It remains therefore a perfect mystery where my "Tristan" is to see the light of the world. The birth would probably be most easy if I were to trust the King of Hanover with the delivery. Niemann declares that the King would engage any singer, male or female, whom I should require for the model performance of my work as long as that performance took place at Hanover. This might lead to something; that King appears liberal and magnificent in his passion for art, and nothing else will suit me. Let us hope that my political situation will be no obstacle.
For the present my Paris enterprise occupies me altogether, and mercifully obscures my view of future German misery. I do not know what rumours are current with you as to the difficulties placed in my way. They may be well intended, but they are false. NEVER YET HAS THE MATERIAL OF AN EXCELLENT PERFORMANCE BEEN PLACED AT MY DISPOSAL SO FULLY AND UNCONDITIONALLY as has been done at Paris for the performance of "Tannhauser" at the Grand Opera, and I can only wish that some German prince would do the same for my new works. This is the first triumph of my art which I personally witness. I owe it to the success of my works in Germany, which has gained me such warm admirers, that the Emperor, on the strength of their word, has issued a truly imperial COMMAND, which makes me master of the whole material, and protects me from all intrigues. A translation, as excellent as could have possibly been expected, is another earnest of general success. I have secured the best singers that are to be had, and the preparations in every department are made with a zeal and a care to which Germany has little accustomed me. All the leading people go with pleasure to a task which offers them a more interesting occupation than is usual. I also take the matter seriously. I am removing such weak points as I have discovered in the score. I take great delight in the re-writing of the great Venus scene, and hope to improve the effect thereby. The ballet scene also will be executed on the larger scale designed by me.
Unfortunately I have not yet been able to begin this necessary work in the proper way. Before my journey to the Rhine the translation occupied me exclusively, and on my return here I had, first of all, to complete a little piece of literary work which has only just been finished. M. Frederic Villot, about whom H. has probably spoken to you, asked me to publish an edition of my operatic poems in a prose-translation, and to add a preface explaining my ideas. This I have done, and I hope that the opus will appear about the beginning of October at the latest. The rehearsals are in full swing, but unfortunately I had to object to the baritone at the last moment. Fould had at once to give orders for the engagement of a new singer, but we have not yet found the right man, and this has caused a slight delay. There has, however, been no trace of ill-will on the part of any one. M., who is working here in his underhand way, will not, after all, be able to do anything against the Emperor and the cause; he is trying, however, to secure the good engagements which have been made for me for his own benefit later on. Well, I do not grudge him this; the man has no real initiative.
You have now, dearest friend, an approximate view of my life and work. That I should be happy you can scarcely expect, but I feel the calm of the fatalist who surrenders himself to his fate, astonished perhaps a little at the often curious manner in which it disposes of me and leads me into unexpected paths, and saying to myself: "So it was to be."
With real horror I think of Germany and of my future enterprises in that country. God forgive me, but I discover nothing but mean and miserable things, conceit and a pretence of solid work without any real foundation; half-heartedness in everything. After all I prefer to see "Le Pardon de Ploermel" in Paris than under the shadow of the famous, glorious German oak tree. I must also confess to you that my treading once more German soil did not produce the slightest impression upon me, except in so far as I was astonished at the insipidity and impertinence of the language I had to listen to. Believe me, we have no Fatherland, and if I am "German" it is because I carry my Germany along with me. This is fortunate, because the Mayence garrison has certainly not inspired me with enthusiasm.
X. seems to be angry with me; I at last got annoyed with him because his optimism irritated me.
I cannot understand a good many things, and allowance ought to be made for me on account of my curious life. X., it seems to me, fritters himself away; he undertakes too much, and by that means loses the compact, concentric quality which a true man needs. I cannot look on without being painfully affected. On the other hand, I am, no doubt, very wrong in not accepting so true a friend as he is; and I have much reason to acknowledge X.'s friendship. He must not be angry with me and do as he likes; but he should be sometimes a little more punctual with his letters.
Believe me, that in spite of my Paris surroundings I feel awfully lonely, while of you I can never think except as of some one who is surrounded by people, even at Weimar. Perhaps I have a good many erroneous notions in that respect; at least Madame Street gave me to understand as much when she described her visit to you. She said that you had been very sad, although in very good health. Well, I certainly cannot see why you should be particularly joyous; at the same time this news has struck me very much, and Madame W., to whom I spoke about it, was quite frightened. There is something about you which causes you to appear surrounded by splendour and light, and makes it difficult for us to understand what could make you sad. Least of all am I inclined to discover the cause of your irritation in the stupid reception which your works have met with now and then, for it seems to me that no one ought to know better than you that this animosity is caused not by your works, but by the false light in which you appear to the multitude. That light which reveals you as so exceptional a phenomenon, that a misconception of it is only too easily accounted for, is now and then too powerful, especially for German eyes. I think, therefore, you are right in withdrawing yourself from that illumination as much as possible, and in letting your works take their own course for a time without the least anxiety about them. One thing you will gain, the avoidance of personal contact. In that, everything is misery, and believe me that while we try to "do violence to the kingdom of heaven," we only stir up the nether mud. No, the kingdom of heaven comes to us in our sleep. But enough of this vague talk! Let us soon meet, when we shall see how we can ward off all sadness. I shall soon make a long stay with you.
God bless you, my Franz! Pardon this long talk to my desire of being near you once more.
A thousand greetings from