Ludwig's Betrothal
At a court ball which took place during one of the first years of
Ludwig's reign, he said to one of his gentlemen-in-waiting: "There
are many pretty women at my court, are there not?" and added, as his
glance full of tenderness sought the Queen-mother, "but my mother is
the prettiest of them, and the one whom I admire most."
Queen Marie had many good qualities, but though her sons both loved
her, she had no lasting influence on them. She hardly took the
trouble to try to enter into Ludwig's train of thought, or to hide
his weaknesses and peculiarities from others, nor does she seem to
have had the ability to understand his strange and composite nature.
As we are aware, the young King took great interest in art and
literature. At the beginning of his reign he endeavoured to influence
the Queen's taste; but when he talked to her about books, inquired
her opinion of this or that work, she would usually answer: "I never
read anything!--I cannot understand why people should always want to
be reading." Ludwig regarded her want of understanding as an indirect
reproach to himself; and his disappointment in her had a depressing
effect upon him. Both mother and son were fond of a country life. Both
had a particular affection for Hohenschwangau. The Queen-mother had
spent her happy married life at this place: the King's best childish
memories were connected with the castle. But even this similarity of
taste gave rise to disagreements. Whereas Ludwig infinitely preferred
to be alone at Hohenschwangau, the Queen-mother preferred to collect
people around her. While her thrifty mind was able to content itself
with a bunch of Alpine roses, picked by herself, the King required
gardens and parks, created by art. Life within the family circle,
however, went on in very much the same manner as in the lifetime of
her husband: Queen Marie retained her housewifely habits, and the
King and Prince Otto shared her life at the royal summer residences
in the vicinity of the capital.
King Maximilian had built a Swiss châlet, "Pleckenau," some
little distance above the Marienbrücke, and about five miles from
Hohenschwangau. During the first years of her widowhood Queen Marie
regularly used this house as a resting-place on her trips in the
neighbourhood, and as an object for small excursions. Ludwig and Otto,
with their attendants, would come out and spend quiet evenings with
her. The King's nineteenth birthday was celebrated at Pleckenau. A meal
was partaken of in the garden, and the utmost gaiety prevailed. "All
the same," said the Queen, "something is wanting to increase the
pleasure of the day." She looked inquiringly round the circle to see
if no one guessed her thoughts. As she nodded at the same time to
Ludwig, he said:
"You mean music, mamma! We will have some later!"
"I mean something else," answered his mother, "something that we want
particularly to-day!"
Prince Otto, then sixteen years old, suddenly called out:
"I know, mamma!"
"What is it, then?"
"Your spinning-wheel!"
Those present were vastly entertained at the Prince's answer, for
the Queen-mother's weakness for practical occupations was the object
of much amusement. This time, however, her thoughts had carried her
in another direction. She confided to the circle that she had been
thinking of a fiancée for the King.
Despite Ludwig's youth, not only his mother, but also his people had
begun to occupy themselves with the emotional side of his nature. His
love of the mountains and their solitude had caused a rumour to become
current that a postmaster's or ranger's daughter in Schliersee had
taken possession of his heart. This report was entirely without
foundation. Apart from his mother and her court ladies, his old
nurse and his governess, he had before his accession hardly come in
contact with women. As the young King he was amiable and courteous,
but exceedingly retiring in his behaviour towards them. It was perhaps
for the very reason of this retiring attitude that he set flame to a
countless number of hearts. Many ladies wore lockets containing some
souvenir of him; such, for instance, as a flower his foot had trodden
on, or some of the hairs of his riding-horse. [10]
Some years passed by after the above-mentioned birthday party
took place, and still the wish of the Queen-mother and the people
was ungratified. The Empress of Russia's matrimonial project had
become known, had been much discussed, and had again been nearly
forgotten. The King was now twenty-two years of age.
The world was at this juncture surprised by the announcement that
he was engaged to be married to his cousin, the Duchess Sophie
Charlotte. She was young, pretty, well-educated, very musical, and the
possessor of a fine voice. In defiance of the feeling against him which
prevailed at court, she had openly shown her admiration for Richard
Wagner, and was usually present at the Hof Theater when his works
were performed. Ludwig looked forward to finding in her an ally in
the struggle for his friend. Although the cousins were on a friendly
footing, their mutual relations had never given any ground to suppose
that a matrimonial alliance between them would ever come about. The
evening before the report was circulated there had been a ball in the
"Museum," at which Ludwig had been present. The young ladies belonging
to the court had been remarkable for their charming dresses. Sophie,
in particular, had displayed all the magic of her beauty.
At six o'clock the next morning the King hastened to his mother,
and requested her, in his name, to ask the Duchess's hand.
Queen Marie had since her marriage been on terms of warm friendship
with the young Duchess's parents and their family. She was pleased at
her son's prompt decision. She drove in the early morning hours to the
palace of Duke Max and the Duchess Ludovica. Nothing had occurred
to prepare the Duke or his wife for what was about to happen,
but they were proud at the unexpected offer of marriage. One of
their daughters was an empress, [11] they had seen another of their
daughters a queen. [12]; now the youngest of them, and the one nearest
her mother's heart, would have her place on the throne of Bavaria. The
young Duchess, too, gave her consent without hesitation. Eye-witnesses
have, however, declared that her face, otherwise so fresh, became
exceedingly pale when she promised the Queen-mother to marry her
son. At nine o'clock Ludwig himself arrived. An hour later the formal
engagement was celebrated.
The news, which was rapidly spread through the capital on this
morning, became certainty in the evening. On the 22nd of January,
1867, there was given at the Hof Theater a new play by Benedix. The
King was present at the performance. After the conclusion of the
first act, the Queen-mother came in. She and her son walked across
to the ducal box, where Sophie was sitting with her youngest brother,
and together they fetched the young girl to the "Imperial box," where
she seated herself between the two. There are still alive in Munich
elderly persons who remember the memorable night when the Princess
walked in on Ludwig's arm, and gracefully bowed to the public.
The Duchess was born on the 22nd of February, 1847. She was often to be
seen in the Bavarian national costume, which was very becoming to her;
and she was considered by many to be better-looking than the Empress
Elizabeth, who was celebrated for her beauty. A light blue dress of
silk clung this evening to her slender figure. Her hair, which was
almost too thick and abundant, was dressed in plaits. Her face was
radiant and pure. A pair of unfathomable blue eyes, with dark lashes,
looked up at the King.
On the 29th of January the engagement was officially announced to
the Chamber, which voted an address of congratulation. It concluded
with the following words: "May all the blessings which a married
life can give grow forth in abundance from the alliance which it
is your Majesty's intention to contract, to the happiness of your
Majesty, to the prosperity of the royal house, to the blessing of
the country!" The deputation was not granted an audience; it had to
content itself with congratulating Ludwig and his betrothed on the
6th of February at a court ball.
The country was surprised at the King's choice; no one could understand
why he had so suddenly taken this decision. The news was received with
sympathy, but at first without real enthusiasm. The three former Kings
of Bavaria had had Protestant wives, and the Protestant part of the
population would have preferred Ludwig to make a similar choice. In
the capital itself, however, people were very well satisfied. As
he had in no way been influenced, and as there could be no political
grounds for a marriage with a member of the royal house, it was assumed
that inclination alone had dictated his proposal; and this assumption
seemed in accord with his leaning towards the romantic. It was hoped,
moreover, that the marriage would chase away his love of solitude,
which had already begun to show itself, and also that the court would
gain in brilliancy.
Ludwig understood how to throw glamour on his alliance; and, little by
little, people began to show interest in his bride. Double portraits
of the young couple were to be seen everywhere; and men and women of
the populace would stand for hours in pouring rain to catch a glimpse
of the Duchess. During the Carnival the young Monarch gave a series of
balls; and on the 28th of February the engaged couple were present at
an entertainment given in their honour by the Minister of the Royal
House and of Foreign Affairs, Prince Hohenlohe. On the 23rd of March
they took part in a masquerade at the Casino.
The King appointed the 12th of October as the day of his wedding;
both his father and grandfather had been married on that day. On
the occasion of Maximilian II.'s marriage, a respectable couple in
poor circumstances, chosen from each of the provinces of the kingdom,
had been given 1000 guldens from the royal exchequer. It was decided
that a similar sum should be distributed on Ludwig's marriage. In all
circles of society and all parts of the kingdom wedding presents were
in course of preparation. The city of Munich built a coach decorated
with cupids, which cost 100,000 guldens. The Palatinate sent some
fine horses from the noted stud of Zweibrücken, and a cask of noble
wine. In the royal Palace the so-called garden suite was fitted up
for the reception of the future Queen. This had formerly been used by
Ludwig I. and Maximilian II.; but Ludwig intended to retain his old
apartments, which were situated above those destined for Sophie. The
painted ceiling in the vestibule, which dates from the seventeenth
century, was tastefully restored; and the Palace was soon brilliant
with truly royal lustre. In the chief workshops of the city workmen
were designing, hammering, carving, and forging household utensils
and articles of ornament. Commemorative medals were struck bearing
the heads of the King and his bride, and the most skilful engravers of
the country drew the young Duchess, in order that her picture might be
spread abroad on the marriage day in hundreds of thousands of copies.
Ludwig I. was still alive: the news of the betrothal reached him in
Italy. He was pleased at this marriage between his sister's youngest
daughter and his grandson. Shortly before he had seen at Pompeii
a fresco depicting Venus and Adonis, and having thought to find a
likeness between Ludwig and the beautiful youth, he now embodied his
idea and good wishes in some verses which referred to the aforesaid
picture. They conclude thus:--
"Des Lebens Höchstes haben sie erworben.
Nie werde durch die Welt dein Glück verdorben,
Nie heisse es: die Liebe ist gestorben!"
The King had asked the hand of his cousin in a moment of infatuation;
but it was not the fire of his senses which burned within him: his
feelings were the joy of the artist at the sight of beauty. More
than one trustworthy chronicler of the events of this time has hinted
that the Duchess had a serious inclination for another, and that it
was the desire of her parents for the marriage with her cousin which
influenced her decision in favour of it. Although Ludwig was hardly
her first love it was impossible that she could have been insensible to
his beauty, which fascinated all women, or to the charm of his manner
and personality when in his best moods. All who knew Sophie as a girl
speak enthusiastically of her liveliness and buoyancy. Her goodness of
heart was also praised, though this did not exclude a light vein of
mockery. She was gay; but she was, nevertheless, haughty and proud,
and there is hardly any ground to doubt that she was tempted by the
brilliance of a royal crown.
Early in the spring the ducal family went out to Possenhofen, and
Ludwig at the same time took up his residence at the château of
Berg. His little yacht, the Tristan, often bore him to the house of
his betrothed, where he was in the habit of spending the evenings. He
showered costly presents on Sophie. Every morning the royal lover
rode round the Starnberger See to offer her in person a bunch of
roses. If he came too early he gave the bouquet to her waiting-maid;
and on the way back from his ride, stopped to see the Duchess. Thus
weeks and months passed by. The idyll had not apparently suffered any
break. It was Ludwig's hope that his future wife would be the friend of
his loneliness. He talked often to her of Richard Wagner, whom he loved
so dearly. He recited to her poems, ancient and modern, and scenes from
Schiller's dramatic works. She listened at first with pleasure to his
declamations and outpourings; but at length grew tired of them. The
King was of a suspicious nature; he suspected Sophie and himself. He
sent her notes and presents in the middle of the night, exacting
long letters of thanks by the returning messenger. If she forgot to
fulfil a single wish of his he was sulky for days. Unwarrantable
fits of violence alternated with profound melancholy. He suffered
from headache; and his excited nerves required solitude. After the
intoxication of the first few weeks was past, his betrothed saw in
him a total stranger. His extraordinary caprices gave her anxiety; and
his intellectual life was a closed book to her superficial nature. If
she was wanting in the ability to follow his flights of fancy, he
on his side was incapable of satisfying her need for love. There
was in the whole of this connection something which was artificial,
and which did not ring true. The Duchess had a hasty temper. The
restless state of mind induced in her by his changing moods made her
capricious and unable to govern herself. Misunderstandings which at
first had gone unheeded, began to arise between the young couple;
disagreements separated them still more from one another. Long before
Sophie knew for certain that the engagement would be broken off,
a presentiment must have warned her that it could not possibly endure.