“how’s that for smart conducting?” As long as they got through, Reissiger was content.  Not so Wagner.  His first duty was to make the band a smart, clean-playing, smooth-working machine; the players had to learn to follow his beat and to obey his directions; and he at once met with opposition.  The bandsmen, like Reissiger, and in fact all officials who regard 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.