end Richard and Cosima drifted together. The censures that still are
passed at times on their conduct are hypocritical and grotesque. The
people who pass them are usually people who think that the Ten
Commandments were made only to be observed by the poorer classes, or
by other people, not themselves, and are willing enough to excuse
offences against the marriage laws when they are committed by folks of
exalted social position. The whole truth about the Richard-Cosima
affair will evidently never be known; no one has told; three of the
four concerned have passed away; and those writers to-day who pretend
to know most are precisely those whom I suspect of knowing least.

The charge of living in luxurious surroundings is well enough
founded--Wagner undoubtedly did love them: he said so himself. What
did the luxury amount to? A few carpets, chairs, a silk dressing-gown,
and sufficient to eat and drink! He certainly worked hard enough for
them and had a right to them. It is odd to think that most of those
who brought these charges against him themselves grasped at as much
luxury as they could get: had King Ludwig spent his money on _them_
there would have been no objections raised, and doubtless they would
have given us _Rings_ and _Mastersingers_. This must be the judgment
of every sane person.

However, Wagner settled peacefully at Triebschen, and remained there
until the Bayreuth idea took solid and visible shape. He completed the
_Mastersingers_ and _Siegfried_, and made progress with the _Dusk of
the Gods_. When Minna died in 1868 he immediately married Cosima. The
idea of what ultimately became Bayreuth took shape. Bayreuth was first
thought of for a very prosaic reason. The town theatre at that time
possessed the largest stage in Germany, and in many respects was far
ahead of every other German theatre, and this drew the attention of
Wagner and his friends to the spot. Various causes combined to make
the idea of giving the first performances of the _Ring_ in this
theatre an utter impracticability, and Wagner reverted to his old pet
idea of building a theatre for himself. An eminent architect,
Gottfried Semper, cheerfully helped at planning a building which
should unite the utmost artistic usefulness with the smallest possible
expense. The house is long out-of-date, but in the 'seventies it
seemed a marvel. The seats were so arranged that every one commanded,
theoretically, the same view of the stage; the stage was