My Dear Friend: It is a long time since I wrote to you; yes, but I have had a worrying, anxious time. I do not seem to be ableto forge ahead. Each time I feel now I am within reach of my goal, it flies from me like a “will o’ the wisp.”No, “Tristan” has not yet been done; but it will, it will soon be done. I have found such a Tristan as charms my soul, such a one as will worthily enact my hero. He has been here with me for a few days studying it. Schnorr! Ah, the alighting upon him was miraculous! At one time last winter, so saddened and broken down was I by successive disappointments, that I had a presentiment of approaching death. I actually had rehearsals of “Tristan” at Vienna, and then the proposed performance does not take place. But now it will. Yet I dare not be too positive. If it does, Schnorr will be grand; then you must come. Why can’t you come now to me? I am going to stay here till the end of the summer; that my poor second self is so weakly as to compel you to go to the seaside, I am concerned deeply. May the sea-breezes invigorate him, and soon give his mother no cause for anxiety. But I intended telling you how I heard Schnorr first.He was going to sing “Lohengrin” at Carlsruhe. I did not want him or anybody to know I should be present, so I went secretly, for I feared a disappointment; he is fat, and picture a corpulent Knight of the Swan! I had not heard him before. I went, and he sang marvellously. He was inspired, and I was enchanted; he realized my ideal. So come now and see him; you will be delighted too.... I am staying here because I want to superintend the printing of my “Meistersinger.”Yours,Richard Wagner.
My Dear Friend: It is a long time since I wrote to you; yes, but I have had a worrying, anxious time. I do not seem to be ableto forge ahead. Each time I feel now I am within reach of my goal, it flies from me like a “will o’ the wisp.”
No, “Tristan” has not yet been done; but it will, it will soon be done. I have found such a Tristan as charms my soul, such a one as will worthily enact my hero. He has been here with me for a few days studying it. Schnorr! Ah, the alighting upon him was miraculous! At one time last winter, so saddened and broken down was I by successive disappointments, that I had a presentiment of approaching death. I actually had rehearsals of “Tristan” at Vienna, and then the proposed performance does not take place. But now it will. Yet I dare not be too positive. If it does, Schnorr will be grand; then you must come. Why can’t you come now to me? I am going to stay here till the end of the summer; that my poor second self is so weakly as to compel you to go to the seaside, I am concerned deeply. May the sea-breezes invigorate him, and soon give his mother no cause for anxiety. But I intended telling you how I heard Schnorr first.
He was going to sing “Lohengrin” at Carlsruhe. I did not want him or anybody to know I should be present, so I went secretly, for I feared a disappointment; he is fat, and picture a corpulent Knight of the Swan! I had not heard him before. I went, and he sang marvellously. He was inspired, and I was enchanted; he realized my ideal. So come now and see him; you will be delighted too.... I am staying here because I want to superintend the printing of my “Meistersinger.”
Yours,Richard Wagner.
Ah! Dear Ferdinand: I am faring tolerably well; have made some good friends, influential ones too, but that is not what I crave. “Tristan”! that’s it! I am ready to go back to Vienna at any moment, am expecting information from there, but again have feelings that the performance will not take place. Here, as you have doubtless seen through the press notices, my music has been received with an enthusiasm beyond what it ever before achieved in Germany. Tell Lüders that I called on his friends and they behaved in the kindest manner to me. Give the dear fellow my heartiest greetings. I would Minna were here with me; we might, in the excitement thatnow moves fast around me, grow again the quiescent pair as of yore. The whole thing is annoying. I am not in good spirits. I move about freely, and see a number of people, but my misery is bitter. Can you not arrange to come and be with me in the summer, wherever I may be? Write to me a long letter of how all is with you.Yours ever,Richard Wagner.St. Petersburgh, February, 1863.
Ah! Dear Ferdinand: I am faring tolerably well; have made some good friends, influential ones too, but that is not what I crave. “Tristan”! that’s it! I am ready to go back to Vienna at any moment, am expecting information from there, but again have feelings that the performance will not take place. Here, as you have doubtless seen through the press notices, my music has been received with an enthusiasm beyond what it ever before achieved in Germany. Tell Lüders that I called on his friends and they behaved in the kindest manner to me. Give the dear fellow my heartiest greetings. I would Minna were here with me; we might, in the excitement thatnow moves fast around me, grow again the quiescent pair as of yore. The whole thing is annoying. I am not in good spirits. I move about freely, and see a number of people, but my misery is bitter. Can you not arrange to come and be with me in the summer, wherever I may be? Write to me a long letter of how all is with you.
Yours ever,Richard Wagner.
St. Petersburgh, February, 1863.
I did not see him that year; matters could not be arranged. But since that time the storm was gathering in intensity which was to soon break. Minna had been in correspondence with me. Of her letters I publish nothing. But the next from Wagner tells its own sad story in plain language. It is dated—
Mariafeld, April, 1864.And so she has written to you? Whose fault was it? How could she have expected I was to be shackled and fettered as any ordinary cold common mortal. My inspirations carried me into a sphere she could not follow, and then the exuberance of my heated enthusiasm was met by a cold douche. But still there was no reason for the extreme step; everything might have been arranged between us, and it would have been better had it been so. Now there is a dark void, and my misery is deep. It has struck into my health, though I carefully attend to what you ever insist is the root of my ills—diet. Yet I do not sleep, and am altogether in a feverish state. It is now that I feel I have sounded my lowest note of dark despair. What is before me? I know not! Unless I can shortly and quickly rescue myself from this quicksand of gloom, it will engulf me and all will then be over. Change of scene I must have. If I do not I fear I shall sink from inanition. I like comfort, luxury—she fettered me there—How will it end?Write to me soon.Richard Wagner.
Mariafeld, April, 1864.
And so she has written to you? Whose fault was it? How could she have expected I was to be shackled and fettered as any ordinary cold common mortal. My inspirations carried me into a sphere she could not follow, and then the exuberance of my heated enthusiasm was met by a cold douche. But still there was no reason for the extreme step; everything might have been arranged between us, and it would have been better had it been so. Now there is a dark void, and my misery is deep. It has struck into my health, though I carefully attend to what you ever insist is the root of my ills—diet. Yet I do not sleep, and am altogether in a feverish state. It is now that I feel I have sounded my lowest note of dark despair. What is before me? I know not! Unless I can shortly and quickly rescue myself from this quicksand of gloom, it will engulf me and all will then be over. Change of scene I must have. If I do not I fear I shall sink from inanition. I like comfort, luxury—she fettered me there—How will it end?
Write to me soon.
Richard Wagner.
LUDWIG’S PRINCELY HELP.
But a startling change was nigh at hand. The curtain was about to rise upon the “Wahnfried” act of thehitherto stormy drama of Richard Wagner’s life. As far as the wit of man could devise, Wagner was henceforth to be relieved from all care and anxiety as to the future. His wants—and be it remembered they were not few, for, on his own confession, he stands described as “more luxurious than Sardanapalus”—were all about to be provided for with regal liberality. But the following extracts from a letter which conveyed to me the news, will be noted with interest, since they give a vivid picture of the man and his feelings, in a word, paint the human being in characters so striking, and lay bare the workings of the heart in a manner which was impossible for his most intimate friend to hope to achieve. It was not wealth he wanted. Luxury when he possessed it in abundance did not comfort him: the worship and close intimacy of a king solaced him not: the void was sympathy, such as only a loving woman could give. The gloomy picture he draws of desolation amidst plenty invokes our heartiest compassion.
Dearest Ferdinand: I owe it to you that you should be informed of what my joy—clouded though it is by certain thoughts—has been during the last few weeks. Such a state of intoxication have I been cast into, that it has been as though I were another being than myself, and I but a dazed reflection of the real mortal. It is a state of living in another atmosphere, like that induced by the drinking of hasheesh. A message from the sun-god has come to me; the young king of Bavaria, a young man not yet twenty years of age, has sent for me, and resolves to give me all I require in this life, I in return to do nothing but compose and advise him. He urges me strongly to be near him; sends for me sometimes two and even three times in one day; talks with me for hours, and is, as far as I can see, devoted heart and soul to me. There is but one name for him—a god-like youth. But though I have now atmy command a profusion of unlimited means, my feeling of isolation is torturing. With no one to realize and enjoy with me this limitless comfort, a feeling of weariness and desolation is induced which keeps me in a constant state of dejection terrible to bear. The commonest domestic details now must be done by me; the purchasing of kitchen utensils and such kindred matters am I driven to—Ah! poor Beethoven! Now is it forcibly brought home to me what his discomforts were with his washing-book, and engaging of housekeepers, etc., etc. I who have praised woman more than Frauenlob, have not one for my companion. The truth is, I have spoilt Minna: too much did I indulge her, too much did I yield to her; but it were better not to talk upon a subject which never ceases to vex me. The king strives his utmost to gratify me, and if I do not seem happy when with him and show my appreciation of his wondrous goodness, I should deserve to be branded as “ingrate.”There is one good being who brightens my household—the wife of Bülow; she has been with her children. If you can come to see me I shall be happy. My god-child, Richard Wagner, is now eight years old, you tell me; bring him; the talk of a dear innocent child will do me good; to have him near me will, perhaps, comfort me.Your unhappyRichard Wagner.Starnberg, June, 1864.
Dearest Ferdinand: I owe it to you that you should be informed of what my joy—clouded though it is by certain thoughts—has been during the last few weeks. Such a state of intoxication have I been cast into, that it has been as though I were another being than myself, and I but a dazed reflection of the real mortal. It is a state of living in another atmosphere, like that induced by the drinking of hasheesh. A message from the sun-god has come to me; the young king of Bavaria, a young man not yet twenty years of age, has sent for me, and resolves to give me all I require in this life, I in return to do nothing but compose and advise him. He urges me strongly to be near him; sends for me sometimes two and even three times in one day; talks with me for hours, and is, as far as I can see, devoted heart and soul to me. There is but one name for him—a god-like youth. But though I have now atmy command a profusion of unlimited means, my feeling of isolation is torturing. With no one to realize and enjoy with me this limitless comfort, a feeling of weariness and desolation is induced which keeps me in a constant state of dejection terrible to bear. The commonest domestic details now must be done by me; the purchasing of kitchen utensils and such kindred matters am I driven to—Ah! poor Beethoven! Now is it forcibly brought home to me what his discomforts were with his washing-book, and engaging of housekeepers, etc., etc. I who have praised woman more than Frauenlob, have not one for my companion. The truth is, I have spoilt Minna: too much did I indulge her, too much did I yield to her; but it were better not to talk upon a subject which never ceases to vex me. The king strives his utmost to gratify me, and if I do not seem happy when with him and show my appreciation of his wondrous goodness, I should deserve to be branded as “ingrate.”
There is one good being who brightens my household—the wife of Bülow; she has been with her children. If you can come to see me I shall be happy. My god-child, Richard Wagner, is now eight years old, you tell me; bring him; the talk of a dear innocent child will do me good; to have him near me will, perhaps, comfort me.
Your unhappyRichard Wagner.
Starnberg, June, 1864.
The preceding letter is to me a landmark in Wagner’s life. The facts have only to be recited for it to be clearly perceived what a striking climax had been reached. Upon them I make no comment. They speak for themselves—the sudden transformation from a state of hardship into one of security; the powerful patronage and friendship of the king of Bavaria; the absence of Minna; the presence of Madame von Bülow.
THE LOVE OF A KING.
New influences were now beginning to work upon Wagner; and—they were not weak. I did not see Wagner until the next year, when the change was pronounced.During the winter the attachment of the king grew in warmth, until in a manner Wagner may be said to have dominated the youthful monarch completely. In the early spring of 1865, Wagner wrote me the following short note. It was in reply to one from me, urging him to find some occupation for August Roeckel, who had been released since the January of 1862. When Roeckel was at Dresden, in 1849, with Richard Wagner, he had effaced himself entirely for his friend. Then Wagner was appreciative of sacrifices upon the altar of friendship, and regarded them as done on his behalf entirely; but he later grew so absorbed with his mission that no sacrifice did he regard as done to himself, but for the glory of his art, and in this no sacrifice could be too great. The short note after a private reference to Roeckel runs as follows:—
...At present I cannot. Time may be when the good August shall feel that his old friend lives—now, all I can say is that the king loves me with a love beyond description. I feel as sure of his love for me till the end, as I am conscious of his unbounded goodness to me now. It is a trial, though, of the heaviest; the formation of his mind I feel it a duty to undertake. He is so strikingly handsome that he might pose as the King of the Jews (and—this in confidence—I am seriously reflecting on the Christian tragedy; possibly something may come of it). But you must forgive me any more correspondence just now, I am busy.Yours,Richard Wagner.Munich(London post-mark), 8th April, 1865.
...At present I cannot. Time may be when the good August shall feel that his old friend lives—now, all I can say is that the king loves me with a love beyond description. I feel as sure of his love for me till the end, as I am conscious of his unbounded goodness to me now. It is a trial, though, of the heaviest; the formation of his mind I feel it a duty to undertake. He is so strikingly handsome that he might pose as the King of the Jews (and—this in confidence—I am seriously reflecting on the Christian tragedy; possibly something may come of it). But you must forgive me any more correspondence just now, I am busy.
Yours,Richard Wagner.
Munich(London post-mark), 8th April, 1865.
It appeared later that he was deeply engrossed in preparations for “Tristan’s” performance, his next letter—but a short invitation—bearing on the subject.
Dear Praeger: 15, 18, 22 May: Wonderfully fine representations of “Tristan” at Munich. Come, if you can, and write first. I should be heartily glad to know you present at them.Yours,Richard Wagner.Munich, 7th May, 1865.
Dear Praeger: 15, 18, 22 May: Wonderfully fine representations of “Tristan” at Munich. Come, if you can, and write first. I should be heartily glad to know you present at them.
Yours,Richard Wagner.
Munich, 7th May, 1865.
I found it impossible to be present at the “Tristan” performances, and was compelled to postpone my visit to the summer of the same year. On the 27th July, Madame von Bülow wrote to me for “her friend,” explaining that he was so much touched by the death of poor Schnorr (the Tristan of the recent performances), that he was unable to write any letters, but that Wagner would be at Munich up to the 8th August—though she “had advised Richard very strongly to retire to the mountains there to strengthen his nerves.”
IWENTto Munich and found Wagner considerably depressed. “Tristan,” the work he evidently loved with no ordinary affection, had, after seven years of hoping against hope, but just been performed to his intense satisfaction, when the ideal impersonator dies. The happiness he had recently felt at the three “Tristan” performances, coupled with the publication of the piano scores of the “Walküre” and “Tristan” had, to an extent, kept his mind free. These events passed, and his friends departed, he fell into a desponding mood. Minna, his wife, was not there. This was a constant irritation to him. He affected to care nothing about it, but his references to her absence showed how it annoyed and preyed upon him. Then was he placed in delicate relations with the young king of Bavaria. Louis constituted Wagner his adviser—his Mentor. Questions of state were submitted to him. The king’s personal advisers were aware of this, and resented it. Wagner knew of the intrigues against him. He sincerely yearned for quietude; all the more because he instinctively felt the coming storm. He showed me all the letters that his royal devotee had written to him, and this I can testify, that breathing as they did the fervid adoration of a cultured, highly gifted youth for agenius, Wagner on his side felt no less intense admiration and affection for the “god-like” king. So great was the influence it was assumed Wagner possessed over the monarch, that his good-will was sought by all classes of petitioners for the royal favour.
The house inhabited by Richard Wagner was detached, an uncommon thing for houses in Germany. It had been built, he told me, by an Englishman, and now that he could command practically “unlimited means,” he did not restrict his wants. I may say he positively revelled in his grandeur like a boy. His taste in arranging his house once again provoked the hostile comments of an ever-ready opposition press. As I have before remarked, this charge of Oriental luxury was a stock one with some people. Even now, his velvet coat and biretta are made the subject of puerile attacks; but I cannot refrain from stating that Richard Wagner’s house and decorations are far surpassed by the luxuriously appointed palaces of certain English painters, musicians, and dramatic poetasters. Wagner was fond of velvets and satins, and he knew how best to display them. The arrangements in the house, too, showed the unmistakable guiding of a woman. Madame von Bülow acted as a sort of secretary to Wagner. Wagner was a prolific correspondent, but during the early portion of the summer, he had, it seems, been busy finishing the score of the second act of “Siegfried.”
WAGNER A BORN ACTOR.
Wagner laid bare his hopes and wishes to me. He merits eulogy for his fearlessness. With that trait I was particularly struck. In relating the subject of a certain interview with the king, I was of opinion he had been too blunt of speech, too outspoken in his criticism,and I asked what would he do were he to lose the royal favour, remembering how dark and mournful had been his days at the moment the king sought him out. His reply startled me. “I have lived before without the king, and I can do so again.” Honour to Wagner! He was fearless here as he was in his music—no concessions to false art.
A born actor Wagner? Certainly. Out together one day he related to me the story of his climbing the Urirothstock in company with a young friend. Some distance up the mountain, his companion, who was following, exclaimed he was giddy and falling, upon which Wagner turned round on the ledge of rock, caught his friend, and passed him between the rock and himself to the front. The scene was reproduced very graphically. His presence of mind never left him. Truly, Wagner was born to teach actors.
I found that the same boyish love of fun remained with Wagner. He dearly loved a joke, a good story, a witty anecdote. Many did he tell me. Even when I was leaving Munich, his stories came out, so that on saying good-bye, he added, “Well, we have had some discomforts, but a good many jokes.”
Towards the end of the year the intrigues of his opponents proved too strong for him. He left Bavaria; but I will give some few extracts from his next letter, which will tell the history in his own way. It is dated—
Campagne Aux Artichaux....The stories you read in the papers of my flying the country are wholly untrue. The king did nothing of the kind. Heimploredme to leave; said my life was in danger; that the director of the police had represented to him the positive necessity for myquitting Munich, or he could not guarantee my safety. Think, so greatly did he fear the populace! The populace opposed to me? No; not if they knew me. My return, I am told, is only a question of time; until the king is able to change his advisers. May he come out of his troubles well....Yours,Richard Wagner.Geneva, 1866.
Campagne Aux Artichaux.
...The stories you read in the papers of my flying the country are wholly untrue. The king did nothing of the kind. Heimploredme to leave; said my life was in danger; that the director of the police had represented to him the positive necessity for myquitting Munich, or he could not guarantee my safety. Think, so greatly did he fear the populace! The populace opposed to me? No; not if they knew me. My return, I am told, is only a question of time; until the king is able to change his advisers. May he come out of his troubles well....
Yours,Richard Wagner.
Geneva, 1866.
The next letter of interest is dated nearly six months later. It shows that Wagner and the king did not then always get on well together.
Munich, June, 1867.My Good Ferdinand: I will keep my promise about August. He is here. I will see to it, but there are so many obstacles. The king is influenced by innumerable enemies, who are jealous of me, and angered at my influence with him. I have, indeed, almost broken off our relations, only the scandal would be too great!“Lohengrin” and “Tannhäuser” were to be produced with the best artists and dresses. I was anxious to have Tichatschek as Lohengrin. He had, however, been singing elsewhere, in “Masaniello,” so that he was hoarse. Theentourageof the king seemed to have conceived a thorough dislike of Tichatschek. But what is more true, they were, I am convinced, desirous of preventing my appearing with the king at the performance, because they feared a demonstration.After the last rehearsal, a few days ago, the king, who was present, sent for me. Tichatschek had displeased him, and he asserted he would never again attend a performance or rehearsal in which that singer took part. As this dislike referred only to the stiff acting of Tichatschek (for he had sung splendidly), I felt that the king’s enthusiasm inclined to the spectacular, and where this was defective, he could not elsewhere find compensation. But now comes the outrage. Without consulting me, he ordered Tichatschek and the “Ortrud” to be sent away. I was, and am, furious, and forthwith mean to quit Munich. Now you know the situation, you will understand the impossibility of doing anything at present.Yours,Richard Wagner.
Munich, June, 1867.
My Good Ferdinand: I will keep my promise about August. He is here. I will see to it, but there are so many obstacles. The king is influenced by innumerable enemies, who are jealous of me, and angered at my influence with him. I have, indeed, almost broken off our relations, only the scandal would be too great!
“Lohengrin” and “Tannhäuser” were to be produced with the best artists and dresses. I was anxious to have Tichatschek as Lohengrin. He had, however, been singing elsewhere, in “Masaniello,” so that he was hoarse. Theentourageof the king seemed to have conceived a thorough dislike of Tichatschek. But what is more true, they were, I am convinced, desirous of preventing my appearing with the king at the performance, because they feared a demonstration.
After the last rehearsal, a few days ago, the king, who was present, sent for me. Tichatschek had displeased him, and he asserted he would never again attend a performance or rehearsal in which that singer took part. As this dislike referred only to the stiff acting of Tichatschek (for he had sung splendidly), I felt that the king’s enthusiasm inclined to the spectacular, and where this was defective, he could not elsewhere find compensation. But now comes the outrage. Without consulting me, he ordered Tichatschek and the “Ortrud” to be sent away. I was, and am, furious, and forthwith mean to quit Munich. Now you know the situation, you will understand the impossibility of doing anything at present.
Yours,Richard Wagner.
THE MARRIAGE WITH COSIMA.
Nothing came of the promise to help Roeckel, though Wagner and the king were soon reconciled. Roeckel became editor of a democratic newspaper, ceasing all active participation in the musical world. The friendship of Louis grew stronger, if that were possible, and Wagner shows by his letters that he was quite “the guide, philosopher, and friend” of the young monarch. Of his communications to me during the next year, I select the following short note, as possessing a wider interest than a merely personal communication.
Dear Old Friend: The 21st June first performance of the “Meistersinger” (model). On the 25th the second, and repetition of it up to about the 20th July. Now see whether you can catch something of it. It will be worth while, and will give me great joy when you come. Many hearty greetings.From yours,Richard Wagner.Munich, at Bülows, 11 Arcos Strasse, 11th June, 1868.
Dear Old Friend: The 21st June first performance of the “Meistersinger” (model). On the 25th the second, and repetition of it up to about the 20th July. Now see whether you can catch something of it. It will be worth while, and will give me great joy when you come. Many hearty greetings.
From yours,Richard Wagner.
Munich, at Bülows, 11 Arcos Strasse, 11th June, 1868.
As the above note shows, Wagner was living in Bülow’s house. I purposely pass over the next two years. Events were coming to a climax. He and I did not agree; but still his friendship never waned or abated one jot. Meanwhile his wife, Minna, had died at Dresden. The two following notes tell their own tale. The first is but a very short communication of what the world had foreseen; the second was the printed card announcing his second marriage, which I presume was sent to all his friends.
(1)
My Dear Ferdinand: You will be no doubt angry with me when you hear that I am soon to marry Bülow’s wife, who has become a convert in order to be divorced.Yours,Richard Wagner.July, 1870.
My Dear Ferdinand: You will be no doubt angry with me when you hear that I am soon to marry Bülow’s wife, who has become a convert in order to be divorced.
Yours,Richard Wagner.
July, 1870.
(2)
We have the honour to announce our marriage, which took place on the 25th August of this year, at the Protestant Church of Lucerne.Richard Wagner,Cosima Wagner,néeLiszt.25th August, 1870.
We have the honour to announce our marriage, which took place on the 25th August of this year, at the Protestant Church of Lucerne.
Richard Wagner,Cosima Wagner,néeLiszt.
25th August, 1870.
In the following November Wagner wrote to me again. It was the first of a series of letters relative to the purchase of a costly edition of Shakespeare, in English, as a birthday present to Madame Wagner. I publish six of these. They show Wagner by the fireside, at home with wife and children. Nearly sixty, with the close of his life almost in sight, he first bathes in that unspeakable happiness—the presence of children constantly about him, ready to receive the pent-up affection of half a century. It seems to me that his state of mind will be best understood by a few words, taken from the closing paragraph of his letter of the 25th November, 1870: “God make every one happy. Amen!”
(1)
“A SPLENDID SON.”
Dear Old One: If you are still alive, and not angry with me for various reasons, you could do me a right good service. I should like to make a present to my wife (you know the deep, serious happiness that has been mine) on her birthday, which falls just on Christmas Eve,—a present of one of the most beautiful editions of Shakespeare in English. I do not so much want one of those editions with a voluminous appendix of critical notes as a really luxurious edition of the text. If such an edition de luxe is only published with notes, and so forth, well, then I will have that. I know that in this respect the English have achieved something extraordinary, and it is just one of their grand editions I should like to possess. Further, it must be encased in a truly magnificent binding,and of the greatest beauty. All this, I feel sure, can only be obtained for certain in London. Now be so good as to occupy yourself in the most friendly manner for me. Deem me worthy of a response and a note of the price, that we may arrange everything, and I will forthwith send you the necessary funds.How are you all at home? I hear that the English are making colossal profits by the war. I hope something of the good may fall to you. Your last letter coming after such a long time was a delightful surprise, and has given me much joy, for I perceive in it that you still are actively employed. Often do I now think of you because of your love for children. My house, too, is full of children, the children of my wife, but beside there blooms for me a splendid son, strong and beautiful, whom I dare callSiegfried Richard Wagner. Now think what I must feel, that this at last has fallen to my share. I am fifty-seven years old.Be most fondly greeted.From yourRichard Wagner.Lucerne, 11 November, 1870.
Dear Old One: If you are still alive, and not angry with me for various reasons, you could do me a right good service. I should like to make a present to my wife (you know the deep, serious happiness that has been mine) on her birthday, which falls just on Christmas Eve,—a present of one of the most beautiful editions of Shakespeare in English. I do not so much want one of those editions with a voluminous appendix of critical notes as a really luxurious edition of the text. If such an edition de luxe is only published with notes, and so forth, well, then I will have that. I know that in this respect the English have achieved something extraordinary, and it is just one of their grand editions I should like to possess. Further, it must be encased in a truly magnificent binding,and of the greatest beauty. All this, I feel sure, can only be obtained for certain in London. Now be so good as to occupy yourself in the most friendly manner for me. Deem me worthy of a response and a note of the price, that we may arrange everything, and I will forthwith send you the necessary funds.
How are you all at home? I hear that the English are making colossal profits by the war. I hope something of the good may fall to you. Your last letter coming after such a long time was a delightful surprise, and has given me much joy, for I perceive in it that you still are actively employed. Often do I now think of you because of your love for children. My house, too, is full of children, the children of my wife, but beside there blooms for me a splendid son, strong and beautiful, whom I dare callSiegfried Richard Wagner. Now think what I must feel, that this at last has fallen to my share. I am fifty-seven years old.
Be most fondly greeted.From yourRichard Wagner.
Lucerne, 11 November, 1870.
(In pencil on the last page of the letter.)
Perhaps the director of the theatre might make me a present of a copy of Shakespeare.
Perhaps the director of the theatre might make me a present of a copy of Shakespeare.
(2)When Ferdinand in pious rage,The Moors afar did chase!Therefore, thou most excellent good one, quick to business!Your recommendation seems to point to the Cambridge edition of Dyce. You say that the cost will be about three guineas (i.e.£3. 3s.) therefore—let us stop at Dyce’s—this Cambridge edition. But you do not tell me, however, whether it is one volume or in several. Further, how am I to decide about the binding? I know that in London bookbinding is treated as an art, and I would much like to have a good specimen of London art work for my wife (for I cannot present her with anything else). Acting upon the hypothesis that it is in one volume only, I have forwarded to you six pounds for disposal upon the work, and therefore three poundsless three shillings will be available for the binding. Should there be two volumes, then you must consider whether for the money you can still obtain something remarkably good. If not—then order unhesitatingly what is good, and write to me at once and I will send you a few pounds more immediately. The chief point to be kept in view is that you arrange with the bookbinder so as to have the work finished in time to enable me to present it here on Christmas Eve.But now, above all, be not angry with me for thus earnestly importuning you. If you but think of Milton Street and Portland Terrace, lobster salad, punch, and Lüders, then shall I be pardoned. And lastly will come your good wife to the rescue, who, notwithstanding that she, as I see, has still little children, may yet have some kind remembrance for me.I am glad that you write to me about yourself in full; one cannot do anything better than write about one’s self to one’s friends, for the more one reflects the less one seems to know of others. According to this, I ought to write a great deal about myself, but that I must defer for an ocular inspection by you; therefore, come and see me. My son is Helferich Siegfried Richard. My son! Oh, what that says to me!Youhave plenty of children’s prattle, are used to it like the English to hanging, but with me the hanging is only just beginning. Now I must prepare to live to a good old age, for then will others profit by it. Outside my home life, one thing only do I propose to accomplish, and that, the performance of my “Nibelungen” drama as I have conceived it. It appears to me that the whole German Empire is only created to aid me in attaining my object. Carlyle’s letter in the “Times” has caused me intense satisfaction. The Messieurs Englishmen I have already learned to know through you. I need but refer to divers data I have from you to be at once clear about the character of this strangely ragged nation.God make every one happy. Amen! Now greet mamma and children, and tell them of Milton Street. Come next summer into Switzerland and keep me in your heart as I do you.Yours,Richard Wagner.Lucerne, 25th November, 1870.
(2)
When Ferdinand in pious rage,The Moors afar did chase!
When Ferdinand in pious rage,The Moors afar did chase!
Therefore, thou most excellent good one, quick to business!
Your recommendation seems to point to the Cambridge edition of Dyce. You say that the cost will be about three guineas (i.e.£3. 3s.) therefore—let us stop at Dyce’s—this Cambridge edition. But you do not tell me, however, whether it is one volume or in several. Further, how am I to decide about the binding? I know that in London bookbinding is treated as an art, and I would much like to have a good specimen of London art work for my wife (for I cannot present her with anything else). Acting upon the hypothesis that it is in one volume only, I have forwarded to you six pounds for disposal upon the work, and therefore three poundsless three shillings will be available for the binding. Should there be two volumes, then you must consider whether for the money you can still obtain something remarkably good. If not—then order unhesitatingly what is good, and write to me at once and I will send you a few pounds more immediately. The chief point to be kept in view is that you arrange with the bookbinder so as to have the work finished in time to enable me to present it here on Christmas Eve.
But now, above all, be not angry with me for thus earnestly importuning you. If you but think of Milton Street and Portland Terrace, lobster salad, punch, and Lüders, then shall I be pardoned. And lastly will come your good wife to the rescue, who, notwithstanding that she, as I see, has still little children, may yet have some kind remembrance for me.
I am glad that you write to me about yourself in full; one cannot do anything better than write about one’s self to one’s friends, for the more one reflects the less one seems to know of others. According to this, I ought to write a great deal about myself, but that I must defer for an ocular inspection by you; therefore, come and see me. My son is Helferich Siegfried Richard. My son! Oh, what that says to me!
Youhave plenty of children’s prattle, are used to it like the English to hanging, but with me the hanging is only just beginning. Now I must prepare to live to a good old age, for then will others profit by it. Outside my home life, one thing only do I propose to accomplish, and that, the performance of my “Nibelungen” drama as I have conceived it. It appears to me that the whole German Empire is only created to aid me in attaining my object. Carlyle’s letter in the “Times” has caused me intense satisfaction. The Messieurs Englishmen I have already learned to know through you. I need but refer to divers data I have from you to be at once clear about the character of this strangely ragged nation.
God make every one happy. Amen! Now greet mamma and children, and tell them of Milton Street. Come next summer into Switzerland and keep me in your heart as I do you.
Yours,Richard Wagner.
Lucerne, 25th November, 1870.
HIS IDEA OF SHAKESPEARE.
(3)
My Good Ferdinand: Is it not too bad that I am still to give you so much trouble? I thought there must be, especially in London, a central depot where one could quickly be informed about the most complicated matters of all kinds. Does there not exist,i.e.in Regent Street, or in some other main thoroughfare, a bookseller who keeps on hand a stock of editions de luxe of celebrated authors, in elegant and costly bindings, ready for sale for certain festive occasions? Certainly it would have been better could you have alighted upon such an edition of “Shakespeare” already bound. That a bookbinder would now undertake such a task, I myself feel it is somewhat venturesome to hope. But as you are such a good fellow I leave the whole business entirely in your hands. Do not let the price frighten you, for when it is a question of a birthday gift for such a noble, dear woman, then, in honour of Shakespeare, one may afford to be liberal. Yet on this occasion, I insist that the external must be the pre-eminent consideration, the thing to be first thought of, viz. beautiful, correct print on beautiful paper, artistic binding, and—the internal Shakespeare supplies himself; but do not trouble at all about the critical notes of English editors.As the time is now very close upon us, it would be best if you could still discover, all ready and complete, a luxurious book, in a luxurious shop, in a luxurious binding; for the rest—go on! I am not sending you any further money to-day, as I want to leave the matter entirely in your hands. How much more I am to send you we will arrange later on.Adieu for to-day!Good old fellow!Make sure that we see you next summer here!Don’t be melancholy, and keep me in your love.Yours,Richard Wagner.Lucerne, 9th December, 1870.(Herewith the addresses of the London banker: nice fellows those!!)
My Good Ferdinand: Is it not too bad that I am still to give you so much trouble? I thought there must be, especially in London, a central depot where one could quickly be informed about the most complicated matters of all kinds. Does there not exist,i.e.in Regent Street, or in some other main thoroughfare, a bookseller who keeps on hand a stock of editions de luxe of celebrated authors, in elegant and costly bindings, ready for sale for certain festive occasions? Certainly it would have been better could you have alighted upon such an edition of “Shakespeare” already bound. That a bookbinder would now undertake such a task, I myself feel it is somewhat venturesome to hope. But as you are such a good fellow I leave the whole business entirely in your hands. Do not let the price frighten you, for when it is a question of a birthday gift for such a noble, dear woman, then, in honour of Shakespeare, one may afford to be liberal. Yet on this occasion, I insist that the external must be the pre-eminent consideration, the thing to be first thought of, viz. beautiful, correct print on beautiful paper, artistic binding, and—the internal Shakespeare supplies himself; but do not trouble at all about the critical notes of English editors.
As the time is now very close upon us, it would be best if you could still discover, all ready and complete, a luxurious book, in a luxurious shop, in a luxurious binding; for the rest—go on! I am not sending you any further money to-day, as I want to leave the matter entirely in your hands. How much more I am to send you we will arrange later on.
Adieu for to-day!
Good old fellow!
Make sure that we see you next summer here!
Don’t be melancholy, and keep me in your love.
Yours,Richard Wagner.
Lucerne, 9th December, 1870.
(Herewith the addresses of the London banker: nice fellows those!!)
(4)
Dear Good Praeger: Ah, now all is right, and the trouble at an end. You will have seen by my last letter that it seemed to me ouronly hope lay in finding an edition de luxe ready bound. That this should have been in nine volumes, though not precisely an edition de luxe, is satisfactory; therefore, have you acted most blamelessly and correctly. Instead of having to transmit to you further subsidies, you tell me there is even a balance at my disposition. Now I have cudgelled my brains as to what can be purchased with the remaining twelve shillings. In this matter it will depend on the patience and perseverance of your wife, should she see some pretty triflingarticle-de-modeto put on the Christmas table, where it might look well, perhaps. My wife has spoken to me about, and would like, if possible, an East India, or even Chinese, foulard dress, rich, highly-coloured patterns on satin ground, brilliant and luxurious,i.e.Orientally fantastic, such as is sure to be found in London. Now if your good wife would be kind enough to look to this, and should it not go into the abnormal in cost, of which, naturally, there is no intention, since the proposed costume is not to serve for ostentation, but for the gratification of a fantastic taste, I would beg of you to make bold and send me about twenty metres of such a material, and to send it off at once. The settlement of the transaction on my side would follow immediately. I do not restrict the price, as that might hamper you; but on the other hand, I beg you to understand that, in case it is really something beautiful and original, Oriental, do not stop at the price. Only in respect of the design, I remember there must be no figures, nothing but flowers—that much do I remember. God knows to what new trouble I am putting you again. Don’t take it too seriously, but remain good to me, for this is the most important of your business.Heart greetings to all of you, from yours,Richard Wagner.Lucerne, 11th December, 1870.
Dear Good Praeger: Ah, now all is right, and the trouble at an end. You will have seen by my last letter that it seemed to me ouronly hope lay in finding an edition de luxe ready bound. That this should have been in nine volumes, though not precisely an edition de luxe, is satisfactory; therefore, have you acted most blamelessly and correctly. Instead of having to transmit to you further subsidies, you tell me there is even a balance at my disposition. Now I have cudgelled my brains as to what can be purchased with the remaining twelve shillings. In this matter it will depend on the patience and perseverance of your wife, should she see some pretty triflingarticle-de-modeto put on the Christmas table, where it might look well, perhaps. My wife has spoken to me about, and would like, if possible, an East India, or even Chinese, foulard dress, rich, highly-coloured patterns on satin ground, brilliant and luxurious,i.e.Orientally fantastic, such as is sure to be found in London. Now if your good wife would be kind enough to look to this, and should it not go into the abnormal in cost, of which, naturally, there is no intention, since the proposed costume is not to serve for ostentation, but for the gratification of a fantastic taste, I would beg of you to make bold and send me about twenty metres of such a material, and to send it off at once. The settlement of the transaction on my side would follow immediately. I do not restrict the price, as that might hamper you; but on the other hand, I beg you to understand that, in case it is really something beautiful and original, Oriental, do not stop at the price. Only in respect of the design, I remember there must be no figures, nothing but flowers—that much do I remember. God knows to what new trouble I am putting you again. Don’t take it too seriously, but remain good to me, for this is the most important of your business.
Heart greetings to all of you, from yours,Richard Wagner.
Lucerne, 11th December, 1870.
(5)
PREPARING FOR “DER RING.”
Dear Old Friend: Yes, yes! so it is, and I have neglected to inform you that “Shakespeare” rightly and well came into my hands. It arrived somewhat late, but for the efforts on your part to fully gratify me I give you my thanks. Altogether I am sorry I did not pay more thought to the gigantic proportions of London business,as I feel by that I have unknowingly thrown upon you a lot of trouble in this affair. But now that everything has turned out well, I thank you once more, and promise not to trouble you again with such commissions. I write to you in haste, as I am preparing for a journey; to-morrow I go with my wife into Germany, where I propose to try and discover how matters stand. Several things are in preparation, but all tend to one good, that is, the performance of the “Nibelung”after my own way. Leipzic, Dresden, and above all, Berlin, will be visited by me. In Berlin, where they have made me a member of the Academy, I shall deliver a discourse on the mission of the opera, etc.I will send to you the “Kaisermarsch,” and all else that comes out.Now look to it that you pay me a visit next summer in our beautiful retreat. By the middle of May we shall have returned.And now, farewell!Be not angry with me!Greet wife and children, and keep lovingYour faithful friend,Richard Wagner.Lucerne, April, 1871.
Dear Old Friend: Yes, yes! so it is, and I have neglected to inform you that “Shakespeare” rightly and well came into my hands. It arrived somewhat late, but for the efforts on your part to fully gratify me I give you my thanks. Altogether I am sorry I did not pay more thought to the gigantic proportions of London business,as I feel by that I have unknowingly thrown upon you a lot of trouble in this affair. But now that everything has turned out well, I thank you once more, and promise not to trouble you again with such commissions. I write to you in haste, as I am preparing for a journey; to-morrow I go with my wife into Germany, where I propose to try and discover how matters stand. Several things are in preparation, but all tend to one good, that is, the performance of the “Nibelung”after my own way. Leipzic, Dresden, and above all, Berlin, will be visited by me. In Berlin, where they have made me a member of the Academy, I shall deliver a discourse on the mission of the opera, etc.
I will send to you the “Kaisermarsch,” and all else that comes out.
Now look to it that you pay me a visit next summer in our beautiful retreat. By the middle of May we shall have returned.
And now, farewell!
Be not angry with me!
Greet wife and children, and keep loving
Your faithful friend,Richard Wagner.
Lucerne, April, 1871.
(6)
Leipzig, 12th May, 1871.This I have carried about with me on a long journey, for, when I wanted to send it from Lucerne, I found I had mislaid your address. It is fortunate that in your last letter, sent after me from Lucerne, and which has just reached me, I have once again your address.I am fatigued, and I return to-morrow.As regards the proposals and offer of the English music-sellers, I would beg you to request them to address in the matter, Tausig, Dessauer Strasse 35, Berlin. He has urged me to let him manage many things in which I am always worsted. He will arrange with the publishers, O. F. Peters, music bureau, in a manner that I shall derive all possible advantage. Else, dearest, I am well, and my undertaking bodes well for a success.Best greetings to wife and children.Love me, and forever yours,Richard Wagner.
Leipzig, 12th May, 1871.
This I have carried about with me on a long journey, for, when I wanted to send it from Lucerne, I found I had mislaid your address. It is fortunate that in your last letter, sent after me from Lucerne, and which has just reached me, I have once again your address.
I am fatigued, and I return to-morrow.
As regards the proposals and offer of the English music-sellers, I would beg you to request them to address in the matter, Tausig, Dessauer Strasse 35, Berlin. He has urged me to let him manage many things in which I am always worsted. He will arrange with the publishers, O. F. Peters, music bureau, in a manner that I shall derive all possible advantage. Else, dearest, I am well, and my undertaking bodes well for a success.
Best greetings to wife and children.
Love me, and forever yours,Richard Wagner.
Then came the following:—
Dearest: Come when you will! Alas, everybody comes in the few weeks of the summer, and it is possible that you will find visitors already when you come. In the quiet time not even a cock crows after you, but you will find your place prepared for you; only, therefore, to our next meeting.Yours,Richard Wagner.Lucerne, Tribschen, 6th June, 1871.
Dearest: Come when you will! Alas, everybody comes in the few weeks of the summer, and it is possible that you will find visitors already when you come. In the quiet time not even a cock crows after you, but you will find your place prepared for you; only, therefore, to our next meeting.
Yours,Richard Wagner.
Lucerne, Tribschen, 6th June, 1871.
STANDING ON HIS HEAD.
In the summer I went to stay with Wagner. How changed! Fifty-eight years old, and yet but one year in the possession of what is called home. His had been a roving life. Not through choice, but necessity. Energetic and persevering, never leaving a stone unturned or failing in an effort to preach his creed. And so through the long years of early manhood and middle age had he struggled with adversity, never finding an abiding resting-place. But the sunset of his life was setting in rich, warm colours. A feeling of serenity, born of the conscious security from worldly anxieties, had taken possession of him. His work had been acknowledged throughout Europe. He was ambitious, and his soul was satisfied. Now was he for the first time living in that warm-hearted, self-denying atmosphere of “home,” where dwelt a remarkably cultured, intellectual wife and children.There“bloomed for him a splendid son, strong and beautiful.” Yes; he was happy. His naturally buoyant temperament had not lessened with years. I remember full well, one day when we were sitting together in the drawing-room at Tribschen, on a sort of ottoman, talking over the events of the years gone by, when he suddenly rose and stoodon his head upon the ottoman. At the very moment he was in that inverted position the door opened and Madame Wagner entered. Her surprise and alarm were great, and she hastened forward, exclaiming, “Ah! lieber Richard! Richard!” Quickly recovering himself, he reassured her of his sanity, explaining that he was only showing Ferdinand he could stand on his head at sixty, which was more than the said Ferdinand could do. This was a ridiculous incident, but strikingly illustrative of the “Wagner as I knew him.” I suppose there are few thinking people who will deny the seriousness and profundity of Wagner’s mind, and that perhaps in earnestness of purpose and power of reflection, he may be said to have been the equal of Carlyle; yet who can picture the “sage of Chelsea” standing on his head at sixty, or indeed at any period of his life?
Wagner’s tranquillity of mind was delightful to contemplate. He longed for “peace on earth and good will to all men.” The desire of his heart, the dream of those early Dresden days, was about to be realized. A theatre constructed after his own theory was soon to be erected. The architect and engineer, Neumann and Brandt, came to Lucerne during my visit. I was privileged to be present at their discussions. It was another illustration of “to have a clear notion of what you want is half-way to get it.” “The theatre must be so built that it can be emptied in the space of one or two minutes”; upon this Wagner insisted. Did the experts explain some detail to him it was marvellous to see how quickly he grasped the point and debated it with them. His heart was in his work, in this as in all he did, and there lay the secret of his success, for of this I am convinced,that without his indomitable will, that untiring perseverance which would not be conquered, the genius of Wagner would have availed him but little.
In writing of “Wagner as I knew him” I have touched upon certain subjects and criticised him in a manner which I am aware many of his worshippers might perhaps shrink from. But in this I have in no way offended Wagner. He wished to be known as he was. Indeed, he has written his own life, which, should it please the Wagner heirs, may one day be given to the world to its great gain. I became aware of the existence of this autobiography in the following manner. Wagner and his wife were going out, leaving me alone at Tribschen. Before going, Wagner placed in my hands a volume for my perusal during his absence. “It is my autobiography,” he said. “Only Liszt has a copy; none other has seen it, and it shall not be published until my Siegfried has reached his majority.” I read it carefully, and I may state, without touching upon any of the matter contained therein, that in my treatment of Wagner I have not uttered one word to which he himself would not have subscribed.
To see Wagner surrounded by children was a pleasant sight. He was as frolicsome as they. He would have the children sing the “Kaisermarsch” at the piano, and reward them with coins. As regards their discipline and training, he effaced himself completely before Madame Wagner. To his wife he showed the tenderest affection. It might almost be said of him that he was the most uxorious of husbands.
LISZT “BEGAN TOO LATE.”
No matter the mood in which I found Wagner, itwas always the old Wagner. Did we set out for a stroll, he would take me into some wayside inn, there to eat sausages and drink beer. I must add that his drinking was of the most moderate description. It was during one of these rambles that we spoke of Liszt, and in the talking, he told me that Liszt had been more pained at his daughter Cosima’s change of religion from Roman Catholic to Protestant, than at her divorce from von Bülow. Among other things, too, he said, speaking of Liszt as a composer, that “he [Liszt] had begun too late in life.”
To me Wagner was all affection. He played to me, showed me everything received from the king (among the many presents were two handsome vases, the equivalent of which in money Wagner said he would have preferred), and did all that he could to make my stay agreeable. I did not stay the whole time I had purposed; I left somewhat unexpectedly. My departure brought the following letter from Wagner:—
Thou strangest of all men, why do you not give a sign of life? Is it right or just? After having lived among us, as one of us, to have left us so suddenly, and not without causing us some anxiety, too, on your behalf. How wrong if you were in a dissatisfied mood with us; but that cannot be; rather be convinced that we take the most hearty interest in you, and that this is the sole reason which induces me to make this inquiry.Let me hear from you, and be heartily greeted.From yours ever,Richard Wagner.
Thou strangest of all men, why do you not give a sign of life? Is it right or just? After having lived among us, as one of us, to have left us so suddenly, and not without causing us some anxiety, too, on your behalf. How wrong if you were in a dissatisfied mood with us; but that cannot be; rather be convinced that we take the most hearty interest in you, and that this is the sole reason which induces me to make this inquiry.
Let me hear from you, and be heartily greeted.
From yours ever,Richard Wagner.
From now to the day of his death I have but little to tell. He had arrived at a time when the world acceptedhim as one of its great men. His movements were chronicled in the press as though he were some minister of state. I saw him repeatedly since 1872, notably at the opening of the Bayreuth theatre in 1874, and at the succeeding representations there, and naturally on his coming to London for the Albert Hall Wagner Festival in 1877, when at the banquet given at the Cannon Street Hotel in his honour, he toasted me as the friend, “the first in this country to nobly support him,” at a time when he was a stranger in the land and the target of hostile criticism. Later on, I saw him again at the “Parsifal” performances at Bayreuth, which proved to be for the last time.
My task is done.
Wagner’s labours ceased at Venice on the 13th February, 1883. What he has accomplished is beyond the power of any man to destroy. Were Wagner himself to return to us,hecould not undo what he has done. In future years, aye, in future centuries, men will come from all parts of the civilized globe to worship at Bayreuth; that is the Mecca of musicians. There is the shrine of the founder of a new religion in art, pure and ennobling to all who have ears to hear and human hearts that can be touched. To use an old metaphor, but accurate and appropriate when applied to Wagner, his work is as the boundless ocean; many will sail their craft upon it, from the majestic ship of tragedy to the winsome bark of comic opera, and then shall they not have navigated all the seas.
HIS EARNESTNESS OF PURPOSE.
The key of Wagner’s success is his truth. Look at his work from whichever side we may, that is it whichever finds its way into all hearts. While the musicians were, and some still are, engaged in the dissecting-room, with a bar here and bar there, with the people, the laymen, he is universally popular. And what is the cause? His truth, his earnestness. At bottom, it is this sincerity which has made him great. Speaking of the laymen, I am forcibly reminded of perhaps the most musically gifted and most devoted of all, one Julius Cyriax, a German merchant of the city of London, whose friendship Wagner contracted here in 1877, and with whom Wagner was in intimate correspondence down to the last.
And if this be the judgment passed upon his work, what shall be said of the character of the man? Without fear, I say earnestness of purpose guided him here too; that he was impatient of incompetence when it sought to pose as the true in art was, and is, natural in a great genius. Autocratic in bearing, and the intimate of a king, though democratic in music and a professed lover of thedemosin his earlier career, this is but a seeming contradiction. Democratic describes his music; no domineering there of one voice; and democratic, too, in the last days, when he refused imperial distinctions, preferring to remain one of the people. An opponent in art, he was to be dreaded. Why? Because he fought for his cause with such a whole-heartedness that he drove, as Napoleon used to say, “fear into the enemy’s camp.” His memory, like that of all great men, was extremely retentive. He was a hard worker, as his eleven published volumes of literary matter and fourteen music-dramas abundantly testify. To accomplishsuch work was only possible to a man of method, and hewasmethodical and careful withal in what he did. Look at his handwriting and music notation, small but clear, neat and clean. He was not free from blemish or prejudice,—who is?—but
Take him all in all,We ne’er shall look upon his like again.
Take him all in all,We ne’er shall look upon his like again.
Typography by J. S. Cushing & Co.,Boston.
THE STORY OF MUSIC.
BY W. J. HENDERSON.
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12mo, Ornamental Cloth Cover, $1.25.
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PRELUDES AND STUDIES.
MUSICAL THEMES OF THE DAY.
BY W. J. HENDERSON,
Author of “The Story of Music.”
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12mo, Cloth, Extra, Guilt Top, $1.25.
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