Correspondence of Wagner and Liszt — Volume 2

by Richard Wagner; Franz Liszt

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.

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