Yesterday completed the ninth week of this dog's life of mine in London, and seven weeks to-day I shall finish with its delights for ever. When I closed my last letter and asked myself again if I had forgotten anything, I remembered too late that I had not answered your question about the orchestra here. I intended to deal with the question at once in a letter to Boom, when I recollected that, after all, Sulzer might take it ill if I did not write to him before the other. So I will report on the question to you to-day. Unfortunately the orchestra of the Philharmonic Society, which is also that of the Italian Opera, consists almost entirely of Englishmen; only one trumpeter, one trombone and a third man are Germans; Frenchmen, likewise only three; all the rest are true Englishmen. It is true there are a great many other German and French musicians here, but Costa, who had the appointment of the orchestra, always engaged Englishmen in his day to make himself popular. Now these gentlemen play quite well, have thoroughly mastered their instruments and can play anything that comes along, but like machines, just like Geneva musical boxes. For instance, strictly speaking, their strength of tone is fixed and does not respond to shades of softness or loudness. The Parisian orchestra is far better. These Englishmen are wooden fellows and I would rather try to inspire enthusiasm in a German dance musician than in one of the dull creatures. Moreover I find it very hard to make them understand me; French, of course, is useless and when I want to explain minutely Sainton has to translate, except for a few short phrases that I have picked up, such as "Once more, please!", i.e. "noch einmal!" However, I am getting my reward here at last for my long sufferings with the bassoon in Zurich. The first bassoonist, a Belgian, is really exceptionally good, perhaps the best musician in the orchestra, excluding Sainton; he has often made me really happy. The oboist, though an Englishman, is also first-rate and particularly devoted to me. The clarinet, however, one of the directors, is bad and I liked Ott-Imhoff much better. But I prefer Sainton by a long way to the good Hessian, Heisterhagen. He is the best leader I have ever had, not excepting Dresden. If ever I produce The Nibelungs he is to be in it. Last Friday he got up a quartet at his rooms in my honour with Piatti, the first violoncello virtuoso in London. It was an enormous honour. To appreciate it one should know conditions here, and that these gentlemen are not in the habit of handling their bows in the Season under 10 pounds. So much for the orchestra!
These last days I have had the pleasing occupation of studying the scores of the glorious works which are due for extra-rehearsal the day after to-morrow for performance in the ensuing concerts. Good English compositions correctly worked out as examples in arithmetic, but without a trace of imagination or invention. You can imagine what a joy it is to me to be allowed to conduct these tone-poems! I am terribly bitter and I can only get along here and endure it with the aid of the most ferocious irony, which fortunately no one understands.
Richard Wagner
Source: Letters of Richard Wagner, Volume 1, ed. Altmann/Hull (London: Dent, 1927), No. 280