Wagner at Home

by Judith Gautier

But even so! Is not the drinking horn of the pilgrim still hanging from our shoulders? Does not the staff still burden our hands? Roots torn from the earth, muddy water from the brooks, even these things ought to content us.

True! And surely one can see that it is only in the sincerest charity, in order to give them a pleasure, that we bestow upon the fishes of the lake that "Omelet with Apricots."

At Lindau the boat stops and we enter Bavaria. And here we are stirred by a new emotion at the thought of treading this soil, of being in the land of Ludwig II., the young king of the Graal, whom we ourselves have also chosen for our King. Here all speaks of him, all things bear his colours and his crest: the time-tables, the gates, the letter-boxes are painted in white and blue: the royal crown in chiselled bronze is everywhere to be seen, surmounting the coat of arms with its lozenge of blue and silver, which upholds the Hons rampant; "Königreich Bayern,"[2] these words are on all sides, on the façades, on the arch of the station, on the railway carriages.

During the journey to Munich we try to recall everything that Wagner has told us about the king: best of all is Wagner's first interview with the messenger whom the king had sent, and who, after searching vainly for a long time, finally discovered the unfindable great man.

This was at Stuttgart: Wagner had stopped there after fleeing from Vienna. During many months, in the Opera-house of that city, he had directed the rehearsals of "Tristan and Isolde." His hotel-keeper—having long since presented his bill, was kept patient by expectations of the fruitful receipts of the first night.

But after seventy rehearsals, and a very few representations, by reason of disaffection and intrigue the work was declared impossible and the company broke up. The danger of detention for debt still existed; Wagner dreaded this above all things, he had not sufficient resources with which to satisfy his creditors, but falling back upon a project for a series of concerts in Russia, he had left Vienna. That plan also fell through.

Discouragement and bitter despair again overcame him, and he believed that from that hour he should no longer have the force to retrieve himself. In the most sombre humour, he was making his preparations to leave Stuttgart when an attendant of the hotel where he was staying brought to him a visiting card upon which he read: "Von Pfistermeister, Aulic Secretary to His Majesty the King of Bavaria."

How could he foresee that this little slip of paper marked the end of all his troubles, and that happiness was in store for him?

Wagner suspected that it might be some creditor in disguise, and refused to receive the unknown person. But the visitor insisted, saying that King Ludwig had sent him and that he could not be denied.

When the announcer of miracles appeared he at once put in the Master's hand the King's portrait, and a diamond ring. Ludwig II. wished to declare himself a most fervent admirer of the genius of Wagner, and offered to use all his power to aid him to finish his work and to realize his dreams. The messenger had received orders not to return without Richard Wagner.