“I will not write another note. My work is complete! I have successfully and victoriously accomplished my mission, despite the hostile onrush of a world of opponents.” This was one of the last letters from the composer-poet to this King, who had been to him more than a friend.
The poet-musician used every year to visit Munich, where his protector received him with unchanged kindness. In 1882 he came thither for the last time. He requested as usual an audience of the King, but Ludwig begged to be excused from receiving him, as he was indisposed. On the 13th of February, 1883, Richard Wagner died at Venice. Five thousand telegrams were sent to all parts of the world to announce the ill tidings. One of the first came to Ludwig. He violently reproached himself for not having received him. One of his aides-de-camp went on his behalf to Venice to lay a wreath of Alpine roses on the composer’s coffin. A special train brought the deceased, his widow, and a number of friends to Bayreuth. At the frontier the King’s secretary was waiting to accompany the coffin and show the last honour to the poet-musician.
Music, which before had been Ludwig’s greatest joy, was from this time forth not permitted at any of his castles, because it so painfully reminded him of the friend of his youth. All the pianos on which he had played were draped with crape. The dead man’s works still had such an effect on him that after every performance of Parsifal he caused a Mass to be said in his castle. And after the King’s death, busts, portraits, and other mementos of Richard Wagner were found everywhere in his favourite rooms.
CHAPTER XXVII
King Ludwig and the Artists of the Stage and Canvas
A French journalist who saw Ludwig II. in his youth, has said: “His beauty belongs to the romantic type. His dark eyes are dreamy and full of enthusiasm. His handsome face, elegant personality, and dignified bearing at once win admiration and sympathy. He is in possession of all the graces of youth, its illusions and enthusiasm; but at the same time he offers an example of that need for change which belongs to youth. His subjects look upon him as a fool. They are mistaken: he is only foolish on one point—namely, where music is in question.”
The King passionately loved Wagner’s operas. Concerts, on the other hand, he seldom attended, but he often invited opera singers of both sexes to sing at his castles. Shortly after his accession an actor by the name of Emil Rohde was engaged by the Munich Hof Theater, and won in a high degree his Majesty’s approval as Don Carlos, Ferdinand in Schiller’s Kabale und Liebe, Max Piccolomini, and Mortimer. Rohde was one of the first artists in whom Ludwig showed particular interest. At the beginning of his sojourn in the Bavarian capital he was often summoned to the Palace. After the first unabridged performance of Schiller’s Wilhelm Tell the King sent him the following autograph letter:—
“Dear Rohde,
“You have surpassed all my expectations. I shall always remember with the greatest delight the beautiful hours which we passed together this winter. Yes, you must come again!