After the Parting with Sophie--Episodes from the King's Excursions
in the Highlands
Though Ludwig's initiative had dictated the rupture with Sophie, it
is certain that at the end the parting was not easy to him, and that
it was not without influence on his future life. A marked change in
his manner took place from this time.
Immediately after this event he retired to his most secluded castle. He
was free, but he was not happy. He became more suspicious and shy
than before; and it was plain to all that he was harassed by inward
disquiet. His good relations with the ducal house were, of course,
destroyed. He had not a single real friend, not one person in his
entourage with whom he could talk confidentially. The break cast a
deep shadow even over his relations with his mother. She avoided him,
in her disappointment and anger, instead of endeavouring to win his
confidence and help him in his mental struggles, and his love of
solitude increased with his bitterness at her coldness.
Duties, however, called him back to his capital; by New Year 1868 he
was again in Munich. The people showed signs of pleasure at having him
amongst them once more; the windows of the Residenz were lighted up on
the dark winter evenings, crowds of the curious besieged the entrances,
admired the vestibules and staircases, which were filled with flowers,
and listened to the music as they caught snatches of it from inside.
The King was holding court; he gave concerts and balls. The
festivities, however, were short-lived: Ludwig I. died at Nice. All
entertainments were cancelled; and again the troubled man was able
to retire from the world. Those, and there were many, who desired an
audience of him were compelled to put their patience to the proof,
and in the end the greater number of these aspirants had to take their
departure without having been granted one. Even here, in retirement,
he was unaccountable. He refused foreign potentates the sight of his
magnificent palaces and winter gardens; but took round one of them a
Swiss student, and showed him all its beauties. He was caprice itself,
unaccountable as the most changeable of women. One day he would be
affable, the next inaccessible and silent. These qualities, however,
were chiefly apparent in his relations with the heads of society. Among
the peasantry he was amiable and straightforward; and he retained his
popularity among the working classes to the end of his reign. The
country people round about those places where he chiefly resided
to this day tell many charming stories of him. Thus a gentleman who
was touring in the mountains came one day to Hohenschwangau. As he
was wandering about in the vicinity of the castle he saw a young
man coming towards him. The latter wore a short black coat, had a
Tyrolese hat on his head, and carried a large fish in his hand. The
stranger took him for a gardener, and asked him if it was possible
to see over the castle.
"When the King is there no one dares to enter it," answered the
young man; "but as he is not there just now, I can show you round
if you wish." The offer was naturally accepted with gratitude. The
fictitious gardener very obligingly showed the stranger through the
apartments, where all the servants bowed respectfully. They stopped
before the King's bed-chamber, the young man explaining that visitors
were not allowed to enter it. After they had seen everything, he took
a complaisant farewell of the stranger, who concluded by asking where
his Majesty was at the time.
"The King was in the castle when we went over it," was the answer.
"And we did not see him?" exclaimed the gentleman in surprise.
"You did see him. I am the King!"
One day when Ludwig was walking alone in the mountains he met a
goat-herd. "I am going to drive my goats home," said the boy, "but
I don't know what time it is."
"Have you no watch?" asked the King. "How could I have a
watch?" answered the child. Ludwig told him, smiling, what the hour
was, and the day afterwards sent him a watch as a present.
When on his lonely drives he often passed through a village where he
had noticed a cottage belonging to a shoemaker. The man was always to
be found tending his flowers in the little patch of garden. One day
Ludwig stopped the carriage outside the village and walked to the
shoemaker's, where he remained outside the fence watching the man,
who was busy in his garden.
"Master," said he, "you are not quite successful with your lilies."
"No," answered the shoemaker, who did not recognise the King; "I have
not grudged work or expense these five years to get pure white lilies,
but they always have a green tinge about them. If I could only get into
the royal garden--I hear they have such beautiful white lilies there!"
"It would not be any help to you, master," said Ludwig, "for it is
hardly your intention to steal plants there, I think. Nor would you
have the opportunity of doing so."
"What do you think of me, good sir?" exclaimed the man indignantly. "Do
you think I would touch my King's property? All I want is to see this
beautiful flower in its full perfection."
"You might be able to do that. I know the head gardener, and I will
put in a good word for you."
"If you would do that I would willingly make you a pair of boots
for nothing."
"I want no return for such a trifling service," said Ludwig, taking
leave of him with a friendly nod.
The next morning a servant brought the cobbler a large bunch of white
lilies from the King.