rd their
posts as more or less sinecures, wanted to go on in the old slovenly
fashion, rehearsing carelessly, hastily, or not at all, and quite
satisfied so long as they got through. During the first weeks of the
new regime the principal first violin declined to follow Wagner's
directions, and, moreover, had the impudence to tell our arrogant
Richard he was wrong, and, above all, to tell him in von Luettichau's
presence. Wagner, having the pen of a too-ready writer--like old
Sebastian Bach before him--sent in one of his long letters; and with
that the trouble ceased for the moment. But similar episodes seem to
have been of frequent occurrence during his six years of
conductorship. Still, he introduced discipline into the band, and, on
the whole, got on well with his men. With genuine artists, even of the
humblest sort, he was always on good terms. He had a fine fund of good
humour and sanguine cheerfulness, a ready wit and a kind heart; he won
the respect due to a man who really knew his work, knew what he
wanted, and how it could best be attained. What he wanted was
performances worthy of the house to which he had come as conductor.
Tricks were played on him, so that he had to direct operas which had
been insufficiently rehearsed or not at all rehearsed; and the press
made the most of shortcomings which he realized better than the
critics.

He had compensations. August Roeckel became his assistant at the
theatre and a close personal friend; he had Heine, Fischer, Uhlig and
others amongst his intimates; and by what was undoubtedly the most
artistic section of the community he was made much of. The Liedertafel
chose him as its first Liedermeister. For the unveiling of a statue to
Friedrich August I he organized a gigantic musical festival, writing
for the occasion a hymn. Mendelssohn had composed something for the
event; and the whole affair made the Dresden folk open their mouths as
well as their ears. For the Liedertafel he wrote the _Love-feast of
the Apostles_, which was performed on July 6 of this year (1843) with,
so far as one can judge, immense effect and success. The pious
press-men were, of course, scandalized by his very secular treatment
of a sacred subject; they expected, or at least asked for, a
Mendelssohnian psalm--and they would have grumbled even had they got
it. It was considered a crime to compete with Mendelssohn, also a
crime not to imitate him.

At this time he appears to have been happy with Mi