Correspondence of Wagner and Liszt — Volume 2

by Richard Wagner; Franz Liszt

DEAREST RICHARD,

I have not neglected the steps for your return to Germany. Unfortunately my late efforts and endeavours have not as yet led to a favourable result, which proves by no means that such may not be the case in the future. Your hint about the roundabout way, viz., Prague, I believe to be an illusion which you ought not to cherish, because it might lead to the most dangerous consequences.

The only thing that I can advise, and which I most urgently request you to do, is to send at once your petition to His Majesty the King of Saxony.

The stage into which this affair has got makes such a step absolutely necessary, and you may be sure that I should not urge you to it if I were not firmly convinced that your return to Germany cannot be brought about in any other way. As you have already told me that you would write to the King, I feel sure that you will do so without delay. Send me a copy of your letter to the King. You should, in the first instance, ask for an amnesty to the extent only THAT YOU MIGHT BE PERMITTED TO HEAR YOUR WORKS AT WEYMAR, because this would be necessary for your intellectual development, and because you felt sure that the Grand Duke of Weymar would receive you in a kindly spirit. It breaks my heart to have to prescribe such tedious methods, but believe me, in that direction lies your only way to Germany. When you have once been here for a few weeks the rest will be easily arranged, and I shall give you the necessary information in due course.

In the meantime we must have patience and again patience.

Take heart of grace in the hope which I have by no means abandoned, that we shall see you here.

Your faithful

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 passes 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 godless 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 embarrasses 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 assure 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 title 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 noble 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 Mass, 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 Mass, 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 passionately. 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 passages, 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. God 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.

Your Symphonic Poems are now quite familiar to me; they are the only music which occupies me at present, for during my cure I must not think of doing any work. I read one or other of the scores every day, just as I might read a poem, fluently and without stopping. I feel every time as if I had dived into a deep crystal flood, to be there quite by myself, leaving all the world behind me, and living for an hour my real life. Refreshed and strengthened, I rise again to long for your presence. Yes, friend, you can do it, YOU CAN DO IT!

Well, not much can be said about it; the noblest expressions might easily seem a little trivial in such a connection. Enough, you will soon be here, and bring me my Dante. This is a beautiful, glorious lookout; I thank you.

I sent you yesterday a parcel containing the original scores of "Rhinegold" and the "Valkyrie." Their fate will probably be a peculiar one. Let me explain briefly:—

I shall perish, and shall be quite incapable of further work, unless I find a habitation such as I require, viz., a small house to myself and a garden, both removed from all noise, and especially from the damnable pianoforte noise, which I am doomed not to escape wherever I turn, not even here, and which has made me so nervous that even the very thought of it prevents me from thinking of work. Four years I tried in vain to realise this wish, which I can accomplish only by buying a piece of ground and building a house on it. Over this possibility I brooded like a madman, when it occurred to me not long ago to offer my "Nibelungen" to the Hartels, and to get the necessary money from them. They have expressed to me their willingness of doing something out of the way in order to gain possession of my work, and I have in consequence made the following demand: They are to purchase the two pieces which have already been finished, and are to expect "Siegfried" in the course of next year, and "Siegfried's Death" at the end of 1858, paying in each instance the honorarium on the delivery of the manuscript. They also bind themselves to publish the whole in 1859, the year of the performance. I have been led to this by sheer despair; the Hartels are to supply me with means for the purchase of a piece of ground according to my fancy. If we agree, which must be decided soon, I shall have to send them, in the first instance, my two scores, so as to place them in possession of the material for their future publication. But they will only keep them long enough to take a copy, and then return the originals to you. In any case, if I want the money, I must enable them to take actual possession. They must of course lend me the scores, in case they have not yet been copied, during your visit to me; that is understood. As you do not yet know the last act of the "Valkyrie," I send you the score before taking further steps, so that you, and no one else, may be the first to whom I communicate it. If you have time, read the act quickly, and then keep the whole in readiness for sending it to the Hartels as soon as I ask you. About this whole matter, however, we must come to a better understanding when we meet.

During my cure here I have become terribly indifferent towards my work. Lord knows, if I am not much encouraged to finish it, I shall leave it alone. Why should a poor devil like me worry and plague himself with these terrible burdens if my contemporaries will not even grant me a place for doing my work? I have told the Hartels as much; if they will not help me to a house, detached and situated on an eminence, such as I want it, I shall leave the whole rubbish alone.

Well, if you only will come, I shall not trouble Saxony and the rest of Germany for some time. Bring the Princess with you, do you hear? And the Child, too, must come. If you put me in a good temper I shall perhaps lay my "Victors" before you, although this will be very difficult. For although I have carried the idea about with me for a long time, the material for its embodiment has only just been shown to me as in a flash of lightning. To me it is most clear and definite, but not as yet fit for communication. Moreover, you must first have digested my "Tristan," especially the third act, with the black flag and the white. After that you will understand the "Victors" better.

But I am saying vague things.

Come and bring me the divine comedy, and we shall see then how we can come to an understanding about the divine tragedy.

Thine for ever and aye,

R. W.

I pray you most ardently to let me know AT ONCE by a line the receipt, or possibly the non-receipt, of my scores.

I always feel nervous when I know they are on the road. They left
Geneva yesterday.

My address is:-

a Mornex, Poste restante, No. III, a Geneve.

220.

I say, Franz, a divine idea strikes me.

YOU MUST GET ME AN ERARD GRAND!

Write to the widow and tell her that you visit me THREE TIMES every year, and that you must absolutely have a better grand piano than the old and lame one in my possession. Tell her a hundred thousand fibs, and make her believe that it is for her a point of honour that an Erard should stand in my house.

In brief, do not think, but act with the impudence of genius. I MUST HAVE AN ERARD. If they will not give me one let them lend me one on a yard-long lease.

Adieu.

221.

I am leaving Mornex.

I shall be better than ever on September 20th.

Write to Madame Erard that she must send me a grand piano at once. I will pay her in instalments of five hundred francs a year without a doubt.

It must be here when you come.

Happiness and joy to you.

222.

I thank you, dearest, most unique of men, for having sent me your scores of "Rhinegold" and the "Valkyrie." The work has for me the fabulous attractive power of the magnet mountain, which fetters irresistibly the ship and the sailor. H. has been with me for a few days, and I was unable to withhold from him the joy of viewing Valhall. So he tinkles and hammers the orchestra on the piano, while I howl, and groan, and roar the vocal parts; this by way of prelude to OUR great performance at your Zurich palace, to which I am looking forward with longing.

In a week's time I start for Hungary, and my Mass will be performed on August 31st, on the occasion of the Gran ceremony, for which it has been written. For several minor reasons I must, after that, stay at Pesth and Vienna for a few weeks, and shall therefore not be at Zurich till about September 20th. Probably the Princess will come, too, together with her daughter.

Franz Muller will pay you a visit at Mornex about the middle of this month, and will show you his work on the "Nibelungen."

The two scores I shall leave here in the keeping of the Princess until you write to HER that they are to be sent to the Hartels.

Your idea of becoming a houseowner at Zurich is quite peculiar, and I congratulate you cordially on the building delights which await you.

Dawison told me recently that his starring engagement had enabled him to buy a villa near Dresden. At the same rate, you ought to be able to purchase with your scores at least the whole of Zurich, together with the Sieben Churfursten and the lake.

Whether Madame Erard will be inclined to dispose of a grand piano on the advantageous terms you mention is a questionable question, which I shall put to her when I have the chance. Try, first of all, to get quite well; the other ARRANGEMENTS will come in due course.

May God protect you.

F. L.

August 1st, 1856.

We are just going together with H. (who wishes to be remembered to you), to have another try at the last act of the "Valkyrie."

223.

DEAREST FRIEND,

In order to give you a little more diversion I herewith introduce to you Herr Zeugherr, an architect, and an acquaintance of Ernst's; he is in search of a little villa for me to compose in, but has as yet found nothing. Perhaps you will inspire him.

Farewell, and receive best greetings from your

R. WAGNER.

ZURICH.

224.

Friday Evening.

DEAREST FRIEND,

That I ran away from you was a perfect inspiration, which should bring noble fruit both to you and to me.

I shall go to bed at nine; do you likewise, and sleep by the book, so that we may present to each other to-morrow morning a couple of fresh faces, ready to face the world.

I shall study "Mephistopheles" a little today.

If you like we will do some Valkyring tomorrow.

May a thousand gods protect you.

R. W. 225.

DEAR FRANZ,

Believe me, by all that is sacred to you and me, that I am ill, and require the most perfect rest and care today, in order, let us hope, to enjoy you again tomorrow. A very considerable, though welcome and wholesome, catarrh weighs down my limbs like lead. It developed during last night, together with an inflamed throat and other addenda. The slightest excitement would impede my recovery.

Au revoir in a rational matter tomorrow.

Yours,

W. R.

226.

MY DEAREST FRANZ,

I must think it really fortunate that you this time cultivate a few other acquaintances, and that I may therefore disappear for a short time without attracting too much attention.

My catarrh has developed so thoroughly and nobly, that I may hope it will rid me of my usual winter illness, if I take proper care of it; even now I perceive the beneficial effect of nature's self-relief, although I feel as if leaden fetters were on me. I am sure that I shall be better in a few days, and am looking forward to offering you the fruits of my recovery in the shape of an excellent temper.

For today I am a strict patient, and must not think of a visit to Herwegh. If you will give me the pleasure of seeing you today, I inform you that I shall have to perspire from noon to 4 p.m.; before or afterwards my aspect would be less horrible. The hardest thing was that I had to miss the organ concert yesterday. But resignation helps me over everything.

I will try to finish the letter to the Grand Duke today.

A hundred thousand most cordial remembrances to the whole
Rectory. How are you, indefatigable man?

227.

Sunday, early.

Here I sit again gazing after you. My best thanks to your dear Princess for the first news. My mind was set at rest not a little on hearing that you had been able to continue your journey to Munich without mishap. There you will be able to rest a little more comfortably than at the Hecht of St. Gallen. Rest? Ye indefatigable ones!

A thousand ardent blessings follow you everywhere. What you have become to me your hearts will tell you. You are so rich a possession to me that I scarcely know how to realise it. But on the other hand, you are to me a continual sermon of repentance; I cannot think of you without being heartily ashamed of myself.

How can you bear with me, who appear so unbearable to myself?

But I am not without good resolutions of amendment. Although I shall palm off great part of the care on my doctor, who is to put me completely on my legs again next spring, I am too well aware that an enormous labour—less watercure than purgatory—lies before me. Yes, I will shut myself up in that Purgatorio, and hope, dearest Franz, that I shall do so well that I may greet you with a MAGNIFICAT soon. It is true that I shall never be able to equal you, but then you are the only genuine virtuoso.

My aesthetic efforts will, I hope, cure my moral prostration to some extent. I must try tomorrow to break the news of the death of his mother to "Siegfried." On Thursday evening I arrived at the Zeltweg, freezing and empty, with a violent cold and in terrible weather; since then I have not set foot out of doors. All I did was to find a good place for the Madonna and Francesca, which was a difficult job. I hammered like Mime. Now all is safe and sound. The Madonna hangs over my writing table and Francesca over the sofa, under the looking-glass, where she looks beautiful. When I begin "Tristan" Francesca will have to go over the writing table, and the turn of the Madonna will not come again until I take the "Victors" in hand. For the present I will try to inspire myself a little with the victrix, and to imagine that I could do the same thing.

My studs are much finer than yours, dear Child; that any one can see. Yours have the sole advantage of moving one to resignation, while mine excite my vanity terribly—a kind of surreptitious vanity, not before the eyes of people, but all to myself; merely for the sake of the studs, not for effect. It is just the same with my "Nibelungen." You always think of the effect of the performance, I of the shirt studs that may be hidden in it.

Well, my blessings on you. If only the dear "lady friend" would soon recover her health, so that the great professors of Munich might delight in the "Rectory family"! Dear, good Princess, and dear, dear Franz,

MON BON GRAND! Good and great you are. My blessings on you!
Farewell, and forget all bad and unpleasant things about me.
Remember only the kindness of which you thought me worthy.

Adieu. I am always yours.

My wife has not scolded me once, although yesterday I had the spleen badly enough. She greets you with all her power, and is thankful for your friendship.

228.

ZURICH, December 6th, 1856.

I have not forgotten to convey your greetings and inquiries. Wesendonck has written to me in reply, and enclosed a letter of his wife's to the Princess, which I herewith ask you to hand to her.

I long for news from you. How are you, dear Franz, and does the Princess keep her health? From her daughter I soon expect a letter, as we have promised to correspond with each other.

I feel so-so. I shall finish the first scene one of these days. Curiously enough, it is only during composition that the real essence of my poem is revealed to me. Everywhere I discover secrets which had been previously hidden from me, and everything in consequence grows more passionate, more impulsive. Altogether it will require a good deal of obstinacy to get all this done, and you have not really put me in the right mind for it.

However, I must think that I am doing all this for myself, in order to pass the days. Be it so.

You may believe me or not, I have no other desire than that of coming to you soon. Do not fail to let me know always what chances there are. I want music, too, and, Heaven knows, you are the only one who can supply me with it. As a musician, I feel perfectly mean, while I think I have discovered that you are the greatest musician of all times. This will be something new to you.

Adieu. Tell M. that I have overhauled the old red letter case, and have got my biography up to December 1st, 1856, into shape.

A hundred thousand remembrances to mother and child.

Farewell, and take care to let me have some of your new scores soon.

Your R. W.

229.

MUNICH, December 12th, 1856.