《我的生平——第一卷》

Creditors I’d escaped years earlier came out of the woodwork, old debts from my Riga flight, even phantom claims from my school days so numerous I joked I’d soon get a bill from my wet nurse. I borrowed 3,000 marks from the great soprano Schroder-Devrient to pay off every debt, compensate my loyal friend Kietz who’d sacrificed for me in Paris, but had no money for a court uniform, no household allowance, had to borrow at interest to make ends meet. Everyone was certain Rienzi’s runaway success would flood my pockets with theatre commissions for my other operas, and for a few weeks orders came in from Cassel and Riga for the Fliegender Holländer, but a full year passed with no further inquiries. My attempt to publish the Fliegender Holländer piano score fell apart when Leipzig’s Hartel would only release it if I took no payment at all. Then the critical onslaught began: two newly appointed Dresden critics, Bank and Schladebach, resented that I’d never curried their favor, were envious of the young, once-poor musician who’d won the public’s love without their blessing. As soon as my appointment was announced, they launched a vitriolic campaign against me in the German press that would last for decades. My old friend Laube tried to defend me, publishing a biographical sketch and my portrait in his paper, but even he buckled under the systematic, virulent detraction, confessing he’d never seen a more desperate position against the united forces of journalism, giving me his blessing like a lost soul.

I quickly ran afoul of my colleagues too. Reissiger, who’d hoped for a musical director under him, got an equal colleague in me instead, and his ambitious wife stirred up his jealousy. He was never openly hostile, but I soon noticed indiscretions in the press tied to him. The arrogant orchestra leader Lipinsky, who played too loud, too early, resented that the orchestra’s playing improved under my baton. I made a catastrophic error on a contrabass vacancy: Lipinsky pushed me to hire an outsider from Darmstadt instead of promoting an orchestra senior, I agreed, and the entire orchestra turned on me, Lipinsky accusing me of undermining their hard-earned seniority rights. Lüttichau was panicking, I calmed him, promised I’d handle the musicians, kept my word, never clashed with Lipinsky again, won the devotion of every player in the orchestra. But I knew right then I would never die as Dresden’s court conductor; the post was already a burden, even with the occasional excellent performance.