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 d.u.c.h.ess, 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 Stra.s.sburg, 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 pa.s.sage of his letter he pointedly alludes to his confident hope of seeing me soon at Carlsruhe.

Well, as G.o.d 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 pa.s.sage: "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 const.i.tutes 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 Stra.s.sburg 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 Sat.u.r.day 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 G.o.ds, 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 d.u.c.h.ess, 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.

G.o.d 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 circ.u.mstances, 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 a.s.sured 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 a.s.sured that by that means you will be all that you are and can be.

Good luck on your way through h.e.l.l 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!