Here's what most tourists know about Ludwig. He was mad. He built a mountaintop citadel that served as Disney's architectural model and is the iconic image of a fairy tale castle. He was a passionate Wagner fan whose financial support rescued the composer from penury. He died in mysterious circumstances soon after his ministers forced him to abdicate.
His story is far more complex. All the experts here ... and contemporaries from Wagner to Metternich ... stand firm on their opinion that he was troubled, but perfectly sane. He clearly had a wealth of hang-ups after an odd, isolated childhood and was probably an opium addict by the time he died. Yes, he had outrageously opulent taste and spent breath-taking amounts, but he was spending his own money. It was only when he exhausted his own resources and went to his government for a loan that they had an excuse to move against him. Arguably a design genius, he was personally involved in each project, creating things of dazzling beauty whilst integrating the best of modern technology. The lost glass houses from the roof of Munich's Residenz must have been a technological marvel in line with the contemporary Crystal Palace in London.
He wanted to be involved in governing his country, but was rebuffed early. Marginalised to his palaces, he became increasingly isolated as he retreated to comforting fantasies of past times. Idealised medieval castles and tales of German myth connected him to the world of his childhood. Re-creations of the world of France's Louis XIV carried him back to the age in which he felt he belonged.
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| Hohenschwangau |
There's much more to Ludwig than the typical bus tour from Munich, which tends to feature a quick
duck into Neuschwanstein and a trot through the interior at Linderhof. There are six essential palaces and two museums needed to complete the story, and logistics make it almost impossible to see everything in the right order.
Ideally, you'd start with the museums. The Museum of Bavarian Kings in Schwangau puts Ludwig in the context of his lineage. It's much easier to understand his extravagance and disappointment with the 19th century world when you see what came before him. Then you'd move on to the excellent new museum at Herrenchiemsee dedicated to his life and works. And only then would you get into the palaces. First to the homes of his childhood, Hohenschwangau, the Residenz and Nymphenburg. All three will remind you that the buildings he created weren't unusually lavish in his own experience; just an extension of his family's long architectural heritage. Rooms at the first two demonstrate that his Wagner and German myth obsession was nothing new, rather an effort to re-capture and improve on magical spaces from childhood.
Next, therefore, would come Neuschwanstein, where he upped the ante on those childhood dreams.
Finally you'd move on to his French stage. The further isolated he became from modern politics, the more he yearned for the bygone days of absolute monarchy. Unlike most of his fellow European royals, he had the money to build stage sets for his fantasies. Cue Linderhof and Herrenchiemsee. You'd end up back in the museum at the latter, looking at a fascinating video of all the building projects that were still on the drawing board when he died.
We saw all these things over our two weeks, but not in that order. For our purposes, let me divide the Ludwig sites into two neat parcels. Here, the castles evoking German myth. Next entry, those channeling the Sun King.
The German myth castles
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| Neuschwanstein |
As would have the family home at Hohenschwangau. Though it seems a stately, generously-proportioned pile to us, it's a small and rather humble country escape as far as Wittlesbach family homes go. It is the creation of his parents, Maximilian and Marie, who were at the cutting edge of the 19th century trend for medieval revivalism. Here you'll find compelling wall frescoes drawn from German legend in near-life-sized scale. In the main hall, ancient heroes battle in a blood-free conflict; this scrap seems to be more about who has the noblest profile, the finest horse or the showiest armour rather than who's best in a fight. In his father's bedroom, alluring Rhine maidens play out the stories that initiate the ring cycle. The tale of Lohengrin surrounded Ludwig at every family meal. No wonder he fell in love with Wagner; it must have been like a Harry Potter-obsessed teenager seeing the first film in 2001 after loving the books.
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| Dinner with Lohengrin |
The exquisite frescoes in their deep jewel tones are matched by neo-gothic wood carving, monumental furniture, sumptuous upholstery and jewel-encrusted objects d'art. And yet, your eye has space to rest here. There are stretches of solid colour, or small repeated pattern. Plenty of room is given over to broad windows that take in the beauty of the valley and mountains beyond. Compared to the castles Ludwig went on to build, there's a stillness and a simplicity here. Yet you can clearly see the childhood inspiration. Almost ignored by his parents, left here with only the heroes on the wall to keep him company, his comfort with escaping into a fantasy world began.
In that context, Neuschwanstein is a logical evolution. Within clear view of his childhood home, Ludwig sought to build something bigger and better, but clearly a direct evolution from his early days. The wall painting cycles of German legend, the jewel tones, the medieval-styled furniture are all here. But it's bigger, busier, and a hell of a lot higher. If this castle's on your bucket list, don't put it off for long: it's a climb to get here, and involves a great deal of clambering up and down and walking, at brisk pace, to keep up with the guided tours which are the only way in.
Too much to take in
The pace of the guided tour means the procession of exquisite interiors will whip by in a blur. There are no quiet spaces here. At least, not in the completed rooms you get to tour. Every inch is covered with decorative detail, all deserving attention. But you won't have time. Looking at pictures in the guide book after our visit, I figured that for every one element I noticed, there were four or five others I didn't. Frankly, you'll probably only remember three rooms with any clarity.
The singer's hall at the very top is flooded with light and supposed to evoke a scene from the Tannhauser legend. It should be a cheerful space ... and the forest scene behind the stage is right out of Disney ... but you learn that Ludwig never entertained here and wandered these halls alone. In isolation, this magnificence would have been oppressive. Ludwig's bedroom is painted with scenes from the tragic story of Tristan and Isolde and features a magnificent carved wooden bed. If it looks familiar, it's because it looks exactly like medieval chantry chapel; all that's missing is the tomb with its sleeping figure in the middle. While beautiful, it's a lonely, dark place that suggests a man embracing the next world in the prime of his life in this one.
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| Throne room, Neuschwanstein |
The more you learn about him, the more your heart bleeds. Ludwig is the poster child for the maxim that money can't buy you happiness. It can't change political reality, either. Next entry, I'll explore his architectural attempts to recapture the world of divine right monarchy.
Logistics
A modern office in Schwangau, the village between the castles, sells tickets to all the attractions. There are only a certain number of tickets for each day; when they're sold, that's it. Given that large blocks of the English-speaking sessions are blocked in advance by bus tours, you risk disappointment if you get here at any time after mid-morning. Arriving first thing, or booking in advance, is essential.
Admission to the castles is only by guided tour, on strict timetables. If you don't arrive in the approximately 10-minute window in which the automated turnstiles accept your tour's tickets, you're out of luck. Both castles take some getting to. Hohenschwangau takes about 20 minutes to reach, mostly up stairs, while Neuschwanstein is a 50-minute brisk walk at a steady ascent. There's a horse-drawn wagon to both, and a bus up to Neuschwanstein, but the queues to get on either mode of transport can easily eat up half an hour or more, and the horses don't go much faster than a brisk human walk. All of which means that unless you're young, fit and going at a cracking pace, about two hours of your sightseeing day is going to be spent getting to, between and from the castles.
It's for this reason that many people only see Neuschwanstein. Resist the temptation. Resign yourself to the fact this is going to take all day. You need both castles to understand the story. Buy the triple ticket so you can get in to the Museum of Bavarian Kings. Leave three hours between your admissions to Hohenschwangau (which should always be seen first) and Neuschwanstein so you can enjoy a leisurely lunch.
Besides, the tours at Hohenschwangau are better. This castle is still owned by the family who, it seems, employ older and more experienced guides who have a deep connection to their topic. And the place is small enough for a half-hour tour (which, in our case, stretched to 40 minutes) to be meaningful. The same half -hour in Neuschwanstein was a blur of quick, magnificent rooms in between athletic sprints to keep up with the guide. I needed the guidebook afterwards to remind me of what we saw. That's the problem with being the No. 1 attraction in any country; the need to push the crowds through eliminates any ability to linger and appreciate.
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