My Life, vol 2 | Page 9

by providing an
excellent German translation of the French original, which was first
published in the Illustrirte Zeitung. Shortly after this Liszt also issued
Tannhauser in French, accompanied by a similar preface on its origin,
and these pamphlets were the chief means of awakening, now and for
long after, especially in foreign countries, not only a surprisingly
sympathetic interest in these works, but also an intimate understanding
of them such as could not possibly have been attained by the mere
study of my pianoforte arrangements. But, far from being satisfied with
this, Liszt contrived to attract the attention of intellects outside Weimar
to the performances of my operas, in order, with kindly compulsion, to
force them upon the notice of all who had ears to hear and eyes to see.
Although his good intentions did not altogether succeed with Franz
Dingelstedt, who would only commit himself to a confused report on
Lohengrin in the Allgemeine Zeitung, yet his enthusiastic eloquence
completely and decisively captured Adolf Stahr for my work. His
detailed view of Lohengrin in the Berlin National-Zeitung, in which he
claimed a high importance for my opera, did not remain without
permanent influence upon the German public. Even in the narrow circle
of professional musicians its effects seem not to have been unimportant;
for Robert Franz, whom Liszt dragged almost by force to a
performance of Lohengrin, spoke of it with unmistakable enthusiasm.
This example gave the lead to many other journals, and for some time it
seemed as though the otherwise dull-witted musical press would
energetically champion my cause.
I shall shortly have occasion to describe what it was that eventually
gave quite a different direction to this movement. Meanwhile Liszt felt
emboldened by these kindly signs to encourage me to renew my
creative activity, which had now for some time been interrupted. His
success with Lohengrin gave him confidence in his ability to execute a
yet more hazardous undertaking, and he invited me to set my poem of
Siegfried's Death to music for production at Weimar. On his
recommendation, the manager of the Weimar theatre, Herr von
Ziegesar, offered to make a definite contract with me in the name of the
Grand Duke. I was to finish the work within a year, and during that
period was to receive a payment of fifteen hundred marks (L75).
It was a curious coincidence that about this time, and also through Liszt,

the Duke of Coburg invited me to arrange the instrumentation for an
opera of his own composition, for which he offered me the sum of two
thousand seven hundred marks (L135). In spite of my position as an
outlaw, my noble patron and would-be employer offered to receive me
in his castle at Coburg, where, in quiet seclusion with himself and Frau
Birchpfeiffer, the writer of the libretto, I might execute the work. Liszt
naturally expected nothing more from me than a decent excuse for
declining this offer, and suggested my pleading 'bodily and mental
depression.' My friend told me afterwards that the Duke had desired my
co-operation with him in his score on account of my skilful use of
trombones. When he inquired, through Liszt, what my rules for their
manipulation were, I replied that before I could write anything for
trombones I required first to have some ideas in my head.
On the other hand, however, I felt very much tempted to entertain the
Weimar proposal. Still weary from my exhausting labour on Oper und
Drama, and worried by many things which had a depressing effect on
my spirits, I seated myself for the first time for many months at my
Hartel grand-piano, which had been rescued from the Dresden
catastrophe, to see whether I could settle down to composing the music
for my ponderous heroic drama. In rapid outline I sketched the music
for the Song of the Norns, or Daughters of the Rhine, which in this first
draft was only roughly suggested. But when I attempted to turn
Brunhilda's first address to Siegfried into song my courage failed me
completely, for I could not help asking myself whether the singer had
yet been born who was capable of vitalising this heroic female figure.
The idea of my niece Johanna occurred to me, whom, as a matter of
fact, I had already destined for this rule when I was still in Dresden on
account of her various personal charms. She had now entered upon the
career of prima donna at Hamburg, but, judging from all the reports I
had received, and especially from the attitude towards me that she
openly adopted in her letters to her family, I could only conclude that
my modest hopes of enlisting her talents on my behalf were doomed to
disappointment. I was, moreover, confused by the fact that a second