Nibelungen” there.
You finish your score! and in the meantime let Hartel or some one else publish the poem as a forerunner.
How about the performance of “Tannhauser” at Berlin? I quite approve of your exceptional demand of 1,000 thalers for the same reasons which induced you to make that demand, and I thank you cordially for the artistic confidence with regard to the preparations which you have placed in me. Although a journey of Berlin would in existing circumstances be somewhat inconvenient, I am quite at your disposal, with the sole condition–which alone would make my journey useful and serviceable to “Tannhauser”– that the Royal management asks me to come to Berlin by your desire and to settle with that management and with the other persons concerned the necessary preparations for the best possible success of your work. In any other circumstances I should be in an awkward and useless position at Berlin, without achieving the slightest thing. If you consider the matter, you will certainly agree with me, and see that this is the only way in which I perhaps might be of use to you.
As you know already, the “Flying Dutchman” is announced for the next birthday of H.I.H. the Grand Duchess: February 16th, 1853. Care will be taken that the opera is properly mounted. Zigesar is full of enthusiasm for your genius, and will work with a will. The corrected score has been sent at once to the copyists, and in six weeks the work will be rehearsed comme il faut.
The theatrical season begins with Verdi’s “Hernani,” after which Spohr’s “Faust,” with new recitatives, will follow soon. By the middle of November I expect Berlioz, whose “Cellini” (with a considerable cut) must not be shelved, for, in spite of all the stupid things that have been set going about it, “Cellini” is and remains a remarkable and highly estimable work. I am sure you would like many things in it.
Raff has made great changes in the instrumentation and arrangement of his “Alfred,” and probably the opera in its new form will have better effect even than before, although the three or four first performances were much applauded. Altogether I look upon this opera as the ablest work that has been written by a German composer these ten years. You of course are not included; you stand alone, and can be compared with no one but yourself.
I am very glad you have taken this trip. The glaciers are splendid fellows, and in the years of my youth I, too, had struck up a friendship with them. The tour round Mont Blanc I recommend you for next year; I made it partly in the year 1835, but my traveling companion was soon fatigued, and fatigued me still more.
Farewell. Be at peace with yourself, and soon publish your “Nibelung” poem, in order to prepare the public and put it in the proper mood. Leave all manner of “Grenzboten”, “Wohlbekannte”, “Kreuzseitungen”, and “Gazettes Musicales” on one side, and do not bother yourself with these miserable scribblings. Rather drink a good bottle of wine, and work onwards, up to eternal, immortal life.
Your cordially grateful and truly devoted
F. LISZT
WEYMAR, August 23rd, 1852
83.
DEAREST FRIEND,
A thousand thanks for your last letter. Unfortunately I cannot reply to it as I should like to do; the nerves of my brain are once more in a state of great suffering, and for some time I ought to give up all writing and reading, I might say all mental existence. Even the shortest letter wearies me terribly, and only the most perfect quiet (where and how shall I find that?) may or might restore me. But I do not wish to complain, only to explain to you why it is that today I must limit my communication to stating briefly what is absolutely necessary. Do not be angry with me for not writing with that joyful expansion which is intended to make up for the impossibility of personal intercourse. As to Berlin nothing is settled yet. Hulsen considered my demand as a vote of want of confidence in his personal intentions, and this error I had to dispel by laying my most perfect confidence as a weight on his conscience. All I want him to do now is to acknowledge in a few words that he perfectly understands my difficult position with regard to “Tannhauser” at Berlin, and that he undertakes the performance with the desire of conquering that difficult position. The whole subject of honoraria I leave to him. One thing has recently calmed my anxiety: I have written tolerably comprehensive instructions for the performance of “Tannhauser”, and have had them printed as a pamphlet and sent a sufficient number of copies to the theatres which had bought the score. I hope this will be of use. I send you herewith half-a-dozen copies. There will not be much that is new to you in the pamphlet, because I have discussed most things with you by letter; still it might be useful to you, because it will materially assist you in your purpose of restudying “Tannhauser” if you will give it to the stage-manager and the singers. This therefore I would ask you to do. The work has been a perfect torture to me. This eternal communication by letter and in print is terrible to me, especially when it is about things the significance of which has for a long time lain far behind me. In fact, if I still trouble myself about these earlier operas, it is only from the necessity of circumstances, not from any desire to hark back. This leads me to Berlioz and Raff. Candidly speaking, I am sorry to hear that Berlioz thinks of recasting his “Cellini”. If I am not mistaken, this work is more than twelve years old. Has not Berlioz developed in the meantime so that he might do something quite different? It shows poor confidence in himself to have to return to this earlier work. B. has shown quite correctly where the failure of “Cellini” lies, viz., in the poem and in the unnatural position in which the musician was forcibly placed by being expected to disguise by purely musical intentions a want which the poet alone could have made good.
This “Cellini” Berlioz will never put on its legs. But which of the two after all is of more importance, “Cellini” or Berlioz? Leave the former alone, and help the second. To me there is something horrible in witnessing this attempt at galvanizing and resuscitating. For heaven’s sake let Berlioz write a new opera; it will be his greatest misfortune if he fails to do this, for only one thing can save him, the drama, and one thing must lead him to ever deeper ruin, his obstinate avoidance of this sole refuge: and in this latter he will be confirmed by occupying himself again with an old attempt, in which he has been deserted by the poet, for whose faults he will try once more to make up by his music.
Believe me, I love Berlioz, although he keeps apart from me in his distrust and obstinacy; he does not know me, but I know him. If I have expectations of any one, it is of Berlioz, but not in the direction in which he has arrived at the absurdities of his “Faust”. If he proceeds further in that direction, he must become perfectly ridiculous. If ever a musician wanted the poet, it is Berlioz, and his misfortune is that he always prepares this poet for himself, according to his musical whim, arbitrarily handling now Shakespeare, now Goethe. He wants a poet who would completely penetrate him, who would conquer him by delight, who would be to him what man is to woman. I see with dismay that this exceedingly gifted artist is perishing in his egotistic solitude. Can I save him?
You do not want to have “Wiland.” I believe it to be a beautiful poem, but am no longer able to execute it for myself. Will you offer it to Berlioz? Perhaps Henri Blaze would be the man to treat it in French.
How about Raff? I thought he was writing a new work, but no; he is remodeling an old one. Is there no LIFE in these people? Out of what can the artist create if he does not create out of life, and how can this life contain an artistically productive essence unless it impels the artist continually to creations which correspond to life? Is this artificial remodeling of old motives of life real artistic creativeness? How about the source of all art unless new things flow forth from it irresistibly, unless it is wholly absorbed in new creations? Oh, ye creatures of God, do not think that this making is artistic creating. It betrays no end of self-complacency, combined with poverty, if we try to prop up these earlier attempts. If Raff’s opera, as you tell me, has pleased, he ought to be satisfied; in any case he had a better reward than I had for my “Feen,” which was never performed at all, or for my “Liebesverbot,” which had one abominable performance, or for my “Rienzi,” of the revival of which I think so little that I should not permit it if it were contemplated anywhere. About the “Dutchman,” “Tannhauser,” and “Lohengrin” I trouble myself with disgust, and only for the reason that I know that, on account of imperfect representations, they have never been perfectly understood. If they had had their due anywhere, I should care devilishly little about things that I have outlived.
Good people, do something new, new, and once more new. If you stick to the old, the devil of barrenness holds you in thrall, and you are the most miserable of artists.
Well, this is off my heart; he who charges me with insincerity will have to answer Heaven; he who charges me with arrogance is silly.
I can write no more; do not be angry; my head is bursting. Only let me say the warmest farewell that is in my heart. Love me as before, and write soon to
Your
RICHARD WAGNER
ZURICH, September 8th, 1852
84.
DEAREST FRIEND,
After my last letter you will think that I am quite mad. Lord knows how I wrote myself into such a fury. Today follows something very sober, a troublesome thing for you.
Frau Rockel sent me the letter of her poor husband, without giving me his address. I ask you therefore to forward her the enclosed letter, also two parcels, which I have posted to you today–(l) two little pamphlets; (2) a score of “Lohengrin”–both meant for Rockel, and to be sent through his wife. H. was really to have the score, but must resign it to the poor prisoner. He must do this for the love of both of us, and Heaven will find him another copy sooner or later. As I have once begun asking favours, I go on. Be kind enough to send me two things:–
1. My “Faust” overture. I hope that, if you want it still, you have had a copy made. I have a mind to rewrite it a little and to publish it through H. Perhaps I shall get a little money for it. B. must do the pianoforte arrangement, according to his promise to me.
2. My instructions as to the performance of “Lohengrin” which I sent to you from Thun by letter in the summer of 1850. I want particularly to have my beautiful designs of the scenery. I intend to have new designs for the scenery, according to my indications made by a Dresden friend or through his intercession, so as to have them in readiness for such theatres as want to undertake “Lohengrin” in future. If the Weimar management or any other persons desire to keep my originals, they shall be faithfully restored to its or their possession.
Have I troubled you enough? When are you going to send me some of your compositions? I see nothing of them here, and, in fact, learn scarcely anything about music. Think of me occasionally.
H. also is once again reticent. Uhlig complains of him and of a hostile feeling on his part. What is the meaning of this? Let each go his own way without snarling at the other who goes a different way.
Shall I soon hear from you again? How delighted I should be!
Farewell, and think of me lovingly.
Wholly thine,
RICHARD WAGNER
ZURICH, September 12th, 1852
The parcel will probably arrive a day after this.
At Berlin things now tend towards the non-performance of “Tannhauser.” The performance has been postponed. As, according to my calculation, it could not have been produced before the end of January, and as my niece Johanna leaves Berlin at the end of February, I was compelled to stipulate that ten performances of the opera should be guaranteed for this winter. Otherwise there was the danger that this opera too would have disappeared after three or four performances, as was the case with the “Flying Dutchman” and “Rienzi,” which for that reason were cried down as failures. If this guarantee is refused, I have given instructions that the score shall be withdrawn.
85.
DEAREST AND BEST OF FRIENDS,
Set my mind at rest by a few lines telling me that I did not offend you some time ago. I live at such a distance from my friends, that I always have a thousand anxieties, especially when I do not receive news from them for long. Tell me, for heaven’s sake, have I written to you anything about Berlioz or Raff which you might have misunderstood in the sense that I had something against them? I have spoken as best I could from a distance; and, especially with regard to Berlioz, my intentions are the best. Therefore–a few lines, please! About Berlin everything is now settled, but “Tannhauser” will not be fully rehearsed till about December. Considering this delay of the matter, I do not want to trouble Herr von Hullsen with new conditions just yet; but when the time comes, I shall ask you to let me know once more whether you can afford the sacrifice of going to Berlin.
Belloni, as you know, is here; he has again talked much to me about Paris, and, to my astonishment, I hear that you still have plans of world-conquest for me in your head. You are indefatigable indeed! To the translation of Tannhauser I have no particular objection, especially as in Roger I might expect the best Tannhauser that I could think of. In addition to this, Johanna-I confess it would not be amiss. Herwegh also is doing something for the Paris performance. He proposes to make a richly coloured prose translation of the poem; however, I cannot yet think seriously of it.
My instructions as to the performance of Tannhauser have already induced the Leipzig people to abandon the opera-a very modest sign of acknowledgment of ill-will on their part. I am pleased to hear, on the other hand, that Schindelmeisser in Wiesbaden, after reading my pamphlet, has again begun the rehearsals from the beginning. Did you like the pamphlet? As you think of studying Tannhauser again, I assume that it will be useful to you for that purpose with the stage-manager; the singers also may derive excellent and much-needed service from it. But why has B. become silent once more?
Gradually my solitude here is becoming unbearable; and if I can afford it, I shall go to Paris for the winter. How delighted I should be to hear something from my Lohengrin played to me by a good orchestra! Confess that I know how to bear much.
My nerves are not in the best condition, but I have begun again to work at my poem for an hour or so every day. I can find no rest till it is ready, and I hope it will be soon.
Farewell, best of all men. Let me hear from you soon, and before all that you still love me. Farewell.
Wholly thine,
RICHARD WAGNER
ZURICH, October 3rd, 1852
About the “Dutchman” I must write to you at length some day. Have you forgotten the “Faust” overture and the designs for “Lohengrin” for which I asked you?
86.
You are quite right, dearest friend, if you attribute the weakness of Berlioz’s mode of working to the poem, and my opinion perfectly coincides with yours on this point; but you have been erroneously led to believe that Berlioz is rewriting his “Cellini.” This is not the case; the question at issue is simply as to a very considerable cut–nearly a whole tableau–which I have proposed to Berlioz, and which he has approved of, so that at the next performance “Cellini” will be given in three tableaux instead of four. If it interests you, I will send you the new libretto together with the old, and I think you will approve of the change and of the combination of the two last tableaux in one. I thank you cordially for your offer to let Berlioz have “Wiland,” and shall talk to him about it on the occasion of his presence in Weymar. Unfortunately it must be feared that the Parisians will not relish it, and Henri Blaze is in any case not the man who could treat such a subject in a poetic manner and do justice to it. Above all, dearest, best friend, do not imagine that I could place a bad construction on any utterance of yours about one man or the other. My sympathy for you and my admiration of your divine genius are surely too earnest and genuine to let me overlook their necessary consequences. You can and must not be different from what you are; and such as you are, I esteem, understand, and love you with my whole heart.
Your “Faust” overture you will receive by today’s post. A copy of it exists here, and I shall probably give it again in the course of this winter. The work is quite worthy of you; but if you will allow me to make a remark, I must confess that I should like either a second middle part (at letter E or F) or else a quieter and more agreeably coloured treatment of the present middle part:–
[score excerpt]
The brass is a little too massive there, and–forgive my opinion- -the motive in F is not satisfactory; it wants grace in a certain sense, and is a kind of hybrid thing, neither fish nor flesh, which stands in no proper relation or contrast to what has gone before and what follows, and in consequence impedes the interest. If instead of this you introduced a soft, tender, melodious part, modulated a la Gretchen, I think I can assure you that your work would gain very much. Think this over, and do not be angry in case I have said something stupid. Lohengrin was given last night in honour of the Prince and Princess of Prussia. The theatre was again crowded, and Fraulein Fromann, who had been specially invited by the Princess, has probably written to you about it. Our further performances of Lohengrin and of “Tannhauser” will greatly benefit by the influence of our new artistic director, Herr Marr. I have given him your pamphlet about the performance of Tannhauser, and we shall both do our best to satisfy your demands. I am very glad you have published that pamphlet, and advise you strongly to do the same thing for “Lohengrin” and the “Flying Dutchman.” I have not yet succeeded in discovering your designs and instructions for “Lohengrin”; I gave them at the time to Genast, and they made the round of the theatre here. If possible, I shall send them to you, but I can make no definite promise, for the rage for autographs may have gone so far that I shall not be able to get them back again.
Concerning Berlin, I repeat to you what I said before, viz.:-
If you are convinced that I can be of service to the public and still more to your works by my presence in Berlin, I am prepared to perform this duty of art and of friendship. My efforts, however, can lead to a good result only if Herr von Hulsen gives me his perfect confidence and asks me to settle the necessary steps for the rehearsals and performance of “Tannhauser.” As mouche du cache I cannot go to Berlin, and should in that capacity be of little service to you. Your works, it is true, are above success as at present understood, but I will bet ten to one that “Tannhauser” or “Lohengrin,” rehearsed and placed before the public in a proper manner, will have the most decided success. Wherever this does not happen the fault lies exclusively with the inadequate performance. If, therefore, you wish to send me to Berlin as your plenipotentiary, I am at your disposal, and give you my word that the whole world, with the exception of envious and inimical persons, who will be reduced to a small minority, shall be content. But before I consent to this it is absolutely necessary that Herr von Hiilsen should give me an invitation to Berlin black on white, and also invest me with the powers which my responsibility will make possible and desirable. In my opinion, it behoves Berlin to find room for your three works “Tannhauser,” “Lohengrin,” and the “Flying Dutchman,” and I have not the slightest doubt of a complete success if the thing is managed properly. Herr von Hulsen will, no doubt, be of the same opinion soon; but in the ordinary way and with the old theatrical routine an extraordinary thing of this kind cannot be done.
Send me soon your instructions for the “Flying Dutchman.” I should like you to write a few lines to Marr, so as to gain his goodwill completely for your cause and to induce him to undertake the stage-management of the “Flying Dutchman.” Eduard Devrient paid me a visit last month. We talked a great deal about you, and I hope he will do something useful in Carlsruhe later on.
You are good enough to ask for some of my compositions, but you must allow me to delay this communication till we meet. I hope to visit you, unless you visit Weymar next summer, and shall then play many things to you. Of my orchestral pieces I might sooner or later send you “Prometheus,” but would rather not think of it till I have done other things. Unfortunately I have been much detained from working latterly, but I shall not tell you of my pains and sorrows; you have more than enough of your own. Let us stand bolt upright and trust in God. When shall I have your poems? How long do you think that the four scores will approximately occupy you? Can you expect to be ready by the end of 1854?
Of a Paris performance of “Tannhauser” we must not think for the present; and extraordinary as is my confidence in your extraordinary work (although personally like “Lohengrin” still better), I cannot fail to take into account my experience of operatic performances in Paris and to think that the incompatibility of “Tannhauser” with the operatic tricks now in vogue might interfere with its success. Germany, first of all, must take the lead, for you have the advantage and the misfortune of being an arch-German poet and composer. As far as I know your works, I still think that “Rienzi” would be most adapted for a French version, but do not vainly trouble your mind about it. Write your “Nibelungen,” and care about nothing else. All other things will arrange themselves of their own accord when the time comes.
Farewell, and be as happy as I wish you to be with all my heart.
Your
F. LISZT
WEYMAR, October 7th, 1852
87.
MY DEAREST, BEST-BELOVED FRIEND,
For your last letter, and especially for your remark about the “Faust” overture (which has delighted me!), I owe you a regular long letter, and must wait till I am in a good mood for it; for I know that only in that case my answer can give you real pleasure. Today I write you two hurried lines to say that I have accepted your generous offer and, relying upon your kindness, have asked Herr von Hulsen in a decided manner that you should be invited to Berlin to take my place at the performance of “Tannhauser”. I have, I think, left nothing untried in order to induce Hulsen to get over any possible difficulties in connection with his own conductors there; I have made it a matter of personal feeling between him and me, just as it is between you and me. I hope that if Hulsen consents, his invitation will find you in a good and favourable mood. I know how great this new sacrifice is which I expect of you and how difficult you will find it to make but your friendship makes me venture upon anything Hulsen, who probably will not write to me himself, is to answer me through you; and you also must tell me that you do it willingly for my sake.
Of the great success of “Tannhauser” at Breslau you have probably heard.
But no more today. Weary as I am, I should only produce halting things.
Soon I shall write better and more.
My best regards to H. Farewell, and do not lose your temper with
Your old plague,
RlCHARD WAGNER
ZURICH, October 13th, 1852
88.
MY DEAR FRIEND,
I have to write to you, and am so annoyed about what I have to write to you that I would rather not take pen in hand any more. Hulsen has declined; I enclose his letter. He has no notion of what the matter is about, and it will never be possible to give him a notion of it. This Hulsen is personally a well-disposed man, but without any knowledge of the business under his care. He treats with me about “Tannhauser” just as he might with Flotow about “Martha.” It is too disgusting. I see fully that I have made a great mistake. From the beginning I ought to have made it the first and sole condition that everything concerning the performance of “Tannhauser” should be left wholly and entirely to you. I can explain to myself how it happened that I did not hit upon this simple method: The first news from Berlin about “Tannhauser” only frightened me. I had no confidence in anything there, and my instinct advised me to decline the thing altogether. It is true that you occurred to me at once as my only guarantee, but I had first to secure your consent to undertake “Tannhauser” in Berlin. In order, as it were, to gain time, I sent to Berlin the demand for 1,000 thalers, so as to keep them going, and at the same time I applied to you, with the urgent, impetuous question whether you would see to this matter. Simultaneously with your answer in the affirmative I received from Berlin the news of the delay and postponement of “Tannhauser” till the new year. Being under the impression that my niece would leave Berlin at the beginning of February, I thought the “Tannhauser” performance would have to be given up altogether, and instructed my brother to get the score back unless Hulsen could guarantee me ten performances this winter. I thought the matter ended, when I was told in reply that my niece would stay till the end of May and that Hulsen would undertake to announce the opera six times during the first month. Thus the possibility of a performance of “Tannhauser” at Berlin, wholly given up by me, was once more restored.
From all the letters of Hulsen and my brother I could in the meantime see perfectly well that these people were without any understanding of what was to me essential and important in this matter; that in all their views they were so totally incapable of leaving the grooves of routine that I should have to fear they would never understand my desire to invite you to Berlin. I confess that I had some anxiety on the point, but at last I wrote to Hulsen myself as clearly, warmly, cordially, and persuasively as was in my power; I at once called his attention to the fact that the hostility of the very insignificant Berlin conductors would be as nothing compared with the favourable influence which you would exercise on every side; in short, I wrote in such a manner that I could not believe in the possibility of an unfavourable answer. Read that answer, and take notice that I have once more met with my usual fate: the fate of calling out to the world with my whole soul and of having my calls echoed by walls of leather. I am now discussing with myself what I shall do. To give up everything and simply demand my score back–that would be most agreeable to me. As yet I have not replied with a line to either Hulsen or X. What do you think? Or shall I look on indifferently, amuse myself when I can make a hundred thalers, buy champagne, and turn my back upon the world? It is a misery.
I am going from bad to worse every day, and lead an indescribably worthless life. Of real enjoyment of life I know nothing; to me “enjoyment of life, of love,” is a matter of imagination, not of experience. In this manner my heart has to go to my brain, and my life becomes an artificial one; only as an “artist” I can live; in the artist my whole “man” has been sunk.
If I could visit you in Weimar and see a performance of my operas now and then, I might perhaps still hope to recover. I should there find an element of incitement, of attraction for my artistic being; perhaps a word of love would meet me now and then;–but here! Here I must perish in the very shortest space of time, and everything–everything will come too late, too late! So it will be.
No news can give me pleasure any more; if I were vain and ambitious, it would be all right; as I am, nothing “written” can attract me. All this comes–too late!
What shall I do? Shall I implore the King of Saxony, or perhaps his ministers, for mercy, humble myself, and confess my repentance? Who can expect that of me?
You, my only one, the dearest whom I have, you who are to me prince and world, everything together, have mercy on me.
But calm! calm! I must write to you about the “Faust” overture. You beautifully spotted the lie when I tried to make myself believe that I had written an “Overture to ‘Faust’.” You have felt quite justly what is wanting; the woman is wanting. Perhaps you would at once understand my tone-poem if I called it “Faust in Solitude”.
At that time I intended to write an entire “Faust” symphony; the first movement, that which is ready, was this “solitary Faust,” longing, despairing, cursing. The “feminine” floats around him as an object of his longing, but not in its divine reality, and it is just this insufficient image of his longing which he destroys in his despair. The second movement was to introduce Gretchen, the woman. I had a theme for her, but it was only a theme. The whole remained unfinished. I wrote my “Flying Dutchman” instead. This is the whole explanation. If now, from a last remnant of weakness and vanity, I hesitate to abandon this “Faust” work altogether, I shall certainly have to remodel it, but only as regards instrumental modulation. The theme which you desire I cannot introduce; this would naturally involve an entirely new composition, for which I have no inclination. If I publish it, I shall give it its proper title, “Faust in Solitude”, or “The Solitary Faust”, “a tone-poem for orchestra.”
My new poems for the two “Siegfrieds” I finished last week, but I have still to rewrite the two earlier dramas, “Young Siegfried” and “Siegfried’s Death”, as very considerable alterations have become necessary. I shall not have finished entirely before the end of the year. The complete title will be “The Ring of the Nibelung”, “a festival stage-play in three days and one previous evening: previous evening, “The Rhinegold”; first day, “The Valkyrie”; second day, “Young Siegfried”; third day, “Siegfried’s Death.” What fate this poem, the poem of my life and of all that I am and feel, will have I cannot as yet determine. So much, however, is certain: that if Germany is not very soon opened to me, and if I am compelled to drag on my artistic existence without nourishment and attraction, my animal instinct of life will soon lead me to abandon art altogether. What I shall do then to support my life I do not know, but I shall not write the music of the “Nibelungen”, and no person with human feelings can ask me to remain the slave of my art any longer.
Alas! I always relapse into the miserable keynote of this letter. Perhaps I commit a great brutality in this manner, for perhaps you are in need of being cheered up by me. Pardon me if today I bring nothing but sorrow. I can dissemble no longer; and, let who will despise me, I shall cry out my sorrow to the world, and shall not conceal my misfortune any longer. What use would it be if I were to lie to you? But of one thing you must think, if nothing else is possible: we must see each other next summer. Consider that this is a necessity; that it must be; that no god shall prevent you from coming to me, as the police (make a low bow!) prevent me from coming to you. Promise me for quite certain in your next letter that you will come. Promise me!
We must see how I shall be able to exist till then. Farewell. Bear with me. Greet H., and be of good cheer. Perhaps you will soon be rid of me. Farewell, and write soon to
Your
RICHARD WAGNER
ZURICH, November 9th, 1852
89.
MY DEAR FRIEND,
I wait with great longing for a letter from you.
For today one urgent request. Send at once the scores of the “Dutchman” after which that of Weimar was corrected to Uhlig at Dresden. In Breslau they have very long been waiting for a copy to be arranged in the same manner. Please, please see to this at once. Next week you will receive my remarks on the performance of the “Flying Dutchman”. Farewell, and remember lovingly
Your
RICHARD WAGNER
December 22nd, 1852
90.
DEAREST FRIEND,
If through any delay the model score of the “Flying Dutchman” has not yet been sent to Dresden, these lines may serve to inform you of the great difficulty in which I have today been placed towards a second theatre–that of Schwerin–because I cannot supply it with the score which they urgently demand. I am truly sorry that I have to plague you with such “business matters;” but who else is there in Weimar?
I wait with indescribable longing for a letter from you. Farewell.
Wholly thine,
RICHARD WAGNER
December 24th, 1852
91.
December 27th, 1852
Pardon me, dearest friend, for my long silence. That I can be so little to you and to your interests is a great grief to me. Your last letter, of about six weeks ago, has made your whole sorrow and misery clear to me. I have wept bitter tears over your pains and wounds. Suffering and patience are unfortunately the only remedies open to you. How sad for a friend to be able to say no more than this. Of all the sad and disagreeable things which I have to suffer I shall not speak to you; do not think of them either. Today I will, before all, tell you something pleasant, viz., that I shall visit you in the course of next summer, probably in June. I shall not be able to stay in Zurich long, where there is nothing but you to attract me. It is possible–but this must not yet be spoken of–that on my way back I may conduct a kind of festival at Carlsruhe. Can you by that time prepare an orchestral work for the purpose?–perhaps your “Faust” overture– for I should like to produce a new work by you besides the “Tannhauser” overture.
Eduard Devrient wrote to me some days ago that the Court Marshal, Count Leiningen, who is a friend of mine, had spoken to him of the plan for a musical festival, to be conducted by me. It may be predicted that considerable means will be at hand in Carlsruhe, but as yet the public and the papers are to know nothing of it. Write to me when convenient about some pieces which you could recommend for the programme. I think, amongst other things, of the “Missa Solemnis” (D major) by Beethoven, but should not like to have again the ninth symphony, so as not to repeat the Ballenstedt programme in extenso.
The rumour reported by several papers that I am about to leave Weymar and settle in Paris is quite unfounded. I stay here, and can do nothing but stay here. You will easily guess what has brought me to this maturely considered resolution. In the first instance I have faithfully to fulfill a serious duty. Together with this feeling of the most profound and constant love which occupies the faith of my whole soul, my external life must either rise or sink. May God protect my loyal intention.
How far have you got with your “Nibelungen”? It will be a great