Correspondence of Wagner and Liszt Volume I Part 29

I must forge myself artificial wings, because everything round me is artificial, and nature everywhere is torn and broken.

Therefore hear and grant my prayer. Let me know soon, and know for certain, whether I may come back to Germany or not. I must take my decision accordingly.

After this language of despair, I cannot find the tone which I should have to a.s.sume in writing to you about other matters which I might wish to communicate to you. Most of these would be effusions of thanks, as you know. Good Lord, that also drives me wild: that I always have to write this to you. My impatience to see you grows into a most violent pa.s.sion; I can scarcely wait for the day of your arrival. "Write" to me definitely about what date you will be here. Let it not be too late. Can you come in May? On May 22nd I shall be forty. Then I shall have myself rebaptised; would you not like to be my G.o.dfather? I wish we two could start straight from here to go into the wide world. I wish you, too, would leave these German Philistines and Jews. Have you anything else around you? Add the Jesuits, and then you have all.

"Philistines, Jews, and Jesuits," that is it; no human beings.

They write, write, and write; and when they have "written" a great deal, they think they have done something wonderful. Stupid fools! do you think our heart can beat for you? What do these wretched people know about it? Leave them alone, give them a kick with your foot, and come with me into the wide world, were it only to perish bravely, to die with a light heart in some abyss.

Let me soon have news of you; and, before all, let me know when you are coming. Farewell, farewell, longingly waited for by

Your

RICHARD WAGNER

ZURICH, March 30th, 1853

105.

DEAREST FRIEND,

Your letters are sad; your life is still sadder. You want to go into the wide world to live, to enjoy, to luxuriate. I should be only too glad if you could, but do you not feel that the sting and the wound you have in your own heart will leave you nowhere and can never be cured? Your greatness is your misery; both are inseparably connected, and must pain and torture you until you kneel down and let both be merged in faith!

"La.s.s zu dem Glauben Dich neu bekehren, es gibt ein Gluck;" this is the only thing that is true and eternal. I cannot preach to you, nor explain it to you; but I will pray to G.o.d that He may powerfully illumine your heart through His faith and His love.

You may scoff at this feeling as bitterly as you like. I cannot fail to see and desire in it the only salvation. Through Christ alone, through resigned suffering in G.o.d, salvation and rescue come to us.

I had already indicated to you that I did not expect an answer from Dresden before my departure from here. If you accuse me of negligence and lukewarmness, you are unjust to me, but I can forgive you. If, in accordance with your desire, I made your affair dependent on an immediate "Yes" or "No," I should greatly compromise it. Our court here is very favourably inclined towards you, and you may feel sure that every possible step is being taken to open your return to Germany. A few days ago I spoke about it to our Hereditary Grand Duke, who positively a.s.sured me that he would actively intercede for you. This you must not mention anywhere; but it would be well if you were to write a letter to the Hereditary Grand Duke, telling him that you have been informed through me of his magnanimous disposition and asking him not to forget you altogether. Do not write too diplomatically, but give vent to the feelings of your heart, and send me the letter, which I will hand him at once. In spite of all, I hope to find you in a good mental and physical condition when I visit you at the end of May. By then you must turn out your whole hospital, and I promise you to leave mine en route to take it up again on my way back. As the wedding festivities of Princess Amalie and Prince Henry of the Netherlands will not take place till after the middle of May, I shall not be with you before the first days of June. Seven or eight weeks must therefore still elapse.

The "Tannhauser" overture was received with enthusiasm and encored at Prague, as Laub told me, who was present at the performance.

As regards the performance of "Tannhauser," the real state is very nearly what I wrote to you. The tenor St., brother of the manager, will shortly leave Prague, and there will then be no singer for the princ.i.p.al part. I also hear that there is no Elizabeth, and until you give me further information in the matter I am not inclined to put down the non-performance of Tannhauser to a fict.i.tious order of the police while such real theatrical impediments are in the way. Has St. replied to you?

From Laub I hear that the supposed difficulties have been discussed in high circles (Count Nost.i.tz, Princess Taxis, etc.) in a manner not favourable to St, I should, however, not like to accuse St. till we have sufficient proof of his bad conduct. If you write to him in the sense indicated in my letter to you from Leipzig, we shall soon get to the bottom of the matter. Kittl is at present at Frankfort-On-Main, where his "operatic wants" are being supplied by "Die Franzosen bei Nizza." The work is to be given on April 11th. Probably he will stay here for a day on his way back, and through him I mean to get more accurate information as to the Prague complications.

Kossak's critique of "Indra" has amused me. If you have not read it, I shall send it to you.

Brendel has grand schemes, which he will probably communicate to you. He is coming here for the next performance of Raff's opera "King Alfred," in order to talk to me about the new paper which he would like to bring out in the course of the summer. The enterprise is in itself good enough, but I have still my doubts as to the means at disposal. What do you mean by Raff's confidential letter against the "Tannhauser" notice in the Grenzboten?

Do not be offended, dearest friend, because I have not yet written to you about the "Ring of the Nibelung" at greater length. It is not my business to criticize and expound so extraordinary a work, for which later on I am resolved to do everything in my power in order to gain a proper place for it. I have always entreated you not to abandon the work, and am delighted by the perfection of your poetic workmanship. Almost every day the Princess greets me with the words--

"Nicht Gut, nicht Geld,--noch gottliche Pracht; Nicht Haus, nicht Hof,--noch herrischer Prunk; Nicht truber Vertrage trugender Bund, Noch heuchelnder Sitte hartes Gesetz: Selig in l.u.s.t und Leid, la.s.st--die Liebe nur sein!"

Counsellor Scholl will shortly read the four dramas at the Altenburg to a small circle which I shall invite for the purpose; and when I come to Zurich, you must be good enough to go through the whole with me, so that we may exchange heart and soul on the occasion.

S. wrote me a longish letter, in which he plainly says that the poem is a total mistake, etc. I have not sent you this letter, because I think it useless, and shall never be of his opinion. By word of mouth I shall let you know about various opinions which in the meantime I listen to without comment or discussion.

Your truly devoted

F. LISZT

WEYMAR, April 8th, 1853

106.

Herewith, dearest, best of friends, I send you the answer of the Prague manager, containing particulars as to the prohibition of "Tannhauser." If you have time and care to do so, co-operate in this affair also, in accordance with the love you bear me.

I long for a letter from you, and am curious to hear from yourself what truth there is in your rumoured breach with Weimar.

I live in the expectation of your visit; surely you have not abandoned it.

Adieu. A thousand greetings from your

R. W.

ZURICH, April 11th, 1853

107.

[FRAGMENT.]

How ever could you think that I should "scoff" at any of your magnanimous effusions? The forms in which we endeavour to gain comfort in our miserable circ.u.mstances depend wholly upon our nature, our wants, the character of our culture and of our more or less artistic sensations. Who could be heartless enough to believe that to him alone the true form has been revealed? Only he could think so who has never fashioned for himself such a form of his hope and faith, but into whose dull mind it has been instilled from outside as some one else's formula, who therefore does not possess sufficient inner power to preserve his own empty existence by dint of vital instinct, and who thus again communicates the formula received from others as a formula for others. He who himself longs and hopes and believes will surely rejoice in the hope and faith of others; all contention about the true form is mere empty self-a.s.sertion. Dear friend, I also have a strong faith, on account of which I have been bitterly scoffed at by our politicians and sages of the law. I have faith in the future of the human race, and that faith I draw simply from my inner necessity. I have succeeded in observing the phenomena of nature and of history with love and without prejudice, and the only evil I have discovered in their true essence is lovelessness. But this lovelessness also I explain to myself as an error, an error which must lead us from the state of natural unconsciousness to the knowledge of the solely beautiful necessity of love. To gain that knowledge is the task of history; and the scene on which that knowledge will be practically shown is none other than our earth, than nature, in which there are all the germs tending to this blissful knowledge. The state of lovelessness is the state of suffering for the human race; the fullness of this suffering surrounds us now, and tortures your friend with a thousand burning wounds; but, behold, in it we recognize the glorious necessity of love: we call to each other and greet each other with the power of love, which would be impossible without this painful recognition. In this manner we gain a power of which man in his natural state has no idea, and this power, expanded to the power of all humanity, will in the future create on this earth a state of things from which no one will long to fly to a hereafter henceforth become unnecessary; for all will be happy, will live and love. Who longs to fly from this life while he loves?

Well, well, we suffer now. We now should despair and go mad without faith in a hereafter; I also believe in a hereafter, and have just shown you this hereafter. If it lies beyond my life, it does not lie beyond that which I can feel, think, conceive, and comprehend; for I believe in mankind, and require nothing further.

I now ask you, Who at the bottom of his heart shares my faith more than do you, who believe in me, who know and demonstrate love as no one else has proved and practiced it yet? You realize your faith in every moment of your life; I know deeply and inly what you believe; how then could I scoff at the form from which such a miracle springs? I should not be as much of an artist as I am if I did not joyfully understand you.

Let us bravely fight and struggle; then all whims will disappear.

That I must remain so far from my battlefield is what makes me complain so often.

Well, my highest hope will be fulfilled:

I shall see you again.

This implies everything that can give joy to me; and I am sure that at your arrival, and through means of it, you will find me so elated that you will take my present and past complaints for pure hypocrisy. My nerves, it is true, suffer a great deal, and for a very natural reason. But I am now in hopes of strengthening them thoroughly; for that I shall want a little "life:" the medical cure alone will not be sufficient. That "life" you will bring to me, and I promise you that you will find me hale and hearty.

I am almost glad that you are not coming to my musical performances here, which will take place May 18th, 20th, and 22nd; we shall afterwards be more by ourselves, belong to each other more. Oh, how I rejoice in the thought!

You will find everything comfortable with me; the devil of luxury has taken hold of me, and I have arranged my house as pleasantly as possible. When the real thing is wanting, one does what one can to help one's self. Well, come; you will find me half mad; you, you, you, and no one else!

What further shall I say in reply? I find I have taken to chatting on the main thing.

S.'s judgment of my poem satisfies my vanity--I mean, because it proves my judgment. In spite of all, I took S. from the beginning for a confirmed litterateur whom you for a moment had carried away with you, but only for a moment. A litterateur cannot understand me; only a complete man or a true artist can. Leave it alone; it will be all right. When once I have cast everything aside to dive up to the ears into the fount of music, it will sound so well that people shall hear what they cannot see. We must have a long talk about my further practical plans as to the performance.

All scribbled things are absolutely distasteful to me, and it is the greatest effort to me to read the musical paper. I wish that all this had no reference to me; let the people do for their own sakes what they think they ought not to omit; what was necessary for me you have done. Dearest, dearest friend, do not think that I meant to reproach you when recently again I wrote with furious impatience about my return to Germany. I do this quite at random; I call out when I am in pain, but I accuse no one, certainly you least of all. You are unfortunate in being so near to my heart; for that reason you hear everything that I sigh and complain of violently and painfully. Be not angry, and forgive me cordially.

I will write to the Hereditary Grand Duke, because it gives me pleasure.