I arrived in Bayreuth on a lovely May day， and took rooms at the Hotel of the Black Eagle（Schwarz Adier）。 One of these was large enough to work in， and I installed a piano。Every day I received a little word from Frau Cosima， asking me to lunch or dinner， or to spend the evening at Villa Wahnfried， where hospitality was dispensed in a regal manner。Each day there were at least fifteen or more people to lunch。Frau Cosima， at the head of the table， presided with dignity， and with equal tact， for among her guests were included the greatest minds in Germany， artists and musicians， often Grand Dukes and Duchesses or Royal personages from all countries。
The tomb of Richard Wagner is in the garden of Villa Wahnfried and can be seen from the library windows。 After lunch Frau Wagner took my arm， and we walked out into the garden， around the tomb。It was a promenade in which Frau Cosima conversed in tones of sweet melancholy and mystic hope。
In the evening there were often quartettes， in which each instrument was played by a celebrated virtuoso。 The great figure of Hans Richter， the slight silhouette of Karl Muck， the charming Motti， Humperdinck， and Heinrich Thode， every artist of that time was received at Villa Wabnfried with equal kindness。
I was very proud that I should be admitted， in my little white tunic， to a galaxy of such distinguished and brilliant personages。 I began to study the music of Tannh？user， that music which expresses all the frenzy of voluptuous longing of a cerebrale—for always this bacchanal takes place within the brain of Tannh？user。The closed grotto of the satyrs and the nymphs and Venus was the closed grotto of Wagner’s mind， exasperated by the continual longing for a sensual outlet which he could find only within his own imagination。
Of this bacchanal he wrote：
“I am only able to give you a vague indication， only an indefinite sketch of what most dancers will be later on—masses rushing like whirlwinds in rhythms caught up by mad waves of this music， fowing with fantastic sensuality and ecstasy。 If， with my force alone， I have the courage to dare a similar undertaking， it is because all that belongs to the domain of pure imagination。These are only the visions of Tannhauser sleeping in the arms of Venus。
“In order to realise these dreams， a single gesture of appeal will be able to evoke a thousand extended arms， a single head tossed back will represent a bacchantic tumult which is the expression of burning passion in the blood of Tannh？user。
“It seems to me that in this music is concentrated the un？satisfied senses， the mad longing， the passionate languor；in short， the whole cry of desire in the world。
“Can all this be expressed？Do not these visions exist only in the infamed imagination of the composer， and can they be clothed in a manifested form？
“Why try this impossible efort？I repeat， I do not fulfil it， I only indicate it。
“And when these terrible desires arrive at paroxysm， when they attain the point where， breaking all the barriers， they rush forward like an irresistible torrent， I cover the scene with mists so that each one in his own way without seeing， can realise the denouement in his imagination， which only outstrips any concrete vision。
“After this explosion and destruction， after this accomplishment which destroys in accomplishing， after all this comes peace。
“These are the Three Graces embodying the calm， the languor of satisfied amorous sensuality。 In the dream of Tannh？user they are interlaced and separated and， joining themselves together， become alternately unified and parted。They sing of the loves of Zeus。
“They tell of his adventures， of Europa carried over the waves。 Their heads incline with love。They are inundated， they are drowned in the desire of Leda in love with the white swan。Thus they order Tannhauser to repose in the whiteness of Venus's arms。
“Is it necessary to place before the eyes the gross representations of these visions？Do you not prefer， in peering into hazy space， to see Europa， one thin arm thrown round the neck of the large bull（she pressing thegod to her）and waving to her companions， calling her from the river？bank， a final gesture of farewell？
“Would you not prefer to look into the shadows to see Leda， half covered by the wings of the swan， shivering before the approaching kiss？
“Perhaps you will reply，‘Yes；why are you there？'I will tell you simply—‘I may indicate。'”
From morning to evening， in the red brick temple on the hill， I attended all the rehearsals， awaiting the first perfor？mance。 Tannh？user， The Ring， Parsifal—until I was in a constant state of intoxication from music。To understand them better， I learned all the text of the operas by heart， so that my mind was saturated with these legends， and my being was vibrating with the waves of Wagner’s melody。I reached that state where all the outward world seemed cold， shadowy， and unreal， and the only reality for me was what took place in the theatre。One day I was the blonde Segelinde， lying in the arms of her brother Sigmund， while the glorious spring song rose and throbbed。
Frühling Zeit， Liebe Tanz……
Tanze Liebe。
Next， I was Brünnhilde weeping her lost Godhead， and again， Kundry， uttering wild appreciation under the spell of Klingsor。But the supreme experience was when my soul arose， all trembling in the blood？lit goblet of the Grail。Such enchantment！Ah， I had indeed forgotten the Wise， Blue？eyed Athena and her Temple of Perfect Beauty on the hill of Athens。That other Temple on the hill of Bayreuth， with its waves and reverberations of magic， had entirely obliterated Athena’s Temple。
The Hotel Black Eagle was crowded and uncomfortable。 One day， in my wanderings about the gardens of the Hermitage， built by the mad Ludwig of Bavaria， I discovered an old stone house of exquisite architecture。It was the ancient hunting？lodge of the Margrave。It contained a very large and beautifully proportioned livingroom， and old marble steps leading down to a romantic garden。It was in a state of terrible disrepair， inhabited by a large family of peasants， who had lived there for twenty years or so。I ofered them a fabulous sum to leave， at least for the summer。Then I started painters and carpenters to work， had all the inside walls plastered and coloured a light， tender green；flew up to Berlin and ordered couches， cushions， deep wicker chairs and books。And， finally， I took possession of Phillip’s Ruhe， as the hunting？lodge was called—Phillip’s Rest。Afterwards I always thought of it as Heinrich’s Himmel。
I was alone in Bayreuth。 Mother and Elizabeth were summering in Switzerland。Raymond had returned to his beloved Athens to continue to build Kopanos。He sent me frequent telegrams reading“Artesian well progressing。Sure of water next week。Send funds。”This went on until the accumulated expense of Kopanos took on such proportions as to fairly stagger me。
In the two years which had elapsed since Budapest I hadlived chastely， relapsing， in a curious manner， to the state in which I was as a virgin。 Every atom of my being， brain， and body had been absorbed in enthusiasm for Greece and， now， for Richard Wagner。I slept lightly and awoke singing the themes which I had studied the evening before。But Love was to awaken again within me， though in a very different form。Or was it the same Eros， only in another mask？
My friend Mary and I were alone in Phillip's Ruhe， for， as there was no servants'room， the valet and cook boarded in a small inn near by。 One night Mary called to me：“Isadora， I don't mean to frighten you， but come to the window。There， opposite， beneath a tree， every night after midnight that man looks up at your window。I'm afraid it's a burglar with evil intentions。”
Sure enough a small， slight man under a tree stood looking at my window。 I shivered with apprehension， but， suddenly the moon came out and lit up his face。Mary clutched me。We had both seen the exalted， uplifted visage of Heinrich Thode。We drew back from the window。I confess we were overcome with a fit of typical schoolgirl giggles—perhaps a reaction from the first fear。
“For a week he has been there like that every night，”whispered Mary。
I told Mary to wait。 I put on my coat over my nightdress and ran lightly out of the house， straight up to where Heinrich Thode stood。
“Lieber， treuer Freund，”I said，“liebst du mich so？”
“Ja， ja—”he stammered。“Du bist mein Traum。 Du meine Santa Clara。”
I did not know it then， but afterwards he told me he was writing his second great work， on the life of St。 Francis。His first had been the life of Michael Angelo。Thode， like all great artists， lived in the moment's imagination of his work。At this moment he was St。Francis， and he imagined me as Santa Clara。
I took his hand and drew him gently up the stairs， into the villa， but he was like a man in a dream， and regarded me with eyes filled with prayer and light。 As I returned his gaze， suddenly I was uplifted and， with him， traversed heavenly spheres or paths of shining light。Such exquisite ecstasy of love I had never felt before。It transformed my being， which became all luminous。After that gaze had lasted a while—I don't know how long in actual time—I felt weak and dizzy。All my senses swooned， and， with an indescribable feeling of perfect bliss， I fainted in his arms。When I awoke those wonderful eyes were still gazing into mine， and softly he quoted：
“Im Gluth mich Liebe senkte
Im Gluth mich Liebe senkte！”
Again I experienced that transcendental， ethereal feeling of fight into the heavens。 Thode leaned forward and kissed my eyes， my forehead；but these were not kisses of any earthly passion。Difcult as certain sceptics will fnd it tobelieve， it is nevertheless true that neither this night， until we parted at dawn， nor on each following night， when he came to the villa， did Thode make one gesture of earthly force toward me。Always that luminous gaze， until， looking into his eyes， all faded around me and my spirit took wings on those astral fights with him。Nor did I wish for an earthly expression from him。My senses， which had slept for two years， were completely transformed into an ethereal ecstasy。
The rehearsal at Bayreuth began。 With Thode I sat in the darkened theatre and listened to the frst notes of the Prelude of Parsifal。The feeling of delight through all my nerves became so poignant that the slightest touch of his arm sent such thrills of ecstasy through me that I turned sick and faint， with the sweet， gnawing， painful pleasure。It revolved in my head like a thousand whirls of myriad lights。It throbbed in my throat with such joy that I wanted to cry out。Often I felt his slight hand pressed over my lips to silence the sighs and little groans that I could not control。It was as if every nerve in my body arrived at that climax of love which is generally limited to the instant；and hummed with such insistence that I hardly knew whether it was utter joy or horrible suffering。My state partook of both， and I longed to cry out with Amfortas， to shriek with Kundry。
Each night Thode came to Phillip's Ruhe。 He never caressed me as a lover， never sought even to undo my tunic or touch my breasts or my body in any way， although he knew that every pulse of it belonged only to him。EmotionsI had not known to exist awoke under the gaze of his eyes。Sensations so esctatic and terrible that I often felt the pleasure was killing me， and fainted away， to awaken again to the light of those wonderful eyes。He so completely possessed my soul that it seemed it was only possible to gaze into his eyes and long for death。For there was not， as in earthly love， any satisfaction or rest， but always this delirious thirst for a point that I required。
I completely lost my appetite for food， and even for sleep。 Only the music of Parsifal brought me to the point where I dissolved into tears and wept， and that seemed to give some relief from this exquisite and terrible state of loving which I had then entered。
The spiritual will of Heinrich Thode was so strong that from these wild nights of ecstasy and fainting bliss， he could， when he pleased， awaken the attention of pure intelligence， and， in the brilliance of these hours， when he discoursed to me on Art， I can only compare him to one other in the world—Gabriel d'Ann unzio。 Tbode， in a way， resembled D'Annunzio。He was small of stature， with a wide mouth and strange green eyes。
Each day he brought me parts of his manuscript， St。 Francis。He read me each chapter as he wrote it。He also read me the entire Divine Comedy of Dante from beginning to end。These readings occupied the hours far into the night， to the dawn。Often he left Phillip's Ruhe at sunrise。He staggered like a drunken man， although he had wet his lips with nothing but pure water during the reading。He was simply intoxicated with the divine essence of his supreme intelligence。On one of these mornings， as he was leaving Phillip's Ruhe， he grasped my arm in terror。
“I see Frau Cosima coming up the road！”
Sure enough， there， in the early morning light， Frau Cosima appeared。 She was pale， and I would have thought wrathful。But this was not the case。We had had a dispute the day before about the meaning which I had put into my dance of the Three Graces of the bacchanal of Tannh？user。That night， not being able to sleep， Frau Cosima had been turning over souvenirs， and had found among the writings of Richard Wagner a small copy？book containing a description， more accurate than any yet published， of what he had meant by this Dance of the Bacchanal。
The dear woman had not been able to wait， but came to me at daybreak to acknowledge that I was right。 Not only this but， shaken and agitated， she said，“My dear child， you are surely inspired by the Master himself。See what he has written。It coincides exactly with your intuition。Hereafter， I will never interfere， but will give you free rein over the dance in Bayreuth。”
I suppose it was at this time that there was the idea in Frau Cosima's mind that I should perhaps marry Siegfried， and carry on with him the Master's tradition。 But indeed， Siegfried， although he looked upon me with brotherly affection and was always my friend， had never the ghost of anything which hinted at being my lover。As for me， my whole being was absorbed with the super？human love ofHeinrich Thode， and I did not realise at that time what might have been of value for me in this combination。
My soul was like a battlefield where Apollo， Dionysus， Christ， Nietzsche， and Richard Wagner disputed the ground。 At Bayreuth I was bufeted between Venusberg and the Grail。I was taken up， swept along， carried away in the foods of Wagner's music， and yet， one day during luncheon at Villa Wahnfried， I calmly announced：
“Der Meister hat einen fehler gemacht， eben so grosse wie seine Genie。”
Frau Cosima fixed me with startled eyes。 There was an icy silence。
“Yes，”I continued， with extraordinary assurance which belongs to extreme youth，“der Grosse Meister hat einen grossen fehler gemacht。 Die Musik？drama， das ist doch ein unsinn。”
The silence grew more and more troubled。 I further explained that drama is the spoken word。The spoken word was born from the brain of man。Music is the lyric ecstasy。To expect a possible union between them is unthinkable。
I had uttered such blasphemy that nothing further was possible。 I gazed innocently around me， to meet expressive visages of absolute consternation。I had said the untenable。“Yes，”I continued，“man must speak， then sing， then dance。But the speaking is the brain， the thinking man。The singing is the emotion。The dancing is the Dionysian ecstasy which carries away all。It is impossible to mix in any way one with the other。Musik？Drama kann nie sein。”
I am glad that I was young in a day when people were not so self？conscious as they are now；when they were not such haters of Life and Pleasure。In the entr’acte of Parsifal people tranquilly drank beer， but this did not interfere with their intellectual and spiritual life。I often saw the great Hans Richter calmly drinking beer and eating sausages， which did not prevent him later from conducting like a demi？god， nor did it hinder the people around him from carrying on a conversation of the highest intellectual and spiritual significance。
In those days， too， thinness was not equivalent to spirituality。 People realised that the human spirit is something that works upward and is unfolded through tremendous energy and vitality。The brain， after all， is but the superfluous energy of the body。The body， like an octopus， will absorb everything it meets， and only give to the brain what it finds unnecessary for itself。
Many of the singers of Bayreuth were of enormous stature， but when they opened their mouths their voices issued forth into the world of spirit and beauty where live the eternal gods。 This was the reason why I maintained that these people were unconscious of their bodies， which were probably， for them， but masks of tremendous energy and power to express their god？like music。
