II
The six years which followed were troublous ones for Wagner. In the winter of the following year (1837) he became conductor of the opera at Königsberg, and while there he married Minna Planer, a member of the Magdeburg opera company, whom he had met the previous year. After a few months’ occupancy of this post he became conductor at Riga. Here a season of unsatisfactory artistic conditions and personal hardships determined him to capture musical Europe by a bold march upon Paris, then the centre of opera. In the summer of 1839, accompanied by his wife and dog, the journey to Paris was made, by way of London and Boulogne. At the latter place Wagner met Meyerbeer, who furnished him with letters of introduction which promised him hopes of success in the French capital. Again, however, Wagner was fated to disappointment and chagrin, and the two years which formed the time of his first sojourn in Paris were filled with the most bitter failures. It was, in fact, at this period that his material affairs reached their lowest point, and, to keep himself from starvation, Wagner was obliged to accept the drudgery of ‘hack’ literary writing and the transcribing of popular opera scores. The only relief from these miseries was the intercourse with a few faithful and enthusiastic friends[108] and the occasional opportunity to hear the superior concerts which the orchestra of the Conservatoire furnished at that time.
But the hardships of these times did not lessen Wagner’s creative activities and from these years date his first important works: Rienzi, ‘The Flying Dutchman,’ and Eine Faust Ouvertüre.
Wagner, during his stay at Riga, had become fully convinced that in writing operas of smaller calibre for the lesser theatres of Germany he was giving himself a futile task which stood much in the way of the realization of those reforms which had already begun to assume shape in his mind. He resolved to seek larger fields in writing a work on a grander scale. ‘My great consolation now,’ we read in his autobiography, ‘was to prepare Rienzi with such utter disregard of the means which were available there for its production that my desire to produce it would force me out of the narrow confines of this puny theatrical circle to seek a fresh connection with one of the larger theatres.’ Two acts of the opera had been written at Riga and the work was finished during his first months at Paris. Wagner sent the manuscript of the work back to Germany, where it created a friendly and favorable impression, and the prospects of an immediate hearing brought Wagner back to Germany in April, 1842. The work was produced in Dresden on the twentieth of the following October and was an immediate success.
It is Rienzi which marks the real beginning of Wagner’s career as an operatic composer; the small and fragmentary works which preceded it serve only to record for us the experimental epoch of Wagner’s writing. It is this place as first in the list of Wagner’s work which gives Rienzi its greatest interest, for neither the text nor the music are such as to make it of artistic value when placed by the side of his later productions.
The libretto was written by Wagner himself after the novel by Bulwer Lytton. The hand of the reformer of the opera is not visible in this libretto, which was calculated, as Wagner himself frankly confessed, to afford opportunities for the brilliant and theatrical exhibition which constituted the popular opera of that time. While the lines attain to a certain dignity and loftiness of poetic conception, there is no trace of the attempt at the realization of those dramatic ideals which Wagner was soon to experience. Everything is calculated to musical effectiveness of a pronounced theatrical quality and the work presents the usual order of arias, duets, and ensemble of the Italian opera. The music for the greater part is matched to the spirit and form of the libretto. Here again theatrical effectiveness is the aim of Wagner, and to obtain it he has employed the methods of Meyerbeer and Auber. Not that the deeper and more noble influences are entirely forgotten, for there are moments of intensity when the worshipper of Beethoven and Weber discloses the depths of musical and dramatic feeling that were his. But of that style which Wagner so quickly developed, of that marvellously individual note which was destined to dominate the expression of future generations there is but a trace. A few slightly characteristic traits of melodic treatment, certain figurations in the accompaniment and an individual quality of chorus writing is all that is recognizable. The orchestration shows the faults of the other features of the work—exaggeration. It is noisy and theatrical, and, excepting in the purely orchestral sections, such as the marches and dances, it performs the function of the operatic orchestra of the day, that of a mere accompaniment.
‘The Flying Dutchman’ was written in Paris and the inspiration for the work was furnished by the stormy voyage which Wagner had made in his journey to London. The account which he himself has given of its composition gives an interesting idea of his methods of working and a touching picture of the conditions under which it was written. He says in the autobiography: ‘I had already finished some of the words and music of the lyric parts and had had the libretto translated by Émile Deschamps, intending it for a trial performance, which, also, never took place. These parts were the ballad of Senta, the song of the Norwegian sailors, and the “Spectre Song” of “The Flying Dutchman.” Since that time I had been so violently torn away from the music that, when the piano arrived at my rustic retreat, I did not dare to touch it for a whole day. I was terribly afraid lest I should discover that my inspiration had left me—when suddenly I was seized with the idea that I had forgotten to write out the song of the helmsman in the first act, although, as a matter of fact, I could not remember having composed it at all, as I had in reality only just written the lyrics. I succeeded, and was pleased with the result. The same thing occurred with the “Spinning Song”; and when I had written out these two pieces, and on further reflection could not help admitting that they had really only taken shape in my mind at that moment, I was quite delirious with joy at the discovery. In seven weeks the whole of the music of “The Flying Dutchman,” except the orchestration, was finished.’
While one is prompted to group ‘Rienzi’ and ‘The Flying Dutchman’ as forming Wagner’s first period, in the latter work there is such an advance over the former in both spirit and style that we can hardly so classify them.
In ‘The Flying Dutchman’ we see Wagner making a decided break from the theatrical opera and turning to a subject that is more essentially dramatic. The mystic element which he here infuses and his manner of treatment are very decided steps toward that revolution of musical stage works which was to culminate in the ‘music drama.’ In its form the libretto presents less of a departure from the older style than in its subject and spiritual import; there is still the old operatic form of set aria and ‘scene,’ but so consistently does all hang upon the dramatic structure that the entire work is of convincing and moving force.
This same advance in spirit and dramatic earnestness rather than in actual methods is that which also distinguishes the score of ‘The Flying Dutchman’ from that of ‘Rienzi.’ The superficial brilliancy of the latter gives place in ‘The Flying Dutchman’ to a dramatic power which is entirely lacking in the earlier work. One important innovation in form must be remarked: the use of the ‘leading motive,’ which we find for the first time in ‘The Flying Dutchman.’ Wagner here begins to employ those characteristic phrases which so vividly characterize for us the figures and situation of the drama. In harmonic coloring the score shows but slight advance over ‘Rienzi.’ We can observe in the frequent use of the chromatic scale and the diminished seventh chord an inclination toward a richer harmonic scheme, but, taken in its entirety, the musical composition of the work belongs distinctly to what we may call Wagner’s ‘classic’ period and is still far from being the ‘music of the future.’
The success of ‘Rienzi’ brought to Wagner the appointment of court conductor to the king of Saxony, in which his principal duties consisted of conducting the opera at Dresden. Wagner occupied this position for seven years; he gained a practical experience of conducting in all its branches and a wide knowledge of a very varied musical repertoire which broadened his outlook and increased considerably his scope of expression. Besides the operatic performances, the direction of which he shared with Reissiger, Wagner organized for several seasons a series of symphony concerts at which he produced the classic symphonies, including a memorable performance of Beethoven’s ninth symphony on Palm Sunday, 1846.[109] Wagner threw himself with great zeal into the preparation of this work, one of his first sources of inspiration.
The result was a performance which thoroughly roused the community, including the musical profession, which was well represented at the performance, to a sense of Wagner’s greatness as an interpretative artist. There were many other events of importance in Wagner’s external musical life at Dresden. Among these he tells us of the visits of Spontini and of Marschner to superintend the performances of their own works and of a festival planned to welcome the king of Saxony as he returned from England in August, 1844, on which occasion the march from Tannhäuser had its first performance by the forces of the opera company in the royal grounds at Pillnitz. In the winter of the same year we find Wagner actively interested in the movement which resulted in the removal of Weber’s remains from London to their final resting place in his own Dresden. In the ceremony which took place when Weber’s remains were finally committed to German soil, Wagner made a brief but eloquent address and conducted the music for the occasion, consisting of arrangements from Weber’s works made by him. In the midst of a life thus busied Wagner found, however, time for study, and, in the summer months, for musical creation. His interest in the classic drama dates from this period and it is to his studies in mediæval lore pursued at this time that we may attribute his knowledge of the subjects which he later employed in his dramas.
Two musical works are the fruit of these Dresden years. Tannhäuser and Lohengrin. These two works we suitably bracket as forming the second period of Wagner’s creative work; and, while his advance was so persistent and so marked that each new score presents to us an advance in spirit and form, these two are so similar in spirit and form that they may be named together as the next step in the development of his style.
Tannhäuser and Lohengrin are designated by Wagner as romantic operas, a title exactly descriptive of their place as musical stage settings. While infusing into the spirit and action a more poetical conception, their creator had not as yet renounced the more conventional forms of the operatic text. The most important feature of the opera to which he still adhered was the employment, both scenically and musically, of the chorus. This, together with the interest of the ‘ensemble’ and a treatment of the solo parts more nearly approaching the lyric aria than the free recitative of the later dramas are points which these works share with the older ‘opera.’ The advance in the musical substance of these operas over the earlier works is very great. In Tannhäuser we find for the first time Wagner the innovator employing a melodic and harmonic scheme that bears his own stamp, the essence of what we know as ‘Wagnerism.’ From the first pages of Tannhäuser there greets us for the first time that rich sensuousness of melody and harmony which had its apotheosis in the surging mysteries of Tristan und Isolde. Wagner here first divined those new principles of chromatic harmony and of key relations which constituted the greatest advance that had been made by a genius since Monteverdi’s bold innovations of over two centuries before.
In his treatment of the orchestra Wagner’s advance was also great and revealed the new paths which an intimate study of Berlioz’s scores had opened to him. In these two scores, and particularly in Lohengrin, we find the beginnings of the rich polyphonic style of Tristan and the Meistersinger and the marvellously expressive and original use of the wind instruments by which he attained, according to Richard Strauss, ‘a summit of æsthetic perfection hitherto unreached.’
With the advent of these two music dramas there commenced that bitter opposition and antagonism to Wagner and his works from almost the entire musical fraternity and particularly from the professional critics, the records of which form one of the most amazing chapters of musical history. The gathering of these records and their presentation has been the pleasure of succeeding generations of critics who, in many cases, by their blindness to the advances of their own age, have but unconsciously become the objects for the similar ridicule of their followers. Great as may be our satisfaction in seeing history thus repeat itself, the real study of musical development is more concerned with those few appreciators who, with rare perceptive powers, saw the truth of this new gospel and by its power felt themselves drawn to the duty of spreading its influence.
Wagner once complained that musicians found in him only a poet with a mediocre talent for music, while the appreciators of his music were those outside of his own profession. This was in a large measure true and the explanation may be easily found in the fact that attention to the letter so absorbed the minds of his contemporaries that the spiritual significance of his art entirely escaped them in the consternation which they experienced in listening to a form of expression so radically new. It is interesting to note, in passing, the attitude toward Wagner’s art held by some of his contemporaries. That of Mendelssohn as well as that of Schumann and Berlioz was at first one of almost contemptuous tolerance, which in time, as Wagner’s fame increased and his art drew further away from their understanding, turned to animosity. It is somewhat strange to find in contrast to this feeling on the part of these ‘romanticists’ the sympathy for Wagner which was that of Louis Spohr, a classicist of an earlier generation. The noble old composer of Jessonda was a ready champion of Wagner, and in producing his operas studied them faithfully and enthusiastically until that which he at first had called ‘a downright horrifying noise’ assumed a natural form. But he who was to champion most valiantly the cause of Wagner, and to extend to him the helping hand of sympathy as well as material support, was Franz Liszt.
Wagner’s acquaintance with Liszt dates from his first sojourn at Paris, but it was only after Wagner’s return to Germany and the production of Rienzi that Liszt took any particular notice of the young and struggling composer. From that time on his zeal for Wagner’s cause knew no bounds. He busied himself in attracting the attention of musicians and people of rank to the performances at Dresden, and made every effort to bring Wagner a recognition worthy of his achievement. In 1849 Liszt produced Tannhäuser at Weimar, where he was court conductor, and in August of the following year he gave the first performance of Lohengrin. During the many years of Wagner’s exile from Germany it was Liszt who was faithful to his interests in his native land and helped to obtain performances of his works. The correspondence of Wagner and Liszt contains much valuable information and throws a strong light on the reciprocal influences in their works. And so throughout Wagner’s entire life this devoted friend was continually fighting his battles, and extending to him his valuable aid, till, at the end, we see him sharing with Wagner at Bayreuth the consummation of that glorious life, finally to rest near him who had claimed so much of his life’s devotion.
Wagner’s term of office as court conductor at Dresden ended with the revolutionary disturbances of May, 1849. It is only since the publication of his autobiography that we have been able to gain any clear idea of Wagner’s participation in those stormy scenes. While the forty pages which he devotes to the narration of these events give us a very vivid picture of his personal actions, and settles for us the heretofore much discussed question as to whether or not Wagner bore arms, we can find no more adequate explanation of these actions than those which he could furnish himself when he describes his state of mind at that time as being one of ‘dreamy unreality.’ Wagner’s independent mind and revolutionary tendencies naturally drew him into intimate relations with the radical element in Dresden circles: August Röckel, Bakunin and other leaders of the revolutionary party. It was this coupled with Wagner’s growing feeling of discontent at the conditions of art life and his venturesome and combative spirit rather than any actual political sympathies which led him to take active part in the stormy scenes of the May revolutions. While his share in these seems to have been largely that of an agitator rather than of an actual bearer of arms, the accounts he gives of his part in the disturbance show us plainly that the revolution enlisted his entire sympathies. He made fiery speeches, published a call to arms in the Volksblatt, a paper he undertook to publish after the flight of its editor, Röckel, and was conspicuous in meetings of the radical leaders. With the fall of the provisional government Wagner found it necessary to join in their flight, and it was by the merest chance that he escaped arrest and gained in safety the shelter of Liszt’s protection at Weimar. Wagner’s share in these events resulted in his proscription and exile from Germany until 1861.
The following six years were again a period of wanderings. While maintaining a household at Zürich for the greater part of this time, his intervals of quiet settlement were few and he travelled restlessly to Paris, Vienna, and to Italy, besides continually making excursions in the mountains of Switzerland. While Wagner, during this period, enjoyed the companionship of a circle of interested and sympathetic friends, among whom were the Wesendoncks and Hans von Bülow, his severance from actual musical environment acted as a stay to the flow of his musical creative faculties. Aside from conducting a few local concerts in several Swiss cities, his life seems to have been quite empty of musical stimulus. But this lapse in musical productivity only furnished the opportunity for an otherwise diverted intellectual activity which greatly broadened Wagner’s outlook and engendered in him those new principles of art that mark his entrance into a new phase of musical creation. At the beginning of his exile Wagner’s impulse to expression found vent in several essays in which he expounds some of his new ‘philosophy’ of art. ‘Art and Revolution’ was written shortly after his first arrival in Zürich and was followed by ‘The Art Work of the Future,’[110] ‘Opera and Drama,’[111] and ‘Judaism in Music.’[112] He also was continuously occupied with the poems of his Nibelungen cycle, which he completed in 1853.
In the same year Wagner began work on the musical composition of the first of the Nibelungen cycle, Rheingold, and at the same time he conceived the poem for Tristan und Isolde, the spirit of which he says was prompted by his study of Schopenhauer, whose writings most earnestly attracted him at that time. Composition on the Ring cycle meanwhile proceeded uninterruptedly, and 1854 saw the completion of the second opera, Walküre.
In 1855 he passed four months in London as conductor of the Philharmonic, an episode in his life which he recalls with seemingly little pleasure. In the following year (1856) he had completed the second act of Siegfried, when the impulse seized him to commence work on the music of Tristan und Isolde, the text of which he had originally planned in response to an order for an opera from the emperor of Brazil. During the next two years Wagner was feverishly immersed in the composition of this work. The first act was written in Zürich, the second act during a stay in Venice in the winter of 1858, and the summer of 1859 saw the work completed in Zürich.
While the earlier operas of the Ring, Rheingold, Walküre, and a part of Siegfried, were composed before Tristan und Isolde, it is the latter opera which definitely marks the next step in the development of Wagner’s art. It is impossible to allot to any one period of Wagner’s growth the entire Nibelungen cycle. The conception and composition of the great tetralogy covered such a space of time as to embrace several phases of his development. Between the composition of Lohengrin and that of Rheingold, however, stands the widest breach in the theories and practices of Wagner’s art, for there does he break irrevocably with all that is common to the older operatic forms and adopts those methods by which he revolutionizes the operatic art in the creation of the music drama. In first putting these theories into practice we find, however, that Wagner passed again through an experimental stage where his spontaneous expression was somewhat under the bondage of conscious effort. The score of the Rheingold, while possessing the essential dramatic features of the other Ring operas and many pages of musical beauty and strength, is, it must be confessed, the least interesting of Wagner’s works. It is only when we come to Tristan und Isolde that we find Wagner employing his new methods with a freedom of inspiration which precludes self-consciousness and through which he becomes completely the instrument of his inspiration.