[...] As for my new poem “the Ring of the Nibelung”, it is now a matter of immense regret that I had 50 copies of it printed - quite apart from the cost. Not only was I unable to prevent the book from falling into the hands of people who are totally incompetent to judge it, but I now feel that even my friends ought not to have had a sight of the poem until it had been set to music, I might almost say: until it had been produced as well. I now see increasingly clearly that what I envisage must be done rather than merely talked about. Instead of concentrating upon the poem before them and on its purely poetic content, people concentrate rather upon the purely technical aspects of what they assume will be its musical execution, as though such poems only came into existence in order to provide run-of-the-mill opera composers with material for musical outpourings, instead of finding their true and necessary justification within themselves, in the life of the poet and in his opinions, offering the musician a new subject for which, and in which, he must discover new music, i.e. music uniquely suited to the subject in question. If, in this way, the musical setting (like the stage setting) necessarily remains my own secret, which I can reveal only when the whole thing is finished, nothing is more distressing to me now than to have to listen to others talking (in public, what’s more) about this most intimate secret of my art. - In a word, I wish I could recall all the copies I gave away. Come and visit me here soon, and I shall read it aloud to you, sing what is already finished, and talk to you about it: - only then shall you take away a copy, if you wish to have one! But I do not care to contribute to even more misunderstandings - which are so distressing to me. - Do not take this the wrong way! -
As far as Darmstadt is concerned, you also mentioned that the orchestral parts of “Tannhäuser” were already being copied and that you intended beginning rehearsals as early as the 15th of August, etc. Well, that is splendid news, and I cannot tell you how happy you have made me: do not, however, be angry with me if I express a certain surprise at this news. I have still to receive word that the Darmstadt directors have acquired the score of “Tannhäuser”: some time ago I received a letter from a certain Herr Tascher; I replied to him and demanded twenty-five louis d’or: since then I have heard absolutely nothing. (??) Tell me how things stand! and while I’m on the subject of “business”, I must also mention that I have every reason to suspect that the Dresden state police may suddenly take it into their heads to seize my revenues: (all that it needs is for someone who bears me a personal grudge to draw their attention to the fact, and they’ll be forced to do so!). For this reason I am now insisting upon receiving my fees in advance; I would ask you - when you are next in Darmstadt - to remember this notification. - By the way! You will be receiving from Dresden a further alteration to the ending of Tannh.: according to this revised version, the corpse of Elisabeth does not appear, neither do the Landgr. & minstrels; conversely, the younger pilgrims, singing their chorus - as in the first revision. Conversely, everything else - necessarily — remains, the whole of Venus’s part, etc. up to: “Blessed Elisabeth, pray for me”, at which point the earlier ending takes over. The young pilgrims bear the blossoming staff in their midst. - Prior to that, Elisabeth’s death is indicated only by the light of torches on the Wartburg, funeral bells and men’s voices coming from there (in other words, from the top of the hill). —
All this talk about the appearance of a corpse, and prosaic calculations about the socio-physico-anatomical possibility of burying Elisabeth “in so short a space of time” (how fortunate that people have time on these occasions to think about time!) have finally sickened me to such an extent that I have decided on this alteration, or restitution. -
Source: Selected Letters of Richard Wagner, trans. and ed. Stewart Spencer and Barry Millington (W. W. Norton & Company, 1988), No. 165