Mr. Anderson, conductor of the Queen's private band, and an acting director of the Philharmonic, was sent to Zurich to negotiate with Wagner. Some correspondence had already taken place, and the composer had demanded conditions which were waived after conversation with Mr. Anderson. The question of terms was speedily disposed of, the irresponsible Wagner saying that he was too busy to think about them. After Mr. Anderson had returned to London Wagner wrote to Praeger and suggested giving a concert of his own works, but this alarmed the conservative Philharmonic people, and a compromise was effected by the promise of the performance of selections. It was arranged that the composer should stay at Praeger's house, 31 Milton Street, till a quiet and secluded lodging, where he could go on with the scoring of the trilogy, could be found for him. He arrived in London on Sunday, March 5, 1855. The lodging was found at 22 Portland Terrace, Regent's Park. Much of the work of scoring the "Nibelung" dramas was done at this place.
The first meeting between Wagner and Mr. Anderson in London was not encouraging. The Philharmonic director suggested the performance of a prize symphony by Lachner, whereupon Wagner rose excitedly from his chair and exclaimed: "Have I, therefore, left my quiet seclusion in Switzerland to cross the sea to conduct a prize symphony by Lachner? No, never! If that be a condition of the bargain I at once reject it, and will return."[21]
The matter was smoothed over, but it was only one of several similar outbreaks on the part of the impatient artist. Fortunately, as Praeger notes, Wagner had a keen sense of humour, and when there was a ludicrous aspect in the scenes of misunderstanding it sufficed to put him in a pleasant mood once more.
Wagner made only one visit of ceremony in London, and that was a call on Sir Michael Costa. He flatly refused to call on the musical critics of the London papers, and Praeger says that this was to his injury. This state of affairs is not easy to understand in the United States, where visits to critics are looked upon with suspicion, and are discouraged by the critics themselves. Praeger records that Mr. Davison, the editor of The Musical World, then an influential paper, declared that as long as he held the sceptre of musical criticism, Wagner should not acquire any hold in London. In these circumstances it is not at all astonishing that the new conductor received not a little censure. It is only right to mention, however, that some of the London papers viewed his work without prejudice and praised what appeared to them to be its excellences. That Wagner was an uncommonly fine conductor cannot be doubted, and the musicians of the Philharmonic, as soon as they had recovered from the surprise caused by Wagner's spirited and truthful readings of the works under rehearsal and his emphatic insistence on the correct treatment of every passage, together with vigour of style, applauded him and obeyed him with delight.
The first concert took place on March 12. The programme, like that of all the other concerts, was absurdly long, and this was one of the things against which Wagner vainly fought. The list comprised a symphony by Haydn, an operatic trio, a Spohr violin concerto, the Weber aria, "Ocean, thou mighty monster," Mendelssohn's "Fingal's Cave," overture, Beethoven's "Eroica" symphony, a duet by Marschner, and the overture to "Die Zauberflöte." Wagner amazed the Londoners by giving readings of the orchestral works instead of permitting the orchestra to glide through them in the conventional slovenly way. He even restored the true tempi in the "Eroica," in which London conductors had been playing the first movement slowly and the funeral march quickly. He astonished the great body of Mendelssohnians, which infested London then as it has ever since, by reading the overture with beautiful colour and intelligence. Several of the papers abused him roundly, but The Morning Post discovered in him the ideal conductor.
At the second concert on March 26, Wagner conducted the overture to "Der Freischütz," Beethoven's ninth symphony, and the prelude to "Lohengrin." The Weber overture had to be repeated, which goes to show that the audience was not insensible to Wagner's enthusiastic sympathy with the music of his great predecessor. The dates of the other concerts conducted by Wagner were April 16 and 30, May 14 and 28, and June 11 and 25. In addition to the Beethoven symphonies already mentioned he directed the fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh and eighth; also the "Leonora" overture, No. 3, and the violin concerto, Mozart's symphonies in B flat and C, Mendelssohn's Scotch and Italian symphonies, Spohr's C minor symphony, Cipriani Potter's symphony in G minor, and some minor works. The overture to "Tannhäuser" was produced at the fifth concert, and was received with acclamations by the audience and derision by the critics. It was repeated at the seventh concert by royal command. The Queen and the Prince Consort attended this concert and had Wagner before them in the salon. There the Prince Consort suggested the desirability of translating some of Wagner's operas into Italian that they might be presented in London, and the Queen said, "I am most happy to make your acquaintance. Your composition has charmed me."
Wagner left London the day after his last concert, and he was heartily glad to shake the dust of the British capital off his feet. Musical criticism in London was stilted, timorous, afraid of new thoughts, unable to grasp any departure from the conventionalities with which it was acquainted, and desperately opposed to musical progress along lines not laid down by Mendelssohn and Handel. It was to be expected that the commentors would oppose the entire Wagner system, but the vituperative strain in the criticisms suggests the probability that the writers felt and writhed under the power of the man. It must be understood that similar criticism was written in Germany, and that the "music of the future," as it was derisively called, was not peacefully permitted to become the music of the day. The younger generation of opera-goers cannot realise the state of mind into which their forerunners were thrown when they were asked to accept the opera as a play, and not as a mere string of pretty vocal pieces, loosely connected by the pretence of a plot. In London, where the opera was the amusement of fashionable society, the music of Wagner was bound at first to meet with opposition. For fashionable society always has been and still is opposed to all that is dignified, serious, or uplifting in life or art.
Aside from some scoring of the Nibelung dramas, Wagner did little productive work in the uncongenial atmosphere of London. Praeger introduced to him Karl Klindworth, who was engaged to make piano scores of the first dramas of the trilogy. This was, perhaps, the most serious musical achievement of the London visit. It should be said, however, that the friends whom Wagner found in London were the nucleus of a substantial support for him in that capital, and when the movement to build the Bayreuth Theatre took shape, the English Wagnerites were among the sturdiest upholders of the plan.
Wagner went home to Zurich by way of Paris, and soon after his arrival took his wife for a short visit to Seelisberg, near the Alps. Just before starting his dog Peps died, and the letter in which he communicates this fact to Praeger is so full of warm feeling that it is a revelation of the richness of the heart of this singular and erratic being. He said in part:
"The day of our departure for Seelisberg was already fixed, where, as I wrote to you, I was going with my wife, my dog and bird.[22] Suddenly dangerous symptoms showed themselves in Peps, in consequence of which we put off our journey for two days so as to nurse the poor dying dog. Up to the last moment Peps showed me a love so touching as to be almost heartrending; kept his eyes fixed on me and though I chanced to move but a few steps from him, continued to follow me with his eyes. He died in my arms on the night of the ninth or tenth of this month, passing away without a sound, quietly and peacefully. On the morrow, midday, we buried him in the garden beside the house. I cried incessantly, and since then have felt bitter pain and sorrow for the dear friend of the past thirteen years who ever worked and walked with me. It has clearly taught me that the world exists only in our hearts and conception."