The programme of the third concert was as follows:—
| Third Concert, 16th April. | |
| Symphony in A | Mendelssohn. |
| Aria from “Faust” | Spohr. |
| Concerto, pianoforte | Beethoven. |
| Aria | Mozart. |
| Overture (“Euryanthe”) | Weber. |
| Symphony in C minor, No. 5 | Beethoven. |
| Recitative and Aria | Spohr. |
| Overture (“Les deux journées”) | Cherubini. |
That evening, the 16th April, there was a stir among the Mendelssohnian supporters. They mustered in force; for it had been rumoured that at the rehearsal Wagner had not stopped the orchestra once. But however Wagner may have regarded the works of the composer of “Elijah,” he was straightforward enough to do with all his might what he put his hand to, as the sequel proved, since the “Daily News” reported that it “never heard the ‘Italian’ Symphony go so well.” That there were some whose prejudice was not appeased, is to be accepted as a matter of course, and Wagner was taunted in the “Times,” “with a coarse and rigorously frigid” performance.
As for the overture to “Euryanthe,” it is not too much to say the audience was startled out of itself; there was a dead silence for a moment on the work being brought to a close, and the enthusiasm, vigorous and hearty, burst forth. It was a new reading. Such was the surprise with which we witnessed the rapturous applause, that at the convivial gathering after the concert Wagner set himself at the piano, and from memory poured forth numerous excerpts from “Euryanthe.” Then we learned that that opera was intensely admired by Wagner. He thought it “logical” and “philosophical,” and throughout showed that Weber was a reflective musician, and, as he himself forcibly argued, that only works of reflection could ever be immortal. The plot, its treatment, and the language employed were, he felt, the causes of the opera’s non-popularity, and that these wretched drawbacks dreadfully changed the intrinsically beautiful music.
A FONDNESS FOR SNUFF.
Reflections upon the habits and customs of a past generation sometimes introduce us to situations that produce in the mind wonder and perhaps a feeling of disgust. Who can picture the composer of that colossal work of intellect, the “Nibelung Ring,” sitting at the piano, in an elegant, loose robe-de-chambre, singing, with full heart, snatches and scenes from his “adored” idol, Weber’s “Euryanthe,” and at intervals of every three or four minutes indulging in large quantities of scented snuff. The snuff-taking scene of the evening is the deeper graven on my memory, because Wagner abruptly stopped singing, on finding his snuff-box empty, and got into a childish, pettish fit of anger. He turned to us in deepest concern, with “Kein schnupf tabac mehr also Kein gesang mehr” (no more snuff, no more song); and though we had reached the small hours of early morn, would have some one start in search of this “necessary adjunct.” When singing, the more impassioned he became, the more frequent the snuff-taking. Now, this practice of Wagner’s, one cultivated from early manhood, in my opinion pointedly illustrates a phase in the man’s character. He did not care for snuff, and even allowed the indelicacy of the habit, but it was that insatiable nature of his that yearned for the enjoyment of all the “supposed” luxuries of life. It was precisely the same with smoking. He indulged in this, to me, barbarous acquirement more moderately, but experienced not the slightest pleasure from it. I have seen him puffing from the mild and inoffensive cheroot, to the luxurious hookah—the latter, too, as he confessed, only because it was an Oriental growth, and the luxury of Eastern people harmonized with his own fondness for unlimited profusion. “Other people find pleasure in smoking; then why should not I?” This is, briefly, the only explanation Wagner ever offered in defence of the practice—a practice which he was fully aware increased the malignity of his terrible dyspepsia.
There was in Wagner a nervous excitability which not infrequently led to outbreaks of passion, which it would be difficult to understand or explain, were it not that there existed a positive physical cause. First, he suffered, as I have stated earlier, from occasional attacks of erysipelas; then his nervous system was delicate, sensitive,—nay, I should say, irritable. Spasmodic displays of temper were often the result, I firmly feel, of purely physical suffering. His skin was so sensitive that he wore silk next to the body, and that at a time when he was not the favoured of fortune. In London he bought the silk, and had shirts made for him; so, too, it was with his other garments. We went together to a fashionable tailor in Regent Street, where he ordered that his pockets and the back of his vest should be of silk, as also the lining of his frock-coat sleeves; for Wagner could not endure the touch of cotton, as it produced a shuddering sensation throughout the body that distressed him. I remember well the tailor’s surprise and explanation that silk for the back of the vest and lining of the sleeves was not at all necessary, and that the richest people never had silk linings; besides, it was not seen. This last observation brought Wagner up to one of his indignant bursts, “Never seen! yes; that’s the tendency of this century; sham, sham in everything; that which is not seen may be paltry and mean, provided only that the exterior be richly gilded.”
On the matter of dress he had, as on most things, decided opinions! The waistcoat he condemned as superfluous, and thought a garment akin to the mediæval doublet in every way more suitable and comely, and was strongly inclined at one time to revert to that style of costume himself. He did go so far as to wear an uncommon headgear, one sanctioned by antiquity, the biretta, which few people of to-day would have courage to don. Thus it was that from physical causes Wagner preferred silks and velvets, and so a constitutional defect produced widespread and ungenerous charges of affected originality and sumptuous luxuriousness.
TOO MUCH GOOD MUSIC.
Wagner was greatly amused at the references to him in the London Charivari “Punch,” wherein his “music of the future” was described as “Promissory Notes,” and on a second occasion when it was asserted that “Lord John Russell is in treaty with Dr. Wagner to compose some music of the future for his Reform Bill.”