Ludwig cultivated friendly relations with England, and did all he could (within limits) to promote an entente. Thus, on the occasion of a chance visit to Munich by Lord Combermere, he "sent the distinguished traveller a message to the effect that a horse and saddlery, with aide-de-camp complete, were at his service." His companion, however, a member of the Foreign Office Staff, who had forgotten to pack his uniform--or in John Bull fashion had declined to do so--did not fare so well, since his name was struck off the list of "eligibles" to attend the palace functions. Thereupon, says Lord Combermere, he "wrote an angry letter to the chamberlain, commenting on the absurdity of the restriction."
But Ludwig's opinion of diplomatists was also somewhat unflattering, for, of a certain embassy visited by him on his travels, he wrote: "A Theatre once--and now an Ambassador's dwelling. Still, thou are what thou wast--the abode of deception."
A strange mixture of Henry IV and Haroun-al-Raschid, Ludwig of Bavaria was a man of contradictions. At one moment he was lavishly generous; at another, incredibly mean. He could be an autocrat to his finger tips, and insist on the observance of the most minute points of etiquette; and he could also be as democratic as anybody who ever waved a red flag. Thus, he would often walk through the streets as a private citizen, and without an escort. Yet, when he did so, he insisted on being recognised and having compliments paid him. The traffic had to be held up and hats doffed at his approach.
Nowadays, he would probably have been clapped into a museum as a curiosity.
Such, then, was the monarch whose path was to be crossed, with historic and unexpected consequences to each of them, by Lola Montez.
III
On arriving in Munich, Lola called on the manager of the Hof Theatre. As this individual already knew of her Paris fiasco, instead of an engagement from him, she met with a rebuff. Quite undisturbed, however, by such an experience, she hurried off to the palace, and commanded the astonished door-keeper to take her straight to the King.
The flunkey referred her to Count Rechberg, the aide-de-camp on duty. With him Lola had more success. Boldness conquered where bashfulness would have failed. After a single swift glance, Count Rechberg decided that the applicant was eligible for admission to the "Presence," and reported the fact to his master.
But Ludwig already knew something of the candidate for terpsichorean honours. As it happened, that very morning he had received from Herr Frays, the director of the Hof Theatre, a letter, telling him that, on the advice of his première-danseuse, Fräulein Frenzal, he had refused to give her an engagement. Count Rechberg's florid description of her charms, however, decided His Majesty to use his own judgment. But he did not give in easily.