THE year of the Revolution, Wagner’s flight and exile,—to comprehend the full significance of these three incidents of magnitude, the condition of society, the determination of the masses, and the unwise prevarication of the ministry must be understood. Before stating what I know of Wagner’s active participation during the next few exciting months, I will describe the events themselves, and then treat of Wagner.

The newly elected chamber met on the 10th January. For weeks they struggled to make headway. Whatever measure they passed was vetoed or postponed by the king’s advisers. The excuse ever was, “Wait until the constitution of the Frankfort diet has been promulgated”; or, when the chamber insisted on reforms as regards the jury system and law procedure, they were hung up on the miserable plea that the minister of justice was ill, and could not devote himself to a careful study of the changes proposed. The constitution as laid down by the federated German parliament at Frankfort gave to every native German equal civil rights and freedom of speech and press. Special civil privileges for the nobility were not recognized; all Germans were to be governed by the same laws. Out of the thirty-four principalities, twenty-nine had accepted the enactment wholly, but Saxony held out. The Dresden chamber resolved on coming to close quarters; they insisted on its official recognition. Matters were assuming a cloudy aspect, but the king had no intention of granting what a representative parliament of the whole German people held to be the just rights of every man. The ministry, therefore, at the wish of the king, resigned on the 24th February. This purchased a short period of tranquillity. The new ministry would require time to examine the question. False hopes were held out, but nothing was done in the shape of advance or concession. The people refrained from breaking out, expecting the Frankfort diet to insist on the Saxon monarch acknowledging the constitution. But they leaned on a reed. The king of Prussia, aware of the disturbed state of Saxony, sent a note to the king, intimating that at a word from him he was ready to overrun Saxony with his soldiers. Thus supported, there was no hope of any reform passing into Saxon law. And so, on the 23d April, August Roeckel writes to me, “This day we have passed a vote of want of confidence in the king’s advisers.” Five days later, the 28th, I hear again that “the ministry had the temerity to demand the imposition of a new tax.” This was fiercely resisted, and the king, to bring his unfaithful commons to their senses, issued a proclamation dissolving the chamber. This unconstitutional and high-handed act was protested against with vehemence, and was denounced in plain terms by Roeckel. The chambers would not dissolve then, but arranged a final meeting two days hence. Rough work was expected by the ministry; orders were given to confine all troops to barracks on the 29th April, the day before the final meeting arranged for; armaments were to be held ready for use.

On the 3Oth April the angered and excited chambers met. The debate was stormy, for the members were aware that troops and police were held in readiness to seize certain of their members, immediately on the rising of the house. Richard Wagner still held his office under the government. In a sketch of these exciting days, written and published by Roeckel, at my instigation, he states that Wagner, by some means, became aware that his friend Roeckel was to be taken prisoner; at once making his way to the house, he called Roeckel out, while the debate was in progress. Deputies had an immunity from arrest while the house was sitting, a privilege similarly enjoyed by English members of Parliament.

Roeckel desired to stay till the end of the sitting. He had long felt, he says, that the government wished to force a decision by an appeal to arms, and he was anxious to remain to the last, to hear what the intentions of the government were. To this Wagner would not listen, but finding his own entreaties not strong enough, he quickly brought a few friends together, Hainberger, Bakunin, and Semper, and to their unanimous decision he gave way. They urged that he should not even go home to take farewell of his wife and five young children, but escape at once. The question then was—where? Roeckel proposed Berlin, as he thought there the revolt would first break out, but Bakunin advised Prague, where the cause had some staunch friends, as safer. It was decided then for Prague. Roeckel was to be recalled immediately there was need for his presence.

The men who advised this temporary flight were important leaders of the people during the outbreak. First, Hainberger, son of Herr von Hainberger, one of the eight imperial councillors of the emperor of Austria. A musician of gift, his father wished him to enter the law, his studies in which drove him into the ranks of democracy. He came to Dresden, and took up his abode with August Roeckel, was a member of the Fatherland Union, addressed public gatherings, and though but twenty years of age, was of invaluable service in the organizing (such as it was) and controlling of the people. He was on the staff, too, of Roeckel’s paper.

Michael Bakunin, an historic revolutionary figure, was, by birth, a Russian. Driven into exile by the severity of the laws in his own country, he had taken refuge in Dresden, where he was hidden by Roeckel. A man of imposing personality, high and noble-minded, of impassioned speech, he was one of the greatest figures during those terrible May days. As gentle and inoffensive as a lamb, his intellect and energy were called into action by the unjust treatment of the people. He unfortunately gave Roeckel a letter addressed to the heads of the movement in Prague, urging no precipitation, but combination, unity of action.

Here, for a moment, I must turn aside to the most prominent of Wagner’s biographers, Glasenapp. In vol. I, p. 267, it is stated that Roeckel had left Dresden to escape the consequences of a law-suit. This is totally inaccurate. My information is derived from manuscript now before me, under Roeckel’s own hand, and I will produce textually what he says:—

Simultaneously with this incriminating note from Wagner, a messenger arrived from Bakunin urging Roeckel to return with all possible speed, as directing heads were sorely needed, and particularly popular men. This was on the 4th. He left Prague immediately, arriving outside Dresden on Sunday, the 6th May, whence he heard the booming of guns, ringing of church bells, fusillading of musketry, and saw two columns of fire rising to the sky. From his position, he discerned that one was from the site of the old opera house. His heart sank. Had the people grown wild? Were they reckless, and was the grand cause to be lost in fury and ill-directed efforts? The gates of the town were held open to him by citizens. He made his way at once to the town hall. In his patriotism he thought not of wife or children. The streets presented an appearance akin to the sickening, horrible sight he had seen in Paris during the July Revolution of 1830,—shops closed, paving-stones doing duty as barricades, strengthened by overturned carts, etc., etc., a miscellaneous collection of domestic articles.

Hurrying along, he came suddenly upon Hainberger. The incident is curious and characteristic. Rapid inquiries and answers passed. It appeared that Hainberger was at the same barricades as Richard Wagner, who, he said, had just returned to the town in charge of a convoy of provisions, and a strong detachment of peasants, and Hainberger was sent in search of an ice for the parched Wagner. The significance of this incident should not be lost sight of. The character of “Wagner as I knew him” is herein painted accurately in a few lines. He was fond of luxury; a sort of Oriental craving possessed him; and, whether weighed down with debt and the horizon obscure, or in the midst of a nation’s throes for liberty, he would appease his luxurious senses. Hainberger was the messenger, first, because of his devotion, and secondly, because of his long legs, which enabled him to step over the barricades.

At the town hall he found the members of the provisional government—Heubner, Todt, Tzchirner—that had been appointed on the flight of the king, 4th May. With them were Bakunin and Heinze, a first lieutenant in the army, who had thrown in his lot with the people, and took the military lead during the outbreak. Heinze had no means of communicating his orders to anybody. Every man guarded the post he thought best, and left it at his discretion. The commander had no notion how many men he commanded; it was a chaos, a seething medley of uncontrolled enthusiasm. Up to the 5th May no one had realized the serious nature of the conflict; masses streamed hither and thither, were in a rough sort of manner marshalled and directed to defend certain streets; but it was a terribly unorganized mass, each man fighting as he thought best.

Roeckel placed himself at the disposal of the provisional government, and was appointed director of a district,—that in which Wagner worked. Roeckel visited the barricades, encouraged the people, and to open up communications with comrades in neighbouring streets, he had walls broken down and passages made through houses. But his chief crime, according to the government, was the making of pitch rings to be flung burning into public buildings held by the soldiers. The actual facts of the case were these: The barricades were too low; men could with little effort step over them. He hurriedly consulted Wagner, and it was agreed that a storming by the soldiers could only be prevented by covering the top of the barricades with some substance easy of ignition. Then Roeckel suggested tar or pitch rings; and while Wagner went off to his convoy supervision, Roeckel, with a body of men, set to work making these rings in the yard opposite the town hall. The work had only proceeded an hour when he received a message from the provisional government. His presence was urgently required elsewhere, so the ring-making was discontinued at once. This was on the Monday, or but one day after he had entered Dresden. That evening information was received that a convoy of provisions and a detachment of peasants were a few miles outside the city waiting to enter. It was raining hard, and very dark; only some person acquainted with the road and place would be of service. Roeckel knew both, and started with Hainberger. As their mission was of such importance, they deemed it advisable to wait until night had completely set in. The rain and darkness increasing, the utmost caution was imperative; but alas! they were met by a patrol of the Saxon troops, and Roeckel was taken prisoner, his companion Hainberger escaping, owing to his nimbleness. Roeckel was immediately taken before an officer and searched. On him were found papers inculpating Wagner and others. A few lines, too, from Commander Heinze as to the conduct of the people in the event of a sortie taking place, caused him considerable discomfort. His hands were tied behind him with rope which cut the flesh, and for the night he was left in a barn. Next morning, still tied, he was sent down the Elbe to Dresden under a strong escort, for the importance of the capture was soon known. On his way down, he passed his own house; his wife was at the window, and his children, attracted by the helmets of the troops, were on the banks, unconscious that their father was a prisoner on board. He was confined in a narrow, dark room, in his wet clothes, and saw no one for two days, by which time the firing in the town had ceased, and he knew then that the outbreak was at an end.

And now, to measure accurately the extent of Wagner’s culpability or his claim to eulogy, the precise nature of the revolt should be understood, the class and character of the insurgents, and their avowed purpose, plainly stated. Further, the source of the government indictment against Wagner and the reason of their relentless persecution should both be fully comprehended.

First, the revolt. It began through pure accident. Naturally the townspeople were excited at the knowledge of the military being held in readiness to suppress, by force of arms, any public expression at the arbitrary dissolution of the chambers. They gathered in groups about the streets, the pressure being greatest near the town hall. As the crowd swayed, a wooden gate, opening upon a military magazine, gave way. The troops were turned out, and defenceless people fired upon,—men, women and children dying in the streets. This was May 3d. Then began that loose organization. And who took part in it? Let the official records supply the answer. I find that when the insurrection was suppressed the government indicted twelve thousand persons, this lamentably lengthy list including thirty mayors of different towns, about two-thirds of the members of the dissolved chambers, government officials, town councillors, lawyers, clergy, school-masters, officers and privates of the army, men of culture, position, and social influence.

Well might Herr von Beust, the king of Saxony’s chosen prime minister during March and April, 1849, when speaking in the Dresden chamber on the 15th August, 1864, or fifteen years after the terrible May days of 1849 that condemned Richard Wagner to exile, describe this revolt as an “insurrection that embraced the whole of the people of Saxony.” After such striking, conclusive testimony to the character of the revolt, from the highest minister of the crown, no stigma can attach to Wagner or any member who united in defence of the liberty of the subject, but rather is such action to be commended.

One more fact from the official report now before me: of Prussian and Saxon troops thirty-four are recorded dead and a hundred wounded; whereas, of the people, or “insurgents,” one hundred and ninety men, seven women killed, and a hundred and eleven men and four women wounded, besides “about fifty more” of the people admittedly killed by the soldiery, and then thrown into the Elbe, or a gross total of a hundred and thirty-four soldiers killed and wounded against three hundred and sixty-two people.

And now as to the source of the government charge and the reason of its intolerant bearing for thirteen years towards Richard Wagner. I have already referred to the note taken upon Roeckel, which Wagner wrote and addressed to him at Prague, urging his immediate return. Further, I have reproduced the revolutionary paper which Wagner read before the Fatherland Union, a copy of which figures in the official indictment re Wagner. There yet remain other incriminating documents, and occasional words uttered by prisoners under examination, besides the knowledge the government possessed of his close intimacy with that revolutionary directing spirit, Bakunin, and also with August Roeckel; and further, his membership in the Union. But the chief materials for the government accusation were furnished by poor Roeckel himself. There was, first, the letter taken upon him—“Return immediately ... excitement may precipitate a premature outbreak.” Then his house was sacked. He was the editor and proprietor of the “Volksblatte,” the people’s paper. Naturally, therefore, documents and papers of every description were found in profusion, held to incriminate several persons. Here copies were found of the June, 1848, paper, by Richard Wagner, on the “Abolition of the Monarchy,” and articles written by him for the “Volksblatte,” then minutes of meetings of the Fatherland Union and of the sub-committee. In a letter from his wife to me, detailing the incidents of the sacking of his house in Dresden, she says, “Every paper, printed and in manuscript, was taken away by the police officer who accompanied the military guard”; and, further, she says, “When I was ordered to leave Dresden I went first to Leipzic and Halle, thence to Weimar, and at each town, when it became known who we were, I and my five children were received with every sign of affection; at Leipzic the townspeople coming out in a body to welcome us.”

Roeckel’s wife was ordered to quit Dresden so that she might not witness the execution of her husband. Both Bakunin and Roeckel were, by order of the Prussian commander, to be shot in the market place, an order only countermanded when it was thought that further information could be extracted from them. Ten days after Roeckel’s capture he was brought up for investigation, in company with Heubner, the head of the provincial government, Heinze, the military commander of the people, and Bakunin, directing spirit. These four men were all chained. From this time each was examined and interrogated separately. Roeckel’s investigations were endless. He could not at the time perceive why he was repeatedly cross-questioned on the same point. Alas, it was too cruelly potent when, on the 14th January, 1850, or nineteen months after he was taken prisoner, for the first time he heard specifically with what he was charged, and his sentence,—death. He saw then clearly that the last part of Wagner’s note to him had been interpreted as implying a general organized rising throughout Saxony at a moment to be decided upon by the leaders, Bakunin, Heubner, Todt, Wagner, and Roeckel—“return immediately ... the excitement will precipitate a premature outbreak.” The official interpretation was entirely wrong. No decision of the kind had been arrived at. There was a complete lack of organization. They wished to be prepared for emergencies, but a deliberate attack was not contemplated. However, it sufficed to include Wagner among the chiefs of the insurrection.

Then there were Bakunin’s letters to the sympathizers at Prague, unaddressed. By all manner of cunning questions that legal ingenuity could suggest was it sought to drag out from Roeckel in his cell, the names of the leaders at Prague. The addresses of several personages were found in the sacking of Roeckel’s house, and these were all arraigned. For a year these secret investigations were carried on, in June, July, and August at Dresden, and subsequently at the fortress of KÖnigstein. On the last day of August, 1849, Heubner, Bakunin, and Roeckel seem to have been confronted separately by a witness who swore to the part actually played by Wagner during the rising. Refusing to utter a word that should incriminate their friend, they were transported that night in three separate wagons to the impregnable fortress of KÖnigstein. Officers with loaded revolvers sat inside each conveyance, a troop of mounted soldiery forming the van and rear of the cavalcade. The night had been chosen, as these men were known to be beloved of the people; they were martyrs in a nation’s cause, and it was feared that, should it become known who were the prisoners being conveyed, a rescue might be attempted. Inside the prison house, Roeckel met with kind treatment and was permitted to receive letters from his friends. The nobility of his character, his integrity, fearlessness, and unselfishness had rendered him so popular that the directors of the Royal Library at Dresden placed their whole store of books at his disposal. Within the walls of his prison he was equally popular, warders and soldiers uniting to form a plan for his escape, and that of Heubner and Bakunin. Roeckel and Bakunin declared themselves ready, but Heubner refused, whereupon Roeckel and Bakunin declined to hazard the attempt without their friend. It is to these efforts of the soldiers that Wagner refers in a letter to Edward Roeckel, brother of August, which appears later on. The friendliness of the warders being perceived by the authorities, Roeckel was removed to that Bastille of Saxony, the fortress of Waldheim, and Bakunin to Prague.

And now for the first time was Roeckel brought before a properly constituted tribunal. It was on the morning of the 14th January, 1850, that he heard for the first time the charge formulated against him and the sentence. The official accusation of my friend is before me, and as Richard Wagner is concerned, I will summarize the charge. It consists of eight distinct counts to the effect that he, Roeckel, had placed himself at the disposal of the provisional government, constructed barricades, was present at military councils, received the convoys of men and provisions that were brought into Dresden by Wagner and others, prepared tar brands, was concerned in a plot for a general uprising in the principalities to overthrow the lawful rulers, as proved by the letter from Richard Wagner taken upon him, etc., etc. The sentence passed upon Roeckel was death, Heubner and Bakunin having been brought up for trial and sentenced at the same time. The friends shook hands for the last time.

Outside a party had arisen demanding a second trial. The clamour was strong, so that a rehearing was conceded, but the second court, on 16th April, 1850, only confirmed the judgment of the first, the extreme penalty, however, being commuted by the king, who had under all circumstances shown himself averse to capital punishment, to imprisonment for life. Roeckel was, however, reprieved after having been incarcerated nearly thirteen years.

And now for the actual part played by Wagner. Throughout he was most active. He was, as he says, “everywhere.” His genius for organizing and directing, which we have seen carried to such perfection on the stage, proved of infinite value during those anxious days. An outbreak had long been expected, but not at the moment it actually took place, and when it came he was found ready to carry out the work appointed him. Though not on the executive of the provisional government, he was consulted regularly by the heads, and as he says, “it was pure accident” he was not taken prisoner with Heubner and Bakunin, as he had but “left them the night before their arrest to meet them in the morning for consultation.”

His temperament, all who have come into contact with him well know, was very excitable, and under such a strain as he then endured it was at fever pitch. Hainberger related to me a dramatic episode which thrilled Wagner’s frame and stirred the whole of the eye-witnesses. I recounted it subsequently to Wagner, and he agreed entirely as to the truth of Hainberger’s recital. It was in the morning about eight o’clock, the barricade at which Wagner and Hainberger were stationed was about to receive such morning meal as had been prepared, the outposts being kept by a few men and women. Amongst the latter was a young girl of eighteen, the daughter of a baker belonging to this particular barricade. She stood in sight of all, when to their amazement a shot was suddenly heard, a piercing shriek, followed by the fall of the girlish patriot. The miscreant Prussian soldier, one of a detachment in the neighbourhood, was caught redhanded and hurried to the barricade. Wagner seized a musket and mounting a cart called out aloud to all, “Men, will you see your wives and daughters fall in the cause of our beloved country, and not avenge their cowardly murder? All who have hearts, all who have the blood and spirit of their forefathers, and love their country follow me, and death to the tyrant.” So saying he seized a musket, and heading the barricade they came quickly upon the few Prussians who had strayed too far into the town, and who, perceiving they were outnumbered, gave themselves up as prisoners. This is but one of those many examples of what a timid man will do under excitement, for I give it as my decided opinion, and I have no fear of lack of corroboration, that Richard Wagner was not personally brave. I have closely observed him upon many occasions, and though entering into a quarrel readily enough,—once in the London streets with a grocer who had cruelly beaten his horse,—he always moved away when it looked like coming to blows. This might be termed discretion; well, he was discreet, there are no two opinions about that, but I distinctly affirm that what is commonly understood by personal bravery, Wagner possessed none of it.

He was ever ready to harangue the people; his volubility, excitability, and unquenchable love of freedom instigating him at all times. This was well known to the government, as also the foregoing incident, I am convinced, for, be it remembered, Wagner and his companions only made the Prussian soldiers prisoners, and it is not supposing the impossible that on release they would have reported fully who it was that led, musket in hand, the people against them.

Another incident of the campaign, and this time the author is Wagner. When it was reported that the ammunition was running short, the not very original idea sprang from him in this instance to use the lead from the house-tops. That Wagner’s very active participation was fully reported to the government, is proved by their attitude towards him. They expected to take him prisoner with Heubner and Bakunin, for he was constantly with them, and they were betrayed by the Prussians; and, as Wagner says, it was “pure accident” only that he was not taken with them.

As soon as the leaders were taken, and Wagner saw there was no use in continuing the conflict, he fled. He knew not in what direction to turn, but the thought of his precious manuscripts which he had with him determined his course—Weimar, Liszt. And so it fell out. Liszt was good and sheltered him, and interested himself so far as to go to the police official at Weimar to try and discover whether any warrant had been issued for his apprehension. Wagner remained below while Liszt entered to inquire. He was not kept in suspense long. Liszt hurried out breathless and excited. “For the love of God, stay not a moment; a warrant has been issued and is upstairs now waiting to be executed, but I have prevailed upon H——, who out of friendship will not put it into execution for an hour.” Under Liszt’s advice he left for Paris, the Weimar virtuoso being intrusted with Wagner’s precious manuscripts. He went to Paris, but remained a few weeks only, seeking an asylum in Zurich, of which city in the October following he became a naturalized subject.

In the summer of 1853 he thought of quitting Zurich, information which was soon conveyed to the Dresden government, who at once issued the following proclamation. I draw attention to the words “most prominent,” and further to the date, June, 1853; or, it should be borne in mind, four years after the Revolution. It ran as follows:—

The question then arises, is it to be supposed that a man thus pursued by the Saxon government had taken little or no part in the insurrection? There cannot be any doubt as to the answer. As I have before stated, Richard Wagner was deeply implicated in revolutionary proceedings before the May days of 1849, facts within the cognizance of the government. They knew he was a member of the political society, Fatherland Union, the centre of Saxon discontent; it was notorious that the conductor, Wagner, had written and read a celebrated paper in June, 1848, before the society, advocating the abolition of the monarchy; his most intimate companion and confidant was the second conductor, Roeckel, dismissed from office by reason of his revolutionary (?) practices, and he, Wagner, had already expressed his regret for hasty language condemnatory of the powers, and what was even still more convincing evidence, did he not stand convicted by his own handwriting—the short note taken on the person of August Roeckel, besides the evidence of his having contributed articles to Roeckel’s paper? It is then a matter of universal rejoicing, that the “pure accident” did prevent his meeting Bakunin and Heubner, for, judging from the sentence of death passed upon those two, and upon Roeckel, it is more than probable that the same sentence would have been pronounced against him.

That the government regarded Roeckel and Wagner in much the same light, is to my mind further shown by the similarity in time of their respective imprisonment and exile—August Roeckel serving nearly thirteen years, and Richard Wagner’s amnesty dating March, 1862. Several persons of high rank interceded for him, among them Napoleon the Third, who, after the “TannhÄuser” fiasco in Paris of 1861, expressed himself amazed at the fatherland exiling so great a son. After the perusal of the following letter, dated by Wagner, Enge, near Zurich, 15th March, 1851, future biographers can no longer ignobly treat the patriotism of Wagner by striving to whitewash or gloss over the part he played during those sad days. It is addressed to my life-long friend, Edward Roeckel (the brother of August), now living at Bath, where he has resided since 1849.[2]

And now for a few closing remarks upon this revolutionary epoch. I have alluded to the whitewashing, as it were, of Wagner by his biographers when treating of this period. If it were asked who is to blame, the answer might fairly be, “Imperfect or inadequate knowledge of the facts,” fostered, I regret to add, by Wagner’s own later utterances and writings upon the point. When Wagner visited London in 1855, the Revolution and the thousand and one episodes connected therewith were related and discussed fully and dwelt upon with affection, but as the years rolled on he exhibited a decided aversion towards any reference to his participation. Perhaps we should not judge harshly in the matter; he had suffered much and there were not wanting, and I fear it may be said there are still not wanting, those who speak in ungenerous, malignant tones about the court conductor being false to his oath of allegiance, of the demagogue luxuriating in the wealth of a royal patron. Wagner’s art popularity was increasing and his music-dramas were gradually forcing themselves upon the stage, and he did not wish his chance of success to be marred by the everlastingly silly and spiteful references to the revolutionist. But whether he was justified in writing as he did, in permitting almost an untruth to be inferred and history falsified, I should not care to decide. As, however, I am of opinion that the lives of great men (their public actions at least) are the property of posterity, I have stated what I know to have been the true facts, and will bring my remarks to a close by appending a few extracts from Wagner’s early and later writings upon this point which, read by the light of the uncontrovertible facts, I leave for each to form his own opinion:—

As I have stated, the general drift of Wagner’s references to the Revolution is to minimize his share; I content myself with two extracts only:—

The significant omission of “The Abolition of the Monarchy” paper from his eleven volumes of “Collected Writings,” a collection which includes shorter papers written too at earlier periods than the above, may also be noted.