Knowing what was in the wind when the summons came that night, I hurried down Unter den Linden and through Wilhelmstrasse to the Foreign Office. Several days before, Excellence Freiherr von Mumm had discussed the possibilities with me and as the old-fashioned portal of the Foreign Office swung back to admit me, I wondered if the news would be good or bad. Without delay I was ushered into the office of Dr. Roediger. He was just laying the telephone aside.

"It has been arranged," he said. "I was just talking with MÜnchen. You are to leave Berlin to-night on the 10.40 train. Upon your arrival in MÜnchen in the morning, you will go to the Hotel Vierjahrzeiten. At ten in the morning present yourself to Excellence Baron von SchÖn at the Prussian Embassy in MÜnchen. He will inform you as to the details. At twelve o'clock His Majesty, the King of Bayern, will be pleased to receive you.... Adieu and good luck."

Thanking Dr. Roediger for the arrangement—with true German thoroughness they had laid out a perfect schedule for me, even to the hotel at which I was to stop in MÜnchen—I had a race of it to get packed and catch the train. But once in the compartment, with the train whirling away from Berlin, I had a chance to collect my thoughts. So, His Majesty would no doubt talk with me upon some subject of interest to Americans. I ran over half a dozen of these in my mind, but King Ludwig's personality kept obtruding. What sort of a man was he? I had seen an excellent colored photograph of him in a gallery in Unter den Linden. It was one of those pictures which make you wonder at the reality and in this case made me anticipate the meeting with unrestrained keenness. I remembered that he had waited long for the throne, that it had not descended to him until September of 1913, that he had been crowned King of his beloved Bayern at the regal age of sixty-eight. I recalled that his house, the house of Wittelsbacher, was the oldest in Germany, the line going back to the year 907. King Ludwig, ruler of that southern German land where so many Americans like to go, his home in Munich, which every American sooner or later comes to admire for its famous galleries and golden brown MÜnchener beer; King Ludwig, what would be his message to the United States?

Ten o'clock the following morning found me shaking hands with Baron von SchÖn, the Prussian Ambassador to Bavaria. It was the Baron who was Germany's Ambassador to France at the outbreak of war, and how I regretted that obligations of his diplomatic position forbade a discussion of those frantic nights and days in Paris before the war. We could talk of other things, however, and as there were two hours before the appointed time of my presentation to King Ludwig, Baron von SchÖn helped me to get my bearings. To my consternation I learned that the King spoke only a little English. I informed the Baron that I spoke only a little German. Whereupon immediately the Geheimrat's office in the Embassy began to ring with one telephone call after another, for an interpreter had to be secured, a man whom His Majesty would be pleased to receive with me. And finally such a man was found in Counselor of Legation von Stockhammern.

After motoring down a long avenue, lined with pretty residences, the car turned in, approaching a rather old, unpretentious but severely dignified building of faded yellow brick, suggesting Windsor. This was the Wittelsbacher Palast, the home of King Ludwig. I remembered having seen that morning on my way to the Embassy, a far more imposing looking palace, the Residence, and contrasting its ornateness with the simplicity of the building which we were approaching, I wondered at royalty living there. It was typical of the democratic King I came to know.

As our motor rolled up, I saw two blue and white striped sentry boxes marking the entrance and through an arched driveway I had a glimpse of an inner court paved with stones, where an official automobile waited. Then I was escorted through the entrance to the right wing of the palace. Here Staatsrat (Secretary of the Royal Cabinet) von Dandl, a tall, soldierly looking man in uniform, greeted us, after which I was taken to an antechamber, where Counselor of Legation von Stockhammern, my interpreter, was waiting. There appeared a young Bavarian officer in full dress uniform, whom I was told was the Adjutantour to the King. Upon being introduced he left as quickly as he had come. It lacked a quarter hour of the time of reception, and Von Stockhammern and I were talking about MÜnchen, when the young Adjutantour as quickly returned and said that His Majesty would receive me.

I climbed with Von Stockhammern several flights of a wooden staircase; the tan and red bordered corded runaway reminded you of a church, as did the bare white walls, and you felt a solemn silence, accentuated by the jangling of the sword; and then turning with a last flight of steps, I saw above two guards in the uniform of the Hartschier Regiment, two white coated, blue trousered, plumed statues standing beside a wide entrance door. The click of presenting arms and the statues came to life, and passing between them we found ourselves in what was evidently an antechamber of the Audience Saal, a comfortably furnished room; the walls covered with small oil paintings. I remember a silk-stockinged, stooping doorman who wore black satin breeches, like a character that I had seen sometime in a French romantic play. He was standing with his hand upon the knob of two brown oaken doors as if awaiting a signal. Apparently it came, although I heard nothing, for suddenly the brown doors swung back, and I found myself gazing into the long high-ceilinged room, the Audience Saal, and in the middle of this room stood an elderly man, in the dress uniform of an officer in the Second Bavarian Infantry. The uniform was blue and red and braided with gold, and the man had a white beard and a wonderfully kind face. It was His Majesty King Ludwig of Bavaria.

My first thought, as I walked towards him, was of how closely he resembled the picture I had seen of him in the gallery on Unter den Linden. But as I drew nearer, I saw that the picture had not caught the man. You were conscious of kind eyes smiling a welcome through silver spectacles. You instantly felt that kindness seemed to be a dominant note of his character, and you realized the intellectual power behind that wide, thoughtful forehead; and you saw a firm mouth and chin suggesting determination, kindness, brains, force, every inch a king! But somehow, had I not known he was a king, the military regimentals which he wore might have been a little incongruous; he impressed me as being the kind of man you might expect to see in the black coated garb of a professor; a man of great, grave and forceful dignity and learning, and utterly foreign to the popular American conception of a monarch.

This impression was borne out a moment later, when as Staatsrat von Dandl came forward to present me, King Ludwig showed me a delightful courtesy. Casting court etiquette aside, he welcomed me in true American fashion, his hand outstretched.

There began then the usual preliminaries to a conversation and while we exchanged greetings, I noticed that His Majesty was wearing a great number of minor orders, strung in a bright ribboned line across his chest, and beneath them, on the left side, the Iron Cross, the Star of St. Hubertus, and the Order of the Crown. Presently, in a pleasantly modulated voice, King Ludwig told me that through his people he had long felt a great friendship for America.

"All Germany has been deeply touched by the many kindnesses of your country since the beginning of the war. You have been so thoughtful," he said. "You have sent us your wonderful Red Cross doctors and nurses. Throughout the empire we have heard expressions of good will from your visiting countrymen. We have felt the spirit that prompted the gifts of the American children which came through your Mr. O'Loughlin to the children of Germany. Especially have we been touched here in MÜnchen, where your wonderful hospital is, and where we have so many Americans. Between Germany and the United States there exists a strong bond through commercial relations, but between your country and Bavaria there is something more intimate. It is because so many of your countrymen come here. They like the Wagner-festspiel, they are so fond of German music and our Bavarian art. They like to spend their summers among us. They get to know us and we them. You have no idea how many Americans live here in MÜnchen. And they find here the high regard in which your country is held. They find that two of the best artists of their own nation, Miss Fay and Miss Walker, both Americans, are regarded as the best artists in the MÜnchen Opera, and our people hold them in great esteem. They are received in court society, and are very well seen."

The subject of America made the King enthusiastic and the sincere ring of his voice and the warmth of his smile increased as he spoke. So I took the opportunity of asking His Majesty a question so many of my countrymen are thinking. What of America and war?

"America need fear no war," he replied quickly, adding, "No war on your own soil. Geographically you are safe. You have only two neighbors, Canada and Mexico." And the King smiled. "We, on the other hand, are surrounded by enemies who are powerful. You have the Pacific between you and your adversaries."

King Ludwig's omission of the Atlantic Ocean struck me as being significant. He seemed to take it for granted that we could have but one adversary—that yellow octopus of the Far East. Whereupon I mentioned something which had come to me in Berlin concerning certain islands in the Pacific. For a moment King Ludwig looked grave, and then he said slowly: "America needs no large army; if she should need one she can make it quickly. She has already shown that. To attack her on her home soil is not practical, but she should have a large navy. I have heard many compliments of your American navy, of its equipment, discipline and gunnery; but it must be kept large."

"So you think, Your Majesty, that we are safe from war?"

"On your home soil, yes," he repeated, "but your navy must be strong. When war will come, you can never tell. But you must never fear war. We knew over here that this war was coming. We have long known it. We have always wanted peace. For forty-one years I myself have been working for peace, but we have always been surrounded by jealous neighbors. Last January I spoke at a dinner given in honor of the anniversary of the birthday of His Majesty Emperor Wilhelm II. I said then that we do not wish a war, but that the German people have always shown that they do not fear war."

I reflected what there was in the European situation of January, 1913, to make King Ludwig talk of that time, in a way which suggested the close proximity of this war. And I asked him concerning that situation.

"Yes, we knew war was coming," he admitted gravely. "Last winter the great debates were going on in the French parliament over the question of changing the term of military service from two to three years. We could not understand that. The extra years would increase the annual strength of the French army fully fifty per cent. It was ominous. Then we knew that Russia had nine hundred thousand men under arms whose term of service had expired and who had every right to return to their homes. Why were they not sent? Yes, we knew it was coming, but we did not fear it, and Germany will fight to the last drop of blood. You have but to see the spirit of our troops and the spirit of the recruits, disappointed because their offers to serve in the army are rejected. We do not need every recruit now, and as we do take new men, there are hundreds of thousands more, ready to serve the Fatherland—to the end."

"And when will the end be?" I asked His Majesty. When would peace be declared? The King smiled, but it was a smile of reluctance.

"Who can say?" Then that Imperial chin suddenly seemed made of stone, and there was fire in his eyes. He declared: "There will be no end to this war until we have peace conditions which we shall judge to be worthy of our nation and worthy of our sacrifice. This war was forced upon us. We shall go through with it. We do not finish until we have an uncontestable victory. The heart and soul of the whole country is in this fight. Between all the German kings and confederated princes, there is absolute unswerving unity. We are one idea, one hope, one ideal, one wish."

Instantly I thought of the Socialists. We had heard in America there could be no war. We had been told that the German Socialists would not let their country go to war.

The King smiled, for it was obviously inconceivable to him. "We Germans," he explained, "quarrel between ourselves in peaceful times, but when we are surrounded by enemies, we are one. And the Socialists know that war was as much against our plans as it was against theirs. In times of stress, Germany is always a united nation. Beside the Fatherland, dogmas are trivial. We Germans like to talk. We are great philosophers. We go deep into things, but it is against our racial instincts to let our own individualism come before the welfare of the State. It is because we have deep national pride that we are one people to-day."

"And, Your Majesty, after the war?" I asked, "what then? Is it to be the last war of the world, so terrible that humanity will not tolerate another?"

"This is for each nation to say," he replied gravely. "Our hands are clean. For more than forty years we have worked for the peace of Europe, and there have been times when, had our policy been such, it might have been to our advantage to go to war. Our hands are clean," he repeated. "They brought this upon us. We did not want it. After it is over, we shall rebuild. I foresee an era of great prosperity for our country. We shall not be impoverished. Many of our industries are working day and night now. Until last August they were busy with the products of peace; now it is with the products of war. So many skilled workmen are needed to-day that we cannot take them from the shops to send them to the front, even though their regiments go. And after the war the factories will all go on as before, manufacturing the things of peace, and those other industries which are closed now will be doubly busy. War, no matter how severe it may be, cannot check the commercial growth of a country like Germany."

When King Ludwig spoke of the industrial future, it was the voice of one who had given deep study to everything of vital importance to his country.

Baron von SchÖn had told me that all his life King Ludwig had been a hard worker, that political economy, agriculture, industry, waterways, were all subjects which fascinated him, that most of His Majesty's evenings were spent attending conferences, given by the specialized learned men in every branch of a nation's prosperity.

I mentioned the wonderful spirit of the Bavarian troops I had seen, and His Majesty's face grew bright.

"I have two sons at the front," he said proudly. "Prince Francis, commander of a brigade. He was wounded in Flanders, but he will be back before the war is over; and as you know, Crown Prince Rupprecht is also fighting in the West."

And I thought that an expression of longing crossed that kindly face, as though the King wished he could be there too.

"I also am wounded," he said with a smile, "but that was long ago—1866."

The conversation changed; it became more personal. Like most Americans, King Ludwig showed himself to be thoroughly fond of sport. He told me that he liked all forms of outdoor sports and admired America for its almost national participation in them. He spoke of his fondness for sailing, and horses, of yacht races on the Sternberger See. He mentioned with enjoyment his great stables, where personally he concerns himself with the breeding of his own horses, taking a great pride in them whenever they race. He told me of his farm, Leutstetten, near MÜnchen, where he likes to spend the summers, living an outdoor life.

Further expressing again his warm feeling of friendship—a friendship deeper than that dictated by the rules of mere international courtesy, for it has come from the Americans who have lived from time to time in Bavaria—King Ludwig concluded our talk with the message of German's deep and sincere friendship to the people of the United States.

We shook hands again; it was an American farewell. The dapper Adjutant came into the room, and I bid His Majesty "Adieu." My last impression was of his straight uniformed figure standing in the center of the room, across his breast the Iron Cross and the Order of St. Hubertus; then the oaken doors closed. Back into the little antechamber with the countless oil paintings, back through the austere reception hall, past the white coated, white plumed Hartschier guards, down the great staircase, and with Legation Counselor von Stockhammern, I was escorted into a motor. As we drove down to the Promenade Platz, where I was to call at the Foreign Ministry of Bavaria, I asked the Counselor about the Wittelsbacher Palast.

"It is the palace," he said, "where the King has lived all his life, and which he does not like at all to leave. When he became King two years ago, he did not change in his tastes. Only on the occasion of great ceremony is he to be seen in the Residence, where lived the former King of Bavaria."

And I understood now what I had heard before, that King Ludwig was fond only of a simple life, and that he loved only work, and family happiness; and I thought that here was no case of mere birth making a man high in the land, for Ludwig of Wittelsbacher would have made his way if he had been born outside the purple; and I thought of something I had heard, how a Bavarian Socialist had once said that though his party might battle against the Government, they could never battle against King Ludwig.

"Everybody in Bayern supports King Ludwig with all their heart," Von Stockhammern was saying.

"I know now why you Bavarians love him," I replied.