Chapter XX

The carriage which was to take Wagner to the railway station, on that Thursday the 2nd September, was to come for me before going to the "Old street of horses," and that before daylight, as the train left at 5.15 in the morning.

This time, all the disciples were to be permitted to see the Master--if only they waked early enough--and it was arranged that they should bid him farewell at the station where, in order not to attract attention, each one was to go singly.

The sun was hardly up and it was still chilly in spite of the season, on that high plateau where Munich is situated, when the old hackney coach, driven by a young coachman in blue and with a Tyrolean hat, carried me through the deserted city streets.

At the sound of the little bells and the wheels of the coach, Richter came down with the handbag; then came Wagner followed by Scheffer.

The Master looked very well, and the serenity of his humour seemed to have increased since the day before.

After we had started, I complimented him upon the strength of mind which sustained him in the face of this disaster, upon his magnanimous resignation, or perhaps, his Olympian scorn.

"Neither the one nor the other!" said he. "I have found my force in the belief that nothing essential, nothing of that which is closest to me, is hurt by this contention. My work, after the impression which it has made upon all of you, who understand me so intimately, must be just what I wished for it, and it soars away intact and free, from amidst the tawdry rubbish with which they try to disguise it.

"There is still another thing; it is that human malignity is no longer able to reach or hurt me deeply across the warm affection and the devotion which surround me. This certainty has comforted me. You see that even here, as I go away, I leave friends. You also know with what anxious tenderness they watch for my arrival at home! Truly, when I think of the past and the despair into which such circumstances as these would have plunged me then, when I had to bear my pain alone, I am able to feel almost joyous. Stop, look at the excellent Richter!" added he with a laugh, "he feels as I do, at twenty-eight he loses a position that a mature man would find it difficult to obtain, and, in place of the downcast countenance he ought to have, he shows us a sincere expression of the most complete satisfaction."

As a matter of fact, sitting opposite the Master, Richter, the golden, gazed at him with an air of utter beatitude.

"It is because Richter, he also," say I, "soars above the 'misérabilités,' he even carries a glorious palm, and, like the martyrs of the Coliseum, he sings thanksgivings while the lions are eating him."

"Verily," cried Richter, "I go, like them, straight to Heaven!"

That was true, for Wagner had "commanded" Richter to go and instal himself at Tribschen and await events there.

As we passed through the Maximilian Square, the Master called attention to a statue with which he was unfamiliar.

"Who is that?" asked he.

"It is Goethe, by Widnmann," responded Scheffer.

Wagner lifted his soft felt hat and said;

"It is a striking likeness!"

Then he added:

"I said that for fun, but I could very well have known Goethe, I must have been about fifteen when he died. However I should be pleased to make you believe that I am younger than Richter!'

"You are younger, Master; the Immortals have no age."

At the station we were all reunited. There were Villiers, Schuré, Servais and others. Wagner took them all cordially by the hand and Richter presented to him Franz Servais, whom he did not yet know, but of whom Liszt had often spoken to him.

The train was in readiness, the compartment chosen, some one arranged the luggage.

The Master, in a boyish humour, sat on the floor of the carriage, in the opening of the door, the step serving for his footstool. We ranged ourselves in a circle, which formed a rampart about him.

I always remember him so under his big gray felt hat, with his luminous blue eyes, his laughing mouth, so finely cut above the prominence of the wilful chin, and the neckerchief of yellow satin which he had crossed over his throat because of the chilly morning air.

He reminded us of our promise to go again and greet him at Tribschen on our way back to Paris. He also invited Servais to go when we did.

"Since they have chased me out of Munich," said Wagner "those who love me have nothing further to keep them here."

"We shall remain only a few days," said I, "to keep an eye on the enemy and to see whether, furious at his defeat, he may not prepare some vengeance."

"Bah! the conqueror saves himself and will be out of reach of his blows. But let it be well understood that I triumph in spite of myself, thanks to the generous defection of Betz, that I did not wish in any case to oppose the will of the King nor to prevent the representation. As for you, Richter, do not forget that I only give you time to go and embrace your mother and to strap your trunks ... and then you must come as fast as possible to Tribschen, where your room is prepared."

Without responding, Richter seized the Master's hand and kissed it.

The heartless whistle of the train interrupted us. We must separate. Wagner rose and stepped into the carriage; the door was closed. Still leaning from the window, he waved his grey hat; the wind scattered the locks of his hair about his splendid forehead, and, as long as the train remained in sight, we continued to signal with our handkerchiefs our latest farewell.