O, you bad man! homo malus! How long have you made me wait for a letter! Had you heard my cursing and swearing during the last eight days it would have quite alarmed you. I thought I should at least receive a letter of four sheets; instead of that comes a miserable mutilated sheet of note paper, so that it truly excites my pity. Oh, how quickly are you degenerating in Saxony! Rascal!
I set hard to work after your departure. It exhausts me very much, but when at last I wish to recruit myself, I really do not know how to manage it. The worst times are those in which I wish to refresh, distract myself. Only then do I become fully aware how matters stand with me. I have first to strike every spark of joy out of a whole heap of flint stones. So long as I work I can deceive myself, but so soon as I wish to unbend my mind I can no longer deceive myself; and then I am, on that account, terribly miserable. My only escape is always to be thinking of fresh work, and my only joy is to commence to cripple my strength. Magnificent kind of art, that! Gladly would I throw it away for one single week's life! I am terribly without nourishment from my surroundings. I cannot get on at all with men. At such times I feel a truly ardent craving for something, no matter what, to come into my hands from the outer world. From earliest morn my only distraction is the hope of receiving a letter — a token of love. Well, midday comes — nothing arrives. The whole day passes for me in unsatisfied hunger, and I gnaw into myself afresh. But why should other people exist merely for the purpose of giving me nourishment? I know each one has enough to do to think for himself, and at last I shall be reckoned an insatiable!
My Mittheilung was ready soon after you left. What you do not know is actually the most important part. This is a decisive work! The copying took me over a week; but last Saturday week everything went off to Härtels, also the explanation about the "score." I am expecting an answer in a few days. I should be glad if the full score of Lohengrin also were engraved; after all, there may be some theatres which would give the opera. Copying is a tedious, formal, uncertain, and expensive matter. I can scarcely think Härtels will decide for both scores; anyhow, they have not expressed the wish. I have nothing to say against a performance of Lohengrin at Leipzig; only I wish they would lead up to it in a more systematic way, i.e., first give the Dutchman, then Tannhäuser, and only then Lohengrin. I will write as much to Härtels. Wherever I can exert any influence, I would propose this plan; at least, that they should give Tannhäuser first. Altogether, I get rid a little of my repugnance to the production of my operas. When a theatre suddenly wishes to give one of my works, I have surely a right to presume that there are special reasons, and generally — or rather most certainly — that an enthusiast is at the bottom of it, who is anxious to gain the cause acceptance. If I can influence conductor and actors by letter, I see a possible guarantee before me; but where such is not the case, as in Dresden (so far, at any rate, as the conductor is concerned), I let the thing go.
Lately I received from Bote and Bock, in Berlin, a request to state my terms for Tannhäuser, which the Schwerin Theatre wishes to give; at the same time, they would like to have a copy for themselves, with performing rights. I was quite astonished, and thought at once "in return for a modest honorarium," etc. I could not get Schwerin out of my head, when suddenly I remembered that Röckel's sister, Madame Moritz (a highly talented actress and singer), is there: she has seen Tannhäuser at Weimar. You see things often happen thus. On this occasion I have an immediate request to make to you. Do go with the enclosed letter to X., and get him to hand over to you twelve scores of Tannhäuser. Fischer tells me that there is no score of Tannhäuser among the music I left behind. Should demands increase, it is as well you should have a supply of copies, of which I could at once dispose. I would, therefore, beg you always to keep in readiness one or two complete copies, namely, with the new ending (Fischer would let you have the theatre score at any time, and you could get this copied in by Wölfel), and also with the cuts and small changes (also with regard to the Introduction to the third act), which you will likewise get from the theatre score. Ask, too, for a dozen books of words. In case X. should hesitate to part with the scores, let me give you this bit of information. I had one hundred copies of this score struck off by F.; I defrayed the cost out of the money then paid to me in advance from the theatre. For this, indeed, the King himself, strictly speaking, would be my creditor, and no one else. Now I do not know exactly how many copies I kept for myself; many of them I gave away here and there. As there are none to be found, I presume that, originally, I cannot have had more than thirty. I gave all the others to X. — at least sixty copies — but about this I won't dispute; X. himself will know best. X. was to try and sell these copies through the music trade, and we fixed the price at ten thalers. As his business was in want of funds, I consented that X. should make use of any money which might come in from sale of the scores. Now I don't know how many he sold, but the number on hand must still be very large. If X. hesitates to give the twelve copies wanted, he might be answered thus: "You are keeping back more copies than you will probably require for the music trade, but you cannot sell them to a theatre with permission to perform. Now if you prevent Wagner from selling his work to theatres, you are standing in your own light with regard to the music business, for then no one will buy the pianoforte scores. If, by keeping back the scores, you wish to compel Wagner to give the theatre honoraria to the music business, that would be a piece of villainy towards him whose means of living is not secured by any rights — which he would answer by not having his operas performed at all." Should X. insist that for every copy sold to a theatre he should receive the music-trade price of ten thalers, you must finally yield in the matter, and give a guarantee for the same. I speak here merely of possible, not likely, eventualities: I do not expect them from X. Will you always reckon up the expenses to Wölfel, and I will at once settle with you?
There's a lot of business! Now something different! I have seen about a copy of my new "comic opera libretto" for Liszt, but I am not sure whether I shall send it to him now. I am going to set to work at the music, and expect to have a really pleasant time. You perhaps cannot imagine it, but everything comes quite naturally. The musical phrases fit themselves on to the verses and periods without any trouble on my part; everything grows as if wild from the ground. I have already the beginning in my head; also some plastic motives, like the Fafner one. I am delighted at the thought of giving myself up wholly to it.
But one thing more. For eight days I have been under strict water diet, and it suits me thoroughly. I have not read much of Rausse, but so much I know already, namely: no wine, no beer, no coffee — only water and cold milk. No soup, but everything cool or tepid. Early in bed, three or four glasses of cold water; then rubbing down; midday, a bath in the lake, or a hip-bath. My stomach, which was altogether out of order, is in a good state, and I feel easy in the abdomen. During the day I continually drink much water; after a meal I go out for half an hour, and so on. My head is much lighter, only often somewhat giddy; probably this is the immediate effect. I shall go on unconditionally in this way, for I feel how much good it is doing me. I do it, too, with goodwill, and with water and milk I have a relish for food and a good appetite. At the end I shall have more health than I know what to do with. Tell me, what shall I do with it? Greetings at home, and also to Julia, who is now the only one of the R.'s left in Dresden! K. is in Stuttgart. The letter to Röckel is insipid, and written under compulsion; but see to it through Schulze (who, indeed, can address the envelope). After I have received a letter from Röckel I can write better to him.
Adieu, you dear, good man! Thanks for your love and faithfulness.
Your
R. W.
Upon my word, the article from London signed "Butterbrodt," on the Thalbergian opera (in the Signale), was excellent. It made me go into fits of laughter! I have not properly read Krüger: I shall get to know all about it from your replies. Minna sends best greetings. She is concerned about your hollow cheeks, and begs you will return with better looks next year!
I beg X. to put the new ending in the second edition of Tannhäuser. If he will pay the costs, would you be so good as to arrange the piece? For Heaven's sake do leave out the preliminary remarks of the Weimar book of words (concerning Master Wolfram) in the pianoforte score of Lohengrin. They are not mine, and are worthless!
Source: Richard Wagner's Letters to His Dresden Friends, Theodor Uhlig, Wilhelm Fischer, and Ferdinand Heine, trans. J. S. Shedlock (Scribner & Welford, 1890), No. 30