Egon Wellesz. Archive of autograph correspondence between Egon Wellesz and Elizabeth Mackenzie, 1943-1971

Egon Wellesz

Important archive of autograph correspondence between the Austrian composer and musicologist, Egon Wellesz (1885–1974), and the poet Elizabeth Mackenzie (1921–2021)

comprising c.1000 autograph letters by Wellesz to Mackenzie, mostly signed ("Egon Wellesz"; "Egon"; “E”), and c.450 autograph letters by Mackenzie to Wellesz, mostly signed ("Elizabeth"; "E")

discussing the creation of his works, including his Symphony No.1, op.62 (1945), String Trio, op.86 (1962), Duineser Elegie, op. 90 (1963), and Symphony No.6, op.95 (1965), the opera Incognita, op.69 (1950) [for which Elizabeth Mackenzie wrote the libretto], WITH TWO PAGES OF AUTOGRAPH MUSIC FROM A DRAFT OF INCOGNITA, 35 and 6 bars, and the Four Songs of Return (1961) [a setting to Mackenzie’s poems], also referring to works composed before he and Elizabeth met, such as Alkestis, op.35 (1924) and Die Bakchantinnen, op.44 (1931), enclosing a proof of the facsimile of the first page of the score, alerting her to planned recordings and performances of his works, such as his Octet, op.67 (1948–49), mentioning other composers, such as Bartók and Britten, extolling Elizabeth’s influence as inspiration for his compositions, relaying his travels plans, documenting bouts of ill health and periods of recovery, and touching on many other matters

...I have a quiet day in the house and tried this morning to see and hear the opera [Incognita, 1950]. The rhythm for the dance was all right, but I had to get the atmosphere of the music. I began at noon, and now I have finished the dance music and began to write the scene between Orlando and the lady. I hope you like it; I do hope! Because now I am caught by the beauty of your words, heart and soul. It (the libretto) is excellent, and I love you so much, dear angelic Elizabeth. I had to leave the piano and to interrupt my work to speak to you, because I am so excited. I adore you and love you and I admire the poet. Bless you and may all the angels protect you and your work... [The following day, he adds:] My dear – I am sorry I have to bother you. I send you the beginning of the dialogue. Orlando stanza was quickly done and if there are mistakes in the rhythm they can easily be corrected. But the Lady's answer worries me. It is not so much the rhythm of her song but the weight of the words which, if it is wrong, will lead to changes in the chords and, consequently, lead into another key; "or is it kindness that you praise our very artificial days". The music to these words falls flat. I will, of course, fill up the whole dialogue with the phrase of two bars which opens the dialogue, and will be able to divert the attention from the melody, but this is not what I like to do. Do you think you can help me? [16/17 September 1949]...

over 2,700 pages in all, various sizes, most with envelopes, a number on postcards, newspaper cuttings, concert programmes (including for a concert of contemporary music at Balliol College, 14 June 1943), offprints, Oxford, London, Vienna and elsewhere, 1943-1971

together with: some letters and postscripts by the medievalist Patricia Kean to Wellesz, and by Wellesz’s daughters, Magda (1909-2006) and Elisabeth (‘Lisi’) (1912-1995), to Elizabeth Mackenzie; 19 PHOTOGRAPHS OF WELLESZ BETWEEN 1910 AND 1949 (where dated), and a photograph of his portrait by Oskar Kokoschka, inscribed "For Elizabeth, 11th April 1947. Painted 1912 while I was writing my first String Quartet"; a copy of the 1904 edition of Hugo von Hoffmannsthal's drama, Der Thor und der Tod, inscribed by Hoffmannsthal, and subsequently by Egon to Elizabeth, 12 March 1948 ("This copy was my companion from 1905 to the present day"); a copy of the first edition of the libretto of Richard Strauss's Die Frau ohne Schatten (Berlin: Adolf Fürstner, 1919), inscribed by Hoffmannsthal ("Hausexemplar HH.") and with a dedicatory letter from Wellesz to Mackenzie (9 June 1948) laid down on the inside upper cover; 5 photographs, probably of Patricia Kean, with the Afghan hounds she and Elizabeth raised together, and an unidentified cutting of hair; a series of Bodleian library postcards; 36 naval photographs of Elizabeth Mackenzie’s father (early 1900s); the bye-laws and salary details of Lady Margaret Hall in the 1950s, and other documents belonging to Elizabeth Mackenzie

This is a substantial and significant archive of autograph letters from the Austrian composer and musicologist Egon Wellesz (1885-1974) to his muse, the poet, Fellow of English and later Vice-Principal of Lady Margaret Hall, Elizabeth Mackenzie (1921-2021). Wellesz was a central figure in the modernist music scene in early twentieth-century Vienna, having studied under Schoenberg and later Guido Adler. He fled to England in 1938 during the annexation of Austria by Nazi Germany and established himself in Oxford, becoming a Fellow of Lincoln College in 1939 and a University Lecturer in 1943. It was there he met Elizabeth Mackenzie, who began reading English Literature at Lady Margaret Hall in 1941. Their correspondence began towards the end of 1943 and quickly blossomed into a deep and enduring love for each other. Despite this, they maintained other relationships. Wellesz was married to art historian Emilia ("Emmy") Franciska Stross (1889-1987), whom he met in Vienna at one of Eugenie Schwarzwald’s salons. For her part, Elizabeth spent the majority of her life with the medievalist Patricia Keen (d.2011), whom she had met as a student. They later lived in some style at the historic Latchford House in Great Haseley, Oxfordshire, where they cultivated a great library and bred Afghan hounds. Regularly in their correspondence, before signing off, Egon sends his love and regards to Patricia, as Elizabeth does to his wife, Emmy. 

Throughout, Wellesz praises Elizabeth Mackenzie as the source of his inspiration as a composer. Their relationship is perhaps best summarised in the following quotation, from a letter penned in 1948, intended to be opened only after his death: “Everything which I wrote was inspired by you, my blessed angel” (27 September 1948). This sentiment echoes throughout; for example, after talking to her one evening, Egon admits he “hardly could catch up with writing down the notes” of what became his Symphony No. 6 (15 April 1965). Elizabeth becomes to him “dear angelic Elizabeth” (16/17 September 1949), “my dearest soul” (24 December 1950), and “my dearest beloved angel” (17 January 1951), and she reciprocates his affection, declaring in one letter, “you can melt my sorrow like snow with the warmth of your beloved spirit” (15 May 1946).

An archive of Wellesz’s autograph music manuscripts was sold in these rooms on 19 July 2022 (lot 85).