Chapter 14

At last I told him: "This I will guarantee, by word and deed, that between the completion of the "NIBELUNGEN", which may be expected by the end of the next year, and its performance, scarcely a year will elapse, and that the friends of Wagner, and I foremost amongst them, will do all that is possible to bring that performance about. In this firm conviction I think it desirable that the work should appear in print, so that the necessary standpoint for its judgment may be supplied," etc., etc., etc.

I am sorry to bore you with all this stuff, and only ask you NOT TO GIVE WAY TO IRRITATION, and not to say or to write a single rash word, because the matter is of decided importance, and a trustworthy publisher is not easily found. The publication of the "NIBELUNGEN" in full score and pianoforte arrangement will require an outlay of at least ten thousand thalers, for which few firms will be prepared. For the present I should advise you to keep quite quiet, and to invite the Hartels simply, and if need be repeatedly, to visit you, leaving all further discussion as to the terms of publication till you have given them more accurate insight into the matter; that is, till your meeting at Zurich.

Your

FRANZ.

What is your present address?

Richard Pohl has asked me to inquire of you whether you will be at Zurich in July, and whether he may pay you a visit there?

244.

ZURICH, May 8th, 1857.

At last, dearest Franz, I am able to give you an answer by letter.

First of all, receive my heartiest congratulations on the good state of your health. Your letter has joyfully surprised me, and, to my greatest delight, has made me feel ashamed of my intrusive anxiety about you. Your organisation is a perfect riddle to me, and I hope that you will always solve that riddle in as satisfactory a manner as this time, when I looked on with real anxiety. Heaven grant that your profession of good health may not be that of a Spartan!

All the more sorry do I feel that you have not been able to dispel my anxiety as to the Princess also. At our last meeting at Zurich my impression of your (to me) strange and very exciting mode of life frightened me so much that I am really less astonished at the Princess being on a sick bed than at your being up again. My very eager anxiety about both of you is perhaps in bad taste; for you are accustomed to taking care of yourselves, and acknowledge probably no special right on my part to trouble about you. Heaven grant that patience and good advice may restore our magnanimous friend as soon as possible; when she is once well again I shall be quite willing to plead guilty to the charge of impertinence. You say nothing of the health of her daughter, who was also severely indisposed. May your good star guide you; in one important point I shall always remain a stranger to you all.

I shall have no further trouble with the Hartels, as I have determined finally to give up my headstrong design of completing the "Nibelungen." I have led my young Siegfried to a beautiful forest solitude, and there have left him under a linden tree, and taken leave of him with heartfelt tears. He will be better off there than elsewhere. If I were ever to resume the work some one would have to make it very easy for me, or else I should have to be in a position to present it to the world as a GIFT, in the full sense of the word. These long explanations with the Hartels- -my first contact with that world which would have to make the realisation of my enterprise possible--were quite enough to bring me to my senses, and to make me recognize the chimeric nature of this undertaking. You were the only person of importance, besides myself, who believed in its possibility, but probably for the reason that you also had not sufficiently realised its difficulties. But the Hartels, who are to advance solid coin, have looked into the matter more closely, and are, no doubt, quite right in believing the performance of the work impossible, as the author did not even see his way to its completion without their help.

As regards myself, there was a time when I conceived, commenced, and half finished the work without the expectation of its being performed during my lifetime. Even last winter your confident tone, as you took leave of me, and your hope of releasing me soon from my mute and soundless exile, gave me the courage (which by that time had become a difficult matter) to continue. Such encouragement was indeed required, for, after having been without any stimulus, such as a good performance of one of my works might have given me, my position was, at last, becoming unbearable. Our trials at the piano further contributed towards my becoming thoroughly conscious of the misery of such musical makeshifts; indeed, I felt that a good many things would be explained to myself only by a good performance. Since then my last hope has vanished again, and a terrible bitterness has come over me, so that I can no longer have any faith in mere chance. You, my rarest friend, do everything in your power to rouse me again in one way or other, and to sustain my freshness and love of work, but I know that all you say is only for this particular purpose. So I have at last decided to help myself. I have determined to finish at once "Tristan and Isolde" on a moderate scale, which will make its performance easier, and to produce it next year at Strassburg with Niemann and Madame Meyer. There is a beautiful theatre there, and the orchestra and the other not very important characters I hope to get from a neighbouring German Court- theatre. In that manner I must try (D.V.) to produce something myself and in my own way which will once more restore freshness and artistic conscientiousness to me. Apart from this, such an undertaking offers me the only possible chance of sustaining my position. It was only by a somewhat frivolous proceeding--the sale of "Tannhauser" to the Josephstadt Theatre at Vienna--that I succeeded in preserving my equilibrium, and this will soon again be threatened, or, at least, is so absolutely insecure, that I had to think of something which would free me from care. For so much I may assume that a thoroughly practicable work, such as "Tristan" is to be, will quickly bring me a good income, and keep me afloat for a time. In addition to this, I have a curious idea. I am thinking of having a good Italian translation made of this work in order to produce it as an Italian opera at the theatre of Rio Janeiro, which will probably give my "Tannhauser" first. I mean to dedicate it to the Emperor of Brazil, who will soon receive copies of my last three operas, and all this will, I trust, realise enough to keep me out of harm's way for a time. Whether, after that, my "Nibelungen" will appeal to me again I cannot foresee; it depends upon moods over which I have no control. For once I have used violence against myself. Just as I was in the most favourable mood I have torn Siegfried from my heart, and placed him under lock and key as one buried alive. There I shall keep him, and no one shall see anything of him, as I had to shut him out from myself. Well, perhaps this sleep will do him good; as to his awaking I decide nothing. I had to fight a hard and painful battle before I got to this point. Well, it is settled so far.

Your three last Symphonic Poems have once more filled me with painful joy. While reading them I was forced again to think of my miserable condition, which makes such things mute to me, to me who knows so little how to help himself. God knows the greatest delight, such as your "Mountain Symphony," is thus turned to sorrow for me. But I have made these complaints a thousand times, and there is no help for it.

Some unfortunate person has again sent me a whole heap of ridiculous nonsense about my "Nibelungen," and probably expects an approving answer in return. With such puppets have I to deal when I look for human beings. These are the kind of people who continually trouble themselves about me with astounding faithfulness and constancy. Good Lord! it is very well for you to talk.

I shall receive R. Pohl with all the respect due to the Weimar art historiographer. I shall stay in my "refuge," and shall be pleased to see him. To speak at last of something hopeful, let me express my greatest joy at your giving me hope of a visit from you in September. Let me pray you earnestly not to treat this matter lightly, but to turn my hope into confidence. Try to imagine that you have undertaken to conduct a musical festival here, and then I am sure your passionate conscientiousness will not allow you to stay away. Really, dearest Franz, such a meeting is a necessity to me this time. I shall enjoy it like a true gourmet. Let me soon hear something definite, and greet Altenburg and all its precious contents from the bottom of my heart. REMAIN well, for you say that you are well, and once more, love me.

Your

R. W.

As regards my address, the very blind know my footsteps at Zurich. About "Tristan" ABSOLUTE SILENCE.

245.

ZURICH, July 9th, 1857.

My DEAR FRANZ,

I forgot to ask you something. At Zurich I told you that that poor devil Rockel was longing to see one of my new scores. Recently he has again reminded me of it, therefore I repeat my request to you to lend him your score of "Rhinegold" for six or eight weeks. His wife, who lives at Weimar, will, no doubt, gladly undertake to send him the score. He is a clever fellow, and I should like to count him amongst those who occupy themselves with my recent works. It will cheer him up considerably, and I see from his last letter that he is gradually becoming low-spirited. You would, no doubt, increase his delight if you were to add copies of all, or some of your symphonic poems. I have drawn his attention to them, and he is very curious to know something of them. You might let him have them just as a loan. Do not be angry with me for troubling you with this.

How are you, and have you any comforting news of the Princess for me?

The Grand Duke of Baden recently wrote me a surprisingly amiable and friendly letter, which is of real value to me, as the first sign of a breach in the timid or courtly etiquette hitherto observed towards me. The occasion was a little attention which I showed to the young Grand Duchess, and for which he thanks me in a moved and moving manner in her name and his own.

Eduard Dervient stayed with me for three days last week, and inaugurated my little guest-chamber. To him I also spoke of my "Tristan" scheme; he highly approved of it, but was against Strassburg, and undertook, although generally a careful and timid man, to arrange about its first performance at Carlsruhe under my direction. The Grand Duke also seems to have got wind of something of the kind, probably through Devrient, for in one passage of his letter he pointedly alludes to his confident hope of seeing me soon at Carlsruhe.

Well, as God wills. This much I see, that I must, once more, perform a little miracle to make people believe in me.

About my work I am, as you may imagine, in a state of great and continual excitement.

Let it be settled that I have you in September; that is the chief thing.

A thousand cordial greetings to your dear home.

Ever thine,

RICHARD WAGNER.

246.

DEAREST RICHARD,

At your recommendation I am reading the Correspondence between Schiller and Goethe. Your last letter found me at this passage: "It is one of the greatest happinesses of my existence that I live to see the completion of these works, that they fall into the period of my activity, and that I am enabled to drink at this pure fountain. The beautiful relation existing between us constitutes a kind of religious duty on my part to make your cause my own, to develop every reality in my being to the purest mirror of the spirit which lives in this body, and to deserve by that means the name of your friend in a higher sense of the word" (p. 163, vol. i.).

I must weep when I think of the interruption of your "Nibelungen." Cannot the great "Ring" free you of all the little chains which surround you? You have certainly many reasons for being bitter, and if I generally observe silence on the point I feel it none the less sadly. In many quarters I am, for the present, unable to achieve anything more, but it would be foolish to abandon all hope. A more favourable hour will come, and must be waited for, and in the meantime I can only ask you not to be unjust to your friend, and to practise the virtue of the mule, as Byron calls patience. "Tristan" appears to me a very happy idea. You will, no doubt, create a splendid work, and then go back refreshed to your "Nibelungen." We shall all come to Strassburg and form a garde d'honneur for you. I hope to see you at the beginning of this autumn, although I am not yet able to settle on a definite plan. The Princess is still confined to her bed, and her recovery is, as yet, in a bad way.

I, for my part, shall be compelled after all, and in spite of obstinate resistance, to use the baths of Aix-la-Chapelle, which is very unpleasant to me. Next week I shall go to Berlin for a few days, and from there I proceed straight to Aix, where I intend to go through the cure from July 22nd till August 10th. On August 14th I shall be back in order to receive the commands of the Grand Duke with regard to the festivities in September. The excavations which have been made for the monument of Schiller and Goethe will, it is feared, cause a dangerous settlement of the soil near the theatre, and the two "fellows" may possibly not be able to find a secure position in Weymar. A telegram has been sent to Rietschel in order to decide in what manner the danger can be prevented. Perhaps they will order me to make no more "Music of the Future," so as not to ruin the city from the bottom. In that case I should have to fly to Zurich in order to produce the "Faust" symphony and my last symphonic poem, Schiller's "Ideals," at your villa. The former has been increased by a final chorus of male voices singing the last eight lines of the second part, the Eternal Feminine.

It is still very doubtful whether the Princess will be fit for travelling this year, and the Child will, in any case, not leave her mother. If both are able this autumn to perform the Swiss journey, which they missed last year, I shall of course stay with them at the Hotel Baur. Your wife, in that case, must not refuse me the boon of getting me excellent coffee and a practicable coffee machine, for the abominable beverage which is served at the hotel as coffee is as disgusting to me as a piece de salon by Kucken, etc., and embitters my morning hours.

By what manner of means have you got at H.M. the Emperor of Brazil? You must tell me this. He ought by rights to send you the Rose Order set in brilliants, although you do not care about flowers or orders.

Rosa Milde is going to give a few performances at Dresden, and has asked for Elizabeth as her first part. If the voice of Frau Meyer does not improve I advise you to choose Frau Milde as Isolde. I believe you will be satisfied with her, although our FRIEND Hiller praised her so much.

Your faithful

F. L.

WEYMAR, July 10th, 1857.

247.

You have not come, after all, dearest Franz; without a word of explanation, simply remaining silent, you have not come. In two letters you had given me hope of your visit, and I wrote to M. that I had thought of a way of receiving you under my roof. Has my message been given to you? Perhaps not. M. was kind enough to write to me some time ago, but my last invitation was not mentioned with a single word. You wrote to me a few lines, but not a word as to whether you were coming or not. My dearest Franz, whatever there may have been in my conduct to make you angry with me, you must, I pray you, forgive me for the sake of our friendship, while I, on my part, am quite willing to forgive the person who may have set you against me.

B. will bring you a copy of the poem of "Tistan," which I wrote during his absence. While I was at work, and had a visitor, I found it impossible to make a copy and send it to M. Kindly excuse this.

Farewell, dearest Franz, and let me hear soon that you still think of me in a friendly way. The successful performance of your "Faust" has pleased me immensely. I wish I could have heard it.

Farewell.

Your R. W.

248.

HOTEL DE SAXE, No. 17, November 3rd, 1857.

DEAREST RICHARD,

How could I think of you otherwise than with constant love and sincerest devotion in this city, in this room where we first came near to each other, when your genius shone before me? "Rienzi" resounds to me from every wall, and when I enter the theatre I cannot help bowing to you before every one, as you stand at your desk. With Tichatschek, Fischer, Heine, and others of your friends in the orchestra here I talk of you every day. These gentlemen appear well inclined towards me, and take a warm interest in the rehearsals of the "Prometheus" and "Dante" symphonies, which are to be given next Saturday at a concert for the benefit of the Pension Fund of the chorus of the Court theatre. The Princess and her daughter will arrive this evening. The Child is mad about your "Tristan," but, by all the gods, how can you turn it into an opera for ITALIAN SINGERS, as, according to B., you intend to do? Well, the incredible and impossible are your elements, and perhaps you will manage to do even this. The subject is splendid, and your conception wonderful. I have some slight hesitation as to the part of Brangane, which appears to me spun out a little, because I cannot bear confidantes at all in a drama. Pardon this absurd remark, and take no further notice of it. When the work is finished my objection will, no doubt, cease.

For February 16th, the birthday of the Grand Duchess, I have proposed "Rienzi," and I hope Tichatschek will sing in our first two performances. The third act will necessarily have to be shortened very much. Fischer and some others even thought that we might omit it altogether. The Weymar theatre, like the Weymar state, is little adapted to military revolutions; let me know on occasion what I am to do. The rehearsals will begin in January.

My daughter Blandine has married at Florence, on October 22nd, Emile Ollivier, avocat au barreau de Paris, and democratic deputy for the city of Paris. I am longing to get back to my work soon, but unfortunately, the inevitable interruptions caused by my innumerable social relations and obligations, give me little hope for this winter. I wish I could live with you on the Lake of Zurich, and go on writing quietly.

God be with you.

Your

F. LISZT. MY DEAR, DEAR FRANZ,

I want you to receive these lines just as you are going to the first performance of your "Dante." Can I help feeling grieved to the very depth of my existence, when I am compelled to be far from you on such an evening, and cannot follow the impulse of my heart, which, were I but free, would take me to you in all circumstances, and from a distance of hundreds of miles in order to unite myself with you and your soul on such a wedding-day? I shall be with you, at least in the spirit, and if your work succeeds as it must succeed, do honour to my presence by taking notice of nothing that surrounds you, neither of the crowd, which must always remain strange to us, even if it takes us in for a moment, nor of the connoisseur, nor of the brother artist, for we have none. Only look in my eye just as if you would do if you were playing to me, and be assured that it will return your glance blissfully, brightly, and gladly, with that intimate understanding which is our only reward.

Take my hand and take my kiss. It is such a kiss as you gave me when you accompanied me home one evening last year--you remember, after I told you my sad tale. Many things may lose their impression upon me. The wonderful sympathy which was in your words during that homeward walk, the celestial essence of your nature, will follow me everywhere as my most beautiful remembrance. Only one thing I can place by the side of it, I mean that which you tell me in your works, and especially in your "Dante." If you tell the same thing to others today, remember that you can do so in the sense alone in which we display our body, our face, our existence to the world. We wear ourselves out thereby, and do not expect to receive love and comprehension in return. Be mine today, wholly mine, and feel assured that by that means you will be all that you are and can be.

Good luck on your way through hell and purgatory! In the supernal glow with which you have surrounded me, and in which the world has disappeared from my eyes, we will clasp hands.

Good luck!

Your

RICHARD.

250.

January 1st, 1858.

I want to consecrate my pen for the new year, and cannot do so better than by a greeting to you, my dear Franz. Above all other wishes is my wish of seeing you and enjoying you to my heart's content. The worst loss of the past year has been that of the visit you had promised me. If I were to try to imagine the greatest delight that could be vouchsafed to me, it would be to see you suddenly in my room. Are you inclined at all for such a stroke of genius? If I were only free you would experience such a surprise from me, but I must no longer hope for miracles; everything comes to me in a laborious and gradual way, and, after all, I have to share it with a host of Zurich professors. You perceive I am not very many-sided. My ideas move in a somewhat narrow circle, which, fortunately, through the objects it comprises, becomes as large as the world to me (I do not count the Zurich professors amongst those objects). If I have a grudge against your eternal and manifold obligations and engagements, you will understand my very special reason, viz., that they take you away from ME so much. Candidly speaking, my being together with you is everything to me; it is my fountain, all the rest is but overflow. When I sit down to write to you I do not know what to say. Nothing occurs to me but what I cannot write. To speak to you of "business" is altogether an abomination to me, for when I deal with you my heart grows large, while business narrows it in the most deplorable manner. It is bad enough when, as formerly was too often the case, I am compelled to trouble you with my private sorrows. Especially today these must be far from me, for the first stroke of my pen in the new year is to convey nothing but a pure, sonorous greeting to you. I want to tell you, however, that yesterday, at last, I finished the first act of "Tristan." I shall work at "Tristan" assiduously; at the beginning of the next winter season I want to produce it somewhere.