Wagner Without Fear

by William Berger

  The various states often quarreled and sometimes fought, as did Prussia and Bavaria (causing major trouble for Wagner) in 1866. Occasionally, they could agree on something. Wagner’s banishment from his native Saxony in 1849, for example, was cheerfully upheld by the other members of the Confederation until 1861. Confusingly, all the various heads of state kept their titles and some of their privileges after the unification of 1871 right until the fall of the German Empire in 1918, making Germany a land of much hollow pomp and ceremony surrounding the figurehead kings and princelings. The Bayreuth festival is a good place to spot the descendants of those people today.

  Gesamtkunstwerk (German, literally, “total work of art”) Wagner coined this much-used, and misused, phrase in his essay “The Art-Work of the Future” in 1849. He was thinking of a new form of theater that would unify drama, music, dance, and design to become something greater than the sum of its parts. Primarily, he was projecting an ideal production of the Ring, which was beginning to brew in his head at about that time. The term has since been used in other fields. The important architects Otto Wagner (no known relation) and Josef Hoffmann used it to describe their work in turn-of-the-century Vienna, which was meant to be a synthesis of urban planning, architecture, and interior design, down to the last detail. The term can also be used jocularly by sophisticates, as in “My dear, it was more than a dinner party, it was a Gesamtkunstwerk!”

  grand opera A term with a specific and a general meaning. In its specific sense, grand opera refers to an opera in four or five acts on an epic or historical subject. These were the rage in nineteenth-century Paris. They are characterized by star-turn solos and prominent choruses, and invariably have a longish ballet toward the middle. Wagner claimed to loathe the grand operas of Paris, although he was favorably impressed with the attention given to production details and the excellence of the musicians involved. Meyerbeer’s operas, such as Les Huguenots and Le Prophète, are the definitive types of this genre, although another good example might be Wagner’s own early success Rienzi. (Bülow, in a rare attempt at humor, once called Rienzi the best opera Meyerbeer ever wrote. Wagner was not amused by this comment. He told Bülow to write a better opera if he could.)

  In its general sense, grand opera refers to any big sprawling opera, the type that cannot be done effectively by a good college ensemble. In this sense, the term definitively applies to Wagner’s mature works. Anna Russell makes a delicious and provocative reference to Die Walküre as grand opera in her analysis of the Ring. Speaking of Siegmund and Sieglinde’s illegal, immoral liaison, she says, “But that’s the beauty of grand opera—you can get away with anything so long as you sing it!”

  Heldentenor (German, literally, “heroic tenor”) A tenor whose voice is exceptionally powerful (read “loud”). Virtually all of Wagner’s lead roles for tenors require voices of this type. Unfortunately, a true Heldentenor is rather like the proverbial ghost: often talked about, never actually encountered. It is best to use this word in sentences such as “Alas, there are no more …” Apparently, this has been a safe thing to say since Schnorr died in 1865.

  Holy Roman Empire The most confusing political entity in history. Founded by Charlemagne in a.d. 800, it came to refer to Germany and Austria and whichever lands they happened to control at a given moment. It was finally laid to rest by Napoleon in 1806, leaving Germany in more of a political vacuum than usual and greatly affecting all subsequent history. By Wagner’s time, it becomes part of the pervading nostalgic mythology in art and literature. The Empire figures in Meistersinger (“Even should the Holy Roman Empire dissolve into vapor, we would still have Holy German Art!”) and Lohengrin, where King Henry the Fowler is also emperor, confronting the eternal challenge of uniting Germany.

  kaiser (from German, literally, “Caesar”) Emperor, related to the Russian word “czar.” This word is used for any emperor, be he Austrian, Holy Roman, or (from 1871 to 1918) German. When the king of Prussia was declared German kaiser in 1871, Wagner, the onetime revolutionary, composed a potboiling Kaisermarsch in his honor. In English, the kaiser has long referred to Wilhelm II, the bad guy of the First World War with the pointy helmet (who, in fact, used the thunder motif from Rheingold as his limousine’s horn call).

  Kapellmeister (from German) Basically, conductor. The confusion arises from the fact that Kapelle in German can mean both “chapel” and “orchestra.” Indeed, the relation of these words in German is an indicator of their common heritage. In the princely courts of old Germany, the same man was usually responsible for music both in the theater and at worship. Wagner was Kapellmeister at Dresden, the capital of the kingdom of Saxony, from 1843 to 1849.

  leitmotiv (from German, literally “leading motive”) The most overused word in Wagneriana. It is a short musical phrase that describes a person, place, or thing. Anna Russell called it a fancy way to say “signature tune.” The term was coined by a scholar writing on Weber in 1871. Wagner himself avoided the term, although he had previously used the term Hauptmotiv, haupt meaning “head.” The Ring, we are told, is constructed on a system of over two hundred leitmotivs, which have been dissected, analyzed, and scrutinized for over a century.

  libretto (from Italian, literally, “little book;” plural, libretti) The written play of an opera, comprising words and stage directions. There is no other word for this in English. The term “book” has come to mean “story.” Opera composers have traditionally collaborated with librettists, some of whom were famous poets or playwrights on their own. Wagner wrote all his own libretti, considering himself a genius in that field as well. Libretti are almost always available with translations in recordings, or they can be purchased or borrowed from most libraries. Contemporary audiences, for some reason, seem to think it a presumption on their time to read libretti before a performance and prefer to be surprised, or clueless, during the performance. Hint: It only takes a few minutes to read through an opera libretto—even one of Wagner’s.

  forte, fortissimo (Italian, literally, “strong” and “very strong,” also the adverbs “strongly,” etc.) Musical directions indicating, basically, “loud.” Wagner was not afraid to use these liberally throughout his scores.

  longueur (French, literally, “length,” “slowness”) A long boring part. This is a useful word. You can admit to be being bored without sounding uneducated. No one will argue that there are some longueurs in Wagner’s operas, but they become fewer and shorter as the works become more familiar.

  Nirvana In Buddhism, the state of perfect blessedness achieved through the eradication of individual existence and the abnegation of passions and desires. This ideal appears frequently in Wagner’s thought in his flirtations with Buddhism. He in his writings and Cosima in her diaries make repeated references to self-annihilation, presumably meaning Nirvana. Tristan approaches the issue philosophically, while Parsifal is soaking in it. Incidentally, it is also the name of one of Hans von Bülow’s few compositions, written before he began his own special program of self-annihilation.

  Opéra When it’s spelled like this, capital O, accent over the e, this word refers to a building and an institution: the Opéra of Paris. In the nineteenth century, this mecca was where composers went to make money and a splash, including the child Liszt in 1825 and Wagner, disastrously, in 1860. The Opéra was then on the Rue Lepeletier, the present celebrated building (also called the Palais Garnier) not opening until 1875. Wagner never saw the building we know as the Opéra, but it is safe to assume he would have hated it.

  piano, pianissimo (Italian, literally, “quiet” and “very quiet,” also the adverbs “quietly,” etc.) Musical directions indicating soft playing or singing. Although many people, including musicians, will not believe it, Wagner used these instructions frequently in his scores. Do not confuse this with the instrument we call a piano, earlier called a pianoforte, meaning it can play soft and loud. (There is also an instrument called a “fortepiano,” but let’s not worry about that now.) The issue is further complicated b
ecause piano is also, for reasons known only to God, the Italian word for a floor (because it’s low, perhaps?). First-time tourists in Italy are invariably taken aback when they are told their hotel room is on the primo piano, and they imagine they will be sleeping in the first musical instrument they can find. They are hardly less confused to discover that the primo piano happens to be the second floor.

  Prussia (in German, Preussen) Formerly a kingdom, then a state, of northeastern Germany, including Berlin and Königsberg (Kaliningrad). Traditionally the most militaristic of the German states, Prussia was formally abolished in 1949. Prussia and Bavaria have always been, at best, rivals. The fact that Hans von Bülow was Prussian did not help Wagner’s career in Munich.

  recitative In classical opera, these are the parts where characters are “talking” in between arias and ensembles. The vocal line follows speech inflections very closely. When opera began, it was almost all recitative, and it could be argued that contemporary opera has returned to this. Wagner worked hard to blur the line between recitative and aria, though the distinction is apparent in Tannhäuser and other earlier works.

  répétiteur (French) Excellent French term, used in other countries as well, for a rehearsal pianist or other musician. It comes from the French verb répéter, “to repeat,” as in “Let’s try that again.”

  Saxony (in German, Sachsen) One of the several smaller kingdoms that formed the German Confederation and later the German Empire. Saxony, the southern part of former East Germany, includes the cities of Leipzig and Dresden. Wagner was a native of this kingdom, whose significance had greatly faded since the Middle Ages. Henry the Fowler, whom we meet in Lohengrin, was king of Saxony before he was elected Holy Roman Emperor.

  synopsis The short plot summary usually provided in the free program at the opera house and also found in books and recordings. Newcomers to the opera must be reminded to read at least the synopsis so they don’t gasp during the performance when they read the supertitles and discover, for example, that Siegmund and Sieglinde are twins.

  tessitura (Italian, literally, “texture”) Musical term referring to the average pitch of notes in a given role in relation to the voice for which it was written. It is commonly noted that the role of Brünnhilde has a higher tessitura in Siegfried than in Götterdämmerung, though she hits some pretty high notes in both.

  trill The rapid alternation of a note with the note directly above it, sustained (one hopes) in regular intervals of pitch and time. The same term is used by singers and instrumentalists. It is a very difficult ornamentation for a singer to achieve, and extremely difficult to do well. Wagner’s score for Act II of Walküre asks the soprano to sing a trill for two measures after her octave-leaping Hojotohos. Very few ever manage this in performance; most are too relieved about hitting the previous high note to concern themselves with vocal ornament. If the Brünnhilde accomplishes a real trill, and can be heard above the full orchestra, applaud her lustily (at the end of the act, of course).

  Vorabend (German, literally, “fore-evening”) Introduction or first night. This is the term used by pedants for Das Rheingold as the “Prologue” to the Ring.

  yelpentenor (mock-German) A tired old expression for a wannabe Heldentenor who hasn’t quite got the goods.

  Zukunftsmuzik (German, literally, “music of the future”) A term used in the mid-nineteenth century, especially describing the music of Wagner and Liszt. Wagner, although he had written a famous article called “The Art-Work of the Future,” tried to distance himself from the term. This term, and its French equivalent, la musique de l’avenir, formed the locus of “the” mid-nineteenth-century debate among critics. Berlioz, too, was drawn kicking and screaming into the fracas.

  Zwischenfach (German, literally, “between categories”) A role, such as Kundry in Parsifal, that is sung by both sopranos and mezzo-sopranos. Venus in Tannhäuser and Ortrud in Lohengrin are also, more controversially, sometimes filed under this term. Use this word at intermission and score major points with the know-it-alls.

  THE TYPES IN THE AUDIENCE

  Audiences for Wagner operas are a lot like other opera audiences, only more so. Here is a rundown of different types you can expect, and how to deal with them.

  The Know-It-Alls If the second bassoon missed an eighth note during a full orchestral fortissimo, these people will notice, will let you know they noticed, and will attempt to disgrace you for not having noticed or for enjoying the performance in spite of it. Do not attempt to engage such a person in conversation or (God forbid) argument: it’s what they want, and you can’t win. Pretend you’ve just spotted a long-lost uncle across the lobby, and run. They’ll forget you were there as soon as their next victim appears, and, oddly, there’s always another Know-It-All within earshot for them to debate.

  The Seen/Heard-It-Alls These people will try to convince you that you, you unfortunate newcomer to Wagner, cannot possibly know the meaning of real Wagnerian singing, since you didn’t hear (for example) Birgit Nilsson in 1968. Interestingly, these same people, or their clones, were saying the same thing at that very performance about Kirsten Flagstad in 1938, and so on back to the dawn of (Wagnerian) time. Don’t let these people upset you. Unlike the Know-It-Alls, they are not deliberately trying to belittle you. It’s actually their own lost years they are mourning. This nostalgic vocal mythology is as much a part of the opera world as expensive seats and curtain calls. Smile indulgently, say “Ahh, yes!” and try to look upon them more with pity than with disapproval.

  The “We Came for Kunst” crowd Aubrey Beardsley once did a famous lithograph called “The Wagnerians,” showing an affected, humorless, and vaguely hostile crowd gathering in a theater before a performance of one of their idol’s works. Alas, little has changed over the last hundred years with this section of the crowd except details of fashion. These are the people for whom Wagner is more of a religion than an art form, and their severity is proverbial. Any reference to these works as “opera” might elicit violence from them. They complain if Siegfried holds his final high C in Götterdämmerung (“Hoi-ho!”) for more than the quarter note designated in the score, despite the fact that only a miracle can get the poor tenor to reach that note at all after what he’s sung. They probably won’t bother you much at intermission or after the performance, since all conversation is beneath them and they probably have their upturned noses in a score anyway. They invariably return home by public transportation even though some of them have more money than the boxholders, this being part of the penitential pose appropriate to this life style. These people can be readily identified by the well-worn paperback edition of Nietzsche always in the coat pocket.

  The Armchair Conductors Air-conducting at home can be educational and fun, but waving one’s arms about in the opera house is an act of self-aggrandizement and unbridled hostility. Therefore, these guys (and they are always men) need to be shamed publicly at intermission if they don’t respond to your pleading whispers and gestures during the performance. Try, if you can, to suggest that they are making errors in their conducting (“… and furthermore, adagio means slow, not dead!”), since this will totally humiliate them. Lastly, recommend a workshop for people with control issues, and laugh when their wives or dates nod knowingly.

  The Sing-Alongs No jury in the world, or at least in those parts of the world with opera companies, would convict you for the murder of one of these, provided you have warned them once before killing them. Anyone can get carried away by the moment, but repeat offenders must by stopped by any means available.

  The Traditionalists versus the Avant-Garde The Traditionalists insist on seeing everything manifested on the stage that they’ve read in the libretto. There must be a dead Schwann in Parsifal, a live one in Lohengrin, a flowering staff in Tannhäuser, and so on, ad infinitum, or they will rail on about the collapse of Western civilization all through intermission. The Ring, in particular, provides fertile ground for these types, since they never can and never will see everything Wagner wrote
in the libretto. (Wagner himself dispensed with such impracticalities as Fricka’s chariot drawn by live rams for his own production.) Conversely, members of the so-called avant-garde feel violated if anything recognizable from real life, or the libretto, finds its way onto the stage. If anything concrete does show up in the production, it must be in the context of a Searing Critique of Bourgeois Society, or they will howl. In Germany and some other European countries, these two factions are split directly along political lines, with the Traditionalists representing the right (or worse) and the avant-garde representing some notion of the left. In English-speaking countries, personal preference may play some role, this being a possibility that does not seem to have occurred to the Continentals. Avoid both the Traditionalists and the avant-gardists. With Wagner even more than with other subjects, dogma is the enemy.

  A VINTAGE ORIGINAL, FIRST EDITION, OCTOBER 1998

  Copyright © 1998 by William Berger

  Maps copyright © 1998 by JoAnne Metsch

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by Vintage Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York, and simultaneously in Canada by Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Berger, William, 1961–

  Wagner without fear: learning to love—and even enjoy—opera’s most demanding genius / by William Berger.—1st ed.

  p. cm.

  “A Vintage original”—t. p. verso.

  eISBN: 978-0-307-75634-3

  1. Wagner, Richard, 1813–1883. Operas. 2. Opera. 3. Wagner, Richard, 1813–1883. I. Title.