In the "gallery," beside the marble statue of Tristan, stood a
photograph framed in velvet which reproduced the features of a
handsome, athletic young man, with an intensely ardent expression.
I was very curious about this portrait, which always attracted my
attention and held it irresistibly. One day I questioned the Master.
"Who is that young man?"
I saw him grow pale; his eyes filled with tears, and with a repressed
sigh, he murmured,
"My poor Schnorr!"
Madam Cosima signed to me not to say anything more, and as soon as it
was possible, she told me all about it.
"It is a photograph of Schnorr von Karolsfeld, 'the hero of song,' as
Wagner called him--suddenly cut off by Death in the very fulness of
triumphant life. Five years have passed since then, but the Master
cannot console himself for the loss of this friend, this disciple, this
marvellous interpreter of his work. He never thinks of him without a
pang and, above all, he dreads to speak of him."
"Schnorr was the son of a celebrated painter, and had received a fine
education. He was very gifted in all the arts, and by reason of one
more rare and wonderful gift, that of an incomparable voice, he had
been drawn toward music and the stage. From his first acquaintance
with the works of Richard Wagner, Schnorr had comprehended and
profoundly loved them. Despite the increasing celebrity of the young
artist, the Master for a long time rather dreaded to see him because
of what he had heard of his too great corpulence: he feared that this
physical imperfection might prejudice and render him unjust to all his
other qualities. So, because he was little skilled in concealing his
impressions, he avoided being brought in contact with the interpreter
of his works. It was, therefore, with great secrecy that he went one
evening to Karlsruhe (where Schnorr was engaged for a representation of
_Lohengrin_) and entered the theatre without being recognised.
"Later, the Master himself told the story of that wonderful evening.
"'All my apprehensions very soon disappeared. It is true that the
first appearance of the Knight of the Swan as he drew near to the
shore, looking like a young Hercules, made a rather strange impression
upon me, but this disappeared as the hero advanced. The peculiar charm
of the messenger from God works instantly. Of this character one did
not ask, "Who is he?" but said, "It is he."
"'Truly, this sudden and profound impression can only be compared to a
kind of enchantment. I remember having felt this very decidedly when
I was a boy, concerning the great Schroeder-Devrient. I have never
experienced it since so strongly, so decisively as at the entrance of
Ludwig Schnorr in _Lohengrin_. While I recognised, in the course of his
interpretation, that in many ways his understanding and rendering of my
work had not yet attained maturity, yet even in that I saw the charm
of a youthful purity still untouched, of a virgin soil that promised
to bring forth flowers of great artistic perfection. The fervour, the
tender exaltation that burned in the marvellously love-filled eyes of
this very young man, made me feel vaguely how ill-omened might be the
fire by which they were enkindled. Very soon I discovered in him a
being who, by the very reason of his unlimited gifts, inspired in me a
tragic pity.'
"The meeting between the Master and the disciple was cordial and
touching. And what a glad surprise for the creator of _Tristan and
Isolde_, to discover that Schnorr, filled with enthusiasm for this
work, reputed to be unsingable, had made himself thoroughly acquainted
with it, and knew the _rôle_ of Tristan from one end to the other!
Nevertheless, he had hesitated to sing it, all because of a passage in
the Third Act. He did not quite comprehend what ought to be the musical
expression of this especial passage, which he judged to be one of the
highest importance.
"This unselfish scruple gave Wagner one of the vivid surprises of his
life. Could it be possible that a tenor acclaimed by all should have
so little vanity and be so nobly conscious of his artistic mission?
Could he so mistrust himself and, in spite of his experience and his
pre-eminence, believe himself incapable of interpreting a rôle because
he did not entirely comprehend the exact expression of a single passage
in so complicated a work? And the idea of cutting out this phrase,
the first that would have occurred to any other singer, had not even
suggested itself to this rare soul.
"The passage in question, in the Third Act of _Tristan_, runs as
follows:
'Aus Vaters Noth und Mutter Weh,
Aus Liebes-thränen eh' und je,
Aus Lachen und Weinen, Wonnen und Wunden,
Hab' ich des Trankes Gifte gefunden!
Den ich gebraut, der mir geflossen,
Den Wonne Schlürfend je ich genossen,
Verflucht sei furchtbarer Trank,
Verflucht wer dich gebraut!'
"It is a climax in that delirious raving of Tristan separated
from Isolde, that frenzied longing which only found relief in
unconsciousness.
"The Master explained certain things to Schnorr; especially he gave him
the idea of a wider, less rapid, movement, which suddenly cleared all
that had been obscure to the young artist, who showed at once that he
had understood by interpreting the passage in a way that was without a
fault.
"'Who can measure the extent of the hopes that thrilled me at the
moment when such a singer came into my life!'
"Such was Wagner's cry of gratitude. And from that day he made every
effort to obtain a representation of _Tristan_, with the co-operation
of Schnorr.
"There were still many years before this beautiful dream was realised,
and then it came to pass through the intervention of the royal friend,
the archangel so miraculously sent, whose flaming sword reduced all
obstacles to ashes and made free the path toward the ideal.
"These first representations of _Tristan_ at Munich were among the most
memorable of artistic events. Those who had the good fortune to take
part in them preserved a splendid memory and a nostalgic longing. So
great a work produced with such perfection and, during the rehearsals,
such complete harmony between the Master and the interpreter!
"To quote the Master's own words:
"'The clumsiest of would-be musicians, singer or instrumentalist,
would never have accepted from me such minute instructions as did that
hero of song, who, without effort, arrived at such a mastery. Any
indication of mine upon which I laid the slightest stress he accepted
and acted on with cheerful promptness, grasping the reason for it at
once, and in such a way that I should have felt that I had failed in
my duty if, through fear of wounding his feelings, I had withheld my
suggestion, however minute it might be. The reason for this disposition
on the part of my friend is that the ideal comprehension of my work
had come to him quite spontaneously; he absorbed my ideas so naturally
that not the slenderest thread of the spiritual woof, not the slightest
allusion to the most obscure harmonies escaped him; he felt them all in
a very subtle way.'
"'So nothing remained for him but to select as rigorously as possible
the technical methods of expression for the singer, the musician, and
the actor that would best secure a perfect harmony between the personal
gifts of the artist in their particular effect and the ideal object
of the interpretation. All who were present at those studies will be
able to testify that they never before witnessed such an amicable and
artistic understanding. Having explained to him the one passage which
he had not comprehended I never had any further talk with Schnorr
about the Third Act of _Tristan_, After paying the closest attention
to the rehearsals of the First and Second Acts, when the Third Act
commenced I involuntarily turned away from the hero, wounded unto
death, and, sitting motionless upon my chair with my eyes half-closed,
became completely absorbed in the music. As I never turned toward him
during this tremendous scene even at his most impassioned utterances,
Schnorr appeared to have been abashed by my long silence and seeming
indifference; but when, after the malediction of love, I finally
got up and going unsteadily to this wonderful friend, who still
remained prostrate on his couch, I leaned over him and, embracing him
vehemently, said to him in a subdued voice that I had no criticism to
make, that from this time forth my own ideal would be consummately
revealed by him, then his sombre eyes sparkled like the star of love;
there was one hardly perceptible sob, and from that time no other word
ever passed between us on the subject of this Third Act.'
"The days of these representations and the dress rehearsal before the
King were, without doubt, for Wagner the culminating point in his
destiny as composer: they included those ineffable hours that repay
for a whole lifetime of efforts, of disappointments, of miseries--his
'ideal realised,' the splendour of his genius shining before his own
eyes and penetrating his very being with a glorious certainty.
"And what a magnificent trinity, Richard Wagner, Ludwig II. and the
incarnation of Tristan! What a noble joy animated them all! 'How I
bless those hours!' cried Schnorr, in a burst of enthusiasm. 'O Master,
with your help and the help of this divine king, I also must accomplish
something great and glorious!'
"A most unusual interruption brought this splendid manifestation of
art to an unforeseen conclusion after the fourth representation. From
the first, Wagner had felt for Schnorr's prodigious achievement an
astonishment full of respect, which increased to dread and finally
became an actual terror. It was unbelievable that the singer could
repeat this performance day after day, after the custom of the theatre.
The Master felt that it would be a crime, and he therefore declared
that this fourth representation of _Tristan_ should be the last; that
he would not permit another. So the work was not given again.
"'I feel that I have no right to inflict such a condition of trouble
upon a human being,' said Wagner.
"It was not a question of physical fatigue--Schnorr did not
experience any: but to live Tristan, to burn with his passions,
to suffer his agonies, to thrill with his ecstasies, to die his
death!--such superhuman exaltation, such emotion and fever of the
soul, all this the Master could not permit again. So the success
was interrupted, the big receipts were cut off, for such secondary
considerations as these did not concern those generous minds for an
instant.
"Then a very great project began to take shape in Wagner's brain.
"'With the certainty of the unspeakable importance of Schnorr for my
musical creations, a new springtide of hope entered into my life. The
medium was at last found through which my creative power could link
itself to the present. The moment was come in which to teach and to
make clear. That which had been universally misunderstood, denounced as
unplayable, mocked at, covered with contempt, was about to be proved an
undeniable artistic reality. To create a German style for representing
works of German genius--this was our watchword. And with this consoling
hope I found it easier to oppose, for the time, any further productions
of _Tristan_. This work and these representations were so different
from the usual performances that they would necessitate too sudden a
leap into the unknown; the precipices and chasms yawning before it must
be approached deliberately. We must begin by carefully roofing them
over, by paving the way toward ourselves, the isolated artists, up to
our summit, for those associates that were indispensable to us. So
then, Schnorr being ours, it was determined to found a Royal College of
Music and Dramatic Art.'
"Alas! how many obstacles, how many fresh struggles, and before the
work could be achieved, how cruel the death that struck down the hero,
in the fulness of youth, in the fulness of beauty!"
And now, when in the gallery I pass before the superb likeness of
Schnorr von Karolsfeld, I in my turn feel my heart contract, and I
stifle a cry of anger, of revolt, against so blind and imbecile a
destiny.