Only another 7 concerts to conduct: then I shall return home! And ultimately that is the most sensible thing for me to do - don’t you agree, my dear Minna?
There - in a few words - you have my entire frame of mind. -
By the time the rehearsal had finished last Saturday, it was too late for me to write to you, and so I decided to wait until after the performance on Monday. In fact it was the rehearsal that gave me the greatest pleasure: the orchestra is excellent both in accomplishment and tone, only in its manner of execution has it been utterly ruined by bad conductors. When I began rehearsing the Beethoven symphony in my usual manner, they were all completely speechless: I kept stopping them, and insisted particularly upon their playing piano: and I had the pleasure of seeing how quickly the players got used to me; each movement went better than the one before, and in the end it needed only brief indications to make them understand what I wanted of them. These musicians have the ability to do anything: the wind section, in particular, is very good, and there is of course no question of my suffering the sort of torment I had to put up with in Zurich, since the bassoons, too, are excellent.
And so it turned out that the rehearsal was over sooner than they had all feared. - When I was first introduced to the orchestra, they welcomed me with sustained applause: I got Sainton, the first violin, to thank them for me. The applause broke out again after the symphonies and, finally, at the end of the rehearsal. -
The directors of the Society were beside themselves with delight, and assured me that the orchestra had never played even remotely like it before. Although I resisted the idea, I was immediately forced to agree to some of my pieces being performed at the very next concert: I chose the 3 pieces from Lohengrin (Overture, Bridal Procession, Wedding Music and Bridal Chorus) with chorus. They are already being translated. In addition they are already demanding Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony, and I finally agreed, partly because the choirs will be there in any case and partly because on this occasion - on account of my own pieces - I shall be given two rehearsals, which, I must admit, is most welcome news, on account of the symphony. - It emerged that people have all grown very expansive, and that they are now placing great hopes in me for an exceptional success to their whole season of concerts. They intend striking while the iron is hot. - Well, the performance was yesterday evening at 8 o’clock, and I was allowed to appear wearing a black tie: only when the Queen comes, which happens only once in the course of the entire season, do I have to wear a white tie. During the performance the orchestra began by falling back into their old habits, so that I felt how much hard work I am going to have to put in before they are completely transformed. However, the Eroica, and especially the Funeral March, went much better: - of course, I speak only for myself here; as far as all the others are concerned, they felt they were witnessing a miracle. The audience received me with great warmth and at some length - much better than in Zurich! - The orchestra added their own loud applause: every movement was applauded, and at the end there were cries of bravo on every side, so that I scarcely knew in which direction to bow next. The orchestra especially has taken me to heart; many of them assured me that everything I conducted had been utterly new; they said they had never previously understood the works, in spite of the fact that they knew nearly all of them by heart; and so I need show them only a little more forbearance. - But it is also my relationship with the orchestra which is my real source of pleasure here: everything else leaves me very cold, especially the audience which, admittedly, treated me with marks of great distinction, but I could not help noticing, thanks to my special feeling for this sort of thing, that they are really incapable of being moved; everything seems to be simply empty words and a question of fashion for them.
Basically the same is true of any audience en masse, with the result that there are only ever a few people among them who are more intimately familiar with my works and for whom I am sincerely glad to make music. I very much missed these people here; and only when I imagined myself back in Zurich during the Eroica did I warm to my task and become Richard Wagner through and through. But I seem to have made a great impression: Praeger has just been here, and he assured me that all those people who know anything about music are greatly excited and really quite beside themselves. Well, we shall see! -
In my next letter I shall tell you in more detail about how things are otherwise. Unfortunately, I am still suffering from a bad cold: quite apart from the terrible, cold damp fog, the weather is very bad for my health; at home I can never really get warm; the rooms here are so badly insulated, and the hearth heats things only in its immediate vicinity. It costs a fortune! A shilling a day almost on coal alone! Places are so dreadfully far apart that I simply have to take a cab everywhere. Half a bottle of Bordeaux in the worst restaurant costs 3 shillings etc. But, as I say, more on this in my next letter. I am now awaiting news from you: I hoped I might have heard something by yesterday. I was pleased and touched by your first letter: very many thanks for writing, you’re a good wife! Even here I still feel, and shall always feel, that I am really at home with you and our dear friends. I intend writing to each of them in turn. For today please give them all my sincere good wishes. My home is with you and nowhere else! Fare you well, my dear good Minna! You’ll soon hear more about my life! Fare you well, my good old wife!
Yours,
Richard.
Although I don’t have a wife here, I’ve a mother and sister: Praeger mothers me, and Klindworth, a pleasant young man who is just like Uhlig and whom Liszt recommended to me, sisters me, so that I’m well looked after by the two of them!
Semper and Klindworth came back home with me yesterday evening: they brought wine and champagne with them, and we sat up until 2 in the morning. I’m very tired today. - Forgive me!
On Sunday I dined with Mr Anderson en famille: there was a toast to you, which moved me very much, so that I swallowed an enormous mouthful. - Liszt still has not sent me an introduction to Erard, so that I am still without a piano and - unfortunately - have not yet done any work.
And so - once again; fare well, dear old Minna! Send me really good news about yourself, so that I feel relieved when I think of home. - I have been intending to use Wesendonck’s introduction for a day or so - although I do not need anyone.
Source: Selected Letters of Richard Wagner, trans. and ed. Stewart Spencer and Barry Millington (W. W. Norton & Company, 1988), No. 181