Correspondence of Wagner and Liszt — Volume 1

by Richard Wagner; Franz Liszt

DEAREST FRIEND,

I returned from St. Moritz a little sooner than I had thought; of my intention to that effect, I believe I wrote to you before. Your last letter was forwarded to me punctually. What pleased me most in it was your good humour and the fact that you spent your day at Dresden with the R.'s, of which they had already informed me in great triumph. Reading their accounts, I felt as if I had been there myself, and as if that evening had only been a continuation of the Zeltweg days. It was splendid and kind of you. As to K. I must wait; we shall see later on. George promised me yesterday that he also would write to you today. From what he says, he is well inclined towards the matter; I shall be glad if it is taken in hand seriously, for then I shall have hope for a possible success of the enterprise even without me.

My dear Franz, once for all do not reckon upon me for any critico-literary enterprise; I cannot go in for that kind of thing. Just as some time ago it was an absolute necessity to me to express my revolution in the fields of art and of life in perfect continuity, even so, and for that very reason, I have at present no inclination for such manifestations, which are no longer a necessity to me. Of this you must be aware, for you know and prove by your own deeds that "quand on agit, on ne s'explique pas;" and I am at present disposed only for action, no longer for explanation. You seem to be of opinion, however, that for the sake of the cause I might conquer my inclination a little and in my own way exert myself. It is just this point which I have made clear to myself: my faculties, taken separately, are not great, and I can only be and do something good when I concentrate all those faculties on one impulse and recklessly consume them and myself for its sake. Whatever part that impulse leads me to adopt, that I am as long as necessary, be it musician, poet, conductor, author, reciter, or what not. In that manner I at one time became a speculative art philosopher. But apart from this main current I can create and do nothing except under extreme compulsion, and in that case I should do something very bad and expose the smallness of my special faculties in a deplorable manner. What you want of me, or rather, as I know very well, what X. wants of me, there is no longer any need for my doing. I have spoken about the theme in question so often and at such length that I am conscious of having done quite enough. X. and his friends and enemies have not even read my writings as they should be read in order to be understood. Otherwise it would be quite impossible that this wretched "separate art" and "universal art" should be the upshot of all my disquisitions. Honestly speaking, I am sick of discussing with stupid people things which they can never take in, because there is in them not a trace of artistic or really human stuff. If I were to take up the cudgels once more, it would be rather against these unfortunate enlightened people than against the intentionally retrograde Jesuits of literature, with whom one need not trouble one's self unless one wants to talk for victory as a litterateur, which has never entered my mind. Certainly, most certainly, I should be very glad to know that I had been rightly understood by many people, glad to see and to hear that clever, instructive, and enlightening things were written and laid down in a journal devoted to such an object; this, indeed, would be the reward of my sacrifices. But, good heavens! there is surely no need that I should write, that I should help, again; these things should come to me from another quarter. It cannot possibly suit me to write the same thing over and over again on the chance of being at last understood, besides which I should probably only puzzle people worse and worse.

Therefore if, in your opinion, the review cannot be started without me, I simply say, Very well then; leave it alone, for in that case it has no object and no value. I still have hopes of G.; he is certainly lazy, but, at any rate, I know that he knows what is at stake and what should be done. Moreover, his whole nature at present impels him to discharge his inner being in the direction necessary for us; if he once is in the proper swing, I hope he will persevere. It is of course understood that my advice, my views, and my opinions are always at his disposal, and in very special cases I may go to work myself; but I must first see that others commence and initiate the work.

Before all, keep that unfortunate "Universal Art" out of the title!

Enough of this!

I am in a miserable condition, and have great difficulty in persuading myself that it must go on like this, and that it would not really be more moral to put an end to this disgraceful kind of life. Solitude and disconsolate loneliness from morning till night—such are the days that follow each other and make up life. To cure my sick brain the doctor has prevailed upon me to give up taking snuff altogether; for the last six days I have not taken a single pinch, which only he can appreciate who is himself as passionate a snuff-taker as I was. Only now I begin to perceive that snuff was the solitary real enjoyment that I had occasionally, and now I give that up too. My torture is indescribable, but I shall persevere; that is settled. Therefore no more snuff-boxes; in future I accept only orders of merit.

My journey is settled in this manner: August 24th I start from here, and arrive in Turin on the 29th at the latest. You can address Poste restante, unless you write to me here first, from where all my letters will be forwarded to me. Genoa, Spezzia, Nice, will detain me till I hear from you for certain when and where our meeting is to be. In the "Carlsruhe Gazette" it was announced that the Musical Festival had been postponed till October; will our meeting have to be postponed too? If you cannot come to Paris, I will of course come to Basle; that is understood. As you happen to be in Leipzig, very kindly remember me to Brendel; I wish he could have visited me, and think that we should have got further in many ways. (Devrient was here when I and my wife too were absent!) Frau Steche recently wrote to me; she shall have an answer before I start. Could you lend her a copy of the "Nibelungen"? B. is not to read it out. Altogether I am very sorry that I ever had the poem printed; it is not to be pulled about like this; it still is mine.

Have you received any communication as to "Lohengrin" at Leipzig? Hartel has left me without an answer for ever so long. I hope I shall hear soon how the matter stands.

Farewell; ah, farewell. How I envy you your whole existence. Greet your esteemed friend from me, and arrange so that you both come to Switzerland soon; in that case something may still become of me. Adieu, dear, unique friend.