and I feel all of a sudden so rich that I can scarcely believe
it. Unfortunately it is only with great difficulty that I can
gain a clear conception of them. This would be done with
lightning rapidity if you could play them to me. I am looking
forward with the eagerness of a child to studying them. If I
could only be well again!
(Do you want the third act of the "Valkyrie?" My copyist works so
slowly that there will be plenty of time for you to let me know
your wishes. The copy of the full score of the "Rhinegold" I
expect back from Klindworth before long, and shall send it to
you.)
I am going to take a purgative in order to avoid the return of my
illness. I wish I could, instead, start for Purgatory at once.
Adieu. A thousand thanks for your friendship.
R. W.
217.
MORNEX, near GENEVA, July 12th, 1856.
MY DEAR FRANZ,
I have flown, as you see, to this place in order to seek final
recovery. I could not help laughing when the excellent Princess,
with much sorrow and sympathy, announced the impending arrival of
the M. family at Zurich. From evils of that kind I am safe. No
outsider can know approximately what troubles and tortures people
of our stamp suffer when we sacrifice ourselves in the
intercourse with heterogeneous strangers. These tortures are all
the greater because no one else can understand them, and because
the most unsympathetic people believe that we are in reality like
themselves; for they understand only just that part of us which
we really have in common with them, and do not perceive how
little, how almost nothing that is. To repeat it, the tortures of
this kind of intercourse are positively the most painful of all
to me, and I am only intent upon keeping to myself. I force
myself to solitude, and to achieve this is my greatest care. When
I was on the point of taking flight, at the end of May,
Tichatschek suddenly called on me. This good man, with his
splendid, childlike heart, and his amiable little head, was very
agreeable to me, and his enthusiastic attachment to me did me
good. I was specially pleased with his voice, and tried to
persuade myself that I still had confidence in it.
I wanted to take him to Brunnen, but bad weather delayed our
purpose; still we risked it after all, when the carriage drive
brought me another attack of erysipelas in the face--the TWELFTH
this winter. I had foreseen all this, and therefore during
Tichatschek's stay of twelve days, was in a state of continual,
painful anxiety. This abominable illness has brought me very low.
In the month of May alone I had three relapses, and even now not
an hour passes without my living in fear of a new attack. In
consequence, I am unfit for anything, and it is obvious that I
must think of my thorough recovery. For that purpose a painfully
strict regime with regard to diet and general mode of life is
required; the slightest disorder of my stomach immediately
affects my complaint. What I want is absolute rest, avoidance of
all excitement and annoyance, etc.; also Carlsbad water, certain
warm baths later on cold ones, and the like. In order to get away
from home as far as possible, and to avoid all temptation to
social intercourse, I have retired here, where I have found a
very convenient refuge. I live at two hours' distance from
Geneva, on the other side of Mont Saleve, halfway from the top,
in splendid air. At a Pension I discovered a little summer-house,
apart from the chief building, where I live quite alone. From the
balcony I have the most divine view of the whole Mont Blanc
range, and from the door I step into a pretty little garden.
Absolute seclusion was my first condition. I am served
separately, and see no one but the waiter. A dear little dog, the
successor of Peps, Fips by name, is my only company. ONE thing I
had to concede in return for the favour of possessing this garden
salon; every Sunday morning from nine till twelve I have to turn
out. At that hour a clergyman comes from Geneva and performs
divine service for the Protestants of this place, in the same
locality which I, a godless being, occupy for the rest of the
time. But I willingly make this sacrifice, were it only for the
sake of religion. I fancy I shall meet with my reward. But the
thing is frightfully dear, and without your subsidy I could not
have undertaken this expedition. I have had to make an inroad
into the money which I had destined for the copying of the
scores; I could not help it. The money from Vienna arrived
exactly on my birthday; accept my cordial thanks for this
sacrifice. I know it is infamous that you have to give me money;
why do you do it? On the same occasion I was gratified by a few
very friendly lines from your relative, of whose existence I was
not aware; they somewhat sweetened the bitterness of having to
take money from you. Remember me to him, and thank him cordially
in my name.
A piano, although not of the first order, stands in my salon. I
hope I shall soon have the courage to begin my "Siegfried" at
last, but first of all I must take your scores thoroughly in
hand. How many things you have sent me! I had been longing to
have, at last, some of your new works; but now this wealth almost
embarrasses me, and I shall require time to take in everything
properly. For that purpose it would, of course, be necessary for
me to hear your poems, or for you to play them to me. It is very
well to read something of that kind, but the real salt, that
which decides and solves all doubts, can only be enjoyed by
actual hearing. In that terrible month of May I was able only to
look at your scores with a tired eye, and as through dark clouds;
but even then I received the electric shock, which none but great
things produce on us, and so much I know that you are a wonderful
man, by whose side I can place no other phenomenon in the domains
of art and of life. So much was I struck by your conception, and
by the design of your execution in its larger outlines, that I at
once longed for something new--the three remaining pieces, and
"Faust" and "Dante." There you see what I am. Without having made
myself acquainted with the finer details of the artistic
execution proper I wanted to go on, probably because I had to
despair of recognizing these without hearing them. For nothing is
more misleading and useless than to attempt this by a laborious,
halting and blundering performance on the piano, while an
excellent and expressive execution in the right tempo at once
produces the right picture in its varied colours. That is why you
are so fortunate in being able to do this with supreme
excellence. If I look upon your artistic career, different as it
is from any other, I clearly perceive the instinct which led you
into the path now trodden by you. You are by nature the genuine,
happy artist who not only produces, but also represents. Whatever
formerly, as a pianist, you might play, it was always the
personal communication of your beautiful individuality which
revealed entirely new and unknown things to us, and he only was
able and competent to judge you to whom you had played in a happy
mood. This new and indescribably individual element was still
dependent on your personality, and without your actual presence
it did, properly speaking, not exist. On hearing you one felt
sad, because these marvels were to be irretrievably lost with
your person, for it is absurd to think that you could perpetuate
your art through your pupils, as some one at Berlin boasted
lately. But nature, by some infallible means, always takes care
of the permanent existence of that which she produces so seldom
and only under abnormal conditions; and she showed you the right
way. You were led to perpetuate the miracle of your personal
communication in a manner which made it independent of your
individual existence. That which you played on the piano would
not have been sufficient for this purpose, for it became only
through means of your personal interpretation what it appeared to
us to be; for which reason, let me repeat it, it was frequently
indifferent what and whose works you played. You, therefore,
without any effort, hit upon the idea of replacing your personal
art by the orchestra, that is, by compositions which, through the
inexhaustible means of expression existing in the orchestra, were
able to reflect your individuality without the aid of your
individual presence. Your orchestral works represent to me, so to
speak, your personal art in a monumental form; and in that
respect they are so new, so incomparable to anything else, that
criticism will take a long time to find out what to make of them.
Ah me! all this seems very awkward and open to misunderstanding
in a letter; but when we meet I think I shall be able to tell you
many new things which you have made clear to me. I hope I shall
have the necessary leisure and sufficient lucidity of expression.
For that purpose I want good health; for, failing this, I always
lapse into that fatal irritability which frustrates everything,
and always leaves the best things unsaid. For the same reason,
and because our meeting is to me, as it were, the goal for which
I strive as the one desirable end, my only care now is the
perfect recovery of my health. Let us hope that my efforts and
many sacrifices will lead me to it. I shall take care to send you
accounts at frequent intervals. My amnesty is of importance to me
for this reason ONLY, that in the case of success my way to you
would always lie open; if it is granted to me you will have to
put up with me for some time next winter.
Franz Muller has congratulated me on my birthday in a very
touching manner. I cannot write to him today, but I ask you to
give him the news I send you, and to assure him that his
friendship is a great boon to me. In case he cannot accompany you
when you visit me, I hope to become thoroughly acquainted with
him at your house in the autumn, if only the Saxon Minister of
Justice will listen to reason. Even his intention of visiting me
has made me very happy.
A thousand cordial thanks for the letter of the dear Princess,
who soon will have to take the title of private secretary. My
best greetings to ALL.
The splendid air and the quiet sympathetic surroundings which I
have been enjoying for two days have already cheered me up a
little, and I begin to have hopes of perfect health.
Farewell, my dearest, my only friend. For heaven's sake, do not
be so chary of your communications.
When we compare letters some day, I shall appear a veritable
babbler by the side of you; while you, on the other hand, will
make a noble show as a man of deeds. But, dearest Franz, a little
confidential talk is not to be despised. Take note of this, you
aristocratic benefactor!
Farewell, and write to me soon. I shall once more have a good go
at your scores, and hope to get well into them. My address is
still Poste restante, Geneve.
Your
R. W.
Your "Mazeppa" is terribly beautiful; I was quite out of breath
when I read it for the first time. I pity the poor horse; nature
and the world are horrible. I would really rather write poetry
than music just now; it requires no end of obstinacy to stick to
one thing. I have again two splendid subjects which I must
execute. "Tristan and Isolde," you know, and after that the
"Victory," the most sacred, the most perfect salvation. But that
I cannot yet tell you. For the final "Victory" I have another
interpretation than that supplied by Victor Hugo, and your music
has given it to me, all but the close; for greatness, glory, and
the dominion of nations I do not care at all.
218.
My Hungarian journey has, during the last three weeks, become
unexpectedly a doubtful matter, and I did not like, dearest
Richard, to write to you before I could tell you something more
definite; for the time of my visit must be arranged according to
that journey taking or not taking place. The consecration of Gran
cathedral is fixed for August 31st, and in case I go there to
conduct my Mass, I should be with you in Zurich about September
15th or 20th; but if I am relieved of that duty I shall be at
Zurich about the end of August. I hope to know by the end of next
week what has been settled, and shall then ask the Princess to
let you know particulars. In the meantime, albeit used to
waiting, I did not care to wait any longer before I told you that
I am an hungered and athirst for being together with you, and
going through our programme of NONSENSE; the hors d'oeuvre
(which, as you know, have the quality of exciting both hunger and
thirst) of your feast of "Rhinegold" and "Valkyrie" will be my
symphony to Dante's "Divina Commedia," which will belong to you
and was finished yesterday. It takes a little less than an hour
in performance, and may amuse you.
After that you will speak to me about your VICTORY, the most
sacred, the most perfect salvation....What will it be? The few
hints in your last letter have made me very curious to know the
whole idea.
Your amnesty business will, for the present, remain in statu quo,
but I hope you will come to me next winter, and am preparing your
rooms at Altenburg. Speak to no one about it. I shall tell you
what I have heard when I see you. Before all, take care of your
health, and do all you can so that more rosy aspects may open
before you than the roses which erysipelas has painted on your
face. Unfortunately, with regard to external matters, I cannot
present you with many rosy things, although, as far as
appearances go, I am counted amongst the happy. It is true I am
happy, as happy as a child of this earth can be. I may confess
this to you, because you know the infinite self-sacrifice and
invincible love which have supported my whole existence for the
last eight years. Why need I be disturbed by other troubles? All
else is only the peace-offering for my exalted happiness.
Do not reproach me any longer for not telling you anything about
myself, for in these words I confide to you the secret of my
usual silence.
Forgive me for not having written to you so long; the Hungarian
troubles, caused by my Mass, were at fault. Let me know soon
whether you are back at Zurich, and whether my coming to you
about the end of August or the middle of September will suit you.
You will receive more definite news before long. You have
probably seen in the newspapers that Herr and Frau Milde sang the
duet from the Dutchman at the Magdeburg Musical Festival
excellently, and with splendid success. At the rehearsal I made
the horns repeat several times, till at last they succeeded in
pulsating tenderly and passionately. The critic of the Magdeburg
Gazette says:-
"Although we were at first not sorry that Wagner's name did not
appear in the programme, it was very interesting to hear this
scene sung by the two Mildes, who have studied these compositions
under the direction of Herr Liszt, the chief representative of
the Wagner movement. Both sang beautifully, and in many passages,
especially in the second half, with overpowering beauty. We close
our notice with the words of the duet, 'We were conquered by a
mighty charm.'"
Criticisms in the newspapers remind me of A., whom, during my
stay at Berlin, I found in the most touching state of anxiety
about the notices of the performance of "Tannhauser" that might
be published by the Berlin press. Highly estimating, as I do, her
friendship for you, which also keeps up a kind of amiable feeling
between us two, I could not avoid offending her a little by my
indifference. Again, during her last stay here, about three weeks
ago, she excited me to a few bad jokes by the enthusiastic
interest with which she attended a performance of Auber's "Le
Macon" at the theatre here. She was indeed near being seriously
offended by my bad jokes at the many-sidedness of taste, or
rather, the want of taste, shown by her veneration for this
musique de grisettes. When an occasion offers I will try to make
it up with her.
I have only too many opportunities of experiencing what you so
justly say of the troubles and inconveniences which arise to us
from intercourse with heterogeneous persons, although I may boast
of possessing a thicker and more impenetrable skin, and a much
larger portion of patience, than you.
For today I must not tax your patience any more by gossip of this
kind. In a few weeks we shall communicate without the aid of ink
and paper, which is the real and wholesome thing for us.
Perhaps the Princess will accompany me to Zurich this time.
Your
F. L.
219.
MORNEX, NEAR GENEVA, July 2Oth, 1856.
You may easily imagine, dearest Franz, how delighted I was by
your letter. Sometimes I grow anxious about you when I do not see
you or have proper news from you for such a long time; I always
think then that you care for me no longer. I shall not write to
you anything rational now, for your letter can be answered only
by word of mouth. God knows, I castigate my flesh by this cure
chiefly in order to be quite well when we meet at last. As
regards my health, I could not have done better than place myself
under the immediate guidance and supervision of an excellent
French physician, Dr. Vaillant, who conducts a hydropathic
establishment here. I conquered my first aversion to the course
when I recognized the valour of this Parisian Vaillant. I go
thoroughly to work in using this new and careful treatment, and
feel sure of being completely cured of my ailment, which, after
all, was caused by nervousness. But it is more than possible that
I shall be detained by it till the end of August, and I should
therefore prefer, after all, if you could come about the middle
of September. This also seems to me more likely, because I cannot
believe that you will give up Gran altogether. I expect then to
see you crowned with glory on your return from the land of your
fathers.
Your Symphonic Poems are now quite familiar to me; they are the
only music which occupies me at present, for during my cure I
must not think of doing any work. I read one or other of the
scores every day, just as I might read a poem, fluently and
without stopping. I feel every time as if I had dived into a deep
crystal flood, to be there quite by myself, leaving all the world
behind me, and living for an hour my real life. Refreshed and
strengthened, I rise again to long for your presence. Yes,
friend, you can do it, YOU CAN DO IT!
Well, not much can be said about it; the noblest expressions
might easily seem a little trivial in such a connection. Enough,
you will soon be here, and bring me my Dante. This is a
beautiful, glorious lookout; I thank you.
I sent you yesterday a parcel containing the original scores of
"Rhinegold" and the "Valkyrie." Their fate will probably be a
peculiar one. Let me explain briefly:--
I shall perish, and shall be quite incapable of further work,
unless I find a habitation such as I require, viz., a small house
to myself and a garden, both removed from all noise, and
especially from the damnable pianoforte noise, which I am doomed
not to escape wherever I turn, not even here, and which has made
me so nervous that even the very thought of it prevents me from
thinking of work. Four years I tried in vain to realise this
wish, which I can accomplish only by buying a piece of ground
and building a house on it. Over this possibility I brooded like
a madman, when it occurred to me not long ago to offer my
"Nibelungen" to the Hartels, and to get the necessary money from
them. They have expressed to me their willingness of doing
something out of the way in order to gain possession of my work,
and I have in consequence made the following demand: They are to
purchase the two pieces which have already been finished, and are
to expect "Siegfried" in the course of next year, and
"Siegfried's Death" at the end of 1858, paying in each instance
the honorarium on the delivery of the manuscript. They also bind
themselves to publish the whole in 1859, the year of the
performance. I have been led to this by sheer despair; the
Hartels are to supply me with means for the purchase of a piece
of ground according to my fancy. If we agree, which must be
decided soon, I shall have to send them, in the first instance,
my two scores, so as to place them in possession of the material
for their future publication. But they will only keep them long
enough to take a copy, and then return the originals to you. In
any case, if I want the money, I must enable them to take actual
possession. They must of course lend me the scores, in case they
have not yet been copied, during your visit to me; that is
understood. As you do not yet know the last act of the
"Valkyrie," I send you the score before taking further steps, so
that you, and no one else, may be the first to whom I communicate
it. If you have time, read the act quickly, and then keep the
whole in readiness for sending it to the Hartels as soon as I ask
you. About this whole matter, however, we must come to a better
understanding when we meet.
During my cure here I have become terribly indifferent towards my
work. Lord knows, if I am not much encouraged to finish it, I
shall leave it alone. Why should a poor devil like me worry and
plague himself with these terrible burdens if my contemporaries
will not even grant me a place for doing my work? I have told the
Hartels as much; if they will not help me to a house, detached
and situated on an eminence, such as I want it, I shall leave the
whole rubbish alone.
Well, if you only will come, I shall not trouble Saxony and the
rest of Germany for some time. Bring the Princess with you, do
you hear? And the Child, too, must come. If you put me in a good
temper I shall perhaps lay my "Victors" before you, although this
will be very difficult. For although I have carried the idea
about with me for a long time, the material for its embodiment
has only just been shown to me as in a flash of lightning. To me
it is most clear and definite, but not as yet fit for
communication. Moreover, you must first have digested my
"Tristan," especially the third act, with the black flag and the
white. After that you will understand the "Victors" better.
But I am saying vague things.
Come and bring me the divine comedy, and we shall see then how we
can come to an understanding about the divine tragedy.
Thine for ever and aye,
R. W.
I pray you most ardently to let me know AT ONCE by a line the
receipt, or possibly the non-receipt, of my scores.
I always feel nervous when I know they are on the road. They left
Geneva yesterday.
My address is:-
a Mornex, Poste restante, No. III, a Geneve.
220.
I say, Franz, a divine idea strikes me.
YOU MUST GET ME AN ERARD GRAND!
Write to the widow and tell her that you visit me THREE TIMES
every year, and that you must absolutely have a better grand
piano than the old and lame one in my possession. Tell her
a hundred thousand fibs, and make her believe that it is for her a
point of honour that an Erard should stand in my house.
In brief, do not think, but act with the impudence of genius. I
MUST HAVE AN ERARD. If they will not give me one let them lend me
one on a yard-long lease.
Adieu.
221.
I am leaving Mornex.
I shall be better than ever on September 20th.
Write to Madame Erard that she must send me a grand piano at
once. I will pay her in instalments of five hundred francs a year
without a doubt.
It must be here when you come.
Happiness and joy to you.
222.
I thank you, dearest, most unique of men, for having sent me your
scores of "Rhinegold" and the "Valkyrie." The work has for me the
fabulous attractive power of the magnet mountain, which fetters
irresistibly the ship and the sailor. H. has been with me for a
few days, and I was unable to withhold from him the joy of
viewing Valhall. So he tinkles and hammers the orchestra on the
piano, while I howl, and groan, and roar the vocal parts; this by
way of prelude to OUR great performance at your Zurich palace, to
which I am looking forward with longing.
In a week's time I start for Hungary, and my Mass will be
performed on August 31st, on the occasion of the Gran ceremony,
for which it has been written. For several minor reasons I must,
after that, stay at Pesth and Vienna for a few weeks, and shall
therefore not be at Zurich till about September 20th. Probably
the Princess will come, too, together with her daughter.
Franz Muller will pay you a visit at Mornex about the middle of
this month, and will show you his work on the "Nibelungen."
The two scores I shall leave here in the keeping of the Princess
until you write to HER that they are to be sent to the Hartels.