Excerpts from Felix Weingartner's autobiography

[Anonymous No.22257072]

On February 14, 1883, I proceeded in the morning to a rehearsal of a Gewandhaus concert. Had the prevailing fog also penetrated into the hall, or was there less illumination than usual ? Little groups had formed, and were conversing in low tones; I was regarded questioningly as I went past. Had something happened ? I took no notice of it, found my way to my seat as usual, and listened to the music, without however being able to absorb it properly. There was something oppressive and ominous in the atmosphere. Suddenly a colleague accosted me with a 'Haven't you heard?' 'Heard what?' 'Richard Wagner is dead.' I gazed up at him uncomprehendingly. 'That surely can't be true?' 'Yes, he died yesterday afternoon, in Venice.' I rushed aimlessly down the stairs and met Oskar Paul, who was pushing his way hastily towards the exit. 'Herr Professor, is it true?' I cried. 'I am just going to the newspaper office,' replied Paul,' as I am told that a telegram has arrived.' At any rate, then, it wasn't certain: the telegram might contain something quite different. No, certainly it wasn't true! With a ray of hope in my breast, I ascended once more to the balcony and sat down mechanically. In the hall below the rehearsal was proceeding, but suddenly a message was given to Reinecke which caused him to break it off. The music on the stands was changed; Reinecke raised his baton; the opening notes sounded-heavy, oppressive, and gloomy. To my horror I recognised the funeral march from 'Gotterdammerung'—it was the harbinger of death! That titanic, restless creator spirit had shed his earthly shell! Then I could stand it no longer, and fled into the street. In the courtyard of the old Conservatory groups of students interspersed with isolated members of the staff were standing together, discussing the event. A shrill, frivolous voice reached my ear: 'Now there'll soon be an end to the swindle.' Spitefully and gloatingly it pierced the cool February air. A few hours later and I should have sprung at the scoffer's throat. As it was, I could only hurry past in order to hide the tears that welled from my eyes.

[Anonymous No.22257073]

During the days which followed the dread news, I was so depressed and mentally unhinged that I was incapable of any kind of work. I wandered hither and thither, called on this friend and that, read the papers, which told how Wagner's remains were transferred to Bayreuth and of the funeral service at Bayreuth, and heard what seemed at the time the almost fabulous report of Angelo Neumann's intention to produce the ' Ring ' in Italy. But it seemed as though I was doing and hearing everything automatically, as if I were myself only a wandering automaton in a world of automatons. Then one day Oskar Paul took me aside, and said, ' Look here, young man, this wallowing in melancholy won't do any longer. To-night you are coming with me to Auerbach's Keller, where I will dissipate your gloom over a glass of wine.' I had often gone past Auerbach's Keller, but had never actually entered this Goethe-consecrated spot, as the prices were too high for one in my circumstances. Prof. Paul's invitation I accepted with gratitude, although I was firmly convinced that wine was not the best means of re-awakening my impaired vitality. As a matter of fact, Oskar Paul discovered a different and more effective method. We sat together in a corner, the fifty-year-old professor and the student not yet turned twenty. 'You see,' said Paul, 'we do wrong to lament Wagner's death. Undoubtedly the death of a great man is always a serious event, but compare Wagner's life with that of other musicians. Fate loaded him with priceless favours, although it touched him hardly and gave him a thorough shaking-up. But he was able to live his life to its appointed end, complete his works, and carryout his plans. Think of Mozart and Schubert! What would not they still have written had not death prematurely snapped their vital thread! Think of Schiller, who had to leave his grand "Demetrius" torso unfinished and was prevented from even starting work on much else. Beethoven, too, did not live to finish his work, but Wagner finished "Parsifal," and could not have found a more serene conclusion to his active life. The dream of his life, his Festival Theatre, stands, and will, I expect, continue to stand. And have you read the touching story of his youthful Symphony, the parts of which Seidl discovered and which Wagner conducted before a small circle of friends shortly before his death at Venice? Thus right at the end of his life his earliest youth rose up before him again, and wound about his temples the mystic wreath of eternity. Wherefore, my boy, learn to rejoice that he lived, and that he completed his eventful life harmoniously. And now I'll tell you something: you have finished studying Beethoven's great Sonata, Op. 106—that's what you must play at the next soiree. I have already placed your name on the programme, so no arguments, please! Furthermore, you must promise me to continue working at your opera.'

[Anonymous No.22257076]

I threw myself at once with the greatest zeal into the work of practising the Sonata, which had lapsed for a short time, and shortly afterwards mastered the immense task successfully. In the deepest intimacy of my thoughts I fashioned the mystical Adagio into a funeral service for the genius who had just left this world.

[Anonymous No.22257482]

Who's he?

[Anonymous No.22257498]

>>22257072
And there we have a conductor who wrote better, if perhaps somewhat sentimentally (but this is more than adequate to the scene), than 99,9% of contemporary writers, without resorting to any gimmicks, convoluted sentences or cheap tricks like Pynchon and others do.
It's incredible how much our writing capacity has declined in the past century.

>>22257482
A major conductor, some recordings survive.

[Anonymous No.22258338]

>>22257498
He didn't upload one status to his social media commenting on the death of Wagner. Whoever he is I can't take him serious. He must be some sort of shallow and superficial people