Ludwig the Second, King of Bavaria. Clara Tschudi
The Monarch showered gifts on the poet-musician, and fulfilled all his wishes.
On the 25th of November the newspapers of the capital published an official announcement, which ran as follows:—“His Majesty has decided that a school of operatic music shall be founded, under the direction of Wagner, in which male and female singers who wish to prepare themselves for the stage may receive the necessary practical instruction. The royal Residenz Theater will be placed at the disposal of the pupils for purposes of rehearsal.”
Der Fliegende Holländer was given at the Hof Theater on the 4th of December. The house was filled to overflowing, and the audience followed the opera with interest. Wagner, who made his first public appearance that evening as conductor in Munich, was recalled after the second act and the conclusion of the performance. In order further to seal the position he had won, it was decided that he should give a concert the following Sunday in the Hof Theater, where several of his compositions would be performed. It was, however, badly attended; and the critics deemed Wagner more a poet than a musician.
A few weeks afterwards the King received in special audience the architect Semper, who had come to Munich at the suggestion of Wagner, it being the latter’s wish that a large new theatre after his own notions should be built in the Bavarian capital. It was intended that this edifice should be situated on the highest part of the Maximilian Anlage, a bridge in Renaissance style being thrown across the river. The cost of the theatre was estimated at a million guldens, and including the projected bridge and laying out of the adjacent ground, Semper further calculated the sum necessary at five millions of guldens. His plans and drawings met with Ludwig’s fullest approval. The officials of the privy purse, however, used to the economy of former reigns, strongly opposed the scheme. The King, therefore, thought himself constrained to postpone indefinitely the execution of his plans; and later on entirely abandoned them.2 The capital of Bavaria was the loser by this, for the theatre would not only have been an embellishment to the town, but would have attracted thither a countless number of visitors. The outlay in course of time would have been covered many times over.
The real opposition against Wagner began in Munich on the day when his extensive theatre plans became known. The nobility saw in him the bad genius of the young King, one who would prevent the aristocracy and gentry from having access to the presence. The clergy were incensed against him because he was a freethinker. Among musicians there was a considerable number who admired the composer of Der Fliegende Holländer, Lohengrin, and Tännhauser, but who, nevertheless, frankly opposed the “music of the future” as an aberration. Others of his fellows looked upon him as the greatest musical genius of that day; but they envied his ability to bask in the favour of royalty, and dragged his personal weaknesses forth before the public.
Wagner, on his side, was not without blame in these enmities. The exaggerated luxury displayed by him incensed the thrifty burghers. At every turn he boasted of the royal favour. It was generally said that he misused his protector’s open purse. He was in the habit of buying articles on credit and referring the purveyors for payment to his “royal friend,” and it was feared in extended circles that he was leading Ludwig into profligacy. He, moreover, caused a considerable amount of ill-feeling by his irritability and impatience where the execution of his plans was concerned. A large part of the press began to show hostility towards him; the comic papers occupied themselves with him; and he suffered much under the forging of these links: On the 7th of March 1865 he wrote to August Röckl: “All I want is to get away to a pretty corner of Italy … so as to be able to nurse my poor nerves. But how, on the other hand, can I leave this poor young King, in his abominable surroundings, and with his heart so wonderfully fastened on me?”
At Wagner’s suggestion the King summoned Hans von Bülow and several of the musician’s other adherents to Munich. Bülow was appointed court choirmaster and “leader” to his Majesty. He treated the artists of the royal chapel like schoolboys. They were received in the best society of the capital, and their displeasure was implanted further. On the 7th of May 1865 the following announcement appeared in the Neuesten Nachrichten:—“Men whose veracity we have no reason to doubt inform us that at a recent rehearsal of Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde Herr von Bülow demanded an extension of the orchestra. The stage manager, Herr Penckmayer, answered that in such a case thirty stalls would have to be done away with. Bülow thereupon observed: ‘What does it matter if there are thirty rascals more or less in the theatre!’ ” The overstrung musician frequently let his sharp tongue run away with him, and could not deny that he had made use of this expression. He found himself obliged to declare publicly that in saying so he had in his mind only that portion of the public who had taken up a hostile attitude towards Wagner. The general dislike of Hans von Bülow, despite his admitted ability, was very detrimental to the poet-composer; moreover, others of his friends who had come to Munich at this time wounded the inhabitants of the city by their frankly expressed contempt for its music, and by permitting themselves criticisms at its expense. But more than anything else public opinion was incensed against Wagner from the fact that Frau Cosima von Bülow, née Liszt, had attained the part of lady of the house at the villa in Brienner Strasse.
It became known that the mutual admiration between her and Wagner had taken the form of a liaison, and the judges of morality on this ground sided vehemently against him. Only at the court did his position appear to be unshaken. Ludwig did not hear the reports which were current with regard to Bülow’s wife and his friend, nor had he more than a slight knowledge of the hostility of which the latter was the object. Articles in the different newspapers which had come to his knowledge had, however, greatly embittered the sensitive youth. “Forgive them, for they know not what they do,” he wrote, with reference to this, to Wagner. “They do not know that you are everything to me, and will continue to be so until death.” In another letter he exclaims: “Ah, my friend, how difficult they make things for us! But I will not complain. I have him, my friend, the only one.”3
At the Hof Theater in Munich the master’s glorious composition Tristan und Isolde was being studied, no theatre up to this time having attempted to produce it. The well-known singers Ludwig and Malwina Schnorr von Carolsfeld came from Dresden to take the title parts. Bülow, whom the composer called “his other self,”4 was to conduct the opera. The rehearsals began in Wagner’s house, but were later transferred to the royal Residenz Theater which was placed at his absolute disposal for this purpose. The master instructed each one of the artists himself. The little man with the great head was all fire, carrying everyone with him. When a difficult passage had been performed with especial success he would spring up and kiss and embrace the singer, male or female; and at times even stand on his head on the sofa from sheer delight.5
The performances of Tristan und Isolde had been fixed for the 15th, the 18th, and the 22nd of May, the latter day being Wagner’s birthday. His followers, and representatives of the press, had come from all parts of Germany and from abroad, to be present at the representation, which was considered an event in the musical world. But Frau Schnorr von Carolsfeld suddenly fell ill, and the performance had to be postponed.
It was not until the 10th of June that the first performance could take place. Early in the forenoon all the seats in the house were sold at considerably increased prices. The royal boxes, flanking the stage, were filled with spectators: among those present being Prince Luitpold with his elder sons, Prince Adalbert with his wife, King Ludwig I., and Duke Max, who nearly all remained in the theatre until the conclusion of the opera.
At ten minutes past six the King appeared in the so-called “Imperial box.” He was received with loud acclamations, and the orchestra added its quota of fanfares. Ludwig was evidently pleased, and thanked his people by bowing cordially to all sides. The next moment Hans von Bülow stepped into the conductor’s place, and the performance began.
It was not at that time usual to applaud the actors and actresses when the Sovereign was present, until the latter had given the signal.