The Ludwig Conspiracy(71)

It was a while before she would speak to me again. During that time my jealousy went on seething inside me, and it soon had new food for thought.

I had already seen Maria go over to Oberammergau twice with little Leopold, but now their expeditions became more frequent. And every time she came back with a particularly unhappy expression, so I decided that next time I had the chance, I would follow the two of them in secret. Their way took them along narrow mountain passes below Pürschling and through the valley known as the Graswangtal, ending only after some hours at a tiny house on the outskirts of the village, where a man of about forty with a grim face and a wild black beard opened the door to them. Children were playing around the house, and the man shooed them away with an imperious gesture before finally showing Maria into the room inside. I did not see any other woman from where I was hiding, but there was a clothesline with laundry fluttering on it, and some knitting lay on a garden bench. With an almost touching awkwardness, Leopold gave the man a hug, and the door closed behind the three of them.

I felt mingled grief, relief, and shame. How could I have thought that there was a secret liaison between Maria and the king? It was much simpler and at the same time more tragic than that. Little Leopold was obviously a bastard child, tolerated by his father only when the man’s lawful wife was at church or had gone to market. I ventured to doubt whether Maria still loved that grim-looking peasant. The child had probably been an accident, and presumably his father secretly gave her money for the boy. My hopes rose again.

Soon after that, Maria seemed to have forgiven me, and she would talk to me again, although usually about matters of no importance. It was to be some time yet before we were back on such a familiar footing as before our quarrel outside the grotto.

The month of September passed by, with unusually warm and pleasant weather, which in no way reflected the political storms sweeping through Bavaria at that time. On three more occasions, I tried speaking to Ludwig about Dr. Gudden’s psychiatric report, and a potential coup by the ministers, but whenever I broached the subject, I came up against a wall of silence on his part. At least the KING seemed to have forgiven the affront that he felt I had offered him on the platform in the linden tree. I read aloud to him at night from Edgar Allan Poe and Homer’s Odyssey, kept him company at supper, and went with him on an expedition of several days by coach to Schachen, as well as accompanying him on a walking tour up to his lodge of Brunnenkopfhäuser. On this excursion, he told me that the building of his new castle at HERRENCHIEMSEE was progressing well, and he looked forward to showing me the construction work going on there in the near future. I also indulged him in his new passion for photography. The result was some charming pictures of the two of us that I will always carry close to my heart, for despite his moments of absurdity, which have been interpreted in retrospect as derangement, I loved him as I loved Maria, if in a different way.





G, IDT





How great was my joy when I heard that Maria was to accompany the retinue to Berg as a kitchen maid. We set off at last on the evening of 27 September in the direction of the Würmsee, that truly majestic lake south of Munich, known to more and more of the local inhabitants these days as Lake Starnberg. It was a long procession of people and horse-drawn carriages, led by the king’s coach. Ludwig sat in silence in a vehicle like something out of a fairy tale, adorned all over with gilded figures and curlicues, and drawn by four white horses. As usual, we traveled by night, and I was reminded of the ballads in which elves and fairies go through the forests by night, casting their magic spells over all who set eyes on them. One thing seemed certain: the few people who saw us that night would still be telling their grandchildren, years later, that they had met a real fairy-tale king.

Early in the morning, we reached Berg Castle at last, a small residence of the Wittelsbachs where Ludwig had spent perhaps the happiest days of his youth, and which still served as his home in summer. The building itself was rather plain, a small castle with oriels, merlons, and a tower of sinister appearance. As on my earlier visits, I marveled yet again at the rural atmosphere of the place. The corridors and garden were thronged with all manner of domestic servants, as well as chambermaids and kitchen boys. There were mingled smells of homely dishes cooking, horse dung, and the caustic ingredients used in photography. Only the upper two floors, where Ludwig and his mother resided, were furnished with a little more grandeur, although they were not in the least like the rooms at Linderhof.

Maria immediately felt at ease here. She helped the servants carry the king’s personal belongings into the house, and then ran with Leopold along an arbored pathway through the garden and down to the lake. I was about to follow her, when I saw Count Dürckheim, in his officer’s uniform, standing beside the small fountain in the forecourt of the castle. He was looking very grave, and in silence beckoned me over to him.