The King goes to Paris--Disharmonies between the Engaged Couple--Ludwig
meets the Emperor Napoleon and the Empress Eugénie in Augsburg--The
King breaks his Promise of Marriage
In the midst of the preparations for the wedding the King made
several journeys. At the beginning of June he went with Prince Otto
to Eisenach, in order to see Wartburg. Later in the summer he went
to Paris, where an International Exhibition was going on.
The Paris paper La Situation had long in advance announced that the
King of Bavaria would visit that city. His arrival was looked upon as
an event which might be of political importance. Although he at once
paid a visit at the Tuileries, he made no secret of the fact that he
had come to France as a private gentleman, and wished to preserve
the strictest incognito. The Empress Eugénie was in England; but
Napoleon received him as an honoured and welcome guest. He invited
him to his magnificently restored palace in the Bois de Compiègne,
where a review of troops was held in his honour. At the lunch which
followed this there were present the King of Portugal and Prince
Anton of Hohenzollern-Siegmaringen and his son, the Hereditary Prince
Leopold, whose candidature for the Spanish throne three years later
caused Napoleon to risk his crown.
The King of Bavaria appreciated but little the pleasures of the
Imperial court. He spent the greater number of his evenings at the
"Grand Opera" and the "Theâtre Lyrique." The chief part of the day
he spent in the Exhibition, where the sections devoted to art and
education particularly attracted his attention. It was his design to
remain in the French capital until the Empress Eugénie's return. His
visit was, however, cut short by the news that his father's brother
Otto, the former King of Greece, had died at the castle of Bamberg,
where he had passed his latter years. Ludwig hurried back to Munich,
and was present on the 30th of July at his uncle's interment.
The business houses of the capital were meanwhile at work on wedding
gifts for their King. Letters and presents continued to be exchanged
between the engaged couple; and nothing hinted to the outer world
that storm-clouds had arisen. In the month of August Napoleon and
Eugénie came from Paris to Salzburg, to meet the Emperor and Empress
of Austria. They stopped a day in Augsburg. Napoleon in his youth
had been a pupil at the College of St Anna in that town, and wished
to revisit well-known spots. Ludwig met the Emperor and Empress
at Augsburg and accompanied them to Munich, where the Queen-mother
received the august travellers. The tie between the engaged couple
seemed far as yet from being loosened; the King presented Sophie to
the Empress, who heartily kissed both the young people.
Still Ludwig continued his rides along the shores of the lake of
Starnberg.
One morning he stopped earlier than usual outside Possenhofen with
his bunch of flowers. As usual he went up to the ground floor of the
castle. At the top step he met a lady's-maid, who rushed past him, and
at the same moment a washing-basin was flung after the fugitive. The
water streamed out of it just as his Majesty was setting his foot on
the threshold. Near-sighted as he was, Ludwig nevertheless saw who
was the cause of this scene: his betrothed, who rapidly disappeared
behind the next door, looked at this moment more like a Fury than
a Venus! He stood a moment aghast; then hurried down, swung himself
into the saddle, and rode rapidly away. He was expected in vain that
evening at Possenhofen.
Judging by the later development of Ludwig's character, it is probable
that a marriage between him and Sophie would never have come about. The
scene above described meanwhile hastened on the break. Autumn was
at hand, and the day appointed for the marriage drawing near. The
wedding coach was ready, eight splendid horses having been bought to
draw it. The new Queen's court had been appointed. The programme of
the marriage ceremonies had been made out by the court officials and
submitted to his Majesty for approval. All the preparations respecting
the court entertainments and popular rejoicings with which the alliance
was to be celebrated had been made.
Then one day in September the Minister of the Royal House and
Foreign Affairs, Prince Hohenlohe, received a letter in the royal
handwriting. [13] "Here is some news for you," said he to his
secretary, handing him the letter. Ludwig briefly informed the
Minister that he had decided not to marry the Duchess. He left it
to the Prince's well-known diplomacy to arrange the matter to mutual
satisfaction. Hohenlohe at once asked for an audience with the King;
but he was informed that his Majesty had left for the highlands a
quarter of an hour earlier; his plans were unknown, and his return
uncertain.
"This," observed the Prince, shrugging his shoulders, "is evidently
a fixed determination. At any rate, it is better than setting me a
year hence to bring about a separation."
"But there is absolutely no reason for the King's step," remarked
the secretary.
"For that very reason matters must be arranged in such a manner that
she may find a pretext for withdrawing. Go at once to the mint and
order them to stop striking the marriage medal," answered Hohenlohe
resolutely.
It was first officially announced that the day of the wedding was
postponed, but that the alliance was by no means broken off. Duke Max
asked in the name of his daughter when the marriage was to take place;
and on his request that a time should be appointed, was informed that
"this was impossible on account of the King's state of health." The
answer gave the ducal house a reasonable pretext for declaring that
they would "in such circumstances prefer to consider the engagement at
an end." The King received this declaration "with the deepest regret."
The rupture was hardly so unexpected by the general public as the
engagement had been; for, thanks to Hohenlohe's care, the public mind
had been prepared. Nevertheless, the event was for long a standing
subject of conversation. Opportunity had been given for the most varied
surmises, and stories and hints were not lacking. Some sought the
reason in a mutual want of sympathy. Others knew better, affirmed that
the Duchess loved another, and that the King had discovered this fact.
But all were loath to think that their beloved Ludwig was in any way
to blame in the matter.
Sophie's reputation was hardly treated. Gossips and court sycophants
threw suspicion on her. Disparaging and marvellous accounts of her
conduct were circulated, and were never lived down. It is little to
the King's honour that he never took any step whatever to do justice to
the woman he had wished to make his wife and the Queen of his kingdom.