As time went on he became absorbed in the art period of Louis XIV. He built the enormous Schloss Herrenchiemsee, which is a copy of Versailles and which swallowed many millions of guldens, although it was never brought to completion. At the time when he drew the plan of this palace his passion for building was no longer a fancy which he could tame, but the outcome of a diseased brain, where the power of will and judgment was impaired. He went, impelled by his building operations, several journeys to France. His stay was on each occasion of very short duration; the feverish disquiet which drove him thither drove him back again almost as quickly. Hardly a year after the days when Versailles had echoed to the cheers of the German Princes for the newly elected Emperor, he went, without giving his Ministers the slightest hint of his intention, in strictest incognito to Paris. He spent several days at Versailles. The following year he returned there once more, this time visiting in addition the town of Rheims, the seat of the coronation of the Kings of France.
Chiemsee, called also “the Bavarian sea,” surrounds three islands: Herrenchiemsee, Frauenchiemsee, and the uninhabited Krautinsel. Herrenchiemsee, or “Herrenwörth,” was originally a monastery, which at the time of their suppression went over into private hands. In 1868 it was in the possession of some business men, who sold it to King Ludwig. He chose the island as the site of his Versailles. The King’s advisers raised objections, but these only aroused his defiance. He sent off experts to study the subject, and threw himself heart and soul into the undertaking. Eight years, however, passed before the plans were completed. Herrenchiemsee consists of an intermediate building three hundred feet in length, and of two wings surrounding a quadrangle, the latter being entirely paved with black and white marble. Everywhere in the palace there are pictures of the Kings and Queens of France, and the fleurs-de-lys of the Bourbons. The sixteen living apartments are named after the rooms to which they answer at Versailles. The finest of these is the mirror gallery, which is about 250 feet long, 35 feet broad, and 40 feet high. Piercing one of the walls are 27 lofty arched windows, and on the other a similar number of large mirrors. Two-and-fifty candelabra of gold and 35 chandeliers provide space for 2500 wax candles.
It was but for few nights that this sea of light burned in honour of Ludwig II. and his imaginary guests from the time of the French Kings. From the year 1881 he arrived regularly at Herrenchiemsee on the 29th of September and remained there till the 8th of October, inhabiting the first years of this period the so-called royal apartments in a neighbouring monastery, which could easily have been changed into an agreeable place of residence had the King had thoughts for anything but the new palace. He was in the habit of arriving at midnight. The railway station was near the banks of the lake. A beautiful gondola, which was used for no other purpose, was waiting to take him across to the island; it was rowed by two men in Neapolitan costume. When the King came he examined everything; on one occasion, by way of example, he discovered that some groups of statuary in the park were of plaster instead of marble, as he had ordered, and he became so angry that he broke them in pieces.
Linderhof, Neuschwanstein, and Herrenchiemsee, on which he sacrificed so much time and thought, and which caused his financial ruin, have been later the means of paying his debts. The veil of mystery which surrounded his person rested likewise as long as he lived over his residences. But after his death these objects of his pride, so jealously guarded by him from profane eyes, became accessible to the public. They are considered, and rightly so, as sights of the first order. Thousands of visitors yearly, from all countries, admire the edifices of the splendour-loving King.
CHAPTER XXX
King Ludwig’s Friendships
At the time of Ludwig’s first visit to Paris, Cora Pearl, noted alike for her beauty and her frivolity, sent the young King her portrait. None of his suite dared to present it to him, it being known that he was not attracted by women. At Hohenschwangau, a year later, he received his secretary with the following words:—“I have seen your wife to-day!” The secretary bowed in silence, being uncertain what this utterance might mean. “I have seen your wife to-day!” repeated the King in his severest tone. The secretary now realised the significance of the words addressed to him, and respectfully assured his Majesty that he would see that such a thing should not occur again.
The King’s dislike of the fair sex could not otherwise than cause it to be hinted that his emotional life was not normal, a rumour strengthened by the warm interest which he exhibited in several men. The Hungarian writer, Maurus Jókai, has related in private circles how in his youth he received a letter from an unknown person offering him riches and marks of honour, everything which a powerful master is in a position to offer, if he would leave his country and his family and live entirely for an unhappy and lonely man. The novelist would not break the ties which bound him to his home and his native land; but he ever retained a deep feeling of sympathy for the writer of the letter.
Ludwig’s need for solitude was, without doubt, the result of enigmatical depths in his nature. As a youth he had suspected, and as a man of riper years he felt, that it was impossible for him to be otherwise than a recluse and a stranger in life. Despite his high position, despite his beauty and gifts of mind, he was in his inward self helpless and tired of existence. His friendship for Richard Wagner was the bright spot in his life. He had believed in the incense with which the master in the first hours of sincere gratitude had surrounded his protector. But Wagner’s proud affection was something very different from the flattery which met him from courtiers and his later favourites, who crawled in the dust to promote their own welfare. His favour and affection came as unexpectedly on the recipient as his distaste and contempt for them—his feelings, which found an outlet in autograph letters, exaggerated expressions, and gifts, not continuing for any length of time.