I have sent the book to Wagner, and it makes me anxious to think
that it might displease him; I wish I knew something definite.
Wagner has given me infinitely great pleasure by sending me his
"Nibelungen." I owe this to you; you were my intercessor.
I am still reading the book. At first it was strange to me, but attracted me as something strange does attract us. Unconsciously, however, I lost myself in it, and now feel quite at home in it, with the true joy of Valhall. The work strikes me with a power which is of a peculiar kind, and I do not care to vex my spirit with reflections. It is such a fine thing if they do not occur of themselves, although, no doubt, the after-effect of the book will lead to reflections. I do not think that for centuries so truly sublime a piece of poetry has been created, so powerful, so full of simplicity—simple in diction—there is marrow in every word. Everything in it appears great, even in an optic sense; the forms of the gods I see before me large, but endowed with the ideal beauty of force; I hear their voices resound afar, and when they move, the air is stirred. This language is in itself true music, and therefore cannot be "set to music." I have a distinct idea of the actual representation of this work and of its perfection; and I discover a kind of speech melody in the forcibly phrased and vividly grouped verses of Wagner, such as I imagined as the ultimate ideal of dramatic tone-speech when I wrote my book; perhaps you hold a similar opinion, or rather you know, as you have been with Wagner. To him I should like to write every day, if only two lines; but Heaven preserve so much occupied a man from my very superfluous words. If Wagner would only let me know ten vocal notes from his "Nibelungen," my mind would be at rest. Wotan is sublime, like a statue in bronze, and yet so humanly conceivable at the same time. The close of the first act of the "Valkyrie" is overpowering. Oh! how I felt with Siegmund. When I read, my soul seemed to expand as if I were looking from a high point upon a large, new world.
Let me have two brief words about Wagner's intention; I shall be eternally grateful to you. I shall always think with delight of my journey and my stay at Weimar. The Altenburg stands daguerreotyped on my soul.
I still smoke your "Plantages" cigars when I want to reward myself after much working. Your arrangement of the Ninth Symphony for two pianos has filled me with the greatest enthusiasm; it is a marvelous work, which I shall shortly notice in print.
How about new editions? Let me write about them all!
In the feuilleton of our newspaper here I wrote three articles about you and Wagner; now, after all, comes S. and writes too, upsetting so many things which I had built up. He is a terribly confused spirit, and the humour of it is that he thinks everybody else confused.
Is Raff working busily at his Samson? I hope we shall soon hear something of him. Remember me to him very kindly.
And now I take my leave of you, asking for your forbearance with
Your wholly devoted