One day my companions, having articles to write, remained at the Hôtel
du Lac, and I arrived alone at Tribschen soon after the two o'clock
dinner, a little fearful of having come, perhaps, too soon. The clear
sky made the lake very blue and the fresh green of the banks mirrored
itself as usual in the tranquil water. I disembarked at the point of
the promontory by the foot of the garden, under the little shed which
sheltered the wooden steps.
As there was neither door, nor doorkeeper, nor bell, I arrived without
giving any signal, and, walking slowly, fearing to find my hosts
still at table, I took the least direct route to the house, through
a charming, very shady path which follows the edge of the lake. It
grows steep very quickly, and the slope which, covered with bushes,
topples down to the water, has the appearance of a picturesque little
precipice, and nothing could be more lovely to see than the stains of
azure made by the lake through the interlacing of the branches. The
children have named this corner, where they are forbidden to go alone,
for fear of the descents, "The Park of Brigands," and they tell long
tales about the adventures which come to pass there after nightfall. At
the moment when I came out from the shelter of the trees, the eldest of
the little girls saw me and came running, signalling to me not to speak
or make any noise. When she reached me, she drew me, without a word,
through clumps of trees where I nearly lost my hat, toward a sort of
little summer-house of verdure, very near the house, where the coffee
had been served. The Master was there, seated on a cane easy-chair,
smoking a cigar; Cosima, standing, peeped through the interstices of
the bushes, and made me a sign to keep silent: but Wagner, looking at
me fiercely, said in a low tone, "What, did you bring all these people?"
"What people?"
Cosima called me, by a gesture, near to her, and from there I could
see why my hosts were keeping so quietly out of sight. A coach full
of tourists had stopped before the steps of the house. A personage
clothed entirely in brown holland, against which appeared the black
cord of a lorgnette, was interviewing the servant. I thought at first
sight that it was a question of some tiresome acquaintance whom they
were endeavouring to get rid of as politely as possible; but I soon
comprehended that these were foreign tourists, entire strangers, who,
with an incredible assurance, insisted upon visiting Richard Wagner.
This excursion was doubtless fitted in between the ascension of the
Righi and the promenade to the Lion of Lucerne. They insisted with
unparallelled impertinence, feigning not to comprehend the assertions
of the servant, prolonging the discussion wilfully, while, in the
little grove near-by, one dared not breathe, for fear of being
discovered. At length Jacob persuaded these intruders that the Master
was absent. The carriage was started again amid the creaking of old
iron, the gravel of the drive crunched under the wheels, and the
vehicle, crowded with green umbrellas, blue veils, and red shawls, went
back down the hill.
"At last we are free!" cried the Master, rising.
"How," said I, "could you believe that I would bring such a rabble
here?"
"You arrived at the same time," said he; "but I ought not to have
suspected you."
"Nor to have given me that terrible look!"
"The look was for the tourists," said he, laughing. "I am simply beset
by the audacity of these strangers," added he. "This scene is very
often repeated. The worst of it is that Jacob is against me. He finds
all these people very distinguished, and cannot understand why I refuse
to see them."
"What a queer situation it would be if one were to receive them. What
would they say, and what attitude of mind would they reveal?"
"They relate a curious anecdote of Goethe with regard to a similar
adventure," said Wagner. "He was so often intruded upon by the
curious in his house in Weimar, that one day, made impatient by the
determination of an unknown Englishman to force an entrance, he
suddenly ordered his servant to show him in. The Englishman entered.
Goethe planted himself erect in the centre of the room, his arms
crossed, his eyes on the ceiling, motionless like a statue.
"Surprised for the moment, the stranger soon comprehended the
situation, and without being in the least disconcerted, he put on his
glasses, walked slowly round Goethe, inspected him from head to foot,
and went out without saluting. It is difficult to say," concluded the
Master, "which of the two showed the keener wit."