It was the 25th of August, anniversary day of the birth of King Ludwig
II. Munich was adorned with flags, and its regiments marched in full
dress uniforms of sky blue. We had heard one of their bands play
before the Royal Palace the very "Huldigung-Marsch"--which I had so
laboriously deciphered at four hands with Wagner. The King was not in
Munich, but would come in time to be present at the dress rehearsal
of the _Rheingold_, which was to take place on Friday the 27th of
August--two days later.
Ludwig II., who was adored by his people, did not seek for ovations.
On the contrary, he avoided them as often as possible, and thereby
greatly disappointed the Bavarian people, who were always eager to see
him and were so rarely gratified!
It appeared indeed, that all the young girls of the kingdom, and even
perhaps, all the women, were in love with their youthful and charming
sovereign; but he was haughty and reserved by nature, and in the
wonderful locations which he had chosen for his castles he lived almost
alone, surrounded by the splendours of art and the beauties of Nature.
This, however, did not prevent him from fulfilling his duties as king;
he had according to custom inaugurated the International Exposition of
Painting, and had left the city the same day. Very few would have the
opportunity of seeing him when he should return to hear the work of his
great friend.
I, too, was born on the 25th of August, the day of St Ludwig the king,
so it was also my fête-day. I had told Cosima this fact because of my
vain-glory in possessing something in common with the royal archangel.
To my great surprise, she remembered it and sent me a charming parasol,
of a new model, which they called, "Sea-side parasol," the novelty
consisting in the fact that it could also be used as a cane. So, in
promenading through Maximilianstrasse, I liked better to lean upon my
parasol than to open it and shelter myself from the sun.
Many pilgrims were to be seen in Munich, come from all sides to hear
the _Rheingold_. Among them were pointed out to us, Madame Pauline
Viardot, Saint-Saëns, Tourguenef, Baron von Leon, manager of the
theatre at Weimar, and many others whom I have forgotten.
We were all very nervous and excited. Only two days more! Would
everything be ready? Hans Richter could not conceal his disquietude,
so many things about the conduct of the manager seemed to him to be
ambiguous.
"Perfall will not allow anything to be seen of his stage arrangements,"
said he, "but he has the expression of a traitor."
"Perfall, Perfide!"
One would have said that the labours of the Cyclops were taking place
behind the walls of the long closed theatre. There were rumours of
steam engines, hoisted upon the stage by means of lifting machines and
pulleys. For what purpose? Truly it was very terrifying; what would
come of all this mystery?
In any case Richter was sure of his orchestra. It was he, who like St
Christoper with the child Jesus, would bear the whole weight of the
undertaking upon his robust shoulders.