Friday, Jun. 18, 1965

Richard und Ludwig

Most Wagnerian productions are mounted either in Cecil B. DeMille rococo or, in recent years, Bayreuth Freudian. Last week, for a change, Munich's National Theater opened a new Tristan und Isolde that dispensed almost entirely with theatrical effects, set the most important scenes in near-darkness. Explained Director Rudolf Hartmann: "I wanted this to be a Tristan in which the main interpretation was left to the music." His concern, which would have delighted Richard Wagner, suited the occasion: the 100th anniversary of Tristan's premiere--also in Munich.

The opera's first production was almost as heavy with intrigue as Wagner's plot. Though the composer grandly pronounced Tristan "the greatest musical drama of all time," opera houses in Dresden, Berlin, Vienna and Munich rejected it as "unperformable." Moreover, to a public reared on Rossini, Bellini, Donizetti and Meyerbeer, most of Wagner's works seemed to be joyless monstrosities.

Doting Benefactor. Wagner had other troubles. A republican revolutionary, he was forced to flee Germany in 1849 and was subsequently hounded across Europe by a pack of creditors. His deliverance came in 1864--seven years after he had started work on Tristan--when Ludwig II was crowned king of Bavaria. An effeminate, blue-eyed, ethereally handsome lad who was Wagner's most ardent admirer, Ludwig, then 18, dispatched an emissary to track down his idol, finally discovered the composer holed up in an attic room of a hotel in Stuttgart.

Wagner was presented with the king's priceless signet ring and a promise of a lavish premiere of Tristan in Munich. In addition, the king promised Wagner all the money he needed, a new theater, a new music school and a new home. Ludwig also bombarded the 51-year-old composer with tender letters vowing eternal devotion. Wagner, a short, haggard-faced man, was careful not to alienate his doting benefactor, but he had other irons in the fire. Immediately on his arrival in Munich he asked that his close friend, Conductor Hans von Buelow, be brought from Berlin to conduct Tristan. While he valued Von Buelow's talents, he was even more anxious to secure those of Cosima, the conductor's wife (and daughter of Composer Franz Liszt), who had been Wagner's secret mistress for a year.

Art v. Artillery. When, at last, Tristan had its debut, the audience unexpectedly gave it a thunderous ovation, and Ludwig wrote in his diary: "Wagner, thou only one, holy one. How delightful. Oh, how complete." Then, suddenly Wagner's affair with Cosima was exposed. In a jealous rage, Ludwig banished the composer from the capital.

A few months later, war broke out between Bavaria and Prussia, and Ludwig's untrained, ill-equipped army was crushed. Had Ludwig spent as much money for artillery as he lavished on Tristan, it is conceivable that European history might have turned out differently. As it was, Tristan signaled the birth of a new art form that changed the course of music. His music dramas, substituting daring harmonies and emotionally charged leitmotifs for set-piece arias, marked the end of "poetic" opera, and paved the way for such pioneers as Debussy and Schoenberg.

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