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A knife of pain dug itself between the ears of the greatest monarch who had ever lived. As King Ludwig I of Bavaria walked hastily through the marble hallways of his Royal Palace in Munich, he greatly regretted the intensity of the previous night yet tenderly kept a complete acceptance of its eventual return. The Bavarian morning shone brightly, and illumined the palace with rays of gold across every wall. There was work to be done… or so he thought.
The palace library was an enormous cavern of information and illumination, placed perfectly within the heart of the castle as purple and blue light floated from the stained glass windows through the air, fragrant with the smell of paper and wood. “Where is that old man? Ten minutes I’ve been stepping in circles around this labyrinth of books I would never dream of reading,” thought Ludwig to himself, beginning to feel the first sparks of frustration in his light-sensitive head. Echoes of the previous night drifted in and out of his thinking, yet the loud pain of a dozen beverages still pounded at the skull walls from within and he could not quite yet remember why he needed to come to this place after all.
At last, out of the corner of his eye he noticed the small doorway almost hidden to the rear of the library, and through the narrow stone hallway he entered a most small and cramped stone chamber. It appeared dim and shamelessly cluttered with books and scrolls, papers stacked to the ceiling and falling to the floor upon the slightest movement of the air. A small figure sat at a terribly messy desk facing away from the entryway where the One True King stood beautiful with gold and silver and sword and medallion; Günter Schleswig had tended the archives for decades upon decades, a grayed and ragged old man of seemingly infinite knowledge, his nose buried in a dense tome of an alien language. Without turning around, the respected elder softly exclaimed, “Good morning, Your Highness… how may an old withered soul be of help to you today?”
“Please, Günter, no need to get up,” muttered the King, “my business concerns the Order of Knights.” He leaned against the stone threshold of the doorway as Schleswig slowly rose up from his wooden seat; for a moment he thought he saw tiny avalanches of dust fall from his robed shoulders. From underneath impenetrable black eyebrows, eyes of gray steel met the eyes of the chosen monarch. “A most ancient and honorable Order, from the heart of St. Michael himself. What of it concerns you, Your Grace?”
Uneasily, Ludwig began, “A tremendous individual has impressed upon me, and I desire to reward his efforts and induct him into the highest ranks that Germany has to offer. I desire it.” With a knowing smile, the withered historian sharply asked, “Is he of the nobility?” His eyes dug into Ludwig’s with frightening intensity, daring the King to begin an argument. With false confidence, Ludwig asserted, “Yes, he is a tremendously noble person. His family, however, is of a different sort. Regardless, I desire his induction.” The King knew the power and respect that the elder Günter commanded in the court, and knew he needed to be careful. However, his pounding headache betrayed his weakened composure.
“If he is a Jew, you need not worry any further. I assure you that the honorable Prince-Archbishop Joseph Clemens of Cologne did not begin this prestigious order in the blessed year of 1693 to share it with the spawn of Abraham. Need I remind you that it is a brotherhood of Catholics? They would crucify themselves before sharing their medallion with the likes of those who crucified their Lord.” Shamelessly did the lover of knowledge fire his iron conviction, like an arrow into the heart of a weaker man.
Ludwig’s patience with the old was growing thinner with each passing word. “Regardless, most honorable Herr Schleswig, as the leading voice and reign of Bavaria, I, Ludwig the First, demand to induce Dr. Grunsfeld of Furth. He has earned the privilege.” Turning to the side, the robed elder reached his twisted claws into a pile of books and pulled another most-heavy tome and loudly brought it down onto the table by the candlelight. Turning ancient pages with an ancient hand, the ancient librarian spoke from underneath the hood, “Grunsfeld does not belong. It is written here in the archives of Clemens, that to hold the rank of Grand Cross and Knight, the members must exist to uphold the Catholic faith and to preside over its best financial interests. For the sacred memory of the Prince-Archbishop, I cannot possibly allow you to bring Jewish blood into a most pure Catholic Order, the code does not allow-“
Before he had realized what he was doing, Ludwig had already cried, “To Hell with the code!” and had seized the surprisingly heavy book, poised to throw it against the wall. Fortunately for him, he had the sense to catch himself despite the splitting headache and did not throw the heavy work; if he had, the old historian truly never would have forgiven him. Releasing his anger in a boiling outward breath, Ludwig hissed, “I have no more patience for the forgotten codes and regulations written hundreds of years ago by withered and racist old men; for today, there arises a need to reestablish a system of awarding merit to those that deserve it most. Grunsfeld is the first Jewish attorney in Bavaria, and a damn effective one at that; he has prosecuted most of our districts clean from corruption and filth. He is an exceptional individual.”
Silently and with disdain, the unmoving eyes of the ragged ancient did not blink at the King’s bold disregard for the charity of history. He understood that to resist was pointless, yet bitterly did he hold his proud silence. Ludwig continued, his chest swelling with determination, “There will be new books written, and new societies will rise from the ashes of the old. I will renew the ancient Order of Knights into a more inclusive and kind Order, and it will be deemed the Order of Merit.” With a firmness that surprised even himself, Ludwig exclaimed, “It will recognize all who do praiseworthy deeds in the name of King and country, regardless of their faith or social status. May 1837 be the blessed year of a new beginning. Grand Cross and Knight must now make way for the Commander. Good day, Günter.”
With this, he swiftly turned and began the long walk back to his Royal Quarters, leaving the old librarian alone in the chamber where dust hung in the air like smoke. Not a doubt remained in the heart of the King, for he understood that a promise made to a friend over a round of beers is a promise that must be kept regardless of who stands in the way. He knew what he needed to do. He was going to make a new Taler, and it was going to be beautiful… as always.
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The Royal Bavarian Order of St. Michael was originally instituted in 1693 by Josef Clement the Elector as an award for Catholics. As many religious Orders it was falling in disuse during the Secularization of Germany in the beginning of 19th Century. King Ludwig revived the Order as Order of Merit on February 16th, 1837. Now all people could be recognized regardless of faith and stand.
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German Talers since 1800 by John S. Davenport.
Bavaria, King Ludwig Series (1825 - 1848).
Taler 1837, ORDER OF MERIT.
Davenport 580, KM 790, Thun 72, AKS 139, J.54
Commemoration of the St. Michael Order being designated as Order of Merit.
Obverse: Head fo Ludwig to the right, LUDWIG I KOENIG VON BAYERN. ZEHN EINE FEINE MARK.
Reverse: DER ST. MICHAELS-ORDEN ZUM VERDIENST-ORDEN BESTIMMT, 1837 below. Angel on Cross.
28.0600 g., 0.83300 Silver, 0.7515 oz. ASW.
PCGS MS 65 PL.
Top of PCGS Certified Population! Proof-like strike, high grade commemorative "Historic Thaler" of King Ludwig I - this one to Commemorate destination of the St. Michael's Order as Order of Merit. Deep mirrored fields with scattered contact marks, more prominent on obverse, pristine fields on reverse! Sharp cameo design with frosty appearance - top quality collectible!!