[CHAPTER XII]
SOME IDEALS REALISED
“Lausch’, Kind! Das ist ein Meisterlied.”—Die Meistersinger
And now, under the guidance of a monarch to whom Wagner's art was almost the inspiration of life, Munich, which in 1858 had rejected "Der Fliegende Holländer" as unsuitable to the German stage, was about to produce "Tristan und Isolde," the supreme essence of Wagner's matured genius. In April, 1865, the composer wrote a general letter inviting his friends everywhere to go to Munich and attend this first of all Wagner festivals, three performances of a work already eight years old, set down for May 15, 18, and 22. But postponements took place, and the work was not produced until June 10. It was repeated on June 13 and 19 and July 1. Each performance was attended by a large audience, and the applause was of the most vigorous kind. Much of the success was due to the superb conducting of Von Bülow, whom Wagner called his second self, and the inspired interpretation of Tristan by Ludwig Schnorr. Wagner declared that his ideal was fully realised by this great artist, and he bemoaned Schnorr's subsequent untimely death as the greatest possible loss to him and his work.[25] The composer's essay on this singer is a most eloquent tribute from a creative to an interpretative artist, and throw invaluable light on Wagner's theories of performance in general and the presentation of "Tristan und Isolde" in particular.
It may easily be understood that this was a period of unalloyed happiness for Wagner. His highest dreams were being realised, and he was working out his artistic purposes with a free hand. But such an Elysium could not last. His enemies were striving against him with might and main. The newspapers were used unscrupulously to spread all kinds of damaging reports. It was said that he was endeavouring to substitute art for religion in the State, that he was leading the young King into reckless extravagances which threatened the stability of the national treasury. The King was, indeed, considering the plan to build a special theatre for the production of the Nibelung dramas. Such a theatre was subsequently built at Bayreuth, and Munich might have had the honour and the profit which have since accrued to that little city, had it not been for the determined opposition of narrow-minded intriguers.[26]
The story was published that the new theatre was to cost millions. Other equally wild assertions were made. The people became aroused, and finally police and court officials represented to the King that Wagner's life was in danger. The composer had already answered in a calm and dignified letter the various newspaper calumnies, but that availed him nothing. The King besought him to leave Munich, in order that public confidence might be restored. And accordingly, after a stay of a year and a half in the city, he departed in December, 1865, to his favourite refuge, Switzerland. He made a short stay at Vevay and Geneva, and then in February, 1866, settled at Triebschen, near Lucerne, where he remained, with little interruption, till he removed to Bayreuth in 1872. Most of the frantic opposition to the royal support of Wagner appeared to have arisen from the project of bringing to ideal production the Nibelung cycle, and so this was for the time abandoned. As Wagner himself tells us, in his "Final Report" on the preparation of these dramas (Ellis's translation, Vol. V., p. 310):
"Now that I and my usual project had been placed in broad daylight, it really appeared as if all the ill will that had lurked before in ambush was determined to make an open attack in full force. Indeed, it seemed as though no single interest, of all those represented by our press and our society, was not stung to the quick by the composition and plan of production of my work. To stay the disgraceful direction taken by this feud in every circle of society, which recklessly assailed alike protector and protected, I could but decide to strip the scheme of that majestic character which my patron had accorded it, and turn it into a channel less provocative of universal wrath. Indeed, I even tried to divert public attention from the whole affair by spending a little hard-won rest on the completion of the score of my 'Meistersinger,' a work with which I should not appear to be quitting the customary groove of performances at the theatre."
It may not be out of place to add here that calumny pursued him after his retirement from Munich, and one of the most interesting stories was that he had left his wife to starve. To this falsehood the unhappy Minna replied with great dignity and a touch of pathos in a statement published in January, 1866, a fortnight before her death. She said: