In 1887, the year after King Ludwig's death, I went to stay at Bad Kreuth, near Tegernsee, where the Empress joined me; Elizabeth had not seen me since the tragic occurrence at Lake Starnberg, and we discussed the King and many incidents of his life about which we alone knew the truth.

One day we took a long walk, and the conversation turned as usual on Ludwig. We had sat down to rest, and perhaps the lonely grandeur of the mountains by which we were surrounded recalled our dead cousin to us.

"He is not happy," said Aunt Cissi, and the mystic look deepened in her eyes as she spoke. "I frequently speak to Ludwig, and his soul has not found peace."

I was well accustomed to Elizabeth's strange ideas, and did not express any astonishment, but only asked, "Have you seen the King?"

"Yes, Marie," answered my aunt. "Listen, for what I am about to tell you is perfectly true. The first night that I slept in Bavaria after Ludwig's death he appeared to me."

"Oh, Aunt Cissi, surely it was a dream?"

"It was no dream," replied the Empress. "I had gone to bed, but I could not sleep, although the room was in darkness and everything outside was perfectly still.

"As I lay awake in the lonely hours thoughts assailed me, and suddenly I fancied I heard a monotonous drip, drip, of water.

"'It must be raining,' I said to myself, 'and the drops are falling on the leaves close to my window,' so I took no further notice until the noise was succeeded by the unmistakable ripple of water when it kisses the shore.

"You know that sound, Marie. We have heard it often as we rode by Lake Starnberg. As the gentle, rippling sound continued it gradually filled the room, and I began to experience all the sensations of drowning. I choked and gasped as I struggled for air; but the terror passed, and with an effort I sat up in bed and breathed freely.

"The moon had now risen, and its radiance made the room as light as day. Then I saw the door open very slowly, and Ludwig came within.

"His clothes were heavy with water, which dripped from them and made little pools on the parquet. His damp hair lay close round his white face, but it was Ludwig much as he had looked in life.

"We gazed at each other in silence, and then the King said slowly and sadly:

"'Cissi, are you frightened of me?'

"'No, Ludwig, I "am not frightened.'

"'Ah me!' he sighed. 'Death has not brought me peace. Cissi, she burns in torment. The flames encircle her, the smoke suffocates her. She burns and I am powerless to save her.'

"'Who burns, dear cousin?' I asked.

"'I do not know because her face is hidden,' he answered, 'but I know that it is a woman who loved me, and until her destiny is fulfilled I shall not be free. But afterwards you will join us and we three shall be happy in Paradise together.'

"'What do you mean? When shall I follow you?'

"'I cannot tell you when,' replied Ludwig, 'for in the abode of earth-bound souls time has no place.'

"'By which road shall I join you? Will it be a journey of painful old age, hampered by regrets and recollections?'

"'No, Cissi,' said my cousin; 'you will shed many tears, and experience both regrets and recollections before you come to us, but your journey will be swift, and you will have no warning of it.'

"'Shall I suffer?'

"He smiled. 'No, you will not suffer.'

"'How do I know that I am not dreaming?' I asked.

"Ludwig slowly came to my bedside, and oh! Marie, the coldness of death and the grave was in the air. 'Give me your hand,' he said.

"I put out my hand, and his wet fingers closed over mine. At that moment all my pity sprang into life. 'Ah stay,' I pleaded, 'do not leave the friend who loves you to return to your sufferings. Oh, Ludwig, pray with me for peace.' But as I spoke the figure vanished, and again I heard the drip of the invisible water succeeded by the ripple of the lake among the reeds. Panic seized me, for I felt I was very near the dwellers in that other world who stretch out their shadowy arms and beseech consolation from the living.

"Then I became unconscious, and must have fallen asleep. When I awoke the dawn was in the sky, but I knew then, as I know now, that I had actually seen and talked with Ludwig."

"Who could he have meant by the woman who burns?" I asked.

"I cannot imagine," replied Aunt Cissi.

The Empress often spoke about her strange experience, and when the Duchesse d'Alençon perished in the awful fire at the Charity Bazaar, I am told Elizabeth declared to others that Ludwig's words were fulfilled, and that she must prepare for the last journey, which she was destined to take a year and four months after her sister's death.

Many people will doubtless ridicule this story, which I wrote down at the time, and which I give almost exactly in the Empress's own words, but those who believe that sympathy between souls can exist beyond the grave will not deem it improbable that Elizabeth and Ludwig met once more.

"It is the secret sympathy,
The silver link, the silver tie,
Which heart to heart, and mind to mind
In body and in soul can bind."
Countess Marie Larisch, My Past


Detail of Ichnographia Ottopia
1999



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