Most gracious lord and dearest of all friends,
How often, deeply moved and then profoundly reassured, have I recalled your royal grace and favour, and listened to the beating of so great and kind a heart! Alas, I was loath to write to you: a King should not see his friend approach in a mood of discontent; and, try as I might, I could not break out of that mood. But then your gracious letter arrived, bringing with it both air and sunlight: I could breathe again freely, and felt raised above myself. And now I must needs thank you from the depths of my soul!
And what is this now? - I was expecting poor weather on returning from Italy: but I looked forward to the pleasures of domesticity and - work - my final work on Parsifal! - they were pleasures which I hoped would help me over my sadness at the gloomy season, but not even my work is a source of much joy; - on the contrary, it leaves me feeling discontented and deeply morose, since I now have to think of performing the piece, and submit to these loathsome experiences all over again, the mere gradual forgetting of which has given me back my sense of calm and serene equanimity in recent years! It is always the same: as soon as a work like this is complete and released by its author, it belongs to the devil! - Recently J. Rubinstein (Wahnfried’s supreme court pianist!) played us the first scene of Tannhäuser, which I rewrote in Paris - the “Venusberg”; I had grown so remote from this piece that I listened to the performance as though I were hearing something quite new, written by some other composer; it had the most extraordinary impression upon me, for I was bound to find that this same piece by far surpasses anything that even Berlioz achieved in this dissolute genre, and that it is certainly not inferior to anything that I myself have written. As for the fate that befell this work, I had retained a memory of only the most disheartening experiences: this tremendous music had to be realized on stage, and it turned out in Paris that such a staging was deemed possible only by transforming it into the most absurd kind of ballet. I then decided to try it out again in Vienna - with the help, I thought, of a ballet-mistress of genius; Lucile Grahn (so I had discovered) was said to have made a tolerable success of the thing in Munich, and so I had her brought to Vienna; but when I got to know her intentions, my only concern was to send the woman back home again, and leave the matter to run its usual - balletic - course. Since then it was always with horror that I thought of this music which - heard now by chance - came to fill me with wonder at what I had written! - And so it is with more or less everything. Not for the world would I wish to go through again what I went through last time with our performances here of the Nibelung’s Ring - in spite of the fact that they are still the most correct that have so far been given, - or, if I did, it would only be after my death! - And now - a new work: - it’s Parsifal’s turn!!! A work for whose characters I am unable to find a single singer in all our opera companies who is truly gifted, let alone suited to his or her part! - Well! It must be so, and - I shall! But: patience! People must be patient with me, since all precautions are in vain. - Yes! I suspect and believe - my most precious and gracious one! - that my best plan will be to cast Jäger as Parsifal: - that is how things stand. In this regard, however, it pains me particularly that my exalted lord has recently heard unfavourable reports about this singer’s appearances in Munich; for, to tell the truth, it was the question which I heard my beloved King put to me in the theatre foyer some months ago, when he asked why I was not planning to cast Jäger as Parsifal, that remained in my memory as a directive after I had received such distressing news of another tenor whom I was then considering for the part. These people are all quite pitiful: a bit of a voice, monstrously overpaid, and - completely untalented, lazy and vain! - And so I am really reduced to getting by with Jäger, but at least hope that I’ll make a better Parsifal of him than I did with Unger as Siegfried. But other singers, too, will have to learn the role: perhaps I shall double-cast it! - And the same is true of the women singers: once again I am reminded of your royal question concerning Materna; she is still the “bird in the hand”, which I should prefer not to lose for the “two in the bush”! But I may double-cast this part as well! - Otherwise everything will turn out the sort of ordinary fare that is all I could wish for in the case of such noble characters! Lilli Lehmann, who created my Rhinedaughters, has taken over the task of engaging Klingsor’s enchanted women: and they have turned out uncommonly well! May God give his blessing to this harmless piece of devilry! -
Some time ago I re-engaged the technician K. Brandt, who was my assistant when we equipped the Nibelung theatre. He surprised me, when he came to visit me, by his detailed knowledge of all the demands that are made by the scenery for Parsifal: the arrangements he had made were all so unerringly correct that he was able to tell me that there was insufficient music for the gradual transformation of the forest into the Grail Temple; as a result I was persuaded to add another two to three minutes of music, which, fortunately, has turned out very well. We also agreed that the Bruckner brothers would again build the scenery for us, this time to designs by my friend Joukowsky. I much prefer this; for although I have a by no means poor opinion of the abilities of the scene-painters in Munich, I would much rather deal with these modest and no less talented artists from Coburg, since, in my dealings with the former, I am unable to overcome an aversion towards them that is based upon certain far from agreeable experiences, whereas I feel perfectly free in the case of the latter. Joukowsky has completed his work with the most indefatigable zeal and, finally, to our general satisfaction: Klingsor’s magic garden, for which everything had to be invented - without any model on which to base the designs - had to be sketched out in full no fewer than seven separate times since it kept on not turning out as I wanted it; but it, too, will be something completely new: it was a strange task for him to design flowers in such a way that the girls can appear to grow out of them. I am expecting the scene-painters to visit me before the month is over, so that I can hand over the sketches to them: if there is still time, I shall take the liberty of submitting them to my exalted friend for his brief perusal. - The “family” portrait, however, has been completely pushed to one side by this work; but I am not permitted to say much about it, since I can see that the others want to surprise me with it on my birthday. As soon as it has turned out a success, it shall be kept in readiness, should my exalted lord be kind and gracious enough to wish to see it. - We were very pleased by our generous benefactor’s favourable opinion of Count Gobineau’s book, “La Renaissance”, which we, too, consider a work of genius. We made the acquaintance of this remarkable man in the course of our visits to Italy, first in Rome, and now in Naples, and have won him over as our friend. He was the French ambassador to Persia, and then to Sweden, but now lives a life completely cut off from the contemporary situation in France, since, so he claims, there is not a single person there any longer to whom he can make himself understood. A longer work of his, “de l’inégalité des races humaines”, appeared as long ago as the 1850s, but was virtually ignored in France because nobody liked it, least of all the so-called democrats, since it depicts the decadence of the white race - which alone, however, is destined to achieve mastery over the other races. Neither the book-trade nor Count Gobineau himself was able to obtain this remarkable book for us, since it was sold out, and - now that it has fallen into oblivion - no one is prepared to take on a new edition: finally, Gobineau managed to persuade a professor in Tübingen to lend us the four-volume work for a brief perusal. However, my wife has now advertised for a copy through a Jewish dealer in second-hand books who normally manages to obtain what we want, and - if we get hold of a copy - what pleasure it will give us to present it to our exalted benefactor for his information! I consider Gobineau’s ideas to date to be uncommonly daring - but profound! We shall be able to discuss them with him in person since we are expecting him for a relatively long visit, probably arriving in April. So great is his interest in “Bayreuth” that he has already written a fairly long piece for our “Blätter”, which my wife will be translating: its theme is apparently very far-reaching, namely, “What we can expect from Asia”, a subject on which he has very original views which no one can ignore who is seriously concerned with the question of what is actually likely to become of our civilization. I regard all these and similar questions as not unrelated to the fate and destiny of the uniquely true art which I myself envisage. The sort of misunderstandings to which I, too, am exposed in raising such far-reaching questions is instructive, but also a source of some entertainment. Not a day passes without my receiving some absurd communication or other: vegetarians, Jew-haters, religious sectaries - they all believe they can enlist my support. Recently, however, I received news from Paris of my election as a “membre honoraire de la société des amis du divorce”: I ask you: “amis du divorce!” -
But now at least our trusty swan is continuing his voyage around the world: may he lead to something more noble! - In Naples - fortunately only after I had already left! - “Lohengrin” has aroused unbelievable enthusiasm. It is now going to be given in Madrid, too, to mark the two-hundredth anniversary of Calderon’s death. The strange part about it is that I am still alive to enjoy such incredibly late fruits! Herr von Hülsen maintains that not a soul will still be talking about the Ring of the Nibelung in twenty years’ time: the overhasty man! What did he not say when Tannhäuser and even Lohengrin were initially slow to make an impression in Berlin? He regretted the money that had been spent on them! But a general manager like him never learns; what he fails above all to realize is that if an exalted benefactor gives his word, such an unpopular opera composer can grow God knows how old and live to see all that otherwise - ah! how often! - comes to pass only long after the deaths of great men. - Yes! That is the worst thing for impertinent contemporaries to have to suffer - to be outlived by the other person! -
And so the adventure of another stage festival in Bayreuth awaits me! This time I expect it to last a long time, if I am to present all my works - successively - and give them my seal of approval. Since we intend admitting all who can pay, I have little reason to doubt that the affair will not last, albeit only as long as I myself remain alive, but I trust myself to achieve a fairly respectable old age, particularly when I consider that I shall already have entered upon my seventieth year when Parsifal opens next year. I shall not let this worry me, since years in my case appear not to mean very much: rather would I wish for somewhat more peace of mind and indifference to the interruptions to which I am perpetually exposed, no matter where I may be. In much the same way my physical health is of a kind that no real infirmity seems to set in, but only things that provoke my impatience: I have, for example, been dragging a couple of sore fingers around with me for some months now, and have to have them looked at almost every hour, - which is enough to drive me insane. Fortunately the children in the house then make fun of me, and I and my dear wife have a good laugh. So everything must be possible! -
Today - precisely because - remarkable to tell! - the sun is shining, I intend taking a look at our theatre again, for the first time, in fact, since our return. This curious building is after all an undeniable gain, a reality against which nothing can be said. But steps are now being taken to ensure that our great and glorious and beloved protector may feel a little more at his ease inside this uncomfortable building: the theatre architect Brückwald is now working on a plan for an extension to the front of the building which will place at our exalted protector’s disposal a private entrance, then as decent as possible a room (called the Salon) with direct access to a spacious and entirely self-contained box in the so-called Princes’ Gallery. Care must be taken to ensure that this extension is not out of proportion with the rest of the building, so that, when I finally die and the “German nation” begins to stir, to a man, behind me, there will be nothing to prevent them from retaining the basic structure - which, after all, is solidly built - if the whole is to be surrounded by massive architecture and got up with monumental decorations: nothing need be altered in the interior of the building - apart from the same kind of monumental decorations which should be executed in some noble material - since it is functional in the highest sense of the word, which is something that unfortunately cannot be said of any other theatre. Only - as I say - a protectorial extension will have to be added! - Oh! Forgive me, my most beloved and exalted prince! this chatter of mine has taken me on to a third sheet of quarto; what will your patience say to that? But that’s how it is, my royal friend makes me so vain and so talkative when he praises my letters with such extravagant grace and goodness. Ah, God! That I might always give you a little - a tiny little - pleasure by dint of all that I do and think - that is something I do indeed take care to aspire to, which is why I prefer to say nothing when things look black or grey inside me. Well, I know of course that my great and merciful lord never escapes entirely without some loud lament on my part, - but God must needs know all! - But the good part about it is that the very frankness with which I may make so bold as to complain to him always does me good and elevates my mood, and that talking to him finally makes me happy and free. And - looked at closely - so it was also today: the fairest smile shows itself only in the midst of tears! -
Well then: my concluding prayer! Whom do I praise? Whom do I thank? It is my saint, my merciful redeemer! To him do all look up to whom he gave me, for whom he saved me, safe and happy and certain, to the astonishment of all the world. They send a thousand heartfelt good wishes of sincerest gratitude to the kindest of men who always remembers them, too, with such gracious benevolence! Thus - through the eyes of others - I look up to him, and worship the God who gave me to him as his own!
In all eternity,
grateful unto death,
Richard Wagner
Source: Selected Letters of Richard Wagner, trans. and ed. Stewart Spencer and Barry Millington (W. W. Norton & Company, 1988), No. 483