Joseph Kainz, the actor, who was later so celebrated, had, at the beginning of the eighties, an engagement at Munich; he was then twenty-three years of age. The King saw him for the first time in Victor Hugo’s Marion de Lorme, in which he played the part of the homeless Didier. His unusually sonorous voice, his lofty glance, and the passionate warmth of his acting captivated Ludwig, who the same evening caused to be delivered to him a valuable sapphire ring. Kainz thanked him in a letter full of fire. In an autograph letter, dated the 1st of May, 1881, his Majesty assured him of his friendly feelings, and of his sincere and hearty wishes for his welfare. He added: “Continue as you have begun, in your arduous and difficult but beautiful and honourable calling.1”
Marion de Lorme was repeated as a separate performance on the 4th and the 10th of May, and on each occasion Kainz received a new present from the King. Wishing to know him personally Ludwig summoned him to Schloss Linderhof, where he received him with charming affability. He kept him with him for two whole weeks, making excursions with him and treating him as a friend. During the first meeting the actor had been somewhat reserved and formal; but after they had been a few days together all shyness departed from his side, and Ludwig even permitted him to address him as du. The actor declaimed alternately to and with his Majesty, and their artistic entertainments lasted till late into the night. Kainz was allowed to be present at the private performances. The King undertook to provide for his further education, and corresponded frequently with him. The friendship between the prince and the actor was much talked about and much criticised. “It depresses me greatly when I see that my innocent fancies are trumpeted out before the whole world, and are hatefully criticised,” said Ludwig to his new friend. “It has caused me many sad hours. I cannot imagine why I should be grudged my small pleasures, for they do not harm anybody.” When on another occasion they were discussing the art of acting, he said: “I guard my ideals anxiously. I do not care to notice small weaknesses, for I do not like the general harmony to be disturbed.” He continued reflectively: “It is the same with regard to actors; I see only the person in the interpreter! The actor who plays a noble part I imagine to be a noble person.” Kainz demurred to this, saying that although he did not consider himself a villain, it was his wish to play the part of Franz Moor. “No, no,” exclaimed the King eagerly; “you must never represent such a hateful character.” He went on to speak of the part of Didier. “When Marion de Lorme was repeated,” said he, reproachfully, you wore my sapphire ring in the first act. How could the poor, homeless Didier possess such a costly ornament? It offends against the laws of truth.” Kainz excused himself on the plea that he had been informed that his Majesty liked his gifts to be honoured, and that it was for this reason he had worn the ring.
The presents which Kainz received from the King were particularly valuable, and none of the parts he played went unrewarded. One evening as he was about to take his departure, having already one foot in the carriage, Ludwig took his studs from his cuffs and handed them to him as a parting gift. He had his own room allotted to him at Linderhof, and he was permitted to drive alone with his royal friend. The marks of favour which were so abundantly showered upon the young hero of the theatre proved to be too much for him, and he became very injudicious. At first Ludwig looked upon his brutality as the outcome of his love for truth. “How good it is to hear the unvarnished truth!” he said to Councillor BÜrckel. The latter, who knew the new favourite better, answered shortly: “Your Majesty! truth and impertinence are two different things!”
The King desired to make a journey to Spain in company with the actor,2 but was obliged to abandon the plan because BÜrckel, who had the arrangement of the trip, represented to him that the time of year was unfavourable. “It is a pity,” said he; “I have a far greater desire to see Spain than Italy, which has no attractions for me. But now when I am about to satisfy my longing, BÜrckel comes with his objections; the propriety of which I cannot but acknowledge.” “BÜrckel, however, is only an adviser,” observed Kainz; “your Majesty is lord and master!” “Yes,” sighed Ludwig, “but it is not always so easy to be King as it appears to be.” “If it is difficult to your Majesty you can give up the sceptre into other hands,” remarked the actor. The answer displeased the King, who rose to his feet, thus giving the actor a hint that he must be more careful in the use of his expressions.
The recollection of earlier visits to Switzerland entered his mind; he was taken with the desire to see again that idyllic land, and the places associated according to tradition with William Tell. On the 25th of June he wrote to Kainz:
“Your dear letter, by which I see how much you are looking forward to our journey to Switzerland, has given me great pleasure. It increases very considerably my own delight at the days I hope to enjoy with you in that beautiful country. The nearer the time approaches the more exercised does the good BÜrckel seem to become. He bombards me with the most extraordinary announcements and suggestions, proposing now that I should take a noble gentleman-in-waiting with me. If it is not possible for us to do without such a person, which, however, cannot possibly be the case, I would rather give up the whole journey. It is necessary to avoid the stream of tourists there, and their tactless obtrusiveness.
“It is to be hoped that we can get a habitable private house on the shores of the classic lake.
“... I have still much to arrange, and therefore hasten to conclude.
“A thousand hearty greetings, beloved brother, precious Didier, from your friendly,
“Ludwig
“(Saverny).”