Well, Nuiter was the poet. The translation was in progress while I was in Paris, and I was a daily witness of the combined efforts of Nuiter and Wagner at the translation. How Wagner stormed while it was being done. “Tannhäuser” teems with references to “love,” and every time such words or references were to be rendered into French, Nuiter was compelled to say, “No, master, it cannot be done like that,”—so many were the possible double interpretations likely to be put upon such by the public. To all Wagner’s anger Nuiter posed a soft answer. “It shall be all right, master; it shall be done well, if I sit up all night;” and this was the frequent response of the poor poet.

The rehearsal began in September, 1860, and ended the first week in March, 1861. Wagner applied to the authorities for permission to conduct himself. The answer came: “The general regulations connected with the performances at the grand opera house cannot be interfered with for the proposed representation of ‘Tannhäuser.’” This was communicated officially to Wagner, and he sent the letter to me. What did happen was that Dietsch, the composer for whom Wagner’s poem, the “Flying Dutchman,” had been purchased, conducted instead. Dietsch received Wagner’s suggestions and hints in a good-natured manner, and worked as well as he could for the success of the performance. Before the rehearsals came to an end Wagner had become quite indifferent as to the possible reception of “Tannhäuser.” The first public representation was to take place on the 13th March, 1861. On the 12th February Wagner wrote me the following:—

Come, dear old friend, now is the time when I want all my friends about me. The opposition is malicious; fair play is no part of the critic’s stock in trade.... I have had pressure put upon me from high quarters, urging me to give way, and that unless I bend before the storm my proud self-will will be snapped in twain.... But I will have none of it. I hear David[25] has been subsidized by the members of the Jockey Club to purchase tickets of admission for himself and gang of hirelings, who are going to protest vigorously against their exclusion. We may, therefore, expect much rough work, and so I want you and others to be about me. I care not for all the mercenaries in Paris. The work of my brain, the thought and labour I have in solitude anxiously bestowed upon it, shall not (by my will, at any rate) be left to the mercy of a semi-inebriated, sensual herd. Here are artists working zealously for the success of my work, men and women really exerting themselves in an astonishing manner. There are truly some annoyances both on the stage and in the orchestra; but on the whole, the energy shown is wonderful.... My indignation was at a boiling-point when Monsieur Royer insolently observed that if Monsieur Meyerbeer contrived a ballet for half-past eight he saw no reason why I could not follow so popular a composer. I!... Meyerbeer! Never! Fail me not then, Ferdinand. You will find me in the most jubilant spirits, and well supported, but in the moment of trial it is the old faces one longs to see about. Bring “ma mère Léonie” to witness the downfall of her son, and to console him in his anger. If good old Lüders could only come, his quaint humour would be irresistible. Now come.

Yours,
Richard Wagner.

THE JOCKEY CLUB CABAL.

I returned, therefore, to Paris, and went with Wagner to the final rehearsals. At the last, the dress rehearsal, one of the chief characters ... walked on the stage in ordinary morning attire, creating a laugh and some confusion. Wagner might have avoided what was almost the inevitable reception of the performance, for he told me he had received a visit from some manager, whose name I now cannot recall, of a theatre at St. Petersburgh, who had agreed to produce “Tannhäuser” there, provided the Paris representations were foregone. To this he refused. Thus the Paris performances took place.

On the 13th March we were all assembled. In a private box sat the Princess Metternich, whose influence with the emperor had brought about the performance. Before the princess showed herself in the box, the noisy hissing, which greeted her from a section of the audience, indicated the hostility present. The overture was, on the whole, well received. Indeed, altogether, the opera created a favourable impression among those who had not come with the avowed intention of making the performance a failure. When the dog-whistles of the “protectors” of the corps-de-ballet were first heard, a goodly portion of the audience rose indignantly, endeavouring to suppress the organized opposition, but to no purpose, and the work dragged itself on to a torturing accompaniment of strife among the audience.

How indignant was Wagner! His excitement and anger were great. Annoyed with himself for coming to Paris, with having so little perception in seeking to succeed with an opera opposed to the formality where tradition was king. But the second performance took place, all the same, on the 18th March. Then the opposition was but little up to the end of the first act, but from there it gathered in force. At the third and last representation, which was on Sunday, the 24th March, the members of the Claque appeared in force, paid again, it was commonly asserted, by the Jockey Club. This performance decided the fate of “Tannhäuser.” At this last representation I was not present. The scenic artist, Monsieur Cambon, however, came to London and gave me a description of it. The whistles and toy flageolets of the enemy destroyed all hope of hearing any portion comfortably, but as far as he could gather from independent testimony of those musicians and artists outside the opera house, “Tannhäuser” was regarded as a great work, and but for the persistent tactics of the Jockey Club would have proved a success. Such was the enthusiasm the work inspired in some of the artists, that Monsieur Cambon told me he himself went specially to the Wartburgh, there to prepare his canvas for the performances.

There is now one point characteristic of Wagner’s earnestness. He went through the score with me before the performances, I should add, and he told me, “I have been through it before and found many bald places, which required filling in, and which my long experience has taught me how to improve.

CHAPTER XXIII.
LETTERS FROM 1861-1865.