RICHARD WAGNER

AND

HIS POETICAL WORK

FROM

"RIENZI" TO "PARSIFAL"

BY

JUDITH GAUTIER

TRANSLATED WITH THE AUTHOR'S SPECIAL

PERMISSION

By L. S. J.

BOSTON

A. WILLIAMS AND COMPANY

Old Corner Bookstore

1883

AMERICAN INTRODUCTION.

Richard Wagner was born May 22, 1813, in Leipsic, Germany. He died in Venice on February 13, 1883. His father was a Leipsic city official, who gave his son the benefit of the illustrious Thomas School, preparatory to a university career. The latter, however, was not of much advantage to him, as young Wagner devoted himself mainly to musical studies. He led a theatre orchestra in Magdeburg, then in Königsberg, then in Riga.

From the latter place he went, in 1839, to Paris, where he completed "Rienzi" and the "Flying Dutchman," in 1841. The latter was suggested by a gale which Wagner experienced during a short voyage. "Rienzi" was first brought out at Dresden in 1842, and led to Wagner's appointment as orchestra leader in Dresden, where he brought out his "Tanhäuser" in 1845. In 1849 Wagner had to leave Germany for political reasons, and went to Switzerland, where "Lohengrin" was finished and the tetralogy of the "Nibelung" was begun. Wagner then lived in Italy, Vienna, and Paris, where "Tanhäuser" met with a disastrous presentation in 1861, and led accidentally to the following pages.

In 1864 Wagner became intimate with Louis II., the young King of Bavaria, under whose zealous patronage he brought out his "Tristan" in 1857 the "Mastersingers" in 1768, "Rhinegold" in 1853 and the "Walkyria" in 1870,—all at Munich, wrote the text for his operas, and also numerous pamphlets, most of which led to acrimonious discussions. Wagner's musical ideals received some outward impulses from the Oberammergau passion play and the success of the Franco-Prussian war, which led to the establishment of the German Empire. A special Wagner theatre was begun in 1872 at Bayreuth, where the master has since lived, and his works were first presented in 1876, in entire harmony with his vast requirements. Wagner's last work, "Parsifal," was published in 1878.

Wagner's early writings were collected in an edition of nine volumes, published in Leipsic, 1871 to 1873. His life was written by Glasenapp in two volumes, 1876 to 1878. Kastner published a Wagner catalogue. But it will take years, perhaps decades, before a final and just estimate can be formed of so great a master. The following pages were written by Judith Gautier, the Paris writer, and translated by an American lady. They have gone through several European editions, as they give an account of Wagner's opera texts, and pay a tribute to the genius of the great composer, who was also a remarkable and original author.

PREFACE

Will the reader kindly look upon the first pages of this book as a fragment of reminiscences, which I hope some day to publish; not that my life in itself is worth relating, but it has been frequently brought in contact with that of celebrated artists. It treats here of certain experiences only, written as if for myself,—reminiscences gathered during several years of uninterrupted relations with Richard Wagner. The books already published on the master, in every language and every style, either to combat or glorify him, would fill a shelf; the catalogue of these criticisms, studies, and biographies would form a volume. Thus, the subject of his defeats, victories, and what is termed his musical system, has been exhausted; repetition is therefore useless.

Beside this, I have of late renounced all idea of proselytism; after a long struggle I abandon the contest, at the moment when, to many, victory seems most probable. I have reasons for this which I do not care to indicate, but which seem to me decisive. What I have for so long a time taken to be the customary and fatal resistance, the instinctive hatred which is experienced by every public in every country for the innovations of genius, is, I fear, in France something even more. Our quick intelligence, so light, so mobile, so disposed to mockery, deprives us of that quality so indispensable to the comprehension of master works—simplicity. We cannot refrain from finding something to ridicule in grand sentiments, sublimity, and noble or terrible passions; what pleases us above all is graceful, spirited art, slightly sentimental, quick observation, and arrows of satire; also, no people can rival us when comic operas, vaudevilles, and comedies of manners are in question.

Art is for us an amusement. We frankly weary of anything serious, and if by chance we happen to admit a masterpiece upon the scenes, it is simply on the score of curiosity. Does a theatre exist in Paris, this world's capital, where the great works, lyrical and dramatic, of the entire world may be represented? Who troubles himself about Calderon, Schiller, Goethe, Shakspeare? While absurd fairy scenes and miserable comedies, in which the only discoverable merit is the play or personality of the actors, and scenes of disgraceful realism, remain upon the boards during a whole year, Othello drags painfully on, barely reaching the twentieth representation. It will, perhaps, be urged that the Frenchman dare not travel, and that works of art created outside of his own little world do not interest him. And Victor Hugo! Is there any sort of indignity or outrage which has been spared him in his own country? It is true, that after sixty years of contest, his glory radiates at last splendid and triumphant. Well, where is Victor Hugo's theatre? Has the new generation ever seen the representations of this master's greatest works? "Les Burgraves," "Cromwell," and "Le Roi qui S'Amuse." This last drama, it is true, is about to reappear upon the stage. But fifty years will have intervened between its first and second representations. Why hope that Richard Wagner should stand a better chance of vanquishing the native antipathy of the French public to serious works than Shakspeare, who after three hundred years has not yet triumphed among us; than Victor Hugo, the greatest glory of France? Are the enchantments of music capable of working this miracle? It is possible, but I no longer hope for it. The success of Lohengrin in Paris is probable, but we shall go no farther. Neither the great Scandinavian epopée, nor the metaphysical loves of Tristan and Isolde, nor the mysticism of Parsifal will reach us. For this reason, recognizing the generous error in which I have so long persisted, I renounce all sterile efforts, and, blessing the invention of railroads, I go bravely toward the mountain which cannot be brought to me.

This book is, in reality, only addressed to the small number of the initiated who, having broken through the occult precinct of the new art, have the incomparable joy of admiring without reserve all that is worthy of admiration. They will find in these pages, in addition to certain characteristic traits of the master, drawn from life, and from which they will be able to modify the ideas which they may have received from fantastic portraits, the detailed analyses of poems which have not been translated into French, and, above all, that of Parsifal. These analyses will enable those undertaking the pilgrimage to Bayreuth, and who do not understand German, to follow the representations. My sole ambition is to be useful to the extent of my power to this intelligent minority, who, in my opinion, alone form this world, and who, I truly hope, may alone form another, should it exist; for I am convinced, with Charles Baudelaire, that paradise is made up of the small number of chosen ones.

CONTENTS.

PART