Swept up in revolutionary fervor, Wagner wrote a popular verse appeal calling on German princes to launch a crusade against reactionary Russia, sent it to Mannheim journalist Berthold Auerbach, and never heard back. Inspired by the Viennese people’s successful defense against reactionary troops in May, he wrote another unsigned political essay for the Österreichischen Zeitung, signing his name to it. In Dresden, two political clubs formed: the moderate German Union and the more radical Patriotic Union, where his friend Röckel had become a leading agitator, a radical shift from the disillusioned, underpaid musical director who’d once planned to emigrate to America and take up farming. Wagner attended a Patriotic Union meeting where he was appalled by the triviality of the debate over “Republic or Monarchy?” (the consensus was a republic was ideal, but a well-run monarchy was acceptable), and incensed, wrote an unsigned essay for the Dresdener Anzeiger arguing that the form of government mattered less than its commitment to serving the people, even portraying an ideal king more dedicated to republican values than any noble, and pointing to the King of Saxony as the figure to lead the way. Röckel loved the essay, and begged Wagner to read it aloud at the next Patriotic Union meeting. After listening to terrible speeches from a barrister and a furrier the crowd revered as great orators, Wagner stood and gave a fiery reading to 3,000 people. The crowd fixated only on his attack on court sycophants, the story spread like wildfire, and theater directors feared violent demonstrations at the next Rienzi performance. The press launched a storm of derision at Wagner, court officials plotted to get him fired, and the Communal Guard of Saxony demanded a formal apology. Wagner wrote a letter to the King explaining the speech was a thoughtless indiscretion, not a crime, and asked Lüttichau to deliver it and grant him leave to let the fuss die down. Lüttichau seemed sympathetic at first, but Wagner later learned the director only acted kindly because the King had forbidden anyone to punish him for the speech; still, the incident gave Wagner hope the King had actually understood his point.
He took his leave, traveling to Vienna via Breslau, where he visited old family friend and musical director Mosewius, admired his extensive collection of Bach cantatas, and later played him a piano reduction of Lohengrin to Mosewius’s astonishment. In Vienna, he met with Professor Fischhof to view rare Beethoven manuscripts, including the original of the C minor Sonata, Op. 111, and made the acquaintance of Vesque von Puttlingen, a former Metternich official now sporting black-red-gold revolutionary ribbons, and Russian attaché von Fonton, a staunch pessimist who believed only despotism could create stable social order, and who wished Wagner well with his artistic ideals even as he insisted they could never be realized under despotism.
Wagner had come to Vienna to push a radical theater reform plan: he wanted to merge the city’s five struggling, mismanaged theaters into a co-operative run by artists and literary figures connected to the stage, rather than private owners or bureaucrats. He gathered a small group including Friedrich Uhl, the passionate, cultivated Dr. Becher (later shot for his role in Vienna’s October Uprising) to hear his proposal, but everyone agreed the chaotic revolutionary moment was not the time for peaceful, institutional reform. Uhl took him to a radical political club, where Wagner was shocked by the crass, poorly thought-out speeches of the orators, but met the poet Grillparzer, who was friendly but visibly surprised by Wagner’s direct, personal appeal for his support for reform—the first playwright Wagner had ever encountered in official government uniform. After a useless meeting with Bauernfeld, Wagner concluded Vienna had nothing left to offer him, and was charmed by the city’s electric revolutionary energy: students in German colors marched the streets, ice servers at the Karl Theater wore black-red-gold Austrian ribbons, and a popular farce even featured Prince Metternich as a character forced to flee the stage after being accused of poisoning the Duke of Reichstadt.
On the journey home, he stopped in Prague, where he found his old friend Kittl utterly terrified the Czech nationalist revolt was personally targeting him, blaming Wagner’s opera Die Franzosen vor Nizza for inflaming revolutionary sentiment with its popular airs. On the steamer back to Dresden, he met sculptor Hänel, who was in high spirits after being paid in silver for a statue of Emperor Charles IV, thanks to the collapse of Austrian paper currency, and Hänel even accompanied Wagner all the way home in an open carriage, despite knowing Wagner had just caused a massive political stir in Dresden a few weeks prior.
Back home, the political fuss had died down, but Wagner’s old money troubles returned. He re-read the response to his salary petition, and realized with horror that the small pay supplement Lüttichau had told him was annual was just a one-time payment, the director had lied to him. His anger at Lüttichau boiled over when he learned the truth about the supposed “orchestra deputation demanding his dismissal”: Lüttichau had pressured the orchestra’s officials to send the complaint, threatening them with the King’s displeasure if they refused, then lied and said he’d defended Wagner against the musicians’ demands to make Wagner feel grateful. Wagner realized Lüttichau would never support his theater reform dreams, and stopped caring about retaining his conductor post, doing his duties conscientiously while throwing himself into Lohengrin.
Just after the March revolutions, Liszt showed up at his door, on his way to settle permanently in Weimar. They met at Schumann’s house that evening, argued so heatedly about Mendelssohn and Meyerbeer that Schumann stormed off to his bedroom in a rage, but Wagner was cheered by Liszt’s warm, energetic company. He visited Liszt in Weimar that August, got a recommendation letter that ultimately proved useless, but left feeling profoundly encouraged. Back in Dresden, he wrote to all his remaining creditor-friends, explaining his dire financial situation and asking them to pause their demands indefinitely until his fortunes turned, so his unscrupulous general manager couldn’t use their anger as an excuse to sabotage him. His friends agreed without hesitation, even his mother’s old friend Frau Klepperbein and his friend Pusinelli offered to give up their claims entirely, giving him a small measure of breathing room.
The original text of this work is in the public domain. This page focuses on a guided summary article, reading notes, selected quotes, and visual learning materials for educational purposes.