what was the meaning of my jocular complaint--"You answer me much
too pathetically and seriously." You must have seen by the exact
terms of my letter, somewhat loosely worded though it was, that
by your answer I meant the manner in which you speak of my
conduct towards D. with regard to "Rienzi." As this part of my
letter has remained obscure to you, I add the following words of
explanation. My letter about the withdrawal of "Rienzi" was
written with a view to being shown, because I had referred D. to
you. I thought, however, you would see that I was annoyed by the
difficulties he made about the honorarium, and by the remote date
for which payment was promised. I was in hopes that my letter
discussing the withdrawal of the opera would help me quickly to
the honorarium, and perhaps increase the amount a little. I had
unfortunately reckoned upon this income before the new year, and
relied upon it all the more because I had on a former occasion
explained my difficult position to your sympathetic heart. When I
forwarded D.'s last letter to you my intention was to complain of
his pedantic statement: "The honorarium will be paid to you after
the first performance,"--a statement to which I am no longer
accustomed at any other theatre. I further hoped to induce you--
as indeed I clearly indicated--to effect at least the immediate
payment of the honorarium. As my letter about the withdrawal of
"Rienzi" was written with a view to being shown, it may very
likely have puzzled you; but I know that it was intended only to
frighten D., and to supply you with a weapon for forcing him into
a decent and business-like attitude. In consequence, I hoped that
the success of this little manoeuvre would secure me the receipt
of the wretched twenty-five louis d'or before the new year. Upon
this sum I looked as my only certainty, because you were there to
get it for me, while the moneys which I expected from other
quarters represented only so many hopes which might be delusive.
At last New Year's Eve came. My money was all gone; my watch, the
snuff-box of the Grand Duke, and the bonbonniere of the Princess,
the only valuables I possess, had been pawned; and of the money I
had got for them only one and a half napoleons remained. When, on
New Year's Eve, on entering my lonely room, I found your letter,
I confess I was weak enough to hope that it would announce to me
the imminent arrival of the twenty-five louis d'or, in
consequence of the successful demonstration against D. which I
thought I had made. Instead of this, I found, in reference to
this matter, a serious explanation of your relations with D.,
which, as I see from this letter, have already become matter of
bitter and troublesome experience to you. I had foreseen this,
and made you silent reproaches when D. was called to Weimar
through your means. I quite understood that, owing to prolonged
irritation, you were, on receipt of my last letter, in a mood
which misled you as to the character of my threat to withdraw
"Rienzi." You recognized in me also the sympathetic annoyance at
all the unworthy things we meet with, and you overlooked the fact
that a poor devil like me cannot afford to be serious. Therefore
you entered seriously and bitterly into my withdrawal of
"Rienzi," which, after the insults you had received, was welcome
to you, and I, for my part, had to witness on that wretched New
Year's Eve the destruction of my last secret, but none the less
certain, hope of receiving money. The great disappointment of
that moment would, at any other time, have probably made me
reticent and silent, but the long-expected and ardently-longed-
for boon of your sympathy for "Tristan" evoked in me a kind of
convulsive excitement. Once more, your joy at my first act had
brought you so near to my innermost heart that I thought I might,
at such a moment, make the most outrageous demand on you. That
feeling I expressed, if I remember rightly, in the words, "For my
paroxysm of joyous excitement your delight at 'Tristan' is
responsible." Dearest friend, at that moment I could not even
think of the possibility of a misunderstanding. Everything being
so certain and infallible between us, I went to the opposite
extreme of reproaching you because you had left me in the
lurch with regard to money matters, and because you had taken my
diplomatic demonstration against D. in a much too earnest and
pathetic sense, my only interest in him being comprised in a
little money. I further indicated that the various
considerations, which to you, being on the spot, and holding an
official position, might appear serious and of great moment, did
not exist for me at all, the only connection between myself and
the theatres, and their public art, being solely that of money.
THAT OF MONEY! Yes, so it is; and with that you reproach me. You
should rather pity me. Do you not think that I should prefer your
position in regard to the performance of your own works because
money is no object to you? My first letter of this year will have
shown you that I also am capable of considering the matter in a
serious and literally pathetic, i.e., suffering mood.
Enough of this. Your letter, received today, has affected me
deeply, as you will easily understand. Yet I am calm and full of
hope. Your curious misunderstanding in applying my reproach, that
you answer me in "too earnest and pathetic a style," to your
delight at "Tristan", must by this time have become clear to
yourself. I feel quite confident that any unprejudiced friend, to
whom you may show our last letters, will persuade you, in spite
of your prejudice, that my humorous and playfully extravagant
reproach referred only to your idea of my intended withdrawal of
"Rienzi," and, generally speaking, to the expectation I had of D.
and the whole slough of our German operatic theatres. You now
know the position which excited me to this kind of desperate
humour, and I hope it will be a long time before I again have to
change my last napoleon at the telegraph office.
It is you, dear friend, who are suffering and needing comfort;
for the extraordinary letter which you found it possible to send
me can only have sprung from a terrible mental irritation. I hope
in the meantime that this lengthy explanation and disclosure of
the misunderstanding into which you had succeeded in falling will
be some comfort to you. I have none other to offer. If your
irritation concerned me alone, this letter should dispel it
altogether. Let me further assure you that you have hurt me in no
way, for your arrows did not hit me; their barbs stuck in your
own heart. This letter, I hope, will free you of them.
One more thing let me ask you today. Do not answer my letter of
January 2nd. Look upon it as if it had not been written, or, at
least, not received. I am fully aware that you are not able to
put yourself in my place with such goodwill and understanding as
would enable you to do justice to my letter. Please forget it
altogether; in that case, I will on my part pardon your
reproaches, you curious, dear, dear friend.
Farewell for today.
I am sure I have not lost you.
Your
RICHARD WAGNER.
VENICE, January 7th, 1859.
In order to set your mind at rest, I inform you that, by a
curious and lucky accident, some money, which I had long expected
and already despaired of, arrived here from Vienna in the first
week of the new year. My three valuables (let a kind world
forgive me this luxury!) are out of pawn. For the present I am
provided for, and do not apprehend any new stoppage of my
resources just yet.
May the friendly remembrance of me be revived in you.
Your
RICHARD W.
283.
Your greeting, dearest Richard, has brought me the enchanting
forgetfulness of all that should ever be far from us. Receive my
thanks, and let us continue to suffer patiently together.
Before you had written to ask me not to mention your proposal, I
had communicated it at some length in the proper quarter. As I
might have expected, after numerous similar conversations (which
I never mention to you) there were several reasons for not
accepting it. Perhaps I shall be able to broach the subject again
later on, and obtain a more favourable result; to the extent, I
mean, that a small sum will be sent to you. Anything more cannot
be hoped for.
I must ask you to believe that I am extremely grieved always to
have to tell you things of this kind.
In your letter to Princess M. you speak of a change of abode, and
of your desire to settle in a large town. In case, against my
sincere hope, the permission to return to Germany should be
permanently refused to you, and you prefer to live in a large
town, I still think that Paris would be the most comfortable, the
most convenient, and even the cheapest place for you. I know your
dislike of this city pleine de boue et de fumee; but I think that
if you were to live there for any length of time you would feel
more at home, apart from which we should be tolerably near each
other, so that I might visit you frequently.
Have you had any further news from Carlsruhe? The newspapers
continue to announce a performance of "Tristan" in September, and
I do not relinquish the hope that at that time a favourable turn
in your affairs will take place. Anyhow, this summer must not
pass without our seeing each other.
Once more, thanks for your greeting; the song is indescribably
beautiful.
Most cordially your
F. L.
WEYMAR, February 17th, 1859.
From Vienna you will soon receive through my cousin a small
collection of NOTES.
All that is kind to C. R.
284.
VENICE, February 22nd, 1859.
I have just received your letter; as I am expecting R. and W.,
who may come in at any moment, I must defer answering you at
length until tomorrow. But I will not go to bed today without
thanking you most sincerely for the great benefit you have
conferred upon me by your letter. I am often in a state of
convulsive excitement, and must then look very ugly. But that
state has now disappeared entirely; you took it away today.
I shall say more about this tomorrow, and you will find me in a
willing frame of mind for confessing my sins.
One word more. If I have understood your short hint rightly, let
me ask you, for Heaven's sake, not to send me any money now. I
could not bear it. Send me your "Ideals," and, when it is ready,
your "Dante;" those I am looking for longingly.
The boys have just come in; the well-brought-up K. thanks you a
thousand times for your remembrance of him.
More tomorrow, God willing.
My blessings on you!
Your
R. W.
285.
VENICE, February 23rd, 1859.
DEAR FRANZ,
To my hurried lines of yesterday I add a more comprehensive
letter today. I have many things to tell you.
Lately I felt the urgent desire of sending you a word of comfort
and sympathy. I thought that you were in need of such. For I had
heard, to my horror, how great your annoyance must be, and B.'s
account confirmed my impression that you were deeply annoyed and
grieved by ingratitude, faithlessness, and even treachery.
Suddenly, however, I felt quite stupid, and all I intended to say
to you appeared to me trivial and superfluous. I could think of
nothing better than to copy out for you a few fragments of my
last work. They are not the really important things, for those
can be understood only in their larger context, and I am all the
more obliged to you for your kind reception of my good
intentions, which count for little in art, but for a great deal
in friendship.
I must almost thank you for the alarming New Year's greeting
which you sent to me. I believe it has been beneficial to me; I
am aware that I have too little control over myself, and rely
upon the patience of others to an undue extent. An occasional
lesson, therefore, does me good. Although I remain firmly
convinced that you have misunderstood me in one essential point
(as, indeed, well you might), I feel, nevertheless, that I must
have cut a very ugly figure. That was proved to me by the effect
I had upon you, for we know little of our appearance until we see
ourselves in a looking-glass, and in your irritation I recognized
my ugliness. These attacks of my violence ought surely to have
calmed down by this time; indeed, I long for that unruffled calm
which I esteem so highly and recognize to be the finest quality
in man. It appears to me that I have arrived at the turning point
of my life, and I deeply long for a state of quiescence. I am
aware that that quiescence must, at last, come from the inner
man, and our position towards the outer world must become one of
apathy, if nothing from there contributes to the contentment of
our mind. Let us see then.
I am intent at present upon gaining a clear and definite view of
my fate. My mental disposition you know from my letter to M. As
regards external matters, after mature consideration, I am taking
every step to place my future relations with Germany on the
necessary definite basis. I heard from Dresden that the king
would on no account swerve from his decision to reserve the
amnesty for those who had submitted to the investigation and
judgment of the law-courts. I was advised to submit to that
condition, but after mature consideration, and after weighing all
the chances, I am firmly resolved never to fulfil that condition.
In order to do all that was possible, I lately wrote to the
Minister of Justice, asking him to discuss the matter with the
King once more. This measure was suggested to me by my latest
experience in this place. I ought to tell you and the Grand Duke
for your satisfaction that, by desire of the Saxon Government, I
was to be banished from here. I was advised to submit
unconditionally, but to send a medical certificate to the
Governor-General, praying that I might be allowed to stay for a
few months longer for urgent reasons of health. For the moment
this has answered, and I am allowed to stay. If I refuse to be
examined or perhaps to be locked up a few months in Saxony, I
base that refusal towards the Government entirely upon my state
of health, which I need only exaggerate a little in order to show
good and sufficient cause for my refusal. In other respects I
submit most humbly to the decree pronounced against me, recognize
my guilt and the justice of the proceedings without reserve--and
only ask H.M. to remit the conditions of my amnesty by an
exceptional act of grace on account of my health, which has
become so weak that the doctor has strongly advised me not to
undergo that strain. In that manner I think I have taken the only
step which may lead me straight to the goal of certain knowledge
as to my fate. If the King refuses to grant me this request it is
clear that I shall have to give up all hope from that quarter for
ever. But even in that case I am resolved to make one more last
trial. I shall apply direct to the Grand Duke of Baden, placing
the case before him, and asking him for his permission to
approach the Emperor of Austria, the Prince of Prussia, the Grand
Duke of Weimar, the Duke of Coburg, and perhaps one other
friendly Prince with the prayer to grant me an exceptional
privilege of residence in their respective states, either by
agreement amongst themselves, or by a decree of the National
Diet. Avoiding anything of the nature of a complaint against the
King of Saxony, I shall base this request solely upon the same
circumstance, viz., the very serious state of my health and my
nervous irritation, which do not permit me to undergo the risk of
a criminal investigation at Dresden, although I fully recognize
the justice of that investigation, and do not expect the King to
alter his decree in my favour. I shall further ask the Princes in
question to suspend the treaty of extradition in my favour after
due consultation with the Saxon Government, the object being to
secure my personal efforts for the advancement of German art. It
will depend upon the consent of the Grand Duke of Baden whether I
take further steps in that direction. I do not venture to say
that I expect a successful issue, but one thing I shall gain in
any case, and that the most necessary of all, viz., certainty as
to my position. I must no longer delay gaining that certainty,
because my whole future life depends upon it. Before telling you
what further steps I have in view in order to gain certainty in
another direction also, I must answer your question as to
Carlsruhe,
Devrient wrote to me that in case "Tristan" were finished by that
time, September 6th, being the birthday of the Grand Duke, would
be the best day for the performance; and he added that the Grand
Duke counted with certainty upon my personal attendance. As to
this last point, which of course I had made the chief condition
from the first, I have recently received further information. The
Grand Duke intends to invite me for the time in question to
Carlsruhe on his own responsibility. Nothing is to be known
beforehand, and my presence is to be simply an accomplished fact,
for which the Grand Duke takes the personal responsibility. This
seems a princely way of doing things, and the young sovereign
inspires me with confidence. But I must assist him by denying any
intention of a journey to Carlsruhe altogether. You will
therefore oblige me, dearest Franz, by ostensibly assisting me in
this matter. You might cause some paragraphs to be inserted in
the newspapers, contradicting that rumour which, unfortunately,
has been spread about a good deal, and stating that nothing was
settled, and that my personal attendance at Carlsruhe was quite
out of the question, as, as yet, there was not the slightest
chance of my amnesty.
Concerning your own recent steps in my favour, I must charge you
in all friendliness with having acted too delicately towards me
by not letting me know the motives of the refusal you have met
with. Even now you do not state those motives plainly, for the
reason apparently that you fear to wound me unnecessarily by
their communication. On the other hand, I ask you to consider
that it would be better if I saw quite clearly in this matter.
This would finally and for ever free me from all the illusions
into which my strong desire tempts me while things are in this
uncertain state, and an unpleasant feature of our mutual
relations would disappear altogether.
All my transactions with the Hartels as to the edition of the
scores, etc., of the "Nibelungen" to be prepared at once, have
again been abandoned recently. The only thing they were willing
to grant was the immediate commencement of the engraving
(provided always that a performance was guaranteed), without
payment of an honorarium, and with the undertaking only on their
part to share the profits of the edition with me. How loath I am
to agree to this latter proposal I need not explain. The profits
to be derived from such a work increase as the years go on, and
will probably become lucrative only after my death. In any case,
those profits would accrue to me at a time of life to provide for
which at present would be folly, considering how urgently I
require immediate assistance and freedom from care. Heirs I have
none.
Your advice to settle in Paris in case Germany remains closed to
me quite coincides with my own plans. The dear Child has
communicated to you what my immediate views of life are. I cannot
bear this state of inactivity any longer; my health is ruined for
want of life and action. Paris is the place, appointed to me by
fate. I quite agree with you in thinking that I shall get
accustomed to living there as time goes on. Apart from any plans,
I shall there have at least the occasional use of a fine
orchestra which I have missed for so long. Without considering
for the present any possible performances at French theatres, I
should there also have the best chance of witnessing a
performance of my own works. A well-managed scheme of German
opera would be all that would be required. But it is impossible
for me and my wife to lead, once more, a half-starving life in
Paris. Some comfort and freedom of action must be secured to me,
otherwise I cannot think of it. I shall probably leave my
furniture, etc., at Zurich. The pretty little house will be kept
for me, and I hope to inhabit it again later on in the summer,
which would be an agreeable change.
The hope you give me of receiving frequent visits from you in
Paris is the real bright point in the picture of the future.
Believe me, dear Franz, when I consider the advantages which my
desired amnesty would offer to me, there is only one which
appears to me worth a real sacrifice, I mean that of being
together with you more frequently and for longer periods. What
else is there that could very strongly and decisively attract me?
Performances of my operas I should, in most instances, carefully
avoid, although I might in rare and particular cases take part in
first performances of my works, which would of course be very
desirable. The question, whether in that case encouragement and
new strength, or grief, annoyance, and overexcitement would be
the lasting effect upon me, I fear I must decide in favour of the
latter alternative, and no external success, no applause, could
make up for this. If I was sensitive before, I am so now to the
verge of excessive irritation, and I dread every contact with
theatrical matters, singers, conductors, etc., to such a degree
that I feel almost inclined to bless the fate which keeps me
apart from them. But we, we two, want to cultivate our friendship
by personal intercourse; we are to each other the only enjoyment
which the world can offer us. Only think how painfully we have
always been kept separated, during how few weeks of the long and
beautiful years of our friendship we have looked into each
other's eyes. This fountain of generation of inner strength and
fire is fully appreciated by me, and I feel it to be the direst
deprivation that I can approach it so rarely. If you promise me
this boon for Paris, you may look upon my determination to go
there as certain and immutable.
Let me have a full account of yourself, dear friend; of all your
troubles I hear from others, sometimes even through the
newspapers. That is not right; neither should you be too brief in
your statements; it looks like want of confidence. I want to gain
a closer view so as to know how to stretch out my hand, which
would comfort you with a friendly touch. It is natural that you
are too great, too noble, too beautiful, for our dear, gossipy
Germany, and that you appear to the people like a god, whose
splendour they are not accustomed and not inclined to bear. It
was left to you to illustrate this phenomenon, for so bright, so
warm a being as yourself had never before appeared in Germany.
But I should like to know to what degree this miserable conduct
touches your heart, annoys you, embitters you. I have grown so
indifferent to similar impressions, that I often find it very
difficult to discover the exact point where the impression is
made.
If, on the other hand, I consider what happiness is in your
possession, what crowns of life and of eternity are on your
forehead, if I think of your sympathetic and nobly refined home,
free as it is from the serious cares of common life, if I finally
observe how your personality and your ever-ready art enchant and
delight all around you, I find it difficult to understand what
your sufferings really are. And yet you suffer, and suffer
deeply; that I feel. Sink your pride for once, and write to me as
plainly and as comprehensively as I too frequently do to you,
much to your annoyance. I must conclude, in order not to begin
the fourth sheet, and will only tell you in the margin that I
thank you cordially for your love, and shall always remain
faithfully and lovingly
Your friend,
RICHARD W.
286.
MILAN, March 25th, 1859.
MY FRANZ,
I am once more on my travels without having told you anything
about them; tired out as I am by the Brera, the "Cena", the
Cathedral, etc., I do not want to go to bed before sending you
two words of news.
In order not to interrupt the composition of my third act, I came
to the conclusion that I ought to begin it in a place where I
might finish it. I have selected Lucerne for the purpose; you
know how dearly I love the Lake of Lucerne; the Righi, Pilatus,
etc., are indispensable remedies to me and my blood. I shall live
there in solitude, and at this time of the year shall easily find
a most desirable lodging. There I mean to work splendidly. My
Erard has already preceded me.
My health gives me still much trouble, otherwise I am fairly well
off, but with your friendly cousin in Vienna, who thinks so
little of your advantage, I have still a bone to pick. About that
next time. I should, no doubt, have had news from you if, in my
last letter, I had not again given you such a dose of gravy. I
should have been only too happy to receive a sign of life from
you, even if that matter had not been mentioned with a word. I
hoped for it from day to day, and in that idle hope neglected
advising you of my intended change of abode.
As soon as I am settled again I shall write better and more,
without waiting for you to ask me. For today these preliminary
lines must suffice. A thousand cordial greetings.
Your
R. W.
LUCERNE, poste restante.
287.
Be heartily welcomed on the Lake of Lucerne, my dear, great
friend. "Tristan" will once again enjoy and derive strength from
Alpine air before he leaves you for ever to shine on others. At
Carlsruhe they are afraid that he will not arrive punctually at
the appointed time. Devrient, whom I saw here and at Jena, told
me so lately. The first performance is wavering between September
and December--the birthday of the Grand Duke or that of the
Grand Duchess, and I have already announced myself as the
INEVITABLE guest.
Your dose of gravy, as you put it, was not particularly
palatable. At our next meeting I shall have to say much about it,
unfortunately of the negative kind. Nevertheless, I hope to be
able at the same time to propose to you a different arrangement
(if that is the name) with which, no doubt, you will agree. First
of all, however, "Tristan" must be finished, engraved, and
performed, and after that we will, without delay, take the
"Nibelungen" affair seriously in hand, and set it right to your
satisfaction.
The Princess and her daughter are going to Munich next week
(Kaulbach is painting the portrait of Princess M.). I stay here
till Easter, and then go on a visit to Prince Hohenzollern at
Lowenberg, Silesia. From the middle of May to the beginning of
June I shall pitch my tent at Leipzig, where all manner of things
will happen. Later on, for Whitsuntide, grand Schiller
festivities are announced here. Whether they will take place is
very questionable, but in any case I shall have to get the music
for the festival-play by Holm (VOR HUNDERT JAHRERI) ready, which
will be something of an effort.
My health, fortunately, gives me no trouble, and I have no lack
of patience. The rest may come and will come.
Farewell and persevere. Such is the wish of
Your
F. L.
WEYMAR, April 6th, 1859.
288.
LUCERNE, April 19th, 1859.
Tell me, dearest Franz, how would you feel if you were in my
position? I have repeatedly asked you to send me your new works
as they appear. The "Ideals" has appeared, but you are silent on
the subject. Now I read the publisher's announcement of the
appearance of "Dante." How would you feel if this happened to
you? Do you still harbour your strange illusions about me? That
surely is impossible.
The weather is bad; I am absolutely alone, and seldom in the
right mood for work. So I drag on amidst mists and thoughts.
Let me hear, let me see.
Your
R. W.
289.
DEDICATION OF THE "DANTE" SYMPHONY.
As Virgil guided Dante, so have you guided me through the
mysterious regions of life-tone imbued worlds. From the bottom of
his heart calls to you:--
"Tu se lo mio maestro, el mio autore!"
and dedicates this work to you with invariably faithful love
Your
F. LISZT.
WEYMAR, Easter 1859.
290.
LUCERNE, May 8th, 1859.