Correspondence of Wagner and Liszt Volume II Part 6

On board the "Stadt Zurich," on the lake of Lucerne, en vue de Brunnen.

Remember JULY 31ST.

163.

DEAR, GREAT MAN,

A thousand thanks for the autograph, which will give much joy.

This Fraulein Soest is a good, excellent girl, who was sent by her parents to England, and was there taken with home-sickness for the "Weymar school," "the music of the future," and the "Wagnerian opera." She managed to escape, and is now settled at Erfurt, where she gives pianoforte lessons, and from where she comes to Weymar to hear your poems.

Ten and a hundred thousand thanks for many other things besides.

Liszt was delighted to hear that his articles in the Weymar paper had pleased you. It is a fine thing of you to have understood them so well. They are to go on for some time, and the "Flying Dutchman" will conclude this series. It is truly a wreath of mourning which he binds there; your dark, n.o.ble hero lives, and will live. Sleep and solitude are not death; and his vital strength is such, that for a long time to come he will make the round of Europe at certain intervals. Beethoven's "Fidelio" is only just becoming acclimatised in London.

I am quite happy that the symphonic poems interest you. When he is ABLE to visit you, he will bring the scores with him. At the present moment they are, I believe, being partly copied out and partly revised for engraving, etc., etc. But you, dear, great genius, will be the first to read them. They have been for the greater part performed here. The music is most beautiful, very n.o.ble, very elevated.

Your letters give us the same joy which a poor man used only to kicks and coa.r.s.e copper coin would feel at receiving an alms of gold. Give us that alms frequently, because you are none the poorer for it. Allow Liszt to manage Hulsen, and leave Berlin to him wholly and entirely. It may go slowly, but it will go WELL and, before all, DECENTLY. How good, how prudent, how delicate and patient, HE is--that I know. Another man would during these six years have sunk and been drowned eighteen times in the storms which have our poor little barque for a plaything. He alone keeps us still on the surface.

Liszt has written to Berlin to find some one who will copy your "Rhinegold," the beautiful "Rhinegold," for which our ears are sighing. He whom he thought would answer your purpose is not free for the present. What is needed to make you begin the "Valkyrie?"

And oh! that wonderful scene between Wotan and Brynhild--the divine Brynhild, who saves Sieglinde! Write at great length; it will do good to our three hearts, which are united and inseparable. The whole atmosphere of the Altenburg is gently illumed when a letter from you has arrived.

Heaven grant that we may say, "Au revoir! soon," and that we soon may see your "Rhinegold," were it but a sketch. If you only knew how Liszt sings your poems! We adored "Lohengrin" long before Beck had studied it, and still listen and weep when he sings it.

Do finish your "Valkyrie" as soon as possible. What a work!

Write to us soon. You say that H. does not know what the matter is. Who does when the matter is something beautiful and grand?

When a sculptor wants to make a beautiful statue, he takes granite or marble and wearies his strength in cutting it, but granite and marble are less hard than the heart of man. The sculptor, unless he dies, finishes his statue; when a n.o.ble thing has to be done, men are less pliable than granite and marble.

Liszt is indefatigable. He is wholly devoted to your courage and hope. I cannot tell you sufficiently how your dear letter has rejoiced me.

C.

164.

X.'s strong box resists a siege even more obstinately than does Silistria; storming it will do no good, and I have consequently nothing satisfactory to tell you. Returning here, I find a letter from Hulsen, definitely declining the performance of "Tannhauser"

at Berlin, and winding up with the following flourish: "It is obvious that, after two vain attempts to produce this work at the Royal Theatre, the management will not undertake a third as long as I have the honour of being at the head of it. I am sorry for this."

From another source I hear, however, that the matter is not to remain in this negative stage, and that in the very highest quarters there is a wish to call me to Berlin. The event must show; for the present I have only written a few lines in reply to Hulsen.

What is all this story about the Musical Festival? Why did you bolt? Let me know when you happen to be in the mood.

After the Rotterdam festival I stayed a few days at Brussels to meet my two daughters.

As soon as my large arrears of correspondence are disposed of, I shall settle down to my "Faust," which is to be ready by the new year. The other things (symphonic poems) will also be in print by that time.

I still feel very much fatigued after my hurried journey, and my personal regret at not being able to serve you makes me curtail these lines still further. Ah! good heavens! what can I say to you while

La vergogna dura

and while there is no means of removing that vergogna?

Your

F. L.

July 28th, 1854.

165.

DEAREST FRANZ,

Did you really think for a moment that I had conceived the idea of giving concerts in order to make propaganda for myself, or to make music, or what not? Did you not see at once that this plan was purely the result of despair at my miserable pecuniary situation, and that the only question that required an answer was whether or not I could make money by it, money in return for an unheard-of sacrifice, an act of self-abnegation, which probably I should not have been able to go through with after all? How badly I must have expressed myself! Excuse me for having given rise to such a misunderstanding, and be thanked all the more for the trouble you took nevertheless.

My dear, worthy friend, how proud and happy was I not three years ago, before I had done anything out of keeping with the full consciousness of my antagonistic position towards our artistic publicity. When at that time you, with your friendly anxiety, were intent upon getting "public recognition" for me and a wider field for my works, I used to smile and guard myself against every temptation. But the demon took hold of me; in my terribly bare life, my inclination began to grow again towards some of the amenities of existence; I yielded to temptation, surrendered my scores, was surprised at their success, and--hoped. I now curse this hope. I feel humiliated before myself, because I seek in vain release from this grief of self-reproach.

Hulsen has told X. that the whole thing in connection with me was DONE. Fortunately I was able to comfort X. with the thought that HE had not done it; but Hulsen is right: the thing is "done for."

What finally could enlighten me better as to the truth and genuineness of my successes than the fact that in the very places where they had been gained, and with every conceivable trouble, the loan of--I must speak plainly--1,000 thalers could not be raised amongst my "admirers?" This very trivial matter speaks volumes to me.

Pray, dearest Franz, do not talk to me of my fame, my honours, my position, or whatever the name may be. I am positively certain that all my "successes" are based on BAD, very BAD, performances of my works, that they therefore rest on misunderstandings, and that my public reputation is not worth an empty nutsh.e.l.l. Let us give up all diplomatic contrivances, this dealing with means which we despise for ends which, closely considered, can never be achieved, least of all by those means. Let us leave alone this COTERIE, this connection with idiots who in a body have no notion of what we really aim at. I ask you, What satisfaction, what pleasure, can we derive from the a.s.sistance of all these silly people, whatever their names may be? I sometimes cannot understand your ironical enjoyment of life, which gets over your disgust at these people by making fun of them. Away with all this stuff, this "glory," this nonsense! We live at a time when glory can bring neither joy nor honour.

Listen to me: "Tannhauser" and "Lohengrin" I have thrown to the winds; I do not want to know any more of them. When I gave them over to theatrical jobbery, I cast them out, I condemned them to the task of begging for me, of getting me money, NOTHING BUT MONEY. Even for that purpose I should not like to employ them if I were not compelled to do so. After the insight which I have gained this summer, I should willingly submit to the penance of selling all my goods and chattels, and go, naked as I am, into the wide world, where--I swear it to you--no illusion should tempt me any more. But my wife could not bear such a violent step again; I know it would kill her. Well then, FOR HER SAKE I am resolved to go on. "Tannhauser" and "Lohengrin" must go to the Jews. But I am unable to wait and see how much more they might bring me in in certain patiently looked-for contingencies than now, when I am compelled to get rid of them at any price, and the sooner the better. Tell me, dearest friend, how do matters stand at Berlin? Did you merely rely upon making our condition plausible to Herr von Hulsen, or had you prepared other means of securing your honourable invitation to Berlin? I am almost inclined to believe the latter, and to hope in consequence that you will soon be able to announce our triumph. The want of Berlin for my operas involves the delay of the rest of the business, and I a.s.sure you that the spreading of my operas is entirely a matter of BUSINESS to me. This is the only real point; all the rest is, and remains, fict.i.tious. Let us not attempt to look upon the matter in any serious light except as regards money. I should despise myself if I paid any attention to anything beyond this.

For me the song of the "world" was sung to an end long ago.

And do you know what has confirmed me in this sentiment, inspiring me with new pride? It is YOUR WORK ABOUT THE "FLYING DUTCHMAN." In this series of articles I have once more clearly recognized myself, and have come to the conclusion that we have nothing in common with this world. WHO DID EVER UNDERSTAND ME?

You, and no one else. Who understands YOU? I, and no one else. Be sure of it. You, for the first and only time, have disclosed to me the joy of being wholly understood. My being has pa.s.sed into yours; not a fibre, not the gentlest tremor of my heart, remains that you have not felt with me. But I also see that THIS ALONE means being really understood, while all else is misunderstanding and barren error. What do I want more after having experienced this? What do you want of me after having experienced this with me? Let the tear of a beloved woman mingle with this joy, and what else can we desire? Do not let us desecrate our own selves.

Let us look upon the world through the medium of contempt alone.

It is worth nothing else; to found any hope on it would be deceiving our own hearts; it is BAD, BAD, THOROUGHLY BAD: only the heart of a FRIEND, the tears of a woman, can dispel its curse. We do not respect the world. Its honour, its glory, or by whatever name its shams may be called, are nothing to us. It belongs to Alberich, to no one else. Let it perish! I have said enough; you now know my sentiment, which is not a momentary emotion, but as firm and solid as adamant. That sentiment alone gives me strength to drag on the burden of life. But I must henceforth cling to it inexorably. I have a deadly hatred of all APPEARANCE, of all hope, for it is self-deception. But I will work; you shall have my scores; they will belong to us, to no one else. That is enough. You have the "Rhinegold," have you not? I have got to the second act of the "Valkyrie": Wotan and Fricka. I shall succeed, you will see.

Farewell.

Are you going to write to my wife?

My cordial remembrances!

(What the other people write I cannot bear to read any longer. I only read your "Dutchman" article; that is the reward, the pride, of my life.)

Farewell.

Your

R. W.

166.