In order to avoid remark, Ludwig had decided that his special train should pick him up at ten o’clock in the evening, on the 27th of June, at the station of MÜhlthal, near Starnberg. He intended to travel as the Marquis de Saverny; Kainz was to go with him as his friend Didier.

According to the orders which he had received, and at the appointed hour, the actor duly made his appearance at the little railway station. The country lay in deep stillness as the royal train, without a signal or the ringing of a bell, glided up to the platform. Immediately afterwards the King’s spirited team dashed up. Ludwig jumped out of his equipage and stepped into the railway carriage, which, besides a sleeping compartment, contained a saloon in which were easy-chairs, sofas, and a table laid for supper. The train moved off into the darkness of the night as silently as it had come.

One of the King’s stewards, a native of Switzerland, had gone on in advance to engage a suite of rooms at the Grand Hotel at Axenstein, near Brunnen. Unfortunately, the King’s arrival in Switzerland became known. People hurried from all directions to catch a glimpse of the “romanticist on the throne.” When he approached Brunnen on board the steamer Italia, the banks were covered with spectators. Ludwig was incapable of repressing his displeasure, which increased the more when he discovered that all the houses along the banks of the lake were decorated with flags in his honour. “It is swarming with people here. I wish to live unknown and alone for myself!” he exclaimed. At the landing-stage the hotel carriage was standing with four horses harnessed to it; and some members of the Swiss police were also discovered to be drawn up for his reception. This was too much for the shy Monarch. “I will certainly not go ashore here,” he cried. “I will not make myself a sacrifice to ovations.” He let the steamer go on to FlÜelen. On the return trip he made inquiries as to whether there were not some other locality than Brunnen where he might be put ashore. The captain mentioned a little place in the neighbourhood, and shaped a course for it. Hardly was this discovered at Brunnen than the whole mass of people set off towards it. The landing-stage was thickly covered with a crowd which received him with marks of delight. Handkerchiefs were waved, and shouts of hurrah filled the air as his majestic form strode through the ranks. He answered the greetings of the people with affability. “I must confess,” he said, after he was seated in the carriage, “that after all, this warm welcome has given me pleasure, for it shows well the mind of these good people.” He was deeply touched by the magnificent scenery, and his face beamed; but hardly had he noticed the numbers of strangers who continued to press round his carriage than he began to lose heart again.

He walked up and down in his rooms at the hotel, saying again and again: “This is a hotel and not a castle; I will not remain here!” A few days later he took the villa “Guttenberg,” whence he made many excursions in the neighbourhood. The cantonal government placed a steamer at his disposal, and this he very often used. Kainz recited to him in the beautiful moonlight nights, and from the banks of the lake of Lucerne he heard the joyous Swiss peasant songs. His friendly manner won much sympathy in the neighbourhood. One Sunday seven pretty young Swiss girls announced themselves at his villa; they had come to ask him for money in order to go to America. As he was not at home one of them requested some writing materials, after which, in a bright and original manner, she penned the wishes of herself and her friends. The letter was laid before the King, who was greatly amused at it. He answered, however, that he loved and honoured the Swiss people far too well for him to be a party to the leaving of it of seven of its most charming daughters.

It is said that the Swiss people gave utterance to the following sentiment: “If we had to elect a king for ourselves, our choice could not fall on any other than Ludwig II. of Bavaria.”

He had a great affection for and visited often the beautiful RÜtli, the spot where the ancient Swiss took their oath of allegiance. Kainz accompanied him thither, and they spent hours together at the view, where the young actor would recite the RÜtli song:

They went almost every evening to a neighbouring inn where they partook of a meal, the King being exceedingly modest in his demands, and not even requiring dinner-napkins or a tablecloth. He was in the habit of talking much to the landlord, whom he liked to give him information as to the mode of life of the Swiss peasantry.

The King’s relations with Kainz became somewhat cooler on the former’s side towards the end of their stay in Switzerland. One evening at RÜtli Ludwig asked him to recite something from Schiller’s Wilhelm Tell. The actor was willing to do this, but put it off till later. At two in the morning Ludwig repeated his request, when Kainz replied that he was too tired to recite anything. Ludwig looked at him a moment in astonishment and was silent. At last he said: “Oh, you are tired, are you? Rest, then!” and turning on his heel walked away.

Hesselschwerdt and the landlord went with him to the steamer. When they were on board the landlord said: “Herr Marquis, Herr Didier has not yet come!” “Let him rest,” answered Ludwig; “we will go on.”

Kainz had himself rowed across to Brunnen, but the King had left when he arrived there. The actor followed him to Lucerne, and prayed Hesselschwerdt to announce him to the King. The former returned and said that his Majesty would receive him in the garden, if he did not wish to make up for his lost night’s rest. Ludwig appeared shortly afterwards. Kainz made several excuses, which the King interrupted, assuring him that he was glad to see him again, and that he regretted his own want of spirits. Although Ludwig treated him with familiarity, his extreme sense of self-esteem could not endure that a seemly line of demarcation should be passed by his young friend.

After the return from Switzerland he did not invite him again; nor did he ever again witness any performance of his on the stage, but for a short space of time he continued to carry on a correspondence with the actor. His last letter, in which he thanks Kainz for good wishes which the latter had sent him, concludes with the following words:—

Shortly afterwards Kainz was dismissed from the Hof Theater at Munich. As long as the King lived he hoped to be recalled; but the hope was not destined to be fulfilled. When, later, Ludwig heard him spoken of he would abruptly change the topic of conversation; and when he read his name in the newspaper would lay the latter aside, or throw it into the waste-paper basket.

Kainz’s conduct proved that he had been unworthy of his friendship; nobody perhaps abused his confidence more than he did. The King had hardly drawn his last breath before the young actor sold all his letters to a Berlin newspaper. Ludwig had in these letters allowed him to glance into his inward life, and their publication immediately after the benefactor’s death was not only unseemly but heartless. The general opinion of his conduct is expressed in the following verse:—