Sad King Ludwig

We were standing in the crypt. It is the basement of St. Michael’s Church in Munich. A lively pedestrian street buzzed outside with throngs of tourists and locals. Heavy black iron caskets sat on the cold floor. Those contain the remains of the royal Wittelsbach family. Fresh flowers and hand written notes rested on a large decorative one. I asked a young German man standing next to me to translate the writing. He said in excellent English – “The citizens of Schwangau are grateful to the king.”

Mad or Sad Ludwig?

Ludwig II, the Mad King of Bavaria. Anyone who has traveled to that part of Germany cannot go back without visiting his monumental creations. The fairytale castle -Neuschwanstein, Herrenchiemsee – the Bavarian version of Versailles, and Linderhof – a royal private residence.

His palaces are over-the-top in opulence, excruciatingly beautiful, bedecked with unimaginable finery and exquisite objects of beauty, dazzling in gold and color, fragile in random delicateness of artistry and heavy with overpowering structures of wealth and grandeur. Neuschwanstein was an inspiration for Disney’s magic kingdom and remains a draw for millions of tourists every year who walk up the Alpine slope to reach the magical white castle with gray turrets hugging the clouds.

A rainy day in Linderhof

We visited Linderhof on a rainy morning this September. We drove through pure green meadows and even greener hills. Linderhof is a Baroque palace with an impulsive, almost zany grandeur and a fantastically beautified residence. It is a relatively smaller palace where Ludwig mostly lived. A steady drizzle fell outside, on the exotic and fanciful grounds. Rain gurgled with the water cascading down the steep slopes to the Neptune fountain. Large drops spread in rings on the slate like pool in front – the iconic golden water nymph sat encircled by the winged cherubs. We walked through rooms with gilded ceilings and artifacts of incredible value. Priceless porcelain vases adorned the walls and crystal teardrops gleamed in dense chandeliers hung from the adorned ceilings. His absolute adulation of the French royalty, especially Louis XIV is expressly evident all over. An opulent and smaller Hall of Mirrors threw illusions of magic mirror. Ludwig, never married, spent his nights here amidst glowing candle light in priceless candelabras. The royal dining room has a disappearing table. He ate alone in company of his imaginary dinner guests – Louis XV or perhaps Marie Antionette. The table was always laid for four people.

Linderhof Gardens

By the time we reached Neuschwanstein, close to the town of Füssen, the rain had become spotty. A misty air flew down. We walked up the side of the mountain past the castle to the hanging bridge, Mary’s bridge. The bridge was packed with people. We jostled to get a good shot of the castle. I saw a mystical, medieval castle over vast green meadows. I thought of Basilisks and Griffins. I thought of Ludwig.

A lonely and fanciful royal child, raised in an Alpine castle, Ludwig II loved plays and pictures and imaginary games. Forced into kinghood at 18 and suffering a crushing defeat at the German war soon after, he sought to take refuge in his own world. A world weaved by his poetic and sensitive mind – defined by musical plays and operas of Richard Wagner, medieval legends and glory.  He dreamed of being the Grail King. He struggled with his sexual predilections and loneliness. He built magnificent castles and filled them with cherished treasures and canvases of fantasy. A Neverland for the 19th century.

He was a sad king. I thought.

A Young Ludwig

As we walked through Neuschwanstein, the obsessive intensity of his fantasies became more and more evident. We stood in the Throne room. A room built in the Byzantine style with vaulted ceilings and arches in the upper balcony painted in vivid gold and blue. Painted apostles in bright colors loomed down. Enormous round chandeliers in copper and bronze tones etched with jewels hung over our heads.

The fantasy is overwhelming. Despite this crushing lavishness, I imagined Ludwig – alone, dreaming in his royal blue bed, silk sheets crackling as he fought with his demons, struggling with his sexual desires, wracked by guilt, finding refuge in grand operas and depiction of holy kingdoms painted in gold tones in cold castles. He slept all day and woke at night to continue the fantasy. The castles were a stage for performances that reflected his deep desires for a life that he couldn’t have.

I looked at the black and white photo of the young king in the gift shop – a regal face, noble forehead, and penetrating eyes. I didn’t see madness, perhaps a terrific loneliness. A boy of introverted passion, limited by royal confines, handicapped by being gay, escaping reality by becoming protagonists of fictional operas.

He is unfortunately so beautiful and wise, soulful and lordly, that I fear his life must fade away like a divine dream in this base world … You cannot imagine the magic of his regard: if he remains alive it will be a great miracle! wrote Wagner when he met Ludwig for the first time.

His ministers ultimately deposed him. He was declared insane, recent research strongly suggests that a conspiracy was hatched against him, which led him to be interned in Palace Stranberg and eventually murdered. The tour guides will not tell you this. But, his lifeless body was found floating in the lake seven weeks before Neuschwanstein was opened to the public.

Ironically, his palaces are the biggest revenue earners in Bavaria today.

A Sad King – I thought. The tourists keep coming.