DRESDEN, 1842-1843.
From now begins a new epoch in Wagner’s life. The call he had received
from Dresden filled him with delirious joy. The world was not large
enough to hold him. He trod on air. That Dresden, the hallowed scene of
Weber’s labours, possessing the then first theatre in Germany, famed
alike for its productions, style, and artists, should accept his work,
and request his presence to supervise the rehearsals, was an
acknowledgment which transformed, as by magic, a sombre, cruel outlook
into a gloriously bright and warm future.
He was very sanguine of succeeding with “Rienzi.” It was completely in
the style of the foreign operas then in vogue among his countrymen.
Germany had no opera of her own. Mozart and Gluck both composed in the
French and Italian style, and Meyerbeer, the then ruler of the German
operatic stage, fashioned his popular works on the spectacular style of
the grand French opera. “Rienzi” was spectacular, with plenty of the
same description of material as “Les Huguenots.” So Wagner’s hopes ran
high, and a vista of happiness spread itself before him as an enchanted
fairy-land.
[Sidenote: _THE CHOSEN OF DRESDEN._]
With joy he took leave of Schlesinger and his few Parisian intimates,
and set out for Germany, his fatherland. His fatherland! what a sea of
tumultuous feelings did that thought of returning home produce in him.
He was going back a conqueror. The creative artist was at last
recognized; he was rescued from desperate distress at the very moment it
seemed as if he were going to succumb to the conflict. It is difficult
to at all thoroughly understand what Wagner went through after he had
been summoned to Germany. The transformation scene in his life’s drama
was taking place. Again and again has he expatiated upon it with an
honesty characteristic of him, and with a volubility that laid bare all
his heart’s hopes and emotions at the time.
Paris had not accepted him. He came, he saw, but had not conquered. His
soul had swelled with artistic ambition; he was enthusiastic, desiring a
platform from which to expound his cherished tenets; and Paris ignored
him, treated his projects and himself as nought, and for all it cared,
he might have perished unheeded, with none but his dog to mourn his
loss. And now, from an unacknowledged artist, he was the chosen of
celebrated Dresden, still warm with the inspired accents of his
“beloved” Weber. Well might he become delirious with joy.
His homeward journey was full of happy incident and profit. He heard his
native language again as the common tongue. Of German as a language
Wagner was always enamoured. He possessed a large vocabulary himself,
was a poet of no mean rank, and had always a wealth of illustration
ready at command. Now to hear German spoken about him was delight. He
was in a happy frame, ready to be touched with whatever he saw. The
Rhine unusually excited him. In later years, when writing of the period,
he tells us that at sight of the Rhine he vowed eternal fidelity to his
country. He remarked to me, in his poetic language, that its eddying
wavelets seemed to be telling him its legends, and dolefully inquiring,
Why did you leave us? He was happy to come home. His escape from
feverish, sensuous Paris, to his healthy, honest fatherland, was, to use
his own graphic analogy, as Tannhäuser emerging from the Venus grotto to
breathe the invigorating, bracing atmosphere of the German mountains. It
was the awakening from an oppressive nightmare. The unvarnished
straightforwardness of the German character welcomed him with the
affection of fond parents. With all its rude plainness and stolidity, he
loved the German mind. It was sincere, true, and made the French
courteous polish, which he had just quitted, seem as a thing unreal, a
lacquer, an affection that became offensive.
The return of Wagner and his wife to Dresden was particularly agreeable
to the latter. In Dresden, she had a reputation as an actress, though
not in the first rank, yet she was somebody, and would be so recognized.
Besides, there she could have the respect paid to her due to the wife of
the composer of “Rienzi.” Poor Minna! what a patient and gentle woman
she was. To hear her unaffected talk of the change in her own position,
on their coming to live in Dresden, was touching, indeed. In Paris she
had been a drudge, and no one knew but Wagner the half of her heroism,
self-denial, and suffering. Now for her, too, the horizon was clearing,
and it was with difficulty that she endeavoured to restrain the
overflowing hopefulness of Richard. But he would not be repressed, and
on nearing Dresden the two who had suffered together consoled and
encouraged each other with visions of prospective prosperity.
[Sidenote: _A VISIT TO REISSIGER._]
A change of scene was always conducive to happiness in Wagner. For the
first few days he visited well-remembered spots. He had a veritable
passion for at once setting off to see familiar places. The joy of
Dresden homely life contrasted with the Paris mode of living, acted like
a charm on him. His spirits were at their best, his health good, and the
kindly greetings he met everywhere worked together to make him
thoroughly enjoy life. His sister Rosalie, the actress, was dead, so
that all that was really known of him when he came to Dresden was that
he was born at Leipzic, had been educated at the Dresden Schule, and had
wholly written and composed two operas, and was the brother of the late
Rosalie Wagner.
One of his first visits was to Reissiger, chief conductor at the Royal
Opera (where Wagner’s “Rienzi” was to be performed), and of the Royal
Chapel. Reissiger was some fifteen years older than Richard Wagner. He
had been trained in the school of strict fugue and counterpoint at
Leipzic, and as a musician was prolific and clever, but lacked poetical
inspiration and intellectual power. He was eminently a professor. He
received Wagner politely, praised the “Rienzi,” the score of which he
knew, but with it all maintained an attitude of reserve. Wagner, who was
on the best terms with himself and the world, ready to embrace
everybody, was cooled by his reception, and felt that he could never be
intimate with Reissiger, who occupied the greater part of their first
interview with complaints about his own non-success on the operatic
stage, all of which he peevishly attributed to the shortcomings of the
_libretti_.
If, however, Wagner was disappointed with his probable standing with
Reissiger, he was amply compensated by the warmth and spontaneity of
Fischer’s greeting. Fischer was stage manager and chorus director. He
was a musician of superior attainments, a man of sound reflection, and
felt that theirs was to be a friendship for life. He was enthusiastic
about “Rienzi,” foretold a certain success, and showed his earnestness
by untiring activity in training the chorus, so important in the new
work. He proved of invaluable service to Wagner by describing the
character and temperament of the many individuals connected with the
theatre with whom he would come into contact.
There was yet another friend who affectionately greeted Wagner.
Tichatschek, the “Rienzi” of the forthcoming performance. Tichatschek
was of heroic stature, finely proportioned, and dignified in bearing. He
was enraptured with his part. He saw in it one which fitted him to
perfection, both as to physical appearance and vocal powers, which, in
his case, were strong and enduring.
A passing cloud was the absence of the “Adriano,” his womanly ideal,
Schroeder-Devrient. But she soon came to Dresden and was present at the
“Rienzi” rehearsals. Wagner related to her the episode of the
_Dreadnought_, and the fate of her precious gift, the snuff-box, when
she pleasantly rejoined that “Rienzi” would produce him a shower of
golden snuff-boxes from all the potentates of Germany, so convinced was
she of its success.
[Sidenote: _PRODUCTION OF “RIENZI.”_]
“Rienzi” was performed at the end of 1842. An unquestioned success,
everybody enthusiastic, the orchestra played with an energy that went
quite beyond the phlegmatic Reissiger who conducted. Apart from the
effective situations, the well-treated story and verve with which the
chief characters worked, there is no doubt that a great portion of the
success was due to the splendid appearance of Tichatschek. Commanding in
stature and clad in glittering armour, possessing a powerful voice which
he used to advantage, the audience were enraptured with the hero and
cheered him lustily. The processions, the conflagrations, and all those
stage effects so skilfully calculated by Wagner and intended for the
grand opera house, Paris, appealed to the spectacle-loving portion of
the playgoers. The plot, the revolt of an oppressed people, was
unquestionably in harmony with the spirit of the period, for revolution
was in the air; all over Germany there were disquieting signs. It has
often been suggested that “Rienzi” was a confession of faith of Wagner’s
political, so-called revolutionary, principles, and was a forecast of
the democratic storm of 1848, but it need scarcely be said that it was
mere coincidence.
I have now arrived at the time when my own acquaintance with Richard
Wagner began. It was in the beginning of the spring of 1843. Wagner had
been appointed in January of that year co-chief conductor at the opera
with Reissiger, but the superiority of his intellectual and artistic
abilities over the homespun plebeian Reissiger soon gave him the first
position in Dresden. Their second in command was August Roeckel. Roeckel
was my most intimate friend. We were of the same age, and had but one
judgment upon music. He was the nephew of Nepomuck Hummel and possessed
much of the talent of that celebrated pianist. He was also a composer of
merit; indeed, it was by reason of the sound musicianly skill displayed
in his opera “Farinelli” that he was appointed second music director at
Dresden, similarly as Wagner had been appointed chief director through
the success of “Rienzi.” The director of the opera had accepted
“Farinelli” and announced a performance, but so dazzled was Roeckel by
the brilliancy of Wagner’s genius that he withdrew “Farinelli” and would
under no circumstances permit its production. This act of
self-effacement accurately paints the character of the over-modest man.
Between Wagner and Roeckel the closest intimacy sprang up. Through all
that stormy period of the revolution, Wagner thought and spoke of none
other as he did of Roeckel. They were twin souls. For range of
knowledge, active intelligence, and similarity of thought, Wagner had
met with no one more congenial to him, and, I must add, none worshipped
Wagner as August Roeckel did. He had resided in London and Paris, and
the literature of both countries was as familiar to him as that of his
native land. The first description I had of Richard Wagner was from
August Roeckel. I had such complete confidence in his perception and
judgment that I was at once won over to Wagner’s side by the tone of
hero-worship that pervaded the letter. Happily it has been preserved and
I now reproduce it:--
[Sidenote: _INFLUENCE OF ROECKEL._]
At last fortune smiles on me. Think, I have been appointed
Sachsischer music director, at the head of the most celebrated
orchestra of Germany, no longer doomed to give lessons, my horror
and abomination. “Farinelli,” after all, was the right thing, but
what chiefly reminds me of your perspicacity was the encouragement
in regard to my pianoforte playing. Now that is of the greatest
importance in helping me to establishing a name here. It was but
natural that I doubted my gift as a pianist, when Edward (his
brother) was the favourite of uncle “Hummel,” but when at Vienna,
I remembered your prophecy, and worked at the piano harder than
ever, and now it stands me in good stead. Henceforth, I drop myself
into a well, because I am going to speak of the man whose greatness
overshadows that of all other men I have met, either in France or
England,--our new friend, Richard Wagner. I say advisedly, our
friend, for he knows you from my description as well as I do. You
cannot imagine how the daily intercourse with him develops my
admiration for his genius. His earnestness in art is religious; he
looks upon the drama as the pulpit from which the people should be
taught, and his views on a combination of the different arts for
that purpose opens up an exciting theory, as new as it is ideal.
You would love him, aye, worship him as I do, for to gigantic
powers of intellect he unites the sportive playfulness of a child.
I have a great advantage over him in piano-playing. It seems
strange, but his playing is ludicrously defective; so much so, that
when anything is to be tried I take the piano and my sight-reading
seems to please him vastly.
DRESDEN, March, 1843.
My correspondence with August Roeckel was at this period a large one. He
had a religious reverence for the gift, intellectual attainments, and
eloquence of his new friend, topics which constitute the main theme of
his letters. That Roeckel had an equal sway over Wagner in another
direction, viz. politics, arose, too, from that same earnest enthusiasm,
the parent of Wagner’s own successful art efforts. It is necessary that
I should explain that Roeckel was Wagner’s shadow. They were
inseparable, visiting each other during the day and at the theatre
together at night. They had, so Wagner told me afterwards, a life in
common. He was as much fired by Roeckel’s wealth of literary lore, his
heroic notions of life and duty, and the claim of a people to be well
governed, as Roeckel was sympathetic and appreciative of those art
theories which, according to Wagner, formed the upper stratum of man’s
existence. Roeckel’s view is therefore the judgment of Wagner’s other
self, and as such has a right of existence here. It is full of warm
interest about Wagner, who, in later years, greatly enjoyed the perusal
of the correspondence. The absolute worship of Roeckel for his chief
shows itself in the following letter written under the influence of
early relations:--
I have the most affectionate letter from Bamberg. They want me back
there, offer me greater advantages, urging that I was the first and
only conductor there, whilst at Dresden I am but second. But can
they understand to whom I am second? Such a man as Richard Wagner I
never yet met, and you know I am not inclined to Caesar’s maxim,
that it were better to be the first in a village than the second in
Rome. I have begun to rescore my opera under Wagner’s supervision;
his frank criticism has opened my eyes to some very important
instrumental defects. His notions of scoring are most novel, most
daring, and altogether marvellous; but not more so than his
elevated notions about the high purpose of the dramatic art;
indeed, they foreshadow a new era in the history of art.
DRESDEN.
[Sidenote: _BERLIOZ AND WAGNER._]
An incident of interest in the first part of 1843 was a visit of Hector
Berlioz to Wagner. The great Frenchman came to hear “Rienzi.” Satisfied
he was not; about the only number that he thought meritorious was the
prayer. With the “Dutchman,” which he also heard, he was even still less
contented. He complained of the excess of instrumentation. This is
curious, to put it gently, that a composer who employs four orchestras
with twelve kettledrums in one work, whose own scoring is noted for
excessive employment of means, should make such a charge. It is
inexplicable. The truth is, Berlioz was jealous of Wagner. Roeckel had
been intimate with Berlioz in Paris. The father of Roeckel was the
impressario who introduced the first complete German opera troupe to
Paris and London. He had been an intimate friend of Beethoven, had
impersonated “Florestan” in “Fidelio,” and, indeed, had been tutored by
the composer for the tenor part. The elder Roeckel’s company included
Schroeder-Devrient when he went to Paris. August Roeckel was therefore
well known to Berlioz, and Schroeder-Devrient, having travelled with
Roeckel’s father, and being known intimately by August, was also a link
between Wagner and himself. When, therefore, Berlioz came to Dresden,
August was delighted, and was always present at the friendly meetings of
the two composers. He wrote to me that their meetings were embarrassed.
Wagner was first attracted, but the cold, austere, though always
polished demeanour of Berlioz checked Wagner’s enthusiasm. He had the
air of patronizing Wagner; his speech was bitter, freezing the
boisterous expansiveness of Wagner. At times the conversation was so
strained that Roeckel was of opinion that Berlioz intentionally slighted
Wagner. The more they were together, the less they appeared to
understand each other; and yet, notwithstanding the fastidious
criticism, the constant fault-finding of Berlioz, he took pains to
arrange meetings with Wagner, naturally fascinated by the vigour with
which Wagner discussed art.