on the death of a king and the birth of legends

Neuschwanstein peaking from the morning mists

In the middle of a continent that was torn apart by war and itching for more, one sundered by revolutions and dangerous waves of idealism lighting the fires of chaos in the open ovens of taverns and salons, there was one king who held himself quite aloft from everything. While Bismarck was dumping millions of marks into the development of his military and the modernization of his riflemen to make his infantry supreme, another German leader was much more concerned with the development of the arts – and indeed, to show an excellent example of the ultimate triumph of the arts over warmongering and Realpolitik, there lived one mad Bavarian king, Ludwig II. Everybody knows the things that Ludwig touched and held high, whether it’s from the original Disney castle perched high in the Bavarian Alps, or Richard Wagner, the man of his obsession who otherwise would have fallen along with the heaps of other obscure authors, poets, and musicians of that period. And let’s not forget Bavarian culture as a whole, made powerful, momentous, and memorable because of the efforts of that one man, who instead of buying new needle point rifles for his army created armies of musicians to go out and win the world through the heavenly sound of horsehair drifting across catgut.

Of course, we can’t fool ourselves here, there was much value in Bismarck’s military obsession and his sheer ability to make a fool out of all who opposed him. He pressured Napoleon III’s unprepared military into declaring war on him, then – through a great deal of other political machinations, created a vast German Empire that swallowed up all the other German speaking provinces and that would tilt the period’s beloved balance of power, sending Europe into an eventual spiral of paranoia and treaty-signing that would lead to World War I. He held the use of “iron and blood” far above that of democracy, and as one whose goals were to make the German Empire into continental domination, he was successful, but at a future cost that would be much greater. After the pivotal Prussian-Austrian War, Bismarck was able to garner control of all of northern Germany in a single, lightning war – the first time the term “blitzkrieg” would come to use, but not the last. In addition, Bavaria became a mere tribute state, and the once powerful Austrian Empire a mere vassal, living now under “The Misery of Austria”, and whose later Emperors were to be considered buffoons.

View of Hohenschwangau from Neuschwanstein

It’s that world that Ludwig II grew up in, one where the new kingdom of Bavaria was trying to find its place between hugely powerful Empires that were bent on gobbling up the rest of Europe like a feast on a holiday, each participant poking each other with forks under the table while pretending to be civilized gentlemen on the top side. Ludwig was the son of the King of Bavaria, Maximilian II, who himself was keen on the arts and historical studies, having once declared that he would have preferred to have been born a professor than a king. As a king, he was caught in the constant struggle between Austria and Germany over who had the right to rule the German people – a question that would not be answered until his son’s reign – with Bavaria, as a Catholic state, supporting Austria’s claim. As a lover of the arts, he constantly had a coterie of artists around him and rebuilt Schwangau Castle, later to be called Hohenschwangau – or the High Swan County Castle. Hohenschwangau, designed by the German architect and stage designer Domenico Quaglio the Younger, was built in neogothic style and is reminiscent of Crusader castles from long ago, with battlements along the high walls of the house. 

The view Ludwig had imagining his future castle

Ludwig II spent much of his childhood with his brother Otto in Hohenschwangau, surrounded by artists, scientists, philosophers and other friends of the king. There he developed his own love of the arts, often ignoring his princely duties to study politics and how to run a kingdom, partly because the King and Queen seemed to have no real interest in either of their children. Perhaps he thought his father would live forever to work on that, but he had a shock in his 18th year, when his father passed away and he inherited the throne. He was at first energetic with the idea of pushing the arts as a matter of policy, creating his army of musicians and – as his first real act as king – inviting the then reviled Richard Wagner, who was living in poverty and hiding, being a democratic revolutionary in Bismarck’s land of autocracy. Wagner came to live in Ludwig’s household, causing great strain in his family, as Ludwig’s uncle, Luitpold, saw him as a negative influence on the kingdom. Luitpold saw the future of Bavaria with Prussia, which was not compatible with Wagner’s own drama. Yet of the two, it was Wagner who would create an immortal Germany, propelling German folk stories into a real German Myth.

Ludwig was obsessed with Wagner’s operas, an obsession that would never go away. At one point, when Wagner was being driven out of Bavaria by the Parliament led by Luitpold, Ludwig told him that he would rather abdicate and join Wagner – but Wagner refused this offer. It was under Wagner though that Ludwig was the closest to creating a real Bavarian power. At Ludwig’s announced wedding of fellow Wagner fan, Duchess Sophie Charlotte of Bavaria, who was the youngest sister of Austria, Napoleon III would come as a guest, and this would solidify the notion to the people that German unification with Prussia was out of the question. But without this tripartite, it would be impossible to sway the people against Bismarck and a unified Germany. He wrote a letter to Sophie announcing they would not get married, in it, stating “the main substance of our relationship has always been… Richard Wagner’s remarkable and deeply moving destiny.”

It was true. Especially since Ludwig was a bit of a dandy. Not just because he liked the arts, but because he also liked thespians. Male ones. But he also insisted that he would remain true to his Roman Catholic faith, so despite having several male companions, never seemed to have consummated his love for any of them.

The cancellation of the wedding though gave power to his uncle to drive Wagner out. At this time, Prussia and Austria finally moved on the inevitable machine of war, sucking Bavaria into the chaos on Austria’s side. But Bavaria wasn’t prepared, with Bismarck and his allies having just reorganized and modernized Prussia’s military. Bavaria was crushed and forced to submit to Prussia, remaining a kingdom in name only. This defeat led both Ludwig and his brother – who served as a leader in the military – into insanity and obfuscation.

Ludwig would become a recluse, holing up in Hohenschwangau, preferring to live his life as though he were in a fantasy kingdom, with him as an absolute monarch, modeling his life around his servants after the French absolutist king Louis XIV and even seeking to build a scale model palace after Versailles, and calling himself the “Moon King” opposite Louis’s title of the “Sun King”. To supplement this name, after his self-exile, he began to only work at night, and would take carriage rides through the moonlight, calling upon his villagers.

His grander, much more ambitious project was Neuschwanstein, on a mountain peak quite visible from the patios of Hohenschwangau. Neuschwanstain, or “New Swan on the Rock” was the encapsulation of a mountaintop Camelot. It was based off the set design of Lohengrin, who was the Swan Knight in Wagner’s drama, and who was the cause of Ludwig’s initial obsession with the operatic.

Lohengrin's castle realized

Lohengrin is weird story about a guy who comes riding in on a boat pulled by a swan, kills a guy, marries a girl named Elsa, and makes her promise to never ask his name. When she asks his name, he reveals himself as Lohengrin, the son of King Parsifal and a Knight of the Grail, who had sworn to remain anonymous to all of his lovers like some sort of Germanic Casanova. He then decides to leave her and ride back out on his swan. But fortunately, the swan then turns into her brother, but she dies anyway from grief at her husband leaving. Also, the wife of the guy killed earlier turns out to be a witch and she gets killed. But at least Lohengrin is off adventuring somewhere else and marrying other young virgins and Gottfried, Elsa’s sister, is now a Duke. So not everything ends bad that goes bad.

Ludwig grew up adoring this opera and imagining himself as the Swan Knight, while he passed his time below next to the lake that is filled with swans throughout the summer months and while living in his High Swan County Castle. When he became king, he was promoted to being the Swan King and needed a castle fitting as such, so he became convinced in his self-created exile from public life. He would call the castle, New Hohenschwangau, though the name would be later changed after his death. Ludwig sent emissaries out all across the world to discover the beautiful and great, so that he could create castles using a combination of all these good things. Neuschwanstein was a product of this research and glee, its two main inspirations drawing from Chateau de Pierrefonds in Picardy, France, and Wartburg, near Eisenach, in Germany. But Neuschwanstein would far exceed either castle in vision and beauty.

From a nearby promontory

So that the project could be protected from the scheming of his ministers, Ludwig used only his family’s money and borrowed extensively to build his castles, rather than using any of the public treasury funds. Ludwig worked extensively with the architect, Eduard Riedel, to get exactly the image that he wanted. It was a theatrical castle where he could live out his fantasies of being the Swan Knight in seclusion. The interior lacks room for a proper court – which would have been held down at Hohenschwangau – but has an elaborately decorated and designed theatre - the acoustics being of the highest technology of the age - extensive private chambers, and even a room built as a cave, complete with stalagmites and stalactites. All of the art throughout the castle, from paintings to statues to room designs, reflect something to do with one of Wagner’s operas, whether they were of the actual characters, or they were influenced by the set designs.

View of the castle from the village

The house is utterly beautiful but also sadly incomplete. During its construction, an array of ministers who had grown disillusioned with Ludwig’s reign decided to try to depose him and approached Luitpold to lead them, who accepted. They hired a psychologist named Bernhard von Gudden, who despite only having met Ludwig 20 years before, declared Ludwig insane and unfit to rule. They brought Ludwig to Castle Berg as a prisoner and patient, while Luipold ruled as regent. On one day, Ludwig went out with von Gudden for a walk around a nearby lake. Both were found dead in waist-deep water, leaving behind as many conspiracy theories as that which surrounds Kennedy’s death.

After Ludwig’s death, they proclaimed Otto king, who was also insane, so naturally Uncle Luitpold stayed as regent. Luitpold died in 1913 at the age of 91 and was succeeded as regent by his son, also named Ludwig, who then deposed the crazy king Otto and declared himself king. It was a short reign, as World War I started shortly after, bringing a finish to the monarchies of Germany.

Neuschwanstein was never finished and never fully realized its purpose. Shortly after Ludwig's death, the castle with its views of sheer cliff faces, waterfalls, and lakes, became a museum, as it remains today, drawing in 1.3 million visitors every year.

Read my previous blog for some tips in visiting the place.