The Master asked me if I knew the Military March he had dedicated to
the King of Bavaria. He had on his piano a copy of this piece, arranged
for four hands.
"Let us play it," said he. "But I warn you that I play the piano very
badly."
What of my playing, then! But I felt that I must not disclose my
weakness, that, at any cost, this wonderful, rare moment must be
enshrined in my memory:--to have played a duet with Richard Wagner, if
it were only a few bars!
He took the upper part, and as the bass is more difficult for me, that
made the matter worse. But I seated myself courageously, mentally
determined to make every effort of which I was capable.
We began to play, without stumbling. I felt as though I were a
somnambulist walking on a narrow ledge, and I seemed to have been doing
so for a very long time.
But at last, on the third page, Wagner himself hesitated and then
stopped, declaring that part too difficult.
"How well you keep the time!" he exclaimed. And then he complimented me
upon my way of rolling the _tremolos_. That particular merit was most
assuredly brought to light by the emotion of the moment, as I had never
known of it before.
My _tremolo_, moreover, remained celebrated at Tribschen--and even
at Wahnfried--for I have lived upon my reputation, and, despite all
solicitations, I have never risked attempting it again.
Wagner made me a present of that copy of the Cavalry March which I had
so anxiously deciphered, and he wrote above the first line:
"À Cheval! À Quatre Mains."