Читать книгу Ludwig the Second, King of Bavaria - Clara Tschudi - Страница 5
Оглавление“Le Roi est mort! Vive le Roi!”
A feeling of gloom and sadness rested over Munich; Maximilian II. was dying.
On the 9th of March, 1864, he signed in his bed the last documents of his reign. The same evening the doctors relinquished all hope of being able to save his life. It had long been known that he was a sick man, but no one had had any idea that his last hour was approaching. The news, which was quickly spread, filled the capital with dismay and lamentations. Immense crowds of people penetrated into the courtyard of the Palace, and gazed up at their ruler’s windows.
Snow and rain fell heavily. The wind howled, but no one seemed to notice it. No longer was it possible to expect news which might bring consolation. All were thinking the same thought: “Our good King is dying!” The sorrow over the whole country was indescribable. At four in the morning on the 10th of March the physician-in-ordinary informed the sick man that he must prepare himself for death, telling him at the same time that his confessor was in the Palace. “Has it come to this?” asked Maximilian, who felt exceedingly weak but suffered little pain. “Well, well—God will do the best for me! I have always wished what was right.” A believer, he made his confession and received extreme unction.
His despairing wife had spent the night in the sick-room. The eighteen-year-old Crown Prince was now with his father. The King had a prolonged private conversation with him, warning him, counselling him, and endeavouring at the eleventh hour to gain the confidence of his son, who had always withdrawn shyly into himself and whose character was to him a riddle.
He took an affecting and affectionate farewell of the Queen and both his children, blessing them, and expressing a hope of reunion. “My son,” he said to his successor, “I hope for you a death as quiet as your father’s!” These were his last words. It would almost seem as if the veil over the events of the future was lifted at this time to the view of the dying king, and that he saw things which made him suspect or fear his son’s tragic ending. The Archbishop spoke words of consolation to the dying man as he at midday, without a struggle, was called to the eternal rest. Ludwig swooned with the strength of his emotions. Later in life he was heard to say how painfully it had impressed him that he had been greeted as the Sovereign as he left his father’s deathbed. “The Lord has taken a good king away from us! Let us pray that He will give us as good a king again!” said the Archbishop to the assembled courtiers, who were waiting outside. All fell on their knees; tears and sobs filled the room. The capital and the kingdom were weighed down by the pain of their loss.
The sorrow at the demise of a highly venerated prince was mingled with sympathy for his successor, who had been brought up so strictly and in such loneliness. A heavy burden had with the mantle of kingship been laid on his shoulders; the father’s early death was no doubt a misfortune to the son. The seeds of mental morbidness which were slumbering within him would hardly have shot so soon into growth, nor perhaps would Maximilian’s principles of education have brought about such distressing consequences, had not Ludwig become King when he was in the midst of his development. He was too young and unformed to be able to support without injury this forcible and sudden transition. All the doors which previously had been shut to him were now opened wide. All sought his favour. He was worshipped and applauded, while his most commonplace utterances were given the character of winged words.
On the 12th of March he took the oath to the Constitution, in the presence of the royal princes and the members of the Council of State. The Minister of Foreign Affairs made a speech, which the new King answered in the following words:
“Almighty God has called my dear, greatly-beloved father away from this world. I cannot give utterance to the feelings with which my heart is filled. The task awaiting me is great and arduous. I trust in God, Who will send me light and strength to fill it. I will govern faithfully, in conformity with the oath which I have just taken, and in conformity with the Constitution which has now existed for nearly half-a-century. The welfare of my beloved Bavarians, and the greatness of Germany, will be the object of my efforts. I ask of all your assistance in the fulfilment of my arduous duties.”
Ludwig became popular without any effort whatever on his side; the Bavarians are a loyal race, and strong ties knit the people and the royal house together. Nor was the Monarch’s sympathetic appearance without its effect. All were struck by his beauty and attractive personality.
An Austrian writer who saw and talked with him soon after his accession, several years afterwards expressed himself in the following terms:
“He was the handsomest youth I ever saw. His tall, slim figure was perfectly symmetrical. His abundant, lightly curling hair, and the slight indication of a beard lent to his head a likeness to those great antique works of art, through which we have found the representation of the Hellenic conception of manly strength. Even had he been a beggar he must have attracted my attention. No person, whether old or young, rich or poor, could remain unaffected by the charm of his whole person. His voice was agreeable. The questions he asked were concise and decided, his subjects were well-chosen and intellectual, and he expressed himself easily and naturally. The admiration he aroused in me has never diminished, but on the contrary has increased with years. The picture of the young Monarch is still imprinted in unfading colours on my mind.”
Another German writer, Paul Heyse, met the young King about the same time, and has likewise published his impressions of him. He is not quite so enthusiastic in his admiration, but seems also to have been impressed. “The large eyes,” says Heyse, “were dreamy, the glance winning. What he said was entirely without any trace of embarrassment. His judgment of those in his proximity was unusually certain, and his knowledge of human nature wonderful, in view of his lonely education, so far away from the world.”
