User:Epessen/sandbox

Eytan Pessen

‘Feuersnot’ and the Dresden Operas of Richard Strauss: a history of singers
In September 2008 I first visited Dresden as designate Opera director. Years before I had attended the premiere of Don Giovanni, to see Karl Friedrich Dürr (with whom I had prepared the role of Leporello). The city had changed meanwhile, but not Gottfried Semper’s impressive opera house. Every theatre I have ever worked for has meant learning to love a one-of-a-kind diva, and the Teatro Massimo, with its subdued golden atmosphere and regal stage, is unique. Proud Dresden locals, who may have never seen the opera houses of Venice, Naples and indeed Palermo, are quick to inform you that the Semperoper is the most beautiful house in the world; for me it is certainly the most acoustically satisfying opera house I have ever experienced, but the highly decorative Semper-designed auditorium competes with the stage and always needs to be considered when planning a stage-set. I have always used an Italian term to explain this problem: ‘Troppo saporito’, too much of a good thing.

The history of a building, and its host city, is paramount for a newbie in any theatre. In Dresden the ghost of Johan Adolph Hasse still lingers, but more than anything, Dresden’s sense of self-worth and glamour is based on the legendary eras of Richard the first and the third - Wagner and Strauss (there is no second to Wagner, one is told). Curious about the reception of Strauss’s operas in his time, I recently perused Franzpeter Messmer’s book of reviews of the premiers of Strauss’s stage works. Here is a history of Strauss’s reception in which the performers are neatly expunged from the main text and condensed into footnote height. Having worked with opera singers, conductors and directors my whole life, and having brought out new works, I find histories that concentrate merely on the biography and artistic aim of the composer may be true, but flat. There is no Handel without the castrato Senesino, no Verdi without the tenor Fraschini. One cannot view Strauss without the performing artists and the personalities that actually made it all happen. We need the Gossip of the stage to flesh out the skeleton of historical fact. In German ‘Theater’ means: ‘theatre’ or ‘opera-house’, but it also means ‘tumult’. I experienced the current wonderful ensemble of the Semperoper, the unique artists and their biographies, the devotion to their house and pride of their city, the complex relationships internally and with the world outside, and realise it this very theatre of the protagonists of that era which fascinates me, and whose essence I would like to grasp.

I An opera commission for Dresden
Today’s Dresden is a different town from 1901. Before the post-war re-production (in a scale like no other in the world), the buildings of 1901 were still original, and the Semperoper was not a structural icon named for its designer, but rather a real cultural icon, the Dresden Royal Hofoper.

General music director Ernst von Schuch was determined to turn his theatre into one of the most important in the world. His partner was Graf Nikolas von Seebach, a royal and confirmed bachelor who devoted his working life – and every minute of his retirement, to the theatre. A supportive financial partner to Schuch, Graf Seebach funnelled the financial resources of the institution to make art possible. No money was spent on media, touring and glamorous ‘events’. Unhampered by orchestra board members, or committees of the personnel interfering in artistic matters, von Schuch was free to move forward with his vision of making his house meaningful. He was not interested in posing as a famous star that sheds a bit of desirability on a thankful institution by conducting a performance now and then. Instead Schuch devoted his complete career into making himself – and becoming - the essence of the Dresden Hofoper. He could, and did, conduct elsewhere – but these were few, well chosen exceptions. Tourists always would flock to Dresden, today as much as then. But in von Schuch’s era it was less to see the magnificent building, than for the artistic content within.

Born in 1846 in Graz, Ernst von Schuch started conducting in Breslau in 1867, and worked in Würzburg, Graz and Basel before moving to Dresden in 1872. He became general music director in 1889. His wife, coloratura soprano Clementine Proska (1850-1932), was a member of the singer’s ensemble; his daughter Liesel would join the ensemble as well in 1914 – the year of his death. "“When he sits on the podium he seems to be like a general assured of his own victory on the battle field“, writes Adolph Kohut “– everything goes perfectly and nowhere can a strategic or tactical error be felt! (…) The example of Schuch, who conducts fiery, genius-like and with complete devotion always inspires and spurs singers and orchestra”." Baritone Karl Scheidemantel echoes this view, saying Schuch "“Was a tyrant in rehearsal. How often I saw tears flow, heard teeth grinding, but all effort and pains were forgotten, the moment the performance arrived, and Schuch sat fresh and elastic as a youth on the podium.”" Tenor Carl Burrian, creator of Herod in ‘Salome’, writes of Schuch’s ‘Magic hands’: "“Accompanying singers, Schuch is unique. You need only to be decently unwell and not able to move on. He carries you positively on his baton over the difficult hurdles, he breathes for you, dynamically soothes with his wonder-instrument – the orchestra –your weaknesses – for, where does one play a similar piano like as under Schuch?”"  Schuch had a soft side as well. His son writes that he "“cherished a handkerchief of his mother like a relic. He always needed to feel it in his tails, when he stepped on to the podium”"

Schuch was one of the first to recognize Richard Strauss’s quality as composer. Determined to acquire state of the art works, he brought fifty world-premieres to the stage during his Dresden tenure, including works by Leo Blech, Max von Schillings and Wolf Ferrari (L’amore medico in 1913). In 1900-1901, besides Strauss’s ‘Feuersnot’, Von Schuch presented the premiere of Paderewski’s 'Manru', first performances in Dresden of Karl Weiss’s folk-opera 'The Polish Jew' and Crescenzo Buongiorno’s 'Das Mädchenherz'.

The Dresden season schedule was primarily Teutonic– Gluck, Mozart, Wagner (57 performances in 1900), Beethoven, Weber, Marschner, von Flotow, Humperdinck, Lortzing and many other Germanic composers were performed. But the list of Italian composers would make any Italian theatre today proud: Donizetti’s 'Fille du regiment', 'Lucrezia Borgia', 'Lucia di Lammermoor' and 'Elisir d’amore'; Rossini’s 'Guglielmo Tell' and 'Il Barbiere di Siviglia'; Verdi’s 'Ernani', 'Rigoletto', 'Traviata', 'Trovatore' and 'Aida'; Mascagni’s 'Vespri italiani' (known today as Cavalleria Rusticana), Leoncavallo’s 'I Pagliacci' and Ermete Novelli’s 'La bisbetica domata'. Almost as many operas by French composers as well as Smetana’s 'Bartered Bride' fleshed out the season programme.

Richard Strauss of 1901 was not merely a composer. A real Maestro, hands dirty with theatre work, he was enjoying a thriving conducting career, constantly in the public eye in the pit and on the concert stage. Born in Munich, he started with a three-year Kappelmeister contract at the Munich Hof- und Nationaltheater in 1886. After gaining five more years of experience in Weimar, Baron Perfall, the Munich Intendant, invited Strauss to return to Munich in 1894, „with the prospect of becoming Levi’s successor as Generalmusikdirektor“. But when Levi resigned in 1896, Strauss „was asked to take on his work without being offered the official succession (...), and when finally Perfall decided to reduce the agreed fees at the last moment, Strauss, justifiably angry, in 1898 signed a contract with Berlin.“

Strauss’s first opera, 'Guntram', (written in part in the 'hotel des Palmes' in Palermo in 1893), was performed in his hometown Munich only once. It proved to be a dismal failure with the orchestra (including members of Strauss’s own family), the singers and press. Strauss wrote his next opera, 'Feuersnot', to revenge the Munich provincialism. He had played chamber-music concerts, conducted and had numerous of his works performed in Dresden - starting from the 1882 serenade for wind instruments. Ernst von Schuch’s Hofoper offered Strauss a perfect new home, with optimal rehearsal conditions and an astonishing flexibility in planning. Indeed the Premiere of ‘Feuersnot’ would be scheduled to suit Strauss’s busy concert agenda. In a letter from November 2, 1901(merely a few short weeks before the Premiere), Strauss urges Schuch to set the premiere of 'Feursnot' on the 21st of that month. He goes on to propose an exact rehearsal schedule and warns Schuch that were the premiere to occur after the 24th, he, Strauss, would not be able to attend. Years later, Dresden’s flexibility would lead Strauss to the audacious request in a letter of 1 October, 1910, asking Schuch: "„Why is the premiere of Rosencavalier (sic) not for instance on the 20th of December possible? For I would like to go to St. Moritz on the 24th.'"

Although Vienna’s Censure did not grant Mahler permission to perform ‘Feuersnot’, Strauss dangled the danger of a possible Vienna premiere, to aid his negotiations with Ernst von Schuch and Graf Seebach in Dresden: "„So 1,500 Marks is still too much? O this theatre! The devil take opera composing! So what would you have? Should I rather donate something to you then? Perhaps a fire truck? To extinguish the need-for-money fire? I am supposed to grant you the first performance and you want to do absolutely nothing in return? I find 1,500 Mark really not too much. (...) Well if the whole thing does not come to pass, I’ll wander off to Vienna, where Mahler would do anything for me, if I were to give him the premiere. I will change my name to Riccardo Straussino and let myself be published by Sonzogno, then you would agree to everything.”"

Having successfully brought his negotiations with the Dresden Hoftheater to a close, ‘Feuersnot’s premiere on November 21 would be a success. "'I would be happy if you were to hear the humble little piece', Strauss wrote Cosima Wagner, inviting her to the premiere. 'I believe the very special sharp barbs against the Wagner city Munich would give you much malicious pleasure...'" Cosima answered that "„beyond the certainly agreeable malice we are very interested, obviously, in the work artistically. Please, send me the libretto.'" Cosima did not come to the premiere, but the rest of the world did. "'the performance of the work here in Dresden went beyond any praise. The royal Kapelle under Herr von Schuch's leadership played exceptionally well. (...) It sounded as if Herr Schuch had a single, large instrument under his hands. The choruses, and especially the extremely difficult children's choruses worked perfectly. As Konrad Herr Scheidemantel was brilliant, as Diemuth Fr. Krull was excellent, Mr. Moris supplied the work with life. His stage-direction earns a special mention. In the end lively applause. Herr Strauss appeared, then Herr von Wolzogen with the libretto in his hand and a vast white chrysanthemum in his buttonhole; in spite of oneself, one laughed.'"

Next on the agenda came ‘Feuersnot’s survival and longevity; Strauss arranged performances in Frankfurt, Cologne, Berlin (where the scandal prompted the resignation out of protest of the theatre’s general director), and Vienna (where Alma Mahler said she saw Strauss sitting in a rehearsal for the Vienna performance of ‘Feuersnot’ pencil in hand calculating future profits.) With ‘Feuersnot’ (and later, as ‘Salome’, ‘Elektra’ and Rosenkavalier become part of Strauss’s oeuvre), letter exchanges with Schuch testify to his urging the constant scheduling of his operas and the use of second casts, to prevent any possibility that the presence of his operas in a season would depend on one singer alone.

„Dear, greatly respected friend!“ starts the letter of Strauss to Schuch (January 31. 1904), which ends with a ‚p.s’:'' „Does ‘Feuersnot’ return anytime soon? Congratulations for your great success in Vienna. On the 13th of February off to America.“'' ''“Dear Schuch! (...) Here a small question: if ‘Salome’ is really such a great success and was sold-out both performances, why would you want to perform it as late as December 27 again?“'' ''„Dear good Schuch, masterconductor and kind masterplanner and fool-maker of the Austrian total monarchy! (...) At the time of the ‘Salome’ casting I had excluded the excellent Frau Krull completely, since I assumed that ‘Salome’ would soon be played together with ‘Feuersnot’, and Frau Krull would not be able to sing both roles in one evening. Now that it is evident that ‘Salome’ would be performed always independently, I ask you urgently to have Frau Krull study and perform ‘Salome’ as soon as possible.“'' ''“Because Frau Krull needs to learn ‘Salome’ by the end of April, she cannot sing ‘Feuersnot’, which she can shoot from the hip such that she requires no rehearsal. ‘Feuersnot’ needs merely a few chorus rehearsals, in ‘Salome’ the chorus is not needed etc. etc. Why don’t you tell me up front, that either you don’t feel like scheduling a ‘Feuersnot’? Or that financial aspects speak against it or another more or less plausible reason, Truth would be best. (...) And by the way, Frau Krull can easily learn ‘Salome’ in three weeks and sing it alternatively with Frau Wittich. It is not necessary that ‘Salome’ would always be put away for 14 day hiatus, when the high saxon primadonna celebrates her high not-feeling-quite-well“''

The operas Strauss was to write for Dresden entered the worldwide opera canon, with the exception of ‘Feuersnot’. As Strauss himself pointed out, mulling in 1949 about the fate of ‘Feuersnot’- it is an “Auftakt” – an upbeat to what was yet to come. "“The originality of ‘Feuersnot’”, Strauss writes, “lies in the consciously very tone of ridicule, the irony, the protest against the common opera-text.” „it is alas pretty difficult, requires a confident baritone with an easy top, quite a large cast of strong character soloists and contains demanding children’s choruses, that make repertoire performances always difficult.'(1942)"

Dresden proved faithful to ‘Feuersnot’, which returned with the same cast in 1904, and again in 1909, where Eva von der Osten replaced the original Diemuth Annie Krull who was busy with Elektra. New productions followed 1924 and1939 (with completely new casts). It was presented occasionally together with other Strauss works, “kept alive by a somewhat artificial nursing process, “ writes Richard Aldrich of the NY Times in 1909, “clinging to the peplus of Elektra”.

‘Feuersnot’s subsequent reception was influenced less by what ‘Feuersnot’ is as to what it is not. Written right after Tod und Verklärung, Don Quixote and Ein Heldenleben, as Walter Werbeck notes, „It was in ‘Feuersnot’s music that Strauss for the first time successfully used the tools which he developed as a tone poem composer." Not belonging to one of the recognisable genres of today’s operas, ‘Feuersnot’ is judged as a failed ‘Salome’ rather than a comic piece written firmly in the tradition of Lortzing and Marschner but with a form developed uniquely by Strauss. In ‘Feuersnot’, the overly decorative musical style becomes the essence of the opera. Strauss’s quotations of Wagner and other composers, little jokes, permutations of folk music and horsing around with Wagnerian-style Leitmotivs all become one unified style. In this Strauss resembles Mozart, looking to the past more than the future and offering a resume of compositorial techniques. It would be in his next works, ‘Salome’ and ‘Elektra’, where he would look toward the future. Taken out of the historical context means forgetting that ‘Feuersnot’ is quintessentially a work born out of the Jugendstil period, as Theodore Adorno points out: ''“‘Feuersnot’, which is a Jugendstil work par excellence, is also perhaps the most Straussian; if any, it deserves to be performed again. (…) Never again did Strauss write music which was as spontaneous.”'' This spontaneity is evident in every page of the score. Strauss who would prove reluctant to write erotic lilting melodies for male voices as he did for his beloved sopranos, made a self-serving exception for Kunrad, (representing Strauss himself), for whom he wrote some of his most demanding and generous vocal lines. The fate of ‘Feuersnot’ as a secondary work was sealed early in its career. As early as in 1902, one A. K. summed up what would be true today, in a review of the Berlin first performance of ‘Feuersnot’: "“It is in many ways a work to which it is difficult to apply the ordinary canons of criticism, for it has moments of everything from opera bouffe to grand opera; and yet it leaves the hearer with a remarkable impression of homogeneity. The orchestra is treated with unparalleled freedom, and the main interest of the work centres in it; but it is hardly just to say that it is too symphonic, for Herr Strauss never allows considerations of purely musical development to hamper him in the attainment of dramatic effect. Those who know his orchestral works only will be surprised and delighted at his extraordinary mastery over choral effects; and it is hardly an exaggeration to say that some of the most important choruses come very near to the invention of a new art-form. He can create atmosphere by means of a chorus almost as deftly as by means of instruments. And as regards beauty of orchestral colour and ingenuity of scoring,‘Feuersnot’ is equal to his greatest symphonic works; while in directness of utterance and beauty of melody it surpasses them. True he draws somewhat on folk-song, but to such melodies as that of the opening of Kunrad's address from the balcony-and to one of Kunrad's chief leitmotivs-the epithet 'beautiful' cannot justly be denied, and moreover they are unmistakably Straussian.“"

II	 Strauss and the Dresden Ensemble
Letter from Richard Wagner to the Soprano Terese Malten, from Palermo, Hotel des Palmes, 26 November, 1881: "“The beautiful impression, that I had recently gained from your achievement as Senta in “The flying Dutchman, continues to resonate within me, so that I must speak out now my desire, to see you participate in numerous of the upcoming performances of “Parsifal”."

Telegram from Richard Strauss to Ernst von Schuch, October 19. 1912 "Frl. Siems scored a resounding triumph in today’s rehearsal with an unprecedentedly executed rendition of the vocally and technically equally victorious performance of the Zerbinetta aria. Greetings and thank you Strauss"

Dresden was the birth place of Strauss’s ‘serenade for 13 wind instruments’, as well as his ‘Don Juan’, but for Strauss the Dresden Staatskapelle was foremost an opera orchestra, and von Schuch an opera Kapellmeister. Dresden’s strongest attraction, one overlooked by history, but one that explains why Strauss would select Dresden as the place to bring out so many of his operas, was its singer ensemble. Beyond the Hoftheater’s generous rehearsal and scheduling flexibility, the excellent orchestra and the cooperative Ernst von Schuch, Strauss required a generation of singers that would be able to take the next modern step vocally and musically. Despite an occasional appearance of a Sembrich or a Melba, the season’s performances were sung by one of the 31 Artists on permanent contract. Some of the finest singers alive lived and worked in Dresden over many years. A look at the cast lists of Strauss’s premieres for Dresden reveals recurring names: Annie Krull, who sang Diemuth in ‘Feuersnot’ would continue to be the first ‘Elektra’. Karl Scheidemantel created Kunrad and Von Faninal. Magarethe Siems was not only the first Chrysothemis in ‘Elektra’, but also created Ariadne’s Zerbinetta and the Marschallin in Der Rosenkavalier. Karl Burian created ‘Salome’s Herod, Karl Perron was the first Jochanaan in ‘Salome’, Orest in ‘Elektra’ and Ochs in 'Rosenkavalier'.

The permanent opera ensemble is nowadays a German phenomenon, but existed elsewhere as well. Italian Opera theatres in Donizetti and Verdi’s time would hire a group of singers for a few seasons. Thus one could find in Naples the cast of Filippo Coletti, Gaetano Fraschini and Eugenia Tadolini singing together in numerous operas by Verdi, Pacini and Petrella. These were not cast by a composer for a one-time event – these were singers that served a complete season, or seasons, just like German ensemble singers. Verdi reserved the ‚use’ of these singers in his contract with Naples, similarly to Strauss. The relationship between the specific artists of an ensemble and the finished work by the composer is close. Coletti’s presence in the Venice ensemble made the final version of Germont in La Traviata possible. Fraschini basically created the ‘Fach’ of the spinto tenor with his numerous role creations.

In a repertoire-house that offers hundreds of opera performances a year, an ensemble of first-class singers is indispensable. Ensuring a consistent quality of performances – and more important – of rehearsals, conductors and directors may work calmly, musically and dramatically over many weeks. The dynamic between a local audience and the theatre changes with a permanent ensemble: opera goers return to see how their favorite artist interprets one role or another, or buy tickets to see different casts of the same opera. Performances are more satisfying than when a group of more-or-less eminent guest artists meet for the first time a few hectic days before a chaotic premiere.

For the opera singer, the choice to commit to an ensemble position is not self-evident. An artist looses control over his or her own life, makes less money than celebrated traveling opera-stars, and can only hope for the boss’s wisdom and tact. On the other hand, a singer may enjoy a family life, spend more energy on art and less on travel, not risking financial loss due illness; the hard truth of guest artists – in Strauss’s time as well as today, is that only a handful of artists earn top fees. The majority of ensemble singers do better on average then the free market colleagues with their travel costs, agent fees and cancelled projects.

In Strauss’s time ensemble contracts offered artists subtle perks. Those with salaries over 6000 marks would get complimentary tickets in the parquet. Those making fewer than 4000 marks had to do with rare comps on the third tier. Honorary Kammersänger titles, recognition for many year’s service and ambitions to climb the ladder from the comprimario Fach to the desired ‘Erstes Fach’ contract, (some with guarantees and rights to the more attractive roles), all play a dramatic part in the interpersonal history of a theatre. One day, Graf Seebach decided to sell all the excellent house member seats in the first tier of the Dresden opera house rather than give these to the ensemble singers as in the past. The ensemble united to write a petition begging not to be demoted to the smaller box in the second tier. That the seats in the second tier box were poor, was less hurtful than the loss of prestige.

III  The cast of ‘Feuersnot’
Karl Scheidemantel (1859-1923) was a nineteen-year-old student, when the director of the Weimar theatre heard him. “Wouldn’t you like to be a singer?” he asked Scheidemantel, “on the spot, I offer you a three year contract for the Weimar Opera”.. Later that same year, 1878, a baritone colleague cancelled Wolfram and Scheidemantel gave a stunning debut of the role. The following years he expanded his repertoire, gained experience acting in plays as well as singing, and got to know Franz Liszt, Hans von Bulow, Anton Raff and Felix Mottl who were active in Weimar. National and International appearances followed, and in 1885 the thankful Grossherzog of Weimar granted him the title Kammersänger – thus making Scheidemantel, at the age of 26, the youngest Kammersänger of his age. A year later he gave his debut in Bayreuth, where he would go on to sing Wolfram, Amfortas, Klingsor and Kurwenal over many seasons. Cosima Wagner writes the 28-year-old Scheidemantel in 1887: "“My cherished friend! So must I call you, after your words have moved me so. In these I recognise the warm, brilliant tone again that was what had moved me so much with the first thing you sang here. (…) I may well say, that yours is the most beautiful New Year’s greeting, my most beautiful, the richest with hope. Our thing has turned into a religion”. She goes on to crown him a ‘Bayreuther’ to the world."

The year of Scheidemantel’s Bayreuth debut he joined the Dresden Hoftheater, where he would remain for 25 years, as one of Germany’s important baritones of the era. Creator of ‘Feuersnot’s Kunrad and Rosenkavalier’s Faninal, Strauss cherished the ‚glorious’ Scheidemantel immensely. While preparing ‘Feuersnot’, Strauss writes Schuch to tell Scheidemantel to deliver his monolog deliberately and in high spirits, and to accent the „burlesque, cheeky, brazen“, and „parodist elements of the complete work“.

Numerous recordings of the artists here discussed can be conveniently found online in the Dresden University’s SLUB Mediathek. Karl Scheidemantel’s voice rings pleasant and clear as Wolfram in Wagner’s ‘Tannhäuser’. His diction is immaculate, his rolled r’s crisp, his sense of style and legato and usage of portamento is impressive, although no Wagner conductor of today would appreciate such an Italianate approach. The ‘Daily Telegraph’ wrote of his performance that "“Mr. Scheidemantel has a beautiful voice and at the same time a technique that is more the Italian school than the German one. Voice and schooling, both one could get to know best in the “Evening star”, which sufficed to mark Mr Scheidemantel as a genius of a singer a cut above his colleagues.”" Scheidemantel sang Kotner in Die Meistersinger in Covent Garden, and fifteen years later, an English reviewer H.K. writes of his Hans Sachs:"“he now returnes to us the ripe artist and in some respects the most admirable Hans Sachs that the land of Wagner has ever sent us. It is not so much the power or the extraordinary timbre of Herr Scheidemantel’s voice that impresses the listener, as the rare purity of his method, the artistic beauty of his diction and phrasing, above all, the intense poetic feeling that pervades every feature of his impersonation.”"

Scheidemantel was an influential teacher, he wrote the German singing-translation of Mascagni’s ‘Il piccolo Marat’ in 1921, and published song anthologies and a book about singing. The book contains a description of vocal functions, an efficient resume of diction rules (including how to improve the Germanic pronunciation of Italian), and vocal exercises. The book opens with an admonition to singers to reconsider a singing career, and is pertinent still today:

''„The old requirement, that for a singer’s profession one needs voice, voice then voice again, is still even more true today than in the past. (...) The roles are extensive, the opera theatres and concert halls larger, orchestras louder (...). The time when the orchestra was completely secondary to the singing, ‚accompanying’ – to use the word in its original sense, the singing with soft harmonic progressions, are long gone. Nowadays the orchestra builds up an absolutely autocratic appearing sound–mass, against which only a singer armed with great vocal means could pass as. (...) Stage-singers need to have a pleasing appearance (...) Small and stocky persons must possess a very beautiful voice and have an excellent singing talent, when they are not to be discouraged from undertaking a stage career. (…) Small men have only the buffo ‚Fach’ as an option, round women can only become soubrettes, on the condition that the smallness is still bearable and their roundness still falls under the term ‚full’.'' ''Without exception, the Herr Theatre-directors look at the external appearance of the singers and especially the female singers, (...) one cannot blame them, for in their theatres sit not only listeners but also spectators, that like to be delighted by attractive people. (...) The singer’s profession verily sets exceptional demands on one’s health. (...) The stage singer is forced to wear costumes that are either lighter or heavier than his usual clothing. He is almost always victim to drafts. (...) Often forced to lie still for a long time as a dead body somewhere on stage, and that is very unpleasant, if not dangerous, should the singer have the bad luck to lie upon an open crack on the stage boards, from which the flow of the cold air from the under-stage rises. (...)”’’ ‘’”It needs to be assumed that in the (...) theatres barely a position is open. From the many music schools (...) each year a multitude of singers are trained each year. It is not possible to find out the exact number of jobless singers. (...) These remain without a job not because they are not good, but because they had no luck. He who finds a position on stage hit the bull’s eye, exactly like winning the lottery.“''

One of Scheidemantel’s pupils was the Bass Friedrich Plaschke (1875-1952). In his Dresden tenure (1900-1937) he created Kofel in ‘Feuersnot’, the first Nazarene in ‘Salome’, Altair in Ägyptische Helena, Graf Waldner in Arabella and Sir Morosus in Die Schweigsame Frau. A handful of recordings testify to the impressive quality of his voice – a tarry and rich deep bass with an immensely easy top and full ringing bottom. He sings a baritone Wolfram (in Czech), excerpts from Hans Sachs and together with Carl Burrian (creator of Herod in ‘Salome’) a thrilling Blühenden Lebens labendes Blut from Götterdämmerung. Plaschke was married to soprano Eva von der Osten, (1881-1936) who he met in Dresden (she joined the ensemble in 1902 and would become one of the city’s operatic darlings). Strauss showed great interest in her as a possible ‘Salome’. Writing von Schuch:''„I would like to hear Frl. von Osten as Brünnhilde, Isolde, Evchen or Euryante. (...) Could you cast her for me in some major role as soon as possible?“''(5 October 1905) Strauss would repeatedly beg Schuch for her to be cast in ‘Salome’, until he cast her himself as Octavian in Rosenkavalier. She was Dresden’s first Dyer’s wife in Frau Ohne Schatten in 1919. According to Strauss „the good Eva von der Osten had meanwhile worn her voice out on hoch-dramatic roles“, so that he was compelled to demand the postponement of the premiere and he blamed her for the ensued poor performance. When the Premiere of Arabella in Dresden came about in 1933, she could no longer sing, but was nevertheless useful to the house as ‚advisor’ to the director Joseph Gielen (who was married to a Jew and subsequently denounced by the Nazis in 1936).

Austrian Bass-Baritone Franz Nebuschka created Ortlof Sentliger in ‘Feuersnot’, first soldier in ‘Salome’, the old servant in ‘Elektra’ and one of the four waiters in Der Rosenkavalier. According to the Austrian newspaper „Der Humorist“, Nebuschka was a „Pillar of the Ensemble“ and considered so „Indispensable“ that Graf Seebach offered him a ten-year contract, which was then extended until his death in 1917. While Nebuchka did sing roles as King Heinrich, Der Waffenschmied and Don Pasquale, he made a solid career with the smaller ones. His daughter Lissi was a singer as well, a pupil of Karl Scheidemantel.

The Alsatian Bass Ernst Wachter (1872-1931) created the role of Jörg Pöschel in ‘Feuersnot’. Like Nebuschka, he was also offered a ten-year contract, and according to the Humorist the theatre was absolutely right in offering him such a contract. "“Wachter belongs to the currently most excellent representatives of his Fach and the directors of the Bayreuth festival know full well, why they called upon the artist for the roles of Hunding, Fasolt and Gurnemanz.”" The article goes on to mention the beauty and power of his unusually extensive voice. Wachter was merely 26 years old when this article was written, and by then he had already sung Sarastro, Osmin, Daland, Falstaff and Landgraff. Vocally impressive is a recorded aria from 'Das goldene Kreutz' by Brüll, displaying thrilling virile richness, which strangely does not fit with the sweet and young face of Wachter’s image.

Tenor Anton Erl (1848-1927), son of Viennese Heldentenor Josef Erl, became a Hofoper ensemble member in 1875 and received the title Kammersänger in 1883. His career included lyric and dramatic roles, Mozart’s Tamino and Belmonte, Gonoud’s Faust, „Raoul“ (Rodolfo) in ‘La Bohéme’, Alfred in ‘Violetta’, Loge and Erik, and, as he grew older, David in ‘Meistersinger’ and other Spieltenor roles. He created Ortlieb Tulbeck in ‘Feuersnot’, the fourth Jew in ‘Salome’, and the Haushofmeister bei der Feldmarschallin in Der Rosenkavalier. A year later, in 1912, he retired from the stage. Anton Erl "“permits himself the luxury, to paint (…) preferably portraits. He is no dilettante, but belongs, if he so wishes, to the top of this profession. Better it is though, if he sticks to service of Polyhymnia; for our lyric and spieltenor delights us since so many years with the gifts of his singing art, that we would rather hear his abilities, rather than look at them on linen. (…) his voice is flexible and pliant as a damascene knife-blade. (…) Erl is the real ‘tenore di grazia’ and as such has no rival on German stages.'" Another Austrian tenor in the ‘Feuersnot’ cast was Franz Petter (1869-1943) from Innsbruck, who created Schweiker von Gundelfingen and was a carpenter before he turned to singing, starting his career in Berlin in 1895. He went on to sing in Bayreuth and Dresden. A recording of Schumann’s Wanderlied shows a strained high register and full ringing voice. Perhaps that is why Strauss cast him with the „Low tenor“ role of Schweiker.

Austrian alto Irene von Chavanne created the role of Wigelis in the premiere of ‘Feuersnot’ and Herodia in ‘Salome’. She devoted her entire career (1885-1915) to Dresden, joining the ensemble right after graduation from the Vienna conservatory, and singing roles as Azucena, Fides, Ortrud and Adriano. Von Chavanne "„has a beautiful, rich and ample alto voice, supported with a splendid stage presence, (...) her intonation is clean and perfect, her emission is correct and tasteful and her voice makes its mark though the large span and richness.“" A rare example of her voice can be heard in a duet with Minnie Nast. In this duet her alto sounds round and rich, overpowering the light bleaty quality of Minnie Nast (1874-1956), creator of ‘Feuersnot’s Margret and later Sophie in Rosenkavalier. You tube offers Nast’s recording of the ‘Madama Butterfly’ duet with Johannes Sembach (the creator of ‘Elektra’s Aegisth). The girlish voice is oddly suited to the 15-year-old Cio Cio San.

Von Chavanne was second cast and understudy as Klytemnestra in ‘Elektra’, for Strauss had given the premiere to the famous Ernestine Schumann-Heink. Charles Webber, an English pianist and conductor, who worked in Dresden in 1908 - 1911, a mere few years after ‘Feuersnot’ and ‘Salome’, describes how Schumann-Heink ‚took over’ the role from Chavanne "“at one of the final rehearsals. They were at the beginning of the Klytämnestra-’Elektra’ scene. Schumann-Heink (…) had not turned up yet, and Irene Chavanne, who had studied the part mostly with me and was to sing at later performances, was on stage singing. A few coaches and one or two singers were in the dressing –room, which faced the door leading to the stage. Suddenly the entrance door to the corridor opened and in swept Schumann-Heink (...) on to the stage and, without any compunction and ignoring the etiquette of the Royal Court Opera House, picked up the phrase Chavanne was singing. I rushed through the pass-door to the auditorium to hear the great artist. She was overwhelming (...)“." C M Tool was a witness to the next performance; "“The present Dresden cast is the same, with the exception of the substitution of Frau Chavanne for Frau Schumann-Heink, who is not a member of the company and who became voiceless from the strain of the rehearsals, so that she was obliged to withdraw from the cast after the second performance.”" Strauss regretted this decision. He grew up in the tradition of an ensemble theatre. He nostalgically writes of the good old times when theatres received „unlimited subventions, and singers had no contractual rights to be released." The ensemble was his world. "„Only Klytämnestra, the invited guest Frau Schumann-Heink proved to be a mistake. With old stars I can do nothing.'"

IV The two divas
Marie Wittich, number one star of the Dresden Ensemble was „a dramatic soprano par excellence“’ whose success lay „in the marvellous combination of acting and singing” according to Der Humorist, The novelist E. M. Forster attended Wagner’s Ring in Dresden in 1905: in 1963 he still remembered her: "“She soared, she towered. Force, weight, majesty! She seemed to make history and we to embroider it by listening to her. After Ternina’s hers is the voice I would most like to recall (…)'."

Although Wittich had a ‘primadonna’ contract with first rights to premiers, Strauss preferred to give Annie Krull, who was younger and whose voice fresher, the role of Diemuth. Wittich would, in turn, sing ‘Salome’ – and would learn the role at the very last minute to Strauss’s chagrin. „Since Wittich is said to learn somewhat slowly“, writes Strauss, „it is necessary, that she has the role in her hands at least three months before the premiere“. As the premiere nears, Strauss gets nervous about Wittich: "„As I understand, Frau Wittich has not started learning the role of ‘Salome’. Yes, how could she, of whom one tells me, that she learns with difficulty, and understands slowly, ever learn this new and difficult role till the end of November?“ Strauss continues to say: „Frau Wittich has supposedly stuffed herself a proficient belly over the summer? No harm done! Voice Horatio, Voice and Voice again.“" Strauss continues in further letters to complain of Wittich’s late study, and finally "„that she complained to Frau (Cosima) Wagner, that she needs to learn such stuff.“ Strauss went on to say: „If she doesn’t feel like it, she should then just leave it at that; it does not have to be!'(23 October, 1905)." The very next day he writes von Schuch again: "„Finally we have an answer to the riddle: Frau Wagner writes me today with the following: „I had asked Frau Wittich, to come over here (to Bayreuth) in the month of November, which she had free, so as to work through the role of Isolde with her; since it is important for me, to go through this mammoth project as early as possible together with our artists, (...) She (Wittich) had confirmed, but now she had to cancel me because of having to study ‘Salome’, etc. etc.“ So, Frau Wagner would like to work on Isolde, which Frau Wittich is to sing in August, already in November: my ‘Salome’, that in reality is even more difficult (than Isolde), Frau Wittich is expected to learn and create in one month? O, why had you not, my dear friend, heeded me, when I had asked you, to begin studying ‘Salome’ with Wittich in the beginning of September?” Wittich and ‘Salome’ would prove to be the end of the friendly relationship Strauss had with Cosima Wagner."

Krull’s success as Diemuth and later, ‘Salome’, sharpened the conflict between her and Wittich. Krull, realised that no matter how well she sings, she would always be second to Wittich. She decided to leave Dresden and asked Graf Seebach for suspension of her contract. But as the Premiere of ‘Elektra’ neared, Schuch became worried about losing Krull, as he writes Strauss: "„Frau Wittich would like to sing ‘Elektra’, but wishes numerous strenuous sections changed? You would make me in your debt, if you were to commit yourself to answer this question, so that Frau Wittich will not be able to claim later, we did not let her sing it.'(13 November 1908)." Two days later Schuch writes Strauss again of Krull:"“She is involved (with ‘Elektra’) body and soul, studies daily – I would be so endlessly relieved, to have finally this great worry off my heart, Krull sticks with it, she is musically solid and also willing – I have done everything, to influence the Graf in her favour – but she is now asking not only the suspension of her contract cancellation request, but also, in view of the strenuousness of the role of ‘Elektra’, a higher salary than the current one and this demand offends the Graf, naturally“." By December Krull settled her contract and Strauss came over to Dresden to rehearse with her.

Charles Webber describes the following scene of the two divas. Wittich "„could no longer support the top notes. Her throat was constricted and she mainly yelled.It may be cruel, but I cannot refrain from telling about an incident in the third act of ‚Die Walküre’ which I witnessed from the stalls. Krull was Sieglinde and Wittich Brünnhilde. At the point where Sieglinde should throw herself on her knees, when imploring Brünnhilde to save her for the sake of the unborn child, she did nothing of the sort. I heard Brünnhilde exclaim urgently to her: „You must kneel before me!“ The other answered fiercely: „Kneel before you? I? Never!“ What was the cause of this unworthy scene? It was ‚’Elektra’’. We were then preparing Richard Strauss’s opera, and Wittich was hurt that Krull should have been chosen for the part of ‘Elektra’. But Krull was younger, and her voice had the freshness and beauty of youth, and a quarrel ensued. Perhaps it was as well, after all, for our Marie Wittich whom, with her looks of a Viking’s daughter, her blond hair and her fine blue eyes, we all loved. At that stage in her career Strauss’s music might have finished off her voice for good and all. Wittich had a sense of humour rather rare among Germans. When I rehearsed with her something – I forget what – a week later I asked her whether she had forgiven Krull. Her answer was: „Ich Krulle-grolle-nicht!“"

Krull’s performance of ‘Elektra’ was a success, but Strauss complained the Hofoper scheduled too few performances. „ The blame lies only with Frau Krull," answered Schuch, "who demands at least 8 – 10 days rest between performances and will not sing anything else during that time." ‘Elektra’ gave Krull finally a chance at international stardom.  A four page article about her appeared in Bühne und Welt of 1909, describing her past roles and her plans to sing Isolde in the future. The article ends with a statement of Krull, in answer to press gossip claiming Strauss was to simplify the role of ‘Elektra’ for her: "'The role of ‘Elektra’ does not hold any unmanageable difficulties for me. I have sung the role up to now in its original version as intended by the composer, without a single change, and I will continue to sing it like this.'"

Annie Krull’s only recording–Tannhäuser act II from the Berlin Staatsoper, shows a musically satisfying artist, a voice that could well be described as „juicy, soft, with a great extension and in all registers equally beautiful, fresh and healthy” but not at all a voice that would nowadays be a considered an ‘Elektra’ voice’. Katherine Roof writes in 1909 of Krull’s "Individuality of tone", "gift of emotional expression" and “fine vocal art” and notes that in Elektra: "”Krull like Ternina, is unique in possessing both voice and dramatic genius. (…) Indeed Krull’s tones - largely through her art in placing them - dominate even the composer’s tremendous orchestral ensemble through their carrying quality rather than their size.” Roof writes that “although Krull has been in the Dresden opera company for eight years she was, up to the time of her 'Salome' success, kept back, as is the German way with the younger singers.”" Leaving Dresden, the feeling she would always be ‘kept back’ and the shadow of the ever-beloved Wittich, Annie Krull vanished from front-page history. Of her life after Dresden little is known. She died in Schwerin in 1947. One can only wonder if so many Elektras damaged her voice. She was replaced in Dresden with the soprano Helena Forti, a pupil of Karl Scheidemantel.

V The end of the Ensemble
The end of the Schuch era in 1914 and the First World War marked the beginning of the slow and painful transformation of the royal court opera into the current Saxon State Theatre. Paul Adolph, a well-meaning bureaucrat from the ministry, joined the leadership of the theatre. In his memoires (dedicated to Schuch) he describes the glorious end of the Schuch era and his sudden death, the premiere of Das Rosenkavalier, and the parting of Karl Scheidemantel in 1912 with a performance of Die Meistersinger (which was at the same time his 25th year jubilee). His poignant description of this jubilee performance shows the positive side of an ensemble: "“Unforgettable (…) how Scheidemantel, entering the Festwiese of the last act was received by the ‘chorus’', writes Adolph. “In this chorus all his old colleagues took part - among them Marie Wittich, Eva v.d. Osten, Margarethe Siems, (…) Carl Perron and others. (…) And then when Scheidemantel, this upright German man and great artist, sang the first words of Hans Sachs’s speech “You take it lightly, but you make it hard for me; you do me, poor man, too much honour“, there was no one in the overly full theatre (...) unmoved at these words.“"

The war had left the Dresden Hofoper in a state of artistic anarchy and insecurity. The king of Saxony abdicated in 1918, Graf Seebach retired. Paul Adolph, as administrative director, tried his best to steer the old theatre into the era of the new republic. "“All attempts to find an excellent general music director failed at the opposition of the Kapelle against the proposed persons, in which paramount were questions of race – see Reiner, Klemperer, Leo Blech, Bruno Walter and others”, writes Adolph. “All attempts to transfer the artistic leadership to an opera director, woke suspicion in the staff, that the right to self-determination would be thus questioned, and they be subjected to one person, one will instead of the council and majority votes .”"

In 1920 Adolph finally appointed Karl Scheidemantel, long retired from the stage and a singing teacher in Weimar, to the position of Opera Director. Beloved and respected, Scheidemantel represented the highest artistic integrity. The staff, however, fearing loss of control, opposed this idea, and in a dramatic meeting with Scheidemantel and Adolph, formally rejected his directorship. Scheidemantel responded, saying –as described by Adolph, "“had he decided to leave his peaceful Weimar, his comfortable house, his teaching activity that grew on him every day ever more, all to assume the artistic leadership of the Dresden opera, so has he, the old member of the ensemble, most certainly not done so out of arrogance, power hunger or other shallow motivations: “For you all I wish to give this up, for you all, because I realise you are in a desperate situation, for you all, so as to prevent, that perhaps one day a director will arrive, that knows neither you, your worries nor the Dresden opera, where still today, after twenty five years of activity, my heart is attached to with its every fibre. How could you compare this plan with a reference to the past? Am I a court minion, a chamberlain, do I wish to rule as an absolute sovereign, as a despot? Am I not one of you, that knows your need, your worry, do I not wish to work out all questions together with you? Do you not feel what an enormous headway in comparison with the past this appointment is, do you not feel the vastness of the sacrifice that I wish to give you with a joyous heart? If you remain however” – so he ended his speech – “in your rejection, I will return today with no hard feelings back to my peaceful Weimar – compared with all the hardship that would have waited for me here, certainly the greater blessing for me and my family.” The effect of these words was not to be described. After a minute of silence ovation storms covered Scheidemantel, hugs, kisses, enthusiastic acceptance followed – the situation was saved.”" Two years later Paul Adolph, who did not receive the needed backing from his impoverished ministry, resigned his post; Scheidemantel was promptly let go, his wings clipped. He died soon after in 1923. The ensemble that brought ‘Feuersnot’ to life was gone, the exception being Friedrich Plaschke, who retired in 1937.

Stories never end, but narrative does; not before one last sad twist of fate: shortly after Paul Adolph published his memoires in 1932, the Nazis made him - who had never expected to return to his beloved theatre - intendant. He lasted two years. He is known to posterity as the Nazi-appointed Intendant with a Jewish wife who tried to remove Jewish librettist Stefan Zweig’s name in the premiere of Strauss’s ‘Die Schweigsame Frau’. The ensuing scandal, Strauss’s written protest and imprudent letter to Zweig ended Strauss’s relationship with the Nazi regime, the Dresden theatre, and marked the end of his era as a composer of great operas.