Life of Wagner

by Ludwig Nohl

These words of Wotan, about his castle Walhalla, were only to be too fully realized by our master. His “friends” alone gave him comfort, and their number he saw constantly increase from out of the midst of the people whose leaders in art-matters they were more and more destined to become. The public interest was kept alive and stirred afresh with concerts and discourses. The Old did not rest. The struggle constantly broke out anew, and for the time it remained in the possession of the ring that symbolizes mastery. The dragon was still unconquered. As the “people” in Germany are not particularly wealthy, slow progress was made with the contributions from the multiplying Wagner-clubs, and yet millions were needed even for this temporary edifice with its complete stage apparatus. It required all the love of his friends, especially of that rarest of all friends, to dispel at times his deep anger when he was compelled to see how mediocrity, even actual vulgarity, again and again held captive the minds of his people to whom he had such high and noble things to offer. “In the end I must accept the money of the Jews in order to build a theatre for the Germans,” he said, in the spring of 1873, to Liszt, when during that period of wild stock-speculations, some Vienna bankers had offered him three millions of marks for the erection of his building. He could not well have been humiliated more deeply before his own people, but he was raised still higher in the consciousness of his mission. Truly, this love also came “out of laughter and tears, joys and sorrows,” for the mighty host of his enemies now put forth every effort to make his work appear ridiculous and in that way kill it. A pamphlet, by a physician, declared him “mentally diseased by illusions of greatness.” Even a Breughel could not paint the raging of the distorted figures which at that time convulsed the world of culture, not alone of Germany. It was really an inhuman and superhuman struggle around this ring of the Nibelung!

Nevertheless, in August of the same year (1873), the festival could be undertaken in Baireuth. “Designed in reliance upon the German soul, and completed to the glory of its august benefactor,” is printed on the score of the Nibelungen Ring, which now began to appear. The space for the “stage-festival-play” was at least under roof. But with that, the means obtained so far were exhausted, and only “vigorous assistance” on the part of his King prevented complete cessation of work. Wagner himself was soon compelled again to take up his wanderer’s staff. He sought this time (1874-1875), with the lately completed “Goetterdaemmerung,” to sound through the nation the effective call to awaken, and in doing so met with many decided encouragements. “From the bottom of my heart I thank the splendid Vienna public which to-day has brought me an important step nearer the realization of my life-mission.” This was the theme which fortunately he had then only to vary in Pesth and in Berlin.

The preliminary rehearsals now began, and what Munich had witnessed in 1868 repeated itself ten times over in Baireuth during this summer of 1875. For weeks there was the same untiring industry, but also the same, nay increasing, enthusiasm. “Of this marvelous work I recently heard more than twenty rehearsals. It over-tops and dominates our entire art-period as does Mont Blanc the other mountains,” wrote Liszt. The master frankly conceded that it was due to the “unhesitating zeal of the associate artists as well as to the splendid success of their performances” that he could now positively invite the patrons and Wagner for the next summer. “Through your kind participation may an artistic deed be brought to light, such as none of the dignitaries of to-day but only the free union of those really called could present to the world,” he says. And:

“From such marvelous deed the hero’s fame arose,”

sings Hagen of Siegfried.

The rehearsals during the summer of 1876 so increased the enthusiastic devotion of the artists to the work, that many felt they had really now only become such. Others, however, like Niemann as Siegmund, Hill as Alberich, and Schlosser as Mime, showed already in fact what heroic deeds in the art of representation were presented. The fetters of the maidenly bride were indeed broken that she might live. “We have overcome the first. We must yet consummate a true hero-deed in a short time,” Wagner said, when at the first close of the Cycle silent emotion had given place to a perfect storm of enthusiasm, but, he exultantly added: “If we shall carry it out as I now clearly see that it will be done, we may well say that we have performed something grand.” The little anticipated humor in “Siegfried” developed itself in such a way under the leadership of Hans Richter, who was more and more inspired by the master, that one seemed indeed to hear “the laughter of the universe in one stupendous outbreak.” That was the fruit of the “tempestuous sobbing” with which young Siegfried himself had once listened to the Ninth symphony. It was indeed a new soul-foundation for his nation and his time! Wagner himself calls an enthusiasm of this kind a power that could conduct all human affairs to certain prosperity and upon which states could be built. The patriotic enthusiasm of 1870 sprang from the same source and it has brought us the “empire” as that of 1876 gave us the “art.”

The general rehearsal on the seventh of August was attended by the King. He had stopped at a sub-station, once the favorite resort of Jean Paul, and at the station-master’s house the two great and constant friends silently embraced, giving vent to their feelings in tears. From that date to the thirteenth of August, 1876, the ever memorable day of the re-creation of German art, came the hosts of friends and patrons, from great princes to the humble German musicians. “Baireuth is Germany” is the acclamation of an Englishman on witnessing the spectacle. The head of the realm, Emperor William, was there himself welcomed by the festival-giver and hailed with acclamation by the thousands from far and near. The Grand-duke Constantine and the Emperor of Brazil were likewise present.

Of the effect we shall at this time say nothing for lack of space to tell all; but, to convey at least a conception of the event which riveted minds and held hearts spell-bound until the last note had passed away, while at the same time a whole new world dawned upon our souls—we present a short account of the work as pithily drawn by Wagner’s gifted friend and patron, Prof. Nietzsche, in Basle.

“In the Ring of the Nibelungen,” he says, “the tragic hero is a god (Wotan), who covets power and who, by following every path to obtain it, binds himself with contracts, loses his liberty and is at last engulfed in the curse which rests upon power. He becomes conscious of his loss of liberty, because he no longer has the means to gain possession of the golden ring, the essence or symbol of all earthly power, and at the same time of greatest danger for himself as long as it remains in the hands of his enemies. The fear of the end and the ‘twilight’ of all the gods comes over him and likewise despair, as he realizes that he can not strive against this end, but must quietly see it approach. He stands in need of the free, fearless man, who without his advice and aid, even battling against divine order, from within himself accomplishes the deed which is denied to the gods. He does not discover him, and just as a new hope awakens he must yield to the destiny that binds him. Through his hand the dearest must be destroyed, the purest sympathy punished with his distress.