Paris, Oct. 29, 59. Of one attribute that I have acquired in my art I am now becoming more and more distinctly conscious, since it influences me in life as well. It is inborn in my nature to swing from one extreme of temper to another : the uttermost rebounds, moreover, can hardly help but touch ; in fact, life's safeguard often lies therein. At bottom, too, true art has no other subject than the display of these extremes of mood in their ultimate relations to each other : that which alone is worth aiming at here, the weighty crisis {die wichtige Entscheidung), can really be won from nothing but these uttermost antitheses. For art, however, from a material use of these extremes there may easily arise a vicious mannerism, which may degenerate into snatching at outward effect. In this snare have I seen caught, in particular, the modern French school, with Victor Hugo at its head * Now, I recognise that the peculiar tissue of my music (naturally in exactest agreement with the poetic structure) — what my friends now consider so new and significant t — owes its texture in especial to that intensely touchy feeling which prompts me to mediate and knit together all the nodes of transition between extremes of mood. My subtlest and deepest art I now might call the art of Transmutation, for my whole artistic woof consists of such transitions : I have t By this time he must have read that letter of Bulow's mentioned p. I75--Tr. taken a dislike to the abrupt and harsh ; often it is unavoidable and needful, but even then it should not enter without the Stimmung being so definitely prepared for a sudden change, as of itself to summon it. My greatest masterpiece in this art of subtlest and most gradual transition is assuredly the big scene in the second act of Tristan und Isolde. The commencement of this scene offers the most overbrimming life in its most passionate emotions, — its close the devoutest, most consecrate desire of death. Those are the piers : now see, child, how I've spanned them, how it all leads over from the one abutment to the other! And that's the whole secret of my musical form, as to which I make bold to assert that it has never been so much as dreamt before in such clear and extended coherence and such encompassing of every detail. If you knew how that leading sense inspired me here with musical contrivances — for rhythm, harmonic and melodic development — such as I never could light on before, you would grow aware how, even in the most specific branch of art, there can be no true invention if it does not spring from such main principles. — So much for Art ! But with me this art is very close allied to Life. I suppose a strong conflict of extremes of mood will always remain part of my character : it is painful to me, however, to have to measure their effects on others : to be understood is so indispensably important. Well, as Art has to bring to understanding those extreme grand emotions of Life .which remain unknown to the generality of mankind (except in rare epochs of war or revolution), so this understanding is only to be compassed through the most definite and cogent motivation of transitions ; and my whole artistic work consists in nothing but evoking the needful, willing mood of receptivity through such a motivation.* Nothing has been more horrifying to 1 86 WAGNER TO MATHILDE WESENDONCK me, in this regard, than when skips are made in the performance of my operas ; for instance in the Tannhäuser, where I first went to work with a growing sense of this beautiful, convincing need of Transmutation, and carried out a most pregnantly-motived transition (even musically considered) from the outburst of horror after Tannhäuser's appalling confession, to the reverence wherewith the intercession of Elisabeth is heard at last ; a transition I always was proud of, and that never failed of its convincing effect. You may easily imagine how I felt, when I learnt that folk saw ' lengths ' in this (as at Berlin) and positively struck out one of the most essential portions of my artwork ! — Thus does it fare in my art. And how in life ? Have you not often been witness how people found my language domineering, wearisome, interminable, when, led by an identical instinct, I meant nothing else than to lead over from excitement, or after an unusual expression, to a rational conciliation ? — Do you remember the last evening with Semper? I had suddenly forsaken my calmness, and wounded my opponent by a vigorous thrust : hardly had the words escaped me, than I inwardly cooled down at once, and felt nothing but the necessity — precisely to myself — of making amends, and restoring the conversation to a seemly groove. At like time, however, I had a definite feeling that this could never Menschenleben (ausser in seltenen Kriegs- und Revolutionsepochen) unbekannt bleiben, so ist diess Verstandniss eben nur durch die bestimmteste und zwingendste Motivirung der Uebergange zu erreichen, und mein ganzes Kunstwerk besteht eben darin, durch diese Motivirung die nSthige, willige Gefiihlsstimmung hervorzubringen." — Even by a slight paraphrase it is impossible to do justice to this pregnant sentence, as, among other things, we have no single English equivalent for Stimmung — the meaning of which may range from " key," or " pitch, 1 ' to " frame of mind." — Tr. be done by sudden muting, but only through a gradual and conscious leading-over. I remember that even while still loudly championing my own opinion, I was already handling it with a certain artistic deliberateness, which, if people would only have let me go on, quite surely would have led to a conclusion alike intellectually and morally conciliating, and ended with agreement and appeasement in one. I grant you that this is demanding too much ; for when actual temper once is roused, then each man wants to gain his point, and would far rather pass for insulted, than be brought to agreement. So upon this, as on many another occasion, I simply incurred the charge and rebuke of loving to hear myself speak. You yourself, I believe, were misled for a moment that evening, and feared that my continuing at first in a loud tone of voice proceeded from sustained excitement ; and yet I also remember having answered you quite tranquilly, " Only let me lead back again ; it really can't be done so quick ! " — You will believe me, that such experiences have something very painful to me ? — Indeed I am companionable, and it is no surly egoism that drives me more and more away from all society. It isn't wounded vanity, if I'm sensitive to charges of perpetual talking, but the doleful feeling — What canst thou ever be to people, what can they be to thee, if in your mutual intercourse it is no question of attaining understanding, but just simply of retaining one's unaltered opinion ? On subjects foreign to me, concerning which I have neither experience nor a settled feeling, I certainly never dilate any otherwise than with a view to gaining information : but when I feel that I have something rational and coherent to say about a subject with which I am quite familiar, then to have to let the thread of my argument be snapped for mere sake of giving another the semblance of right to an opposite opinion — that really makes it futile to 1 88 WAGNER TO MATHILDE WESENDONCK speak a single word in company at all. I now decline all so-called company, and — really feel better for it. But there I go, talking too much again perhaps, and bringing too much into conjunction that might as well be left apart? Will you understand me, if my feeling toward yourself impels me this time also to " transition " — to leadingover ; if I try to adjust the rough ends of my moods, and do not like to cease abruptly, just to blurt out that I'm calm and cheerful ? Could that possibly seem natural to you ? No : to-day as well, pursue the path I fain would lead your sympathy along, to arrive at a reassured feeling about me ! Nothing can be more painful to my heart, than to rouse a grievous sympathy ; if such a cause has slipped my lips, accord me the fair liberty of tranquillising gradually and gently. Everything, with me, is so linked together: that has its disadvantages, as it enables common and (under circumstances) remediable grievances to exert a frequently excessive influence on me ; yet it also has this advantage, that I derive from that same inter- connection the means of reassurance ; for, just as everything streams towards my ultimate life-task, my art, so from it flows back the fount that dews my arid paths of life. Through the heartfelt wish to soothe and reassure your sense of sympathy, to-day I've been able to make myself conscious of that highest artistic attribute which I find more fruitfully developed in each of my new works, and thus to speak to you as if from the very sanctuary of my art without the least constraint, the smallest self-deception, veraciously and sans pretence. — Thus, too, my whole situation is gradually clearing toward a definite outlet, an outlet which faces a side of the world whence friendship and noble will may operate composingly upon me. — Everything will be arrangeable, and once I'm quite at rest again, once full recourse to my art, my creating, is again made possible to me, all will soon lose its disturbing influence on my mind : then shall I look tranquilly outwards, and when I'm troubling least in that direction, perhaps there'll soonest come from there as well a thing I have to welcome.* — So — patience ! — From my [box of] books I've picked out our dear Schiller. Yesterday I read the Jungfrau [Maid of Orleans], and felt so musically attuned that I could capitally have filled with tones Johanna's silence, in particular, when she is publicly accused : her offence, — the miraculous. To-day a speech of Posa's about innocence and virtue (at close of the second act [Don Carlos^ absolutely set me in amazement at the incredible beauty of its poetic diction. How I regret my inability to comply with an invitation that reached me lately from the committee of the Schiller-festival at Berlin (to write a chant for it). Bemoan me, but also rejoice when I tell you that I've brought off this letter to-day amid countless interruptions by workmen, under the hammering and rapping of upholsterers, the instrument-maker, the wood-chopper, and so on. Ere long I might have had leisure, perhaps, to bring a Schiller chant about : but the term is too short, and the Muse has no niche in my houselet as yet. — Farewell ; be kind to me, and trust me ! All will have to be endured a while longer. A thousand greetings and hearty wishes ! R. W.
Richard Wagner
Source: Richard Wagner to Mathilde Wesendonck, translated by Ellis, No. 95