XXI The Indiscretions of a Monarch
Louis, being a lover of the old school, resorted to verse as an expression of his sentiments towards his new favourite. The editor of the Times, years after, described His Majesty as something of a poet, in a small way. How very small that way was the following effusions will show. They were translated by Mr. Francis, afterwards editor of the Morning Post and other journals. Unfortunately, or fortunately, they convey no idea of the odd contortions of language characteristic of the original.
“To the Absent Lolita
“The world hates and persecutes
That heart which gave itself to me:
But however much they may try to estrange us,
My heart will cling the more fondly to thine.
“The more they hate, the more thou art beloved;
And more and more is given to thee.
I shall never be torn from thee.
“Against others they have no hate;
It is against thee alone they are enraged;
In thee everything is a crime;
Thy words alone, as deeds, they would punish.
“But the heart’s goodness shows itself—
Thou hast a highly elevated mind;
Yet the little who deem themselves great
Would cast thee off as a pariah.
“For evermore I belong to thee;
For evermore thou belongest to me:
What delight! that like the wave
Renews itself out of its eternal spring.
“By thee my life becomes ennobled,
Which without thee was solitary and empty;
Thy love is the nutriment of my heart,
If it had it not, it would die.
“And though thou mightest by all be forsaken,
I will never abandon thee;
For ever will I preserve for thee
Constancy and true German faith.”
The next verses relate to the Countess of Landsfeld, in her character as a Liberal martyr.
“From thee, beloved one, time and distance separate me,
But however distant thou might’st be,
I should ever call thee my own,
Thou eternally bright star of my life.
“The wild steed, if you try to daunt him.
Prances, the bolder only, on and on:
The ties of love will tie us so much closer,
If the world attempt to tear thee from me.
“And every persecution thou endurest
Becomes a new link in the chain
Which, because thou art struggling for truth,
Thou hast, for the rest of my life, cast around me.
“Whether near or far off, thou art mine,
And the love which with its lustre glorifies
Is ever renewed and will last for ever.
For evermore our faith will prove itself true.”
The following lines are a sonnet in the original, addressed to:—
“Lolita and Louis
“Men strive with restless zeal to separate us;
Constantly and gloomily they plan thy destruction;
In vain, however, are always their endeavours,
Because they know themselves alone, not us.
Our love will bloom but the brighter for it all—
What gives us bliss cannot be divorced from us—
Those endless flames which burn with sparkling light,
And pervade our existence with enrapturing fire.
Two rocks are we, against which constantly are breaking
The adversaries’ craft, the enemies’ open rage;
But, scorpion-like, themselves, they pierce with deadly sting—
The sanctuary is guarded by trust and faith;
Thy enemies’ cruelty will be revenged on themselves—
Love will compensate for all that we have suffered.
“In the following sonnet,” comments the translator, “the royal poet does not clearly intimate whether he has renounced the political or the personal rivals of the fair Lolita:—
“‘If, for my sake, thou hast renounced all ties,
I, too, for thee have broken with them all;
Life of my life, I am thine—I am thy thrall—
I hold no compact with thine enemies.
Their blandishments are powerless on me,
No arts will serve to seduce me from thee;
The power of love raises me above them.
With thee my earthly pilgrimage will end.
As is the union between the body and the soul,
So, until death, with thine my being is blended.
In thee I have found what I ne’er yet found in any—
The sight of thee gave new life to my being.
All feeling for any other has died away,
For my eyes read in thine—love!’”
The final example of the King’s lyrical genius might be inscribed to “Lolita in Dejection.” It is dated the evening of 6th July 1847.
“A glance of the sun of former days,
A ray of light in gloomy night!
Have sounded long-forgotten strings,
And life once more as erst was bright.
“Thus felt I on that night of gladness,
When all was joy through thee alone;
Thy spirit chased from mine its sadness,
No joy was greater than mine own.
“Then was I happy for feeling more deeply
What I possessed and what I lost;
It seemed that thy joy then went for ever,
And that it could never more return.
“Thou hast lost thy cheerfulness,
Persecution has robbed thee of it;
It has deprived thee of thy health,
The happiness of thy life is already departed.
“But the firmer only, and more firmly
Thou hast tied me to thee;
Thou canst never draw me from thee—
Thou sufferest because thou lovest me.”
The King of Bavaria was not a poet; but, as a critic said of Emile Auger, in some remote corner of his being, something was singing.