Gift


1.

The wonderful string serenade came to a peaceful end and I heard the sound of light steps approaching my bedroom. A moment later there was the signature knock on my bedroom door. I thanked God it was Richard and I did not need to hold back my tears.

2.

I was born out of wedlock to Countess Marie d’Agoult who achieved considerable fame as a novelist under the pen name Daniel Stern. Marie was a revolutionary who believed in living for love. She loved a young pianist and that is what mattered. Franz played piano like no one else, “God of the piano” they called him. Women of all ages and all nationalities were prepared to give him all they had, even their honour. But he gave his heart to Marie and she gave him two daughters and a son. Sister Blandine was two years older than me, brother Daniel two years younger. Father was always on tour and we only saw him in the summer when we were together for two or three month in our cottage in Nonnenworth am Rhein in Switzerland. When I was seven, the artistic temperaments of our parents collided and Papa took us away to his apartment in Paris where his Mama looked after three of us. Although we lived in material comfort, my childhood was not a happy one. I was a serious teenager, much involved with books and music, although I did not inherit a shred of talent in either field from my distinguished parents.

When I was in my teens all eligible students of Papa courted me but I was too shy to return their advances. But I was won over by Hans, less by his charm more by Papa’s admiration for him. Hans was not a particularly handsome young man, nor was he from a wealthy family. But he had talent and practiced long hours. Papa was certain he would have a great career as a pianist and was pleased when Hans proposed and I accepted. But our marriage was not happy. I needed more attention than a pianist determined to live up to Papa’s expectations could provide. In one lonesome melancholy moment it occurred to me that I could only love a proven genius like Papa; not some one trying to show he was one. Therefore, when Papa’s dear friend Richard Wagner, “the greatest composer of the day” Papa said, paid attention to me I fell for him. We had two daughters before I left Hans and moved in with Richard to live on the banks of a beautiful lake in Switzerland. Papa was very angry when I wrote to him about it and he did not write to either of us for a long time.

Three years after the move I gave birth to our third child, our only son Siegfried. The morning of next Christmas, which was also my birthday, I had that most remarkable experience.

3.

I was terrified. The forest was dense and the path narrow. A girl was running as fast as she could. Two men were chasing her. The girl was young, may be in her late teens, pale and skinny with straggly hairs and of very plain appearance. The older man looked distinguished with broad shoulders, dark hair to his shoulders, handsome features, and a naked sword in his muscular hands. The young man was well built, handsome but with mean looks. The gap was closing between them. I gasped when the girl stumbled and she was about to fall when a man jumped out of the bushes and supported her with his left arm. In his right arm was a spear. The other men saw the man with the spear and stopped dead in their tracks. They bowed deeply, turned around and left.

I was happy for the girl, yet relieved to wake up and realize that the chase was a nasty dream. What had brought me into the world again was the magical music being played on strings, the variations on a touching melody Richard played on the piano only the other day. I remembered Richard telling me the scene from the opera he was working on, “Brunnhilde is asleep on the rock surrounded by the ring of fire, she has been dreaming of the hero who will save her. At long last the hero has conquered the mighty flames and is looking at her. He is confused because he had never seen a woman before. The orchestra plays this melody as she opens her eyes to greet Siegfried, her hero.” It had struck me with a tremendous force then that inventing great melodies for great moments was an important aspect of Richard’s genius that was raising German Opera to new heights, the genius that needs me by his side and made worthwhile all my struggles to get away from a father the world adored as the greatest pianist of all times and a husband who was called his successor.

The tears in my eyes became a flood when the music ended. I looked for a handkerchief as I heard the familiar knock on the door. Richard looked angelic as he entered the room, a sheaf of papers in his right hand. He looked at me and smiled, “Cosi dearest, your appearance tells me that you liked what I composed for you and you alone. This score is my birthday gift to you; for you to do with it whatever pleases you.”
I was dumbstruck but only for a moment, “Oh Richard, it is the greatest gift any woman has ever received. I will treasure it to my dying day. It will stay in my private box with your letters. But we can not deprive the world of this great music. I will make a copy for your publisher. We will call it “Siegfried Idyll” because you are my Siegfried. This score will be the most prized love letter in history and this music will enthrall lovers of all ages for ever.”

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