Dearest,
I feel beaten down and weary. Damm has probably written to you about my musical performances. Everything went off right well, and Zurich was astonished that such a thing could have happened. The Philistines almost carry me on their hands; and if I cared for external success, the effect of my performances would more than satisfy me. But, as you know, my chief object was to hear something from Lohengrin, and especially the orchestral prelude, which interested me uncommonly. The impression was most powerful, and I had to make every effort not to break down. So much is certain: I fully share your predilection for Lohengrin; it is the best thing I have done so far. On the public also it had the same effect. In spite of the Tannhäuser overture, preceding them, the pieces from Lohengrin made such an impression, that they were unanimously declared to be the best thing. For the Bridal Procession I had specially written a very effective new close, which I must communicate to you; following upon the Bridal Song, I repeated the G major prelude (wedding music), after a short transition, and gave a new conclusion to this also. These pieces have had a tremendous popular success; everybody was delighted. It was a real feast for the world around me. All the women are in my favour.
I might have repeated the concerts six times, and they would have been full on every occasion, but I stuck to three performances, because I had enough of it, and was afraid of getting tired. Besides this, I could not have retained the orchestra any longer; many had to go home, especially eight musicians from Wiesbaden, the best of the orchestra there, who had given me great pleasure by coming. I had almost nothing but concert-masters and musical directors—twenty most excellent violins, eight tenors, eight splendid violoncellos, and five double-basses. All had brought their best instruments; and in the acoustical orchestra, constructed according to my indication, the tone of the instruments was most bright and beautiful. It is true that the whole cost 9,000 francs.
What do you think of our citizens raising all that money? I believe that in time I shall be able to do unheard-of things here, but for the present it has cost me unheard-of trouble. During the week preceding the performances, I read in my way, which you will hear later on, my three operatic poems before a very large audience in public and gratis, and was delighted by the powerful impression they produced on my hearers. In the intervals I studied my choruses with amateurs, and these tame, four-part people at last sang as if they had swallowed the devil. Well, I am a little lame and weary in consequence. It is hard that you will have to leave me in my loneliness for the whole month of June.
Why have your festivities been suddenly postponed? Not till the middle of July? Just now you would have been of infinite benefit to me; I am very lonely.
For the present I must try to pick up a little by a wandering life; perhaps I shall go for a few weeks to Brunnen, on the lake of Lucerne, and try to settle down to work. I shall make excursions from there to the Bernese Oberland and thus pass the time till your much-desired arrival. How long shall you be able to stay? In the second half of July I am to go to St. Moritz, in the Grisons, to go through a cure there from which they promise great benefit for my health. Will you follow me to that beautiful, wild solitude? That would be splendid! By the end of August, when you have to leave me again, I shall go to Italy, as far as it is accessible to me. (I wish it could be to Naples! The King of Saxony might manage that!) The means I must get somehow, if I were to steal them.
In other respects "business" with me is flat. You have probably heard that the manager of the Berlin court opera has procured an order which prevents the smaller theatres of Berlin, and especially Kroll's theatre, from performing such operas as Tannhäuser. From this we see how powerfully even a threat acts upon these people; they are of course ashamed of themselves, and do not wish to incur open disgrace. I have authorized Schöneck to announce Tannhäuser as a "Singspiel," but he himself is doubtful whether the thing can be managed. He loses in this manner a fine opportunity of making himself favourably known and of raising himself above his hole-and-corner circumstances. I lose a nice income for this summer, for the undertaking would have brought me in a few thousand francs. But God's, or rather Herr von Hülsen's, will be done. It is quite plain that in our excellent states the "other thing" has nowadays the upper hand; the Princess of Prussia may wish and desire what she likes, she will not be able to conquer that, nor Herr von Hülsen either. Good Lord, I know the thing.
However, I was peculiarly pleased that you from the first looked upon this Berlin experiment just as I did, and that we quite understood each other. I can quite imagine how the Philistine must have shaken his head. It was equally clear that you were unable to accept the proposal for the Königsstadt Theatre with the Leipzig troupe, and I am only annoyed at their impudence in offering you such a thing. It implies indeed a gross insult, for which one must pardon our dull-headed theatrical mob. "Lord, forgive them, for they know not what they do."
Dearest friend, have you not yet had enough of Weimar? I must own that I frequently grieve to see how you waste your strength there. Was there any truth in the recent rumour of your leaving Weimar? Have they given in?
But all this is idle talk. My brain is a wilderness, and I thirst for a long, long sleep, to awake only when my arms are around you. Write to me very precisely, also whether you are inclined, after a little stay at Zurich, to go with me to the solitude of the Grisons; St. Moritz might, after all, do you good, dearest friend; we shall there be five thousand feet high, and enjoy the most nerve-strengthening air, together with the mineral water, which is said to be of beneficial effect on the digestive organs. Think this over, consult your health and your circumstances, and let me know very soon what I may hope for.
Farewell, best and dearest of friends. Have my eternal thanks for your divine friendship, and be assured of my steadfast and warmest love.
Source: Project Gutenberg eBook #3835, Correspondence of Wagner and Liszt — Volume 1, No. 111