I am aware that a man does not become an artist by mere training, but he can never become an artist unless his organic faculties are healthily developed, and that is what is wanting amongst us almost everywhere. Other things will be easily set right if you are more careful in the choice of works selected for performance than is generally the case amongst us. The coarse mixture of all genres and all styles is the evil which prevents our actors from gaining any kind of artistic consciousness. Gluck today, Donizetti tomorrow, Weber today, Rossini or Auber tomorrow, serious today, frivolous tomorrow—what is the result? That the people can do neither Gluck nor Donizetti, neither the serious nor the frivolous. How terrible also are the translations! People get systematically accustomed to the absolute senselessness of scenic representations; look therefore to a rational treatment of the translated librettos. Before all, accustom your singers to looking upon their work in the first instance as a dramatic task; the accomplishment of their lyrical task will after that be an easy matter. Works of the earlier French school are most adapted to the purpose, because in them a natural dramatic intention is most perceptible. Singers who cannot execute well and effectively the "Water-carrier," by Cherubini, or "Joseph," by Mehul—how are they to be able to master the (in that case) enormous difficulties of, for example, one of my operas? The chief thing, however, will always be new works and such works as are adapted to our set of artists and have been written specially for this theatre. But enough of preaching! If I have been almost impertinent, you must forgive me. Today is my birthday, and you could not have sent me a better present than your letter of yesterday.
As yet Heaven has not given us fine weather, but I wait for the first bright, sunny day to commence the poem of my "Young Siegfried" with the pen. In my head it is ready. In July I hope to send you the poem.
Your last news has once more made me desirous to write to the Hereditary Grand Duchess. The contact with a sympathetic, noble female nature is to me an infinitely joyful feeling, and that feeling I should like to gain as a blessing for my impending work. If you think that I might permit myself a slight deviation from the ordinary official style towards this lady, I should ask you one of these days to forward a letter from me to her. The official style I cannot manage. Our dear, foolish Zigesar always writes to me, "Ew. Wohlgeboren," etc. I wish he would leave that alone. I am sorry when, in his kindness towards me, I stumble over this kind of powder and pigtail business.
May God bless you, not the "god of Buckeburg." You are right in retiring into solitude now and then; without that men like us cannot exist. Greet the Princess most cordially. I hope she will soon be well again.
Farewell, dearest of friends. I press you to my heart!
Your
RICHARD WAGNER.
ENGE, ZURICH, May 22nd, 1851.
62.