F. LISZT.

Johanna has been here this last week, and has sung Orpheus and Romeo with the MOST ENORMOUS applause.

I shall have to tell you many things about her when we meet.

By this post you receive the three first numbers of my Symphonic Poems, which have just been published.

216.

DEAREST FRANZ,

Your last letter found me again on a sick bed. Today I am scarcely recovered, and fear another relapse; that is how I am.

Today I received the second instalment of your Symphonic Poems, 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 pa.s.ses 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 G.o.dless 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 embarra.s.ses 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 a.s.sure 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 t.i.tle 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 n.o.ble 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 Ma.s.s, 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 Ma.s.s, 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 pa.s.sionately. 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 pa.s.sages, 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. G.o.d 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.