Correspondence of Wagner and Liszt, Volume 1

F >> Francis Hueffer (translator) >> Correspondence of Wagner and Liszt, Volume 1

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Your friendship--if you could understand what it is to me! My
only longing is to live with my wife always near you. Not Paris
nor London--you alone would be able to hammer out what good there
may be in me, for you fire me to the best efforts.

From Zurich you had news of me through Wolff. Switzerland did me
good, and there I found an old friend of my youth, to whom I
could talk much about you. It was Alexander Mueller, whom you too
know, a worthy and amiable man and artist. At Zurich also I read
your article on "Tannhauser" in the Journal des Debats. What have
you done in it? You wished to describe my opera to the people,
and instead of that you have yourself produced a true work of
art. Just as you conducted the opera, so have you written about
it: new, all new, and from your inner self. When I put the
article down, my first thoughts were these: "This wonderful man
can do or undertake nothing without producing his own self from
his inner fullness he can never be merely reproductive; no other
action than the purely productive is possible to him; all in him
tends to absolute, pure production, and yet he has never yet
concentrated his whole power of will on the production of a great
work. Is he, with all his individuality, too little of an egoist?
Is he too full of love, and does he resemble Jesus on the Cross,
Who helps every one but Himself? "

Ah, dear friend, my thoughts of you and my love of you are still
too enthusiastic; I can only exclaim and rejoice when I think of
you. Soon I hope to grow stronger, so that my selfish enthusiasm
may allow me to give utterance to my anxiety for you. May Heaven
grant me the power to do full justice to the love I have for you;
as yet I live too much on your love for me, and mine vents itself
in useless exclamations. I hope soon to gather the necessary
strength from the intercourse with those who love you as I do;
and truly you have friends!

I arrived in Paris soon after the publication of your article. We
know better than any one that this was an accident, of which you
had not in the least thought when you wrote and dispatched the
article. But this accident has at once given a distinct colour to
my position in Paris, and--our friend M. considers that colour as
black as possible. Dear Liszt, you ought to clear your mind as to
this man. But why do I talk? Should not you have found out long
ago that natures like that of M. are strictly opposed to yours
and mine? Should not you have found out long ago that the only
tie possible between you and M. was effected by magnanimity on
your side and by prudence on his? Where the two threads of this
woof met, there deception was possible for a time, but I believe
that you gave way to that magnanimous deception with amiable
intent. M. is thoroughly little, and unfortunately I do not meet
a man who has the slightest doubt about it.

Honestly speaking, I am unable to engage in a drama of intrigue a
la Verre d'Eau; if this were the only way open to me, I should
pack my bundle tomorrow and settle down in a German village; work
I will as much as I can, but to sell my ware in this market is
impossible to me. Artistic affairs here are in so vile a
condition, so rotten, so fit for decay, that only a bold
scytheman is required who understands the right cut. Dearest
friend, apart from all political speculation, I am compelled to
say openly that in the soil of the anti-Revolution no art can
grow, neither perhaps could it for the present in the soil of the
Revolution, unless care were taken--in time. To speak briefly,
tomorrow I shall begin a searching article on the theatre of the
future for some important, political journal. I promise you to
leave politics on one side as much as possible, and therefore
shall not compromise you or any one else; but as far as art and
the theatre are concerned you must, with a good grace, allow me
to be as red as possible, for a very determined colour is the
only one of use to us. This, I think, is my most prudent course
to adopt, and he who advises it for prudential reasons as the
most effective one is none other than your representative
Belloni. He tells me that here I want money as much as M. or
really more than M., or else I must make myself feared. Well,
money I have not, but a tremendous desire to practice a little
artistic terrorism. Give me your blessing, or, better still, give
me your assistance. Come here and lead the great hunt; we will
shoot, and the hares shall fall right and left.

I do not expect to reach the goal here so very soon but must
prepare myself. A libretto of Scribe or Dumas I cannot set to
music. If I ever do reach the right goal in this Parisian hunt, I
shall not compass it in the common way; I must in that case
create something new, and that I can achieve only by doing it all
myself. I am on the look-out for a young French poet sufficiently
congenial to give himself up to my idea. My subject I shall
arrange myself, and he must then write his French verses as
spontaneously as possible; to anything else I could not agree.

During these slow preparations I shall have to occupy my leisure
with London; I am ready to go there as soon as possible to do all
in my power for the performance of my works. As to this I expect
your friendly command.

I thank you from all my heart for Belloni; he is an able, honest,
and very active man; every day he calls for me to show me the
proper way to Parisian glory.

This is the cheerful part of my news; otherwise this horrible
Paris presses on me with a hundredweight. Often I bleat like a
calf for its stable and for the udder of its life-giving mother.
How lonely I am amongst these people! My poor wife! I have had no
news as yet, and I feel deathly soft and flabby at every
remembrance. Let me soon have good news of my wife! With all my
courage, I am often the most miserable coward. In spite of your
generous offers, I frequently consider with a deadly terror the
shrinking of my cash after my doubly prolonged journey to Paris.
I feel again as I did when I came here ten years ago, and when
thievish longings would often get hold of me on watching the dawn
of the hot days that were to shine on my empty stomach. Ah, how
this vulgarest of cares degrades man!

But one piece of news will rouse everything in me again,
especially if the little Weimar has remained faithful to me. One
single piece of good news, and I float once more on the top of
the ocean waves.

My dear, glorious friend, take me such as this abominableParis
has excited me today. I do not thank you; I call you blessed.
Greet the dear Princess, greet the small knot of my friends, and
tell them that you hope I shall do well. Soon you will hear more
of me. Be happy and remember me.

Yours,

RICHARD WAGNER

PARIS, June 5th, 1849

(Have you received the scores, and shall I see some of them here
by-and-bye?)

I have been with your mother, and she has given me uncommon
pleasure; she is a healthy woman! I shall call on her again. She
sends you best greetings.

19.

DEAREST FRIEND,

It is nearly four weeks since my wife left me, and I have not yet
had the least news of her. My grief and depression are great. I
must gain another home and hearth; otherwise all is over with me.
My heart is greater than my sense. With Belloni I have been in
close consultation, and we have formed the following opinion and
the resolution derived therefrom:--

In Paris I can do no good at present; my business is to write an
opera for Paris; for anything else I am unfit. This object cannot
be attained by storm; in the most favourable case I shall achieve
the poem in half a year, and the performance in a year and a
half. In Paris without a home, or--which is the same--peace of
heart, I can do no work; I must find a new place where I am at
home and can make up my mind to remain at home. For such a place
I have selected Zurich. I have written to my wife to come there
with her youngest sister, with the remnants of our household
goods, so as once more to be united to me. I have a friend there,
Alexander Mueller, who will assist me in furnishing as cheap a
home as is to be had. As soon as I can, I shall go there from
this place. When I have my wife again, I shall forthwith and
gladly set to work. The sketch of a subject for Paris I shall
send from there to Belloni, who will arrange about a French
version by Gustave Vaez. In October he may have finished his
work, and then I shall for a short time leave my wife for Paris,
and shall try every possible means to obtain a commission for the
setting of the said subject. I may perhaps on the same occasion
perform some of my music, and after that shall return to Zurich
to set about the composition. Meanwhile I shall employ my time in
setting to music my latest German drama, "The Death of
Siegfried." Within half a year I shall send you the opera
completed.

I must commence some genuine work, or else perish; but in order
to work I want quiet and a home. With my wife and in pleasant
Zurich I shall find both. I have one thing in view, and one thing
I shall always do with joy and pleasure--work, i.e., write
operas. For anything else I am unfit; play a part or occupy a
position I cannot, and I should deceive those whom I promised to
undertake any other task.

You friends must get me some small yearly allowance, just
sufficient to secure for me and my wife a quiet existence in
Zurich, as for the present I am not allowed to be near you in
Germany. I talked to you in Weimar of a salary of three hundred
thalers which I should wish to ask of the Grand Duchess for my
operas, alterations of the same, and the like. If perhaps the
Duke of Coburg and possibly even the Princess of Prussia were to
add something, I would willingly surrender my whole artistic
activity to these three protectors as a kind of equivalent, and
they would have the satisfaction of having kept me free and ready
for my art. I cannot ask for myself nor find the proper form for
the necessary agreement, but you can, and you and your
intercession will succeed. Possible revenues from the opera I
shall write for Paris I might then entirely devote to the payment
of the debts I left in Dresden.

Dear Liszt, have I spoken plainly enough?

With the confidence of one entirely helpless, I further ask, Make
it possible to let me have some money soon, so that I may leave
here, go to Zurich, and exist there till I receive the desired
salary. You are the best judge as to what I want for this.
Whether my wife when, in accordance with my ardent prayer, she
thinks of starting for Zurich, will be able to raise the
necessary funds, I unfortunately cannot tell. Would you kindly
ask her soon whether she wants anything? Write to her care of
Eduard Avenarius, Marienstrasse, Leipzig.

Goodness, how I always try not to weep! My poor wife!

The best I can bring forth, I will bring forth,--all, all! But to
battle about in this great world is impossible for me. Let me
once more be at home somewhere!

I was unable to write more today; do not be angry on that
account. But I know your kindness, and trust in it implicitly.

Take a thousand greetings from your

RICHARD WAGNER

(The scores my wife could bring to me at Zurich, could she not?)

(I had hoped to get some money from Berlin through Tichatschek;
unfortunately nothing has arrived, and I cannot in any way
relieve you, although I do not know where you are to get the
money.)

20.

DEAR FRIEND,

Excuse me for applying to you again so soon. At last I received a
letter from my wife, and many pangs of conscience were again
roused by it. More than all, it lies heavy on my heart today that
I have asked you to intercede with several royal personages for a
salary for me. I had forgotten--to say nothing of my immediate
past--that my sufficiently public participation in the Dresden
rising has placed me towards those royal personages in a position
which must make them think of me as one opposed to them on
principle, and this perhaps will make it appear strange that now,
when the collapse of that rising has reduced me to poverty, I
turn for help to them of all others. My position is all the more
painful because I can take no steps to free myself from the
suspicion of such sentiments without incurring the worse
suspicion of meanness and cowardice. You personally I may assure
that the feeling manifested by my undisguised sympathy with the
Dresden rising was very far from the ridiculously fanatical
notion that every prince is an object of active hatred. If I
concurred in this strange fanaticism, I should naturally have had
scruples in approaching the Grand Duchess at Weimar with perfect
openness. Before you, I trust, I need not defend myself; you know
the bitter source of my discontent, which sprang from the
condition of my beloved art, which I nourished with passion, and
which finally I transferred to every other field, the connection
of which with the ground of my deep dissatisfaction I had to
acknowledge. From this feeling came the violent longing which
finds its expression in the words, "There must be a change; thus
it cannot remain." That now, taught by the experience of my
participation in that rising, I could never again mix myself up
with a political catastrophe, I need not say; every reasonable
person must know it. What rejoices me, and what I may safely
affirm, is that in all my aims I have once more become entirely
an artist. But this I cannot possibly tell the princes at the
moment when I am about to claim their assistance. What would they
think of me! A general and public declaration also would bring me
nothing but disgrace. It would have to appear as an apology, and
an apology in the only correct sense time and my life alone can
tender, not a public declaration, which in the present
threatening circumstances and in my helplessness must needs
appear cowardly and low.

I am sure you will agree with my view of the matter, and I
surmise that already you have found yourself in a very awkward
position towards the Grand Duchess on my account. My wife, who
still thinks it necessary to live on amongst the dregs of Dresden
vulgarity, tells me a thousand unpleasant things which in the
eyes of miserable creatures make me appear much more compromised
by the revolution than I really am. This feeling towards me is
probably spread far and wide, and therefore may have affected the
Weimar court. I can well imagine that you think it at present
inadvisable to raise your voice for me at a court which, with a
natural prejudice, at first sight recognizes in me only the
political revolutionary, and forgets the artistic revolutionary
whom at bottom it has learnt to love.

How far you will think it good to comply with my application of
yesterday in such circumstances you will best decide for
yourself. Is it possible that our princes nowadays should be
magnanimous enough to exercise a beautiful, old privilege,
unmoved by the currents of the time and without weighing
conditions? Think this over; perhaps you have more confidence
than I.

My wife suffers, and is embittered; for her I hope everything
from time. I asked you yesterday to inquire of her as to the
pecuniary aid she may need; I ask you today not to do so-not now.
If you will do me a kindness, send me a little money, so that I
can get away,--anywhere, perhaps after all to Zurich, to my old
friend Mueller. I should like to be at rest, so as to write the
scenario for Paris; I don't feel up to much just now. What should
I do in London? I am good for nothing, except perhaps writing
operas, and that I cannot do in London.

Best greetings to any one who will accept them from me; there
will not be many. Farewell, dear, much-troubled friend. Could I
but make you returns!

Your most faithful

RICHARD WAGNER

REUIL, June 19th, 1849

21.

DEAR FRIEND,

With the contents of your letter No. 2 I agree more than with No.
1. For the present it would not be very diplomatic to knock at
battered doors. Later on, when you stand revealed as a made
fellow, even as you are a created one, protectors will easily be
found; and if I can serve you then as a connecting and convenient
instrument, I shall be quite at your disposal with my whole heart
and with a certain slight savoir-faire. But a period of
transition you cannot avoid, and Paris is for everything and
before everything a necessity to you. Try to make it possible
that your "Rienzi" (with a few modifications intended for the
Paris public) is performed in the course of next winter. Pay a
little court to Roger and Madame Viardot. Roger is an amiably
intelligent man, who will probably fall in love with the part. I
think, however, that in any case you will have to spare him a
little more than Tichatschek, and will have to ease his task by
some abbreviations. Also do not neglect Janin, who, I feel sure,
will give you a helping hand, and whose influence in the press
can secure the early performance of the opera.

In a word, very dear and very great friend, make yourself
possible in possible conditions, and success will assuredly not
fail you. Vaez and A. Royer will be of great assistance to you
both for the translation and rearrangement of "Rienzi" and for
the design of your new work. Associate and concur with them
strictly for the realization of that plan from which you must not
swerve:--

1. To give "Rienzi" during the winter of 1850 at the Paris Opera,
whence it will take its flight to all the theatres of Germany,
and perhaps of Italy. For Europe wants an opera which for our new
revolutionary epoch will be what "La Muette de Portici" was for
the July revolution, and "Rienzi" is conceived and written for
those conditions. If you succeed in introducing into it a slight
element of relief, were it only by means of stage machinery or of
the ballet, success is certain.

2. To write a new work for the winter of '51 in collaboration
with Vaez and A. Royer, who know all the mysteries of success. In
the interval you cannot do better than take a good position in
the musical press. Forgive me for this suggestion, and manage so
that you are not of necessity placed in a hostile position
towards things and people likely to bar your road to success and
fame. A truce to political commonplaces, socialistic stuff, and
personal hatreds! On the other hand, good courage, strong
patience, and flaming fire, which latter it will not be difficult
for you to provide, with the volcanoes you have in your brain!
Your idea of retiring to Zurich for some time in order to work
more at ease seems good, and I have charged Belloni to remit to
you three hundred francs for traveling expenses. I hope that
Madame Wagner will be able to join you, and before the autumn I
shall let you have a small sum which will keep you afloat.

Kindly let me know whether I shall send your works to Madame
Wagner, and at what address.

The admirable score of "Lohengrin" has interested me profoundly;
nevertheless I fear at the performance the superideal colour
which you have maintained throughout. Perhaps you will think me
an awful Philistine, dear friend, but I cannot help it, and my
sincere friendship for you may authorize me to tell you. . . .
[The letter breaks off here in the original edition.-TR.]

22.

DEAR FRIEND,

Thanks to your intercession, I have been able to fly to the
friendly place from which I write to you today. I should trouble
you unnecessarily were I to tell you all that latterly has passed
through my heart; perhaps you will guess it. Belloni has taken
care of me with the greatest kindness and consideration; there
are, however, things in which no friend in the world can be of
assistance. One thing more by way of explanation: during my
journey through Switzerland and on my arrival in Paris, I met
with some Saxon refugees in a position which induced me to assist
them in your name. I shall not be tempted again.

I hope to find some rest and collectedness for the completion of
my intended Paris work in the intimate intercourse with a dear
friend who is also a friend of yours--Alexander Mueller. About
"Rienzi" and the plans which you have commended to us regarding
that opera, Belloni will give you details in so far as the purely
practical part of the matter is concerned. He thinks it
impossible, especially at first, to place it at the Grand Opera.
I, as an artist and man, have not the heart for the
reconstruction of that to my taste superannuated work, which, in
consequence of its immoderate dimensions, I have had to remodel
more than once. I have no longer the heart for it, and desire
from all my soul soon to do something new instead. Besides, the
erection of an operatic theatre in Paris is imminent where only
foreign works are to be produced; that would be the place for
Rienzi, especially if some one else would occupy himself with it.
I want you to decide about this as soon as you have heard our
reasons. I have settled everything with Gustave Vaez as regards
the external part of our common enterprise. The work, which I
shall now take in hand at once, will, I hope, soon open to him
and to you my inner view of the matter. Heaven grant that in this
also we may understand each other or at least come to an
understanding. Only from the one deep conviction which is the
essence of my mental being can I draw inspiration and courage for
my art, for only through this conviction can I love it; if this
conviction were to separate me from my friends, I should bid
farewell to art--and probably turn clodhopper.

By all accounts I am in fine repute with you! The other day, I
hear, I was accused, together with another person, of having set
fire to the old Dresden opera house. All right. My dear wife
lives in the midst of this slough of civic excellence and
magnanimity. One thing grieves me deeply; it wounds me to the
very bone: I mean the reproach frequently made to me that I have
been ungrateful to the King of Saxony. I am wholly made of
sentiment, and could never understand, in the face of such a
reproach, why I felt no pangs of conscience at this supposed
ingratitude. I have at last asked myself whether the King of
Saxony has committed a punishable wrong by conferring upon me
undeserved favours, in which case I should certainly have owed
him gratitude for his infringement of justice. Fortunately my
consciousness acquits him of any such guilt. The payment of 1,500
thalers for my conducting, at his intendant's command, a certain
number of bad operas every year, was indeed excessive; but this
was to me no reason for gratitude, but rather for dissatisfaction
with my appointment. That he paid me nothing for the best I could
do does not oblige me to gratitude; that when he had an
opportunity of helping me thoroughly he could not or dared not
help me, but calmly discussed my dismissal with his intendant,
quieted me as to the dependence of my position on any act of
grace. Finally, I am conscious that, even if there had been cause
for any particular gratitude towards the King of Saxony, I have
not knowingly done anything ungrateful towards him; proof of this
I should be able to furnish. Pardon, dear friend, this unpleasant
deviation; unfortunately I am not yet again in that stage of
creating which shuts out anything but the present and the future
from my cognizance. My spirit still writhes too violently under
the impression of a past which, alas! continues wholly to occupy
my present. I am still bent on justification, and that I wish to
address to no one but you.

As soon as I have anything ready I shall send it to you. For the
present I must urgently ask you to forward me here at once the
scores and other literary tools which my wife has sent to you. I
want to get into some kind of swing again so that the bell may
ring. Be good enough to give the parcel to a carrier to be
forwarded here by express conveyance (care of Alexander Muller,
Zurich).

Muller greets you most cordially. He will write to you soon to
inform you of the success of Herr Eck, the instrument-maker,
whose company is doing very well.

Dear Liszt, do not cease to be my friend; have patience with me,
and take me as I am. A thousand compliments to the Princess, and
thank her in my name for the kind memory she has preserved of me;
she may find it difficult to remain my friend.

Be healthy and happy, and let me soon hear some of your works,
even as I promise you on my part. Farewell, and take my cordial
thanks for your constancy and friendship.

Your

RICHARD WAGNER

ZURICH, July 9th, 1849

23.

MY DEAR LISZT,

Are you in a good temper? Probably not, as you are just opening a
letter from your plaguing spirit. And yet it is all the world to
me that you should be in a good temper just today, at this
moment! Fancy yourself at the most beautiful moment of your life,
and thence look upon me cheerfully and benevolently, for I have
to proffer an ardent prayer. I receive today a letter from my
wife, unfortunately much delayed in the post. It touches me more
than anything in the world; she wants to come to me, and stay
with me, and suffer with me once more all the ills of life. Of a
return to Germany, as you know well yourself, I must not for the
present think; therefore our reunion must take place abroad. I
had already told her that the hoped-for assistance from Weimar
would come to nothing; this she will easily understand and bear.
But in order to carry out her idea to come to me, she and I lack
no less than all. To get away from Dresden in the most difficult
circumstances she wants money; quite lately she told me she had
to pay sixty-two thalers without knowing where to get it. She
will now have to pack and send to me the few things we have
saved; she must leave something for the immediate wants of her
parents, whom formerly I kept entirely. She then has to travel to
Zurich with her sister, and I must at least be able to offer her
the bare necessaries of life for the beginning. At this moment I
can offer her nothing in the world. I live at present only on the
remainder of the money which I received from you through Belloni
before my departure from Paris. But, dear friend, I take care not
to be a burden to you alone, and this care is partly the reason
why I have not yet thoroughly set to work, although the anxiety
about my wife is chiefly to blame. I have again tried hard to get
paying work and assistance, so that I might ease your burden, and
in the worst case need only ask you to assist me again for my
journey to Paris in the autumn. But now in this moment of the
most painful joy at the imminent return of my wife--now I know of
no one but you to whom to apply with the firm hope of seeing my
wishes speedily accomplished. You therefore I implore by all that
is dear to you to raise and collect as much as you possibly can,
and to send it, not to me, but to my wife, so that she may have
enough to get away and to join me with the assurance of being
able to live with me free from care for some time at least.
Dearest friend, you care for my welfare, my soul, my art. Once
more restore me to my art! I do not cling to a home, but I cling
to this poor, good, faithful woman, to whom as yet I have caused
almost nothing but grief, who is of a careful, serious
disposition, without enthusiasm, and who feels herself chained
for ever to such a reckless devil as myself. Restore her to me;
by doing so you will give me all you can wish for me, and,
believe me, for that I shall be grateful to you, yea grateful!

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