R. W.
Your "Mazeppa" is terribly beautiful; I was quite out of breath when I read it for the first time. I pity the poor horse; nature and the world are horrible. I would really rather write poetry than music just now; it requires no end of obstinacy to stick to one thing. I have again two splendid subjects which I must execute. "Tristan and Isolde," you know, and after that the "Victory," the most sacred, the most perfect salvation. But that I cannot yet tell you. For the final "Victory" I have another interpretation than that supplied by Victor Hugo, and your music has given it to me, all but the close; for greatness, glory, and the dominion of nations I do not care at all.
218.
My Hungarian journey has, during the last three weeks, become unexpectedly a doubtful matter, and I did not like, dearest Richard, to write to you before I could tell you something more definite; for the time of my visit must be arranged according to that journey taking or not taking place. The consecration of Gran cathedral is fixed for August 31st, and in case I go there to conduct my Mass, I should be with you in Zurich about September 15th or 20th; but if I am relieved of that duty I shall be at Zurich about the end of August. I hope to know by the end of next week what has been settled, and shall then ask the Princess to let you know particulars. In the meantime, albeit used to waiting, I did not care to wait any longer before I told you that I am an hungered and athirst for being together with you, and going through our programme of NONSENSE; the hors d'oeuvre (which, as you know, have the quality of exciting both hunger and thirst) of your feast of "Rhinegold" and "Valkyrie" will be my symphony to Dante's "Divina Commedia," which will belong to you and was finished yesterday. It takes a little less than an hour in performance, and may amuse you.
After that you will speak to me about your VICTORY, the most sacred, the most perfect salvation….What will it be? The few hints in your last letter have made me very curious to know the whole idea.
Your amnesty business will, for the present, remain in statu quo, but I hope you will come to me next winter, and am preparing your rooms at Altenburg. Speak to no one about it. I shall tell you what I have heard when I see you. Before all, take care of your health, and do all you can so that more rosy aspects may open before you than the roses which erysipelas has painted on your face. Unfortunately, with regard to external matters, I cannot present you with many rosy things, although, as far as appearances go, I am counted amongst the happy. It is true I am happy, as happy as a child of this earth can be. I may confess this to you, because you know the infinite self-sacrifice and invincible love which have supported my whole existence for the last eight years. Why need I be disturbed by other troubles? All else is only the peace-offering for my exalted happiness.
Do not reproach me any longer for not telling you anything about myself, for in these words I confide to you the secret of my usual silence.
Forgive me for not having written to you so long; the Hungarian troubles, caused by my Mass, were at fault. Let me know soon whether you are back at Zurich, and whether my coming to you about the end of August or the middle of September will suit you. You will receive more definite news before long. You have probably seen in the newspapers that Herr and Frau Milde sang the duet from the Dutchman at the Magdeburg Musical Festival excellently, and with splendid success. At the rehearsal I made the horns repeat several times, till at last they succeeded in pulsating tenderly and passionately. The critic of the Magdeburg Gazette says:-
"Although we were at first not sorry that Wagner's name did not appear in the programme, it was very interesting to hear this scene sung by the two Mildes, who have studied these compositions under the direction of Herr Liszt, the chief representative of the Wagner movement. Both sang beautifully, and in many passages, especially in the second half, with overpowering beauty. We close our notice with the words of the duet, 'We were conquered by a mighty charm.'"
Criticisms in the newspapers remind me of A., whom, during my stay at Berlin, I found in the most touching state of anxiety about the notices of the performance of "Tannhauser" that might be published by the Berlin press. Highly estimating, as I do, her friendship for you, which also keeps up a kind of amiable feeling between us two, I could not avoid offending her a little by my indifference. Again, during her last stay here, about three weeks ago, she excited me to a few bad jokes by the enthusiastic interest with which she attended a performance of Auber's "Le Macon" at the theatre here. She was indeed near being seriously offended by my bad jokes at the many-sidedness of taste, or rather, the want of taste, shown by her veneration for this musique de grisettes. When an occasion offers I will try to make it up with her.