was to cost seven million marks, though it would have made Munich a
festival-place for all Germany, and cultivated society the world over.
The press from day to day printed some fresh calumny. It even assailed
the private character of the artist after a fashion that provoked him
to a very effective public defense. Even very sensible people became
possessed, in an unaccountable manner, with the prevalent idea that
Wagner was destroying Bavaria's prosperity. A not unknown author of
oriental poetry, said ignorantly enough, that it was well such a tramp
was finally to be driven off the street; and a college professor, who,
it is true, had a son, a self-composer in Beethoven's meaning of the
word, and who could therefore have performed all that Wagner did,
added to this the brutal, insolent assertion, "the fellow deserves
to be hanged." At last they prevailed upon the king, to whom this
had been foolsplay, to listen at least to what unprejudiced men
would tell him of public opinion in Bavaria. To the minister and
the police-superintendent were added an esteemed ultra montane
government counselor, an arch bishop and others who were reputed to be
unprejudiced. His reply, "I will show to my dear people that I value
their confidence and love above everything," proves that they finally
succeeded in misleading even the greatest impartiality. The king
himself requested the artist to leave Munich for some time and gave
him an annuity of 15,000 marks. When this had been done, a public
declaration of the principal party in Bavaria showed that the
so-called "displeasure of the people" about political machinations
and the like had been empty talk. Political, social, and artistic
intrigues and base envy alone had given birth to this ghost.

This happened near the close of the year 1865. Wagner again turned to
Switzerland. The king's affection for him had only been increased by
these occurrences. He even visited his friend in his voluntary exile,
who in turn had no more ardent desire than to meet such love with
deeds, and calmly prepared himself again for new work. His longing for
Munich had forever vanished. It is true, some of the nobler citizens
sought to wipe out the disgrace with which the city had covered
itself, by sending a silver wreath to Wagner on his birthday in 1866.
The rejection of Semper's splendid design for the theatre by the
civil-list led his thoughts anew to the wide German fatherland, and he
at once returned to the M