The gendarmes of the district were relieved during the course of the night by others from Munich, who occupied the castle. Ludwig, who the preceding day had overcome his enemies, thought at first that they had arrived to protect him. It was not until he was refused his usual midnight drive that he realised that he was a prisoner.

Early in the morning on the 11th of July the post brought the proclamation from the new Regent: those who attempted to save the King risked punishment from this time forth as traitors to their country. Exceedingly few at Hohenschwangau seemed to think of this; and even on the other side of the frontier there were those who were ready to risk all for him.

The newly-arrived gendarmes were unacquainted with the neighbouring country, whereas the local population knew every path and stone. By way of the Kitzberg path, in less than an hour’s time, the Tyrol could be reached: a carriage waiting there could have driven Ludwig farther. In Austria it was fully expected that he would hasten thither; even the Emperor himself is said to have awaited and feared it. A number of bold and faithful dwellers in the mountain districts were eager to hazard their lives in order to defend the fleeing Monarch on this dangerous journey. The chief difficulty lay in getting him unnoticed out of the castle. Those without could hardly put themselves into communication with him, as Neuschwanstein was strictly guarded. A lady who was passing the summer at Hohenschwangau offered to try and penetrate in to him, to inform him of the plan. She disguised herself as a peasant woman, and took with her the wife of a groom. All was deadly still. The fog was so thick that it was hardly possible to see ten steps ahead. The gendarmes had withdrawn to the interior of the castle. An officer was standing under the arch of the gateway; he asked the women who they were. One of them answered that she was married to the coachman, and wished to see the wife of the valet Mayr. The officer looked at them suspiciously. Some servants now appeared. “Do you know these women?” he asked. “Are they speaking the truth?” They replied in the affirmative, and the women were allowed to pass.

This venturesome deed led to nothing. Mayr, to whom they addressed themselves, refused under any circumstances to support a plan of flight. He did not even announce their arrival to the King. The latter, nevertheless, came to know of the matter. His first question was whether his flight could be carried into effect without the shedding of blood. When he received the answer that he must expect a struggle to ensue, he refused to follow those who desired to rescue him, “I do not wish any human life to be sacrificed for my sake,” he said.

He was cognisant as to the means which had been used to bring about his deposition from the throne. He was also quite aware what information had been collected for this purpose, and likewise who had betrayed him. “To think,” he said to his valet Mayr, “that these persons, to whom I have shown so much kindness, should have failed me so shamelessly; they have given up all my letters and papers to my adversaries.”

He had heard that new emissaries would come to Neuschwanstein the next morning to take him away, with the help of doctors and keepers; and he knew that he would be a will-less prisoner in their hands. The excited condition in which he had passed the previous day had been succeeded by indifference to everything, to everyone. After Count DÜrckheim’s departure he seemed to be completely broken. He thought no more of resistance. Another thought ceaselessly occupied his mind. When during the course of the Friday he showed apparent calm, it was because the idea of suicide was paramount. Unceasingly he walked up and down the throne-room, and talked aloud of shortening his life. Every now and then he addressed a few words to Weber. “Do you believe in the immortality of the soul?” he asked. “Yes,” answered the servant. “I too believe in it,” said Ludwig. “I believe in the immortality of the soul, and in the justice of God.” “From the heights of life to be dashed down into a nothing!” he continued. “A spoiled life! I cannot endure it. I could agree to their taking my crown from me, but I cannot survive their declaring me to be mad. I cannot possibly endure being treated like my brother Otto, whom every keeper dares to order about, whom they threaten with a clenched fist when he will not obey!”

The thought of death had taken possession of his mind. He asked his servants for cyanide of potassium; they replied that they could not give it to him. Despite the rain which was falling that night, he went out several times on to the balcony of the castle, which overhangs the dizzy chasm of the PÖllat. He ordered Mayr to give him the key of the high tower of the castle, but the servant pretended that he could not find it. A spring from the tower and the King would be saved! “When my barber comes to-morrow,” he said, “he may look for my head in the PÖllat.” And he added: “I hope that God will vouchsafe to pardon me this step!... I cannot spare my mother the pain I shall cause her,” he continued. “They are driving me to death! But my blood will be on all those who have betrayed me!” He was particularly bitter against his uncle. “A well-beloved relation who usurps supreme authority, and imprisons me,” he said. “He is no Prince Regent; he is a Prince Rebel!”

Baroness Truchsesz still continued to remain in the ante-room; her presence began to be painful to him. He desired her removal, but gave express orders that it should be done gently and with consideration.

The valet, Weber, had twice been in his service. Ludwig gave him a diamond clasp which he was in the habit of wearing in his hat. “I have no money with which to reward you,” he said. “Receive instead my clasp and this note of hand. If they compel you to give up the diamonds, my document will insure you a compensation of 25,000 marks.” He gave him, in addition, his prayer-book, which was much used. “Pray for me,” he said.1

It was a terrible night. The fog had turned into rain, which was falling in torrents, and the wind was howling round Neuschwanstein. Ludwig was almost alone in his castle, which was completely cut off from communication with the outer world. Again he went on to the balcony, and gazed out over the landscape, with his head resting on his hand.

A terrible fear came over him. He ordered Weber to summon Osterholzer: perchance the plan of flight which had been proposed to him before could still be put into execution. But the coachman had been summoned to Munich; it had been intimated to him that he would be arrested if he did not leave Hohenschwangau at once. “Will the people do nothing then to liberate their King?” His servant answered: “Your Majesty! the people have no weapons!”

The Court Commission, having suffered such ignoble defeat the first time, had been replenished with new emissaries. But again this time came Dr Gudden, the assistant doctor, Dr MÜller, and eight keepers. For personal safety’s sake these gentlemen had, moreover, brought with them from Munich the chief of the police; and they had demanded that the Regent’s proclamation should be published at Hohenschwangau before they proceeded thither. The former Commission had been treated as traitors and criminals; to the present one nobody dared show hostility.

The King had returned to the dining-room. He had never been a drinker; but on this night he drank brandy and wine to dull his senses.

The envoys had meanwhile arrived at Neuschwanstein, where they effected unhindered entrance. They were awaiting the moment when Mayr should give them the sign that they could take his Majesty and drive him to another castle. Ludwig had again demanded the key of the tower. The servant, fearing that he would throw himself over, had maintained that it was missing. For the last time he now repeated his order. In his terror Mayr hastened to Dr Gudden and asked what he should do. A minute afterwards he went into the presence, and announced that the key had been found. The King rose and followed him at once.

Those without heard firm steps. A man of imposing height suddenly showed himself in the doorway; he spoke in short abrupt sentences to the servant, who stood bowing deeply.

It had been arranged that the King should be at once surrounded and taken away by force. But when the Monarch came out all shrank back; nobody dared to seize him.

Dr Gudden was the first to regain self-possession. He stepped forward, and said:

“Your Majesty! this is the saddest task I have ever undertaken in my life. Four alienists have given a declaration as to the state of your Majesty’s health. In consequence of this Prince Luitpold has assumed the Regency. I have received orders to accompany your Majesty to Schloss Berg this very night.”

The King hesitated a moment. “What do you want with me?” he repeated several times. “What does this mean?”

The keepers approached to seize him. He warned them off with a proud gesture, and drew himself up.

“It is not necessary,” he said; “I will go of my free will.”