“Vienna, July 31, 1823.”
Within two months of ascending the throne, Ludwig II. of Bavaria made the personal acquaintance of Wagner, whose enthusiastic devotee he had been since, at fifteen, he had been present in Paris at the first representation of “Lohengrin.” The royal friendship gave rise to much comment, but it was not surprising, for “in Wagner’s work Ludwig found abundance of that mysticism which from first to last had so powerful a hold upon his imagination.” It was “the poetical reproduction of mediæval legend in the midst of a perfect scenic setting” that captivated the monarch, and attracted him to Wagner. But it caused a great outcry at Munich, where the composer was openly accused of “making a good thing out of his patron, of exercising undue influence over him, and of meddling with politics.” And yet, although it is true Wagner had a court appointment, apartments in the palace, and a seat at the King’s table—sufficient of themselves to arouse envy and jealousy—his allowance was £320 a year, hardly enough for riches. Wagner’s influence, however, continued unabated until the King’s mind became too clouded for even the old powerful charm to work.[169] And so closed one of the many fads of a monarch whose life was throughout a strange mixture of eccentricity, mysticism, and romance.
CHAPTER XXIII
SUPERSTITIONS OF ROYALTY
The spirit of the age in which they lived must, in most cases, account for the superstitious turn of mind of many sovereigns in the past. The fact that we are now acquainted with the laws which determine the movements of comets, so that we are able to predict their appearance, has caused us to cease to pray that we may be preserved from their malevolent influence; and no longer now, as happened in the tenth century, would an European army flee in terror before one of them.[170] But from their movements not being understood, and hence regarded of supernatural character, they were a source of fear. They were dreaded as the precursors of calamity, because it was shown that comets had preceded the death of such rulers as Cæsar, or Constantine the Great, or Charles V. It was demonstrated that comets had been seen before the invasion of Greece by Xerxes, before the Peloponnesian War, before the Civil Wars of Cæsar and Pompey, before the fall of Jerusalem, before the invasion of Attila, and before the greatest number of famines and pestilences that have afflicted mankind. Hence it is not surprising that Louis the Debonnaire was frightened by the comet which appeared during Holy Week of 837. The first morning after it had been seen he sent for his astrologer. “Go,” said he, “on to the terrace of the palace, and come back again immediately and tell me what you have noticed, for I have not observed that star before, and you have not shown it to me; but I know that this sign is a comet: it announces a change of reign and the death of a prince.” Nor was this all, for the son of Charlemagne was convinced that the comet was sent for him, and accordingly “he passed his nights in prayer, gave large donations to the monasteries, and finally had a number of masses performed out of fear for himself and forethought for the Church committed to his care.”[171] But, whilst this comet was a source of fear in France, the Chinese were observing it astronomically. It was no other than Halley’s comet, which appeared again in 1066, and was regarded as a presage of the conquest under William of Normandy, a representation of which occurs in Matilda’s Bayeux tapestry. And it has been traditionally said that one of the jewels of the British crown was taken from the tail of this comet. But William neither believed in omens, nor encouraged fortune-telling, and, when he heard how a certain soothsayer—who had thought proper to join himself to the armament—had lost his life, he shrewdly remarked, “Little could he have known of the fate of others who could not foresee his own.”
The same comet made its appearance again in 1456, when Europe was filled with dread of the Turks, who had lately become masters of Constantinople, and a line was then added to the litanies of the Church praying for deliverance from “the Devil, the Turk, and the Comet.” At this time Pope Calixtus III. was engaged in a war with the Saracens, and he declared that the comet “had the form of a cross,” and indicated some great event; whereas Mahomet maintained that the comet, “having the form of a yataghan,” was a blessing of the Prophet’s.
A comet which attained its greatest altitude at the hour of Edward I.’s birth was much discussed, and Eleanor eagerly inquired of the astrologers what it portended to her babe. They replied that the bright flames which preceded it promised brilliant fortunes to her new-born son; but the long train of smoke great calamity to his son and successor. And once, it is said, when Queen Elizabeth’s attendants tried to dissuade her from looking at a comet, which was supposed to predict evil to her, she ordered the window of her apartment to be set open, and pointing to the comet, she exclaimed, “Jacta est alea (the die is cast); my steadfast hope and confidence are too firmly planted in the providence of God to be blasted or affrighted by these beams.” And yet it was Elizabeth who preferred Dr. Dee to the chancellorship of St. Paul’s Cathedral.
Another comet which caused some consternation at Court was seen in 1680, and was said to be the same as that which had preceded Cæsar’s death. Hence it is said that when the brother of Louis XIV. saw the courtiers discussing the matter in an unconcerned manner, he sharply rebuked them: “Ah, gentlemen, you may talk at your ease, if you please; you are not princes.” It was this comet which gave rise to a curious story, how at Rome a hen had laid an egg on which was depicted the comet—a fact which was attested by his Holiness, by the Queen of Sweden, and by some of the leading persons in Rome.
But if comets were a source of superstition, other phenomena of the heavens were also supposed to influence the destinies of royalty; and hence Queen Catherine de Medicis, though a woman of strong mind, was deluded with the more ignorant by the vanity of astrological judgments. The professors of the science were so much consulted in her Court that the most trivial act was not done without an appeal to the stars. One of the most noted astrologers under her patronage was Nostradamus, a physician of Provence, who to medicine joined astrology, which soon augmented his income. He was summoned to Paris by Catherine in 1556, and one of his predictions—which turned out hopelessly wrong—was contained in a small book issued in the year 1572, under this title, “Prognostication touching the Marriage of the very honourable and beloved Henry, by the grace of God King of Navarre, and the very illustrious Princess Marguerite of France, calculated by Master Bernard Abbatio, Doctor in Medicine, and Astrologer to the very Christian King of France.” In this astrological calculation he professed to show that the couple would “love one another intensely all their lives,” whereas they always hated each other; and he further declared that they would “approach a hundred years,” but Henry IV. died before he was sixty. Many children were to be the outcome of the marriage, whereas there were none, for the marriage was broken off, and Henry married to Marie de Medicis.
But speaking of Catherine de Medicis, there is probably no sovereign in history “of whose persevering addiction to the occult arts so many singular traditions are preserved.” Anecdotes might be told of the amulets and talismans which she wore; of the observatories and laboratories which she fitted up in the Louvre; of the enchanted mirror in which she beheld the fortunes of her descendants; “and, above all, that singular and sudden change in her disposition which history attributes to the cruel insults of her dissolute husband, but which popular superstition ascribed to the malign influence of her supernatural allies.”[172]