Richard Wagner, in the preface to his Niebelungenlied, asks the following question:—“Is the prince to be found who will make possible the representation of my work?” Ludwig of Bavaria read these lines as Crown Prince, and exclaimed, with enthusiasm: “When I am a King I will show the world how highly I prize his genius!”

Hardly a month after his accession Ludwig sent his private secretary, Herr von Pfistermeister, to invite Wagner to Munich. The secretary sought Wagner first in Vienna; but the poet-musician had been obliged to flee the Austrian capital for some place where his pursuers could not reach him, having been threatened with arrest for debt. He was traced to some friends in Stuttgart. There the King’s emissary delivered to him a photograph of Ludwig and a ring, set with a ruby, and informed him that, as the stone in the ring glowed, so his ruler burned with longing to behold him.

On his sixteenth birthday the Crown Prince of Bavaria had been present at a representation of Lohengrin. This opera had made the deeper impression on him from the fact that the legend of the swan knights was connected with Hohenschwangau, which, as we know, had been from his childhood his favourite place of residence. During the years preceding his ascent of the throne his interest in the “musician of the future” increased. When visiting his aunt, the Duchess Ludovica, at Possenhofen, he had found Wagner’s compositions on her pianoforte, and from this time forth he studied his works with zeal. Ludwig was not the possessor of any distinctly musical gifts. A musician who gave him lessons on the piano was even of opinion that he was wanting in ear; and Wagner’s works probably attracted him more from their fantastic poetry than on account of their musical qualities.

It was with feelings of joyful expectation that the master accepted the young King’s invitation. He arrived at Munich at the beginning of May (1864), and was received with consideration. His personality made a strong impression on Ludwig, who assured him of his favour and warm interest. “The unthinkable, and the only thing that I required, has become a reality. Heaven has sent me a patron. Through him I live and understand myself!” exclaimed the poet-musician to friends who were awaiting him on his return from the Palace. After staying a few days in the Bavarian capital he continued his journey to Vienna, being now able, thanks to Ludwig’s generosity, to discharge his debts. He soon, however, returned to Munich, and Pfistermeister, in the name of his master, bade him welcome to a beautifully situated villa on the lake of Starnberg, where he might live undisturbed for his art.

Ludwig was in residence at this time at the adjacent Schloss Berg, where Wagner frequently visited him, and performed his works before him. The master’s imagination, poetry, his attractive manner, all transformed the royal enthusiast’s admiration into blind admiration. The elder man exerted a superhuman power over the youth, and his proximity had a positively electrifying effect on the King. Their life together became a decisive event in the lives of both. Full of pity for him, and happy in the consciousness of being able to assist him, Ludwig wrote on the day following their first meeting: “Feel assured that I will do all that lies in my power to make reparation to you for your earlier sufferings. I will for ever chase away the trifling sorrows of everyday life from your head. I will give you the repose you require, so that undisturbed in the pure sphere of your art you can unfold your genius in its entirety.... Unknowingly you were the only source of my joys. From my earliest years you were to me a friend who as no other spoke to my heart, my best teacher and upbringer.” In spite of their difference in age it is placed beyond a doubt, that Wagner from the first moment warmly reciprocated the feelings of his protector. He thus writes to his friend Frau von Wille (May 1864): “He (the King) is unhappily so handsome and so intellectual, so full of soul and so glorious, that I fear his life must disappear like a fleeting dream of gods in this commonplace world. He loves me with the tenderness and warmth of first love. He knows me and all about me, and understands me as he does his own soul. He wishes me to live with him altogether, to work, rest, and have my works performed. He will give me everything I may require for this purpose. I am to complete the “Ring”; and he will have them put on the stage in the manner I desire. I am to be my own master, not Kapelmeister, nothing except myself and his friend!... All need is to be taken away from me, I am to have all that I require, only I am to remain with him!... You cannot imagine the charm of his glance. I only hope he may live; it is a real marvel!” Of their personal intercourse he writes, on another occasion: “I always hasten to him as to a loved one. It is a glorious intercourse ... and, in addition, this kind care of me, this charming modesty of the heart when he assures me of his happiness in possessing me. We often sit for hours lost in the contemplation of one another.” The same feeling of exuberant joy is apparent in a letter written on the 20th of May to his friend Weissheimer: “Only two words to assure you of the indescribable happiness which has become my lot. Everything has happened in such a manner that it is impossible to imagine it more beautiful. Thanks to the affection of the young King, I am for all time insured against every pecuniary care. I can work, I need not trouble myself about anything. No title, no functions, no duties! As soon as I wish anything staged the King places everything I require at my disposal.... My young King is a wonderful dispensation of fate to me. We love one another as only master and pupil can love one another. He is happy in having me and I am happy on account of him.... And then he is so beautiful, so profound, that daily intercourse with him carries me away, and gives me an entirely new life.”

Already at this time, however, he adds: “You can imagine what a vast amount of envy I meet with!”

The same year he addresses Ludwig:1

At the beginning of October, Wagner moved from the lake of Starnberg to Munich, Ludwig having given him a furnished villa in Brienner Strasse. The royal gardeners transformed an adjoining garden into a pretty park, and he was granted a considerable monthly pension. The intercourse between the friends continued apparently undisturbed; they spent their days in each other’s society, and often remained together half the night. 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. After the first act, however, a great number of those present were so delighted that they could not refrain from recalling Herr and Frau Schnorr von Carolsfeld. No sooner had they done this than hisses were to be heard, though deadened by applause. After the second act the two chief singers were recalled, this time amid unanimous recognition. At eleven o’clock the performance concluded. Once again there was a difference of opinion, and applause and hisses sought for mastery. Herr and Frau Schnorr von Carolsfeld led Wagner on to the stage. He was received with a storm of ovations, though here and there hisses were audible. The King, who had followed the performance with the most strained attention, and who in the third act had been affected to tears, trembled with emotion. He stood up in his box, and clapped enthusiastically.

At last there was quiet; the curtain fell. Wagner’s genius had conquered.

There was not in the whole of Europe a newspaper of any consideration, still less one for the criticism of music, which did not mention this evening. Opinions as to the work were divided, but there was only one opinion as to the excellence of the orchestra under Hans von BÜlow’s leadership and the singing of Ludwig and Malwina Schnorr von Carolsfeld. A Frenchman who was present wrote6: “I doubt that Wagner’s Tristan will ever be popular, for it is not remarkable for clearness and simplicity. On the other hand, musicians will find treasures in it.—I have never been present at an opera which so quickly wearies the attention and which demands such an immense amount of mental strain. But neither do I know any with such lofty and enchanting beauties.

“We must do the young King the justice to allow that without him the representation could never have been possible. He has worked for it with all his might, and Wagner’s triumph is in truth his. Ludwig’s behaviour during the five hours that the opera lasted was likewise a feature in the play. Be sure that this young man will cause the world to talk about him! A Monarch of twenty years more open-minded than his Opposition, whom he drives forward—a King who does not draw back before the highest problems in art is a rare figure in history!”

Wagner received from his royal protector a letter in which was written:

To Hans von BÜlow likewise he expressed his thanks in a flattering letter, which was accompanied by a diamond ring; and he also caused diamond rings to be conveyed to Herr and Frau Schnorr von Carolsfeld, in which souvenirs of the festival were ingeniously set.