CHAPTER XThe 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 MarriageIn 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 paperLa Situationhad 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 Portugaland 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 revisitwell-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 athand, 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.1“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.1“Otto, Freiherr von Völderndorff: VomReichskanzler, Fürsten von Hohenlohe” (Munich 1902).↑
CHAPTER XThe 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 MarriageIn 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 paperLa Situationhad 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 Portugaland 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 revisitwell-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 athand, 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.1“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.1“Otto, Freiherr von Völderndorff: VomReichskanzler, Fürsten von Hohenlohe” (Munich 1902).↑
CHAPTER XThe 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 paperLa Situationhad 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 Portugaland 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 revisitwell-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 athand, 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.1“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.
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 paperLa Situationhad 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 Portugaland 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 revisitwell-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 athand, 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.1“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.
1“Otto, Freiherr von Völderndorff: VomReichskanzler, Fürsten von Hohenlohe” (Munich 1902).↑
1“Otto, Freiherr von Völderndorff: VomReichskanzler, Fürsten von Hohenlohe” (Munich 1902).↑