"Alte Pferdestrasse, Wagner, who has just arrived in Munich, is there,
come to-night, after dark."
We had all gathered at Franz Servais' house to await the news, when
this note was brought to me and put into "the right hands" with much
mystery. It was not signed, but Richter had written it.
"Richard Wagner here!" We expected him, yet now we were surprised
and troubled that he had come, even though in answer to our call....
What if some misfortune should grow out of this incident!... On the
contrary, all would come right now that the Master was here, his
presence would work miracles.
"Alte Pferdestrasse," said Servais, "Wagner has gone to Scheffer's
home: what an honour!"
"Who is this Scheffer, then?" asked Villiers, "always so silent and
buried in his beard? One cannot make him out at all."
"He is correspondent of some small German papers, according to his own
account, but, I believe also an office-holder. Certainly he is a good
Wagnerian, and that ought to suffice for us."
"His dog is also that," replied Villiers, "for he only comes when one
whistles the serenade of Beckmesser."
"Where is the Alte Pferdestrasse?" I asked.
"In a very quiet part of the city, but it is not easy to find--" said
Servais. "We will take you there and wait for you, since you only are
invited to see the Master...."
It was still daylight when we left Servais' house and sauntered slowly
along, in order not to have the air of conspirators. We asked ourselves
if Wagner really ran any risks, in coming to Munich. He was not really
exiled, only morally so, by his own resolution not to go there. What
had he to fear? The public was eager for his works: the price of seats
in the theatre doubled when they were played, and the house was always
full. Were his enemies still so implacable, and what could they do?
We stopped before the theatre to read the posters and wonder what
Perfall was plotting. The _Rheingold_ was announced for Thursday, two
days later. The management was stubborn: nevertheless it would have to
concede one point; who would conduct the orchestra, if not Richter?
We went on, and were nearly lost in a labyrinth of small deserted
streets with grass growing between the pavingstones, with little, low
houses and small gardens.
"Alte Pferdestrasse." At last we found it; my companions stopped at
the corner of the street and Franz Servais pointed out the house of the
greatly envied Scheffer. The entrance door was closed and I knew that
porters were not usual in the Munich houses. I could see the shining
brass of three little bells, but it had grown very dark, and I could
not succeed in making out the name of the resident or the number of the
floor engraved under each. Leaving it to chance, I rang the middle one!
Chance served me this time, for Scheffer himself came to let me in. We
mounted a narrow dimly-lighted staircase to the first floor.
As soon as we passed the threshold, I saw Wagner, at the end of the
second room, seated on an old sofa.
Then I suddenly remembered Tribschen, the superb frame which seemed so
fitting a place for the Master. I thought how at this hour, between
the high mountains, deep shadows brooded over the dear home, which no
longer held his presence, and anxiety possessed the heart of her, who
in spirit followed the absent one.
How strange it was to find Wagner in this narrow and shabby setting!
Yet, because it held him, one was no longer conscious of the
restrictions: he transformed all that surrounded him.
"Well, dear friend," he said to me, "here are the Misérabilités in
full force! I do not regret that you should have been a witness of the
occurrence that has brought me here, for there are some things that one
could never believe, unless one had seen them."
"But the King, what does the King say?"
"Ah, I imagine that he feigns to ignore the fiasco, and does not wish
to be drawn into it. They have probably persuaded him that it is
impossible to do better, or to make the stage effects realistic: he
wishes to enjoy again the pleasure he had in hearing the music and
probably said to his subordinates:
"'Arrange as well as you can, but give me another representation of the
_Rheingold_ as soon as possible.'"
"How could he understand, after having put at the disposition of the
Director the enormous sum of sixty thousand florins, and commanding him
not to spare time in obtaining a perfect result, how could he imagine
such bad will and malevolence in those whom he employs?"
"But now that you are here, Master, all will be different."
"No, alas! The first representation is still billed for Thursday.
The King wishes it and I am not willing to oppose him. You know that
all my new works belong to him, in exchange for the yearly indemnity
which he grants me. As soon as any score is completed, I send it
to him and he has the right to dispose of it as he pleases. This
time, I am protesting inwardly, but mutely, against the fragmentary
representations of the Tetralogy. But how can I feel any ill-will
toward the King for his impatience? Toward him who has endeavoured in
every way to put through the theatre project which would have permitted
the bringing out of my work as a whole? He cannot resign himself to
waiting, as I should have liked to have him wait, for the better times,
and he wishes to see, at least, the representations of parts of my
work. I can only submit myself. And all this creates rather a delicate
situation. He is vexed that I do not accept the situation as he has
done, and that I refuse to direct the studies of the _Rheingold_, and I
am grieved that he exercises his right to have them represented. But,
like my mute protestation, so his blame is unspoken. Nothing greater
than that could come to trouble a friendship such as ours; it is only a
squall, which dulls for a moment the surface of a beautiful lake."
"Then Master, what will you be able to do here before Thursday?"
"First and above all, I wish to re-instal Richter at the desk and I
have asked for a rehearsal to-morrow, for myself alone, when I shall
endeavour to improve whatever I can, to correct the greatest faults, if
it is possible to do it. I owe this effort to my honour as an artist,
to the devotion of our matchless Richter and of my interpreters; I owe
it to my friends; this conviction has made me break the promise that I
made to myself, not to come here, or mix in any way in the affair."
Richter, in Wagner's presence, preserved the ecstatic expression of
a priest before a holy apparition. Standing at a little distance he
listened to the Master thoughtfully, his steady eyes shining behind his
glasses, in the midst of the abundant gold of his beard and his hair.
He seemed to have lost the power of speech. As for Scheffer, seated in
a corner, he pulled softly at the ears of the dog crouched between his
knees, and watched his glorious guest with a devout air.
Wagner endured, or seemed to endure, these fresh trials with an
admirable serenity; he had, as it were, an armour of happiness which
the blows of fate would henceforth hit without piercing, and this group
of disciples zealous for the faith, seemed to form a rampart about his
heart.
Very cheerfully he gave me the news of Tribschen and of the vexations
that the Munich events had caused there. The day after the dress
rehearsal chanced to be a day of many visitors. "One of his sisters
with her husband and daughter; an eminent student of Sanscrit,
professor at the University of Leipzig; a philologist of Basle "--that
was Nietzsche--so they had a number of people with them at two o'clock
dinner. This dinner was interrupted ten times by the arrival of
telegrams; the Master left the table in order to write a reply; no
sooner had he returned and taken his place, than another message was
brought to him and he was forced to absent himself again. All those
good people were amazed and could not believe that, ordinarily, in that
dear retreat of Tribschen, one saw and heard nothing of the outside
world.
By the questions that Wagner asked of Richter concerning certain
passages from the score of the _Rheingold_, the effect that they
produced, and the sound of new combinations, I comprehended that
hardest of all for the composer, in the sacrifice upon which he had
determined, was to deny himself from hearing his orchestra: and that
without admitting it to himself, perhaps, he believed he should find a
balm for this intense desire, in the rehearsal which he had solicited
for the following day. Truly, there would be very little opportunity
in such a short time, of materially improving the deplorable scenic
arrangements. It was evident that the Master had, above all, two things
most at heart: to hear his work once, as if by stealth--and to restore
Richter, who was without means, to his high position of Capellmeister
to the Royal Theatre.
We should see what to-morrow would bring! Wagner ought to make the
attempt, if not to sleep, at least to rest; Richter and I took leave of
him, and left him to the care of the glorified Reinhard Scheffer.