The news, which was rapidly spread through the capital on this morning, became certainty in the evening. On the 22nd of January, 1867, there was given at the Hof Theater a new play by Benedix. The King was present at the performance. After the conclusion of the first act, the Queen-mother came in. She and her son walked across to the ducal box, where Sophie was sitting with her youngest brother, and together they fetched the young girl to the “Imperial box,” where she seated herself between the two. There are still alive in Munich elderly persons who remember the memorable night when the Princess walked in on Ludwig’s arm, and gracefully bowed to the public.
The Duchess was born on the 22nd of February, 1847. She was often to be seen in the Bavarian national costume, which was very becoming to her; and she was considered by many to be better-looking than the Empress Elizabeth, who was celebrated for her beauty. A light blue dress of silk clung this evening to her slender figure. Her hair, which was almost too thick and abundant, was dressed in plaits. Her face was radiant and pure. A pair of unfathomable blue eyes, with dark lashes, looked up at the King.
On the 29th of January the engagement was officially announced to the Chamber, which voted an address of congratulation. It concluded with the following words: “May all the blessings which a married life can give grow forth in abundance from the alliance which it is your Majesty’s intention to contract, to the happiness of your Majesty, to the prosperity of the royal house, to the blessing of the country!” The deputation was not granted an audience; it had to content itself with congratulating Ludwig and his betrothed on the 6th of February at a court ball.
The country was surprised at the King’s choice; no one could understand why he had so suddenly taken this decision. The news was received with sympathy, but at first without real enthusiasm. The three former Kings of Bavaria had had Protestant wives, and the Protestant part of the population would have preferred Ludwig to make a similar choice. In the capital itself, however, people were very well satisfied. As he had in no way been influenced, and as there could be no political grounds for a marriage with a member of the royal house, it was assumed that inclination alone had dictated his proposal; and this assumption seemed in accord with his leaning towards the romantic. It was hoped, moreover, that the marriage would chase away his love of solitude, which had already begun to show itself, and also that the court would gain in brilliancy.
Ludwig understood how to throw glamour on his alliance; and, little by little, people began to show interest in his bride. Double portraits of the young couple were to be seen everywhere; and men and women of the populace would stand for hours in pouring rain to catch a glimpse of the Duchess. During the Carnival the young Monarch gave a series of balls; and on the 28th of February the engaged couple were present at an entertainment given in their honour by the Minister of the Royal House and of Foreign Affairs, Prince Hohenlohe. On the 23rd of March they took part in a masquerade at the Casino.
The King appointed the 12th of October as the day of his wedding; both his father and grandfather had been married on that day. On the occasion of Maximilian II.’s marriage, a respectable couple in poor circumstances, chosen from each of the provinces of the kingdom, had been given 1000 guldens from the royal exchequer. It was decided that a similar sum should be distributed on Ludwig’s marriage. In all circles of society and all parts of the kingdom wedding presents were in course of preparation. The city of Munich built a coach decorated with cupids, which cost 100,000 guldens. The Palatinate sent some fine horses from the noted stud of Zweibrücken, and a cask of noble wine. In the royal Palace the so-called garden suite was fitted up for the reception of the future Queen. This had formerly been used by Ludwig I. and Maximilian II.; but Ludwig intended to retain his old apartments, which were situated above those destined for Sophie. The painted ceiling in the vestibule, which dates from the seventeenth century, was tastefully restored; and the Palace was soon brilliant with truly royal lustre. In the chief workshops of the city workmen were designing, hammering, carving, and forging household utensils and articles of ornament. Commemorative medals were struck bearing the heads of the King and his bride, and the most skilful engravers of the country drew the young Duchess, in order that her picture might be spread abroad on the marriage day in hundreds of thousands of copies.
Ludwig I. was still alive: the news of the betrothal reached him in Italy. He was pleased at this marriage between his sister’s youngest daughter and his grandson. Shortly before he had seen at Pompeii a fresco depicting Venus and Adonis, and having thought to find a likeness between Ludwig and the beautiful youth, he now embodied his idea and good wishes in some verses which referred to the aforesaid picture. They conclude thus:—
“Des Lebens Höchstes haben sie erworben.
Nie werde durch die Welt dein Glück verdorben,
Nie heisse es: die Liebe ist gestorben!”