The Dream King: Ludwig II of Bavaria

by Wilfrid Blunt, Michael Petzet (Contributor)

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Genres: History, Biography, Nonfiction, Art, Germany

264 pages, Hardcover

First published January 1, 1970

About the author

note: This profile is for the artist and gardener. For the poet go here: Wilfrid Scarwen Blunt

Wilfrid Jasper Walter Blunt was an artist, art teacher, author and curator of the Watts Museum near Guildford.
Blunt received a scholarship to Marlborough College where he studied between 1914 and 1920.
After a year at Worcester College, Oxford, Blunt switched to the Atelier Moderne in Paris to become an artist. By the following year he was an engraving student at the Royal College of Art, London where he received an Associates degree in 1923.
Blunt joined Haileybury College, Hertfordshire, as its art instructor in 1923. He spent the year 1933 on leave training as a concert singer in Italy and Germany, but pursued singing only avocationally. Europe broadened his cultural outlook enough that returning to a provincial school was no longer rewarding. Blunt researched and published work on the architect William Wilkins, who had designed the buildings of Haileybury in 1806. The previous year, a family connection got him a position of second drawing master at Eton College.
In 1950, Blunt wrote his most acclaimed book The Art of Botanical Illustration, together with W.T. Stearn, for which he was awarded the Veitch Gold Medal from the Royal Horticultural Society. At Eton he encouraged italic handwriting, publishing the book Sweet Roman Hand on the subject in 1952. Blunt retired from Eton in 1959 and joined the Watts Gallery Museum in Compton, near Guildford, as a curator. When he retired from the Gallery in 1983 he was allowed to live in the curator's house until his death. His brothers were Christopher Evelyn Blunt, a noted numismatist, and Anthony Blunt, the eminent art historian (and spy).

source:Wilfrid Blunt

Reviews

[Bionic Jean · Rating 4 out of 5]

I have known about “Mad King Ludwig” since I was tiny. My older brother, destined to become a globetrotter, had gone on a school trip to Germany, Austria and Bavaria following his earlier one to France. It was the first time anyone from our extended family had gone abroad in this way (though we had cycled in the Netherlands, having family there). He came back armed with hundreds of transparencies: photographs he had taken. Many now will not remember the thrill of watching a “slide show” in a darkened living room, with a carousel of your own photographs blown up and projected onto a large screen, but it was an incredible shared experience for those who do.

The Zugspitze mountain took my breath away with its remote icy beauty, as did my brother’s dozens of slides of Neuschwanstein and Hochenschwangau, the fairytale castles of Mad King Ludwig (King Ludwig II of Bavaria). Then there was Linderhof Palace, and Herrenchiemsee. My brother told stories of how this crazy monarch had such a wild romantic imagination, passion for the decorative Arts, and a penchant for magical and mythological stories that he bankrupted the country. Poor people no longer had enough money to buy food, and the government was massively in debt. My parents were fascinated and shocked by the stories, but my eyes were glued to the screen. Somehow these medieval castles in the sky were all mixed up in my mind with the snowy landscapes and mountain ranges; an ethereal unnatural beauty. I felt as if I was really there, in this fantasy land. Eventually the slide show was over. I blinked. The lights were switched back on and normality resumed.

Years later, it became possible for me to see the castles for myself. We travelled by train (and ferry) all the way from England, across Belgium, part of France, Switzerland and Austria, so we could visit Bavaria, now the southeast part of Germany, and see Neuschwanstein castle, perched precariously on its cliff top. It would have been a quick enough journey by plane no doubt, but it took quite a lot of planning on the different countries’ railways, and since it was before the euro, using different foreign currency.

So you can imagine our astonishment when, standing in a queue in the courtyard of Neuschwanstein castle, among tourists from Japan, America and other countries, we overheard somebody chatting about their home in England - and it turned out to be only about 5 miles from where we lived! What were the odds? We weren’t on a package holiday, or even part of any group for travel. It all added to the extraordinary sense of unreality about those castles.

I never did see inside Neuschwanstein, as it happened. After more than two hours queueing we decided to explore the area instead, and admire it remotely. Part of the castles’ fascination lies in their idyllic setting, on wooded hillsides.

Many more years passed and my brother sadly died. I retrieved this book of his to read, and can now see the indescribably ornate interiors. Everything which could be gilded in gold seems to be, mirrors and chandeliers abound, as do marble surfaces, silks, velvets and satins. It is a rococo style, but the height of decadence. It emulates the majesty of Versailles, but has something else too. Quite honestly I have never seen their match! This book has many large colour photographs to display these extraordinary interiors, and chapters on the oil paintings and sculptures.

Ludwig had a passion for Art. Nothing else mattered to him, except music - and particularly the music of Wagner. He was Wagner’s patron; obsessed with the man himself, and it is due to Ludwig’s patronage that Wagner’s genius, and some of Wagner’s greatest works, were able to to be composed. It must have been a delicate balance for the composer, keeping the ready supply of money coming, but holding the impassioned youth at bay. Ludwig’s letters begged and wheedled, promising that that the monarch would give up everything - even his crown - if they could only be together. But that would not have helped Wagner.

The Dream King is not only about the Art, as you can see. It is an excellent biography which really gets inside the character of Ludwig II. Eminent Art historian and botanist Wilfrid Blunt had worked on this biography of Ludwig for twenty years, before finally publishing it in 1970. I doubt whether there is a better, more complete or less fanciful one. He tries to sweep away the rumours and get to the truth, providing a lot of details such as personal letters, diary entries, correspondence, and written testimonies by those who knew Ludwig, to form a picture.

Wilfrid Blunt begins with Ludwig’s childhood. He and his brother Otto were brought up by King Maximilian II of Bavaria, and Princess Marie of Prussia. It was not a happy family. The parents did not particularly care for each other, nor for their children. King Maximilian’s advisers had suggested that on his daily walks it might be a good idea if he was sometimes accompanied by Ludwig: his future successor. The King replied: “But what am I to say to him? After all, my son takes no interest in what other people tell him.”

Ludwig grew up detached and remote from the real world, and a loner, left to live in his own imagination. Hohenschwangau Castle in fact had been built not by Ludwig, but by his father, King Maximilian. It was decorated in the Gothic Revival style with many frescoes depicting heroic German sagas, most notably images of Lohengrin, the “Knight of the Swans”. Ludwig is sometimes even now called “The Swan King”, or “The Fairytale King”. So the little Prince Ludwig spent much of his life staying in a mock-castle, a fact which probably influenced his sense of the fantastic and grandiose from an early age. He had a wild, excitable imagination, and began to obsess about Medieval chivalry, Medieval legend and fairytale castles; an obsession which was to last all his life.

At 18 this dreamy youth became king. His mother wrote in her journal: “Max died too soon.” She knew that her son was not yet ready to rule. He had no interest in government or politics, and spent a lot of the time day-dreaming. Once crowned, he continued the state policies of his father and retained his ministers. Initially he was popular, partly because of his youth and brooding good looks. Just two years after Ludwig became king, Bavaria and Austria fought a war against Prussia, which they lost. It only lasted a few weeks. However, in the Franco-Prussian War of 1870, Bavaria sided with Prussia in their successful war against France. Despite Ludwig’s reluctance to support the Unification of Germany, Bavaria and 21 other monarchies became part of the new German Empire. Ludwig was just 25 years old. He had little interest in affairs of state, and was far more interested in art, music, and architecture.

Ludwig became more and more eccentric and demanding, and would frequently fly into a temper, striking the servants on a whim. This made serving as Bavaria’s head of state problematic. Like his mother, Ludwig disliked large public functions and avoided formal social events whenever possible, preferring a life of seclusion where he could pursue his various creative projects. At one time he did become engaged to his cousin, the Duchess Sophie, but did not seem to understand how it had come about. His courtiers had explained that he would need an heir (and also explained the facts of life to him) but the relationship fizzled out. Ludwig had liked Sophie because she indulged his passion for Wagner.

Ludwig’s passion for building spectacular castles quickly developed into an unhealthy pathological obsession. It was damaging to the state of Bavaria, as Ludwig wasted huge amounts of time and money sending his advisors to the four corners to the globe to uncover architectural details for his next masterpiece. He neglected his royal duties, became increasingly withdrawn, and focussed all his energies on building more and more impressive and outlandish designs. Wilford Blunt points out that he did not actually bankrupt the state of Bavaria, however. Most of the vast debts that Ludwig incurred were in his own name, after he had squandered his personal fortune. By 1885 he had accrued a phenomenal debt: 14m marks. Few people in royal circles were willing to lend him any more money, although he wrote many letters begging them to. Ludwig had become indifferent to the business of state, and instead obsessed over his personal projects. He appealed to foreign governments for loans to further fund his endeavours, and was unable to rein in his excessive spending.

He never married. Was he homosexual? Some think this is obvious, although there is also a little evidence that he had on occasion passionate feelings for females too. But Ludwig was a Catholic, and his diaries reveal that he fought to suppress his strong homosexual desires. It is likely that he never consummated any relationship.

The other question people want to know the answer to is, was he mad? It does not look as though Ludwig was insane, because there are too many episodes where his reactions were quite logical (although supremely selfish) and even show foresight. It is possible though, that he had a variety of schizophrenia. He did spend his life immersed in dreams and fantasy, as this is how he found comfort from the loneliness and disillusionment of kingship. He was an immensely creative person, who did not seem to have the aptitude or staying power to transfer his imaginative impulses to any Art form. Instead he was carried away by the romantic waves of Wagner’s music, building his castles in the sky and leaving us a legacy of otherworldly wonder.

For the surreal fantasy castles and palaces, with their almost grotesquely lavish interiors, are now an essential part of the Free State of Bavaria’s tourist industry, raising a respectable amount of money. Ludwig wanted his castles to serve as elaborate stages for performances of his beloved Wagner, and as fortresses of retreat, where he could hide from the demands of the world outside. Now, with a supremely ironic twist, they are a major source of revenue for the country.

Ludwig immersed himself in the fantasy worlds depicted in Wagnerian myth. He started to dress as some of the operatic characters, and began to sleep in the day and only venture out at night. One regular occurrence is pictured on the cover. In fact this beautiful large book has one of the most magical covers I have ever seen. It is taken from a painting by Richard Wenig in 1880, and shows Ludwig on his sleigh:



He would wake his courtiers at midnight, or the early hours of the morning, and demand that they drive him on his sleigh as fast as possible through the moonlit snowy landscape, while he remained swathed in furs. These thrilling rides at breakneck speed were just one tiny example of his eccentricity.

Ludwig II of Bavaria died in 1886, at the age of 41, in mysterious circumstances. His body was found floating in Lake Starnberg, alongside the body of his psychiatrist, a Dr. Gudden. His death occurred just days after he was decreed to be “mad”, and was deposed from the throne. Ludwig’s only younger brother Otto had been declared insane years earlier, and this provided a suspiciously convenient basis for the claim of hereditary insanity.

Since 1871, Ludwig had largely withdrawn from politics, and devoted himself to his personal creative projects such as his castles, for which he personally approved every detail of the architecture, decoration, and furnishing. But because of Ludwig’s obsessions and eccentricities, his government advisors had begun plotting. He could not be removed from his throne by constitutional means, but he could be forcibly withdrawn if it was decided that he was too ill to rule. So four psychiatrists concocted a report saying that the king suffered from paranoia, concluding:

“Suffering from such a disorder, freedom of action can no longer be allowed and Your Majesty is declared incapable of ruling, which incapacity will be not only for a year’s duration, but for the length of Your Majesty’s life”.

But the men had never even met the king, except for Dr. Gudden, and that was only once, 12 years earlier. Not one of them had ever examined him.

So was Ludwig II murdered? Or had he killed Dr. Gudden? We can never know although it looks as though there had been some sort of struggle. Modern psychiatrists interpret Ludwig’s behaviour as a schizotypal personality disorder. He may also have suffered from Pick’s disease during his last years, as evidence of frontotemporal lobar degeneration was mentioned in the autopsy report. But his “insanity” was obviously a political move.

Ludwig was a lonely and unhappy child, and remained so all his life. As the King he was never countermanded, free to treat others with contempt, indulge his moods and fantasies, and free to spend his huge fortune as he liked. Increasingly, he withdrew from day-to-day affairs of state in favour of extravagant artistic and architectural projects. It brought him little happiness, yet has left his country a unique legacy.

There is indeed a sad story behind the “Mad King”. If you want to read the facts, and learn more about the Art, you won’t find a better book than The Dream King by Wilfrid Blunt.

[Karen Witzler · Rating 4 out of 5]

Read about 1979. Very interesting for those studying the aesthetics of European fairy tales and their illustrations, German Romanticism, Wagner, insane royalty, etc.

[Erik Graff · Rating 4 out of 5]

Richard Wagner has been of interest to me owing not only to his music, but also because of his importance to the young Nietzsche and to German cultural mythology. Ludwig II has been of interest not only because of Wagner's long financial dependence on him but also because of his outrageous reputation.

This beautifully illustrated book brought Ludwig down to earth and dispelled some of the crazier rumors I'd heard about him. Still, he was strange enough and his death alongside his psychiatrist remains a mystery.

The chapter concluding the book on Ludwig and art, written by another author, is inferior to the rest of the book, it being rather dryly written.

Author Blunt, incidentally, is the brother of the infamous spy.

[Anna · Rating 2 out of 5]

The Penguin edition has what is pretty much the most awesome book cover ever. Ludwig is fascinating. This biography is decent. It's a bit dated and hedgey in regard to Ludwig's rather blatant homosexuality. More context on Bavarian hereditary madness and the German political world would have been nice. It's very focused on Wagner (as was Ludwig, to be fair), which is boring if, like me, you don't really care about Wagner. Worth perusing for great anecdotes about Ludwig's insanity.

[Sharon Terry · Rating 5 out of 5]

I first discovered The Dream King in my local library, many years ago. I loved it so much I wanted to read it again - but alas! the library had discarded it, to make way for more recent books. So I bought a copy and I'm so glad I did.

The book tells the story of Ludwig II, 1845-1886. Ludwig became King of Bavaria in 1864, on the death of his father, Maximilian II, whose own father, Ludwig I, had been forced to abdicate following the tumultuous period of the 1840s and the fallout from his scandalous affair with Lola Montez! Ludwig II only reigned effectively for a few years: after the Franco-Prussian War of 1870, Prussia, under Bismarck, secured the Unification of Germany and Bavaria became part of the whole.

Ludwig was an eccentric's eccentric, with all the behavioural oddities associated with the type - he liked to hold picnics at night, dressed in ceremonial gear, for instance - but he managed to seriously alienate his government by seldom appearing at meetings and making himself scarce and hard to find when needed to sign documents or meet foreign visitors.

Ludwig was a strange mixture. He hated the administrative and ceremonial aspect of his role and was distressing for his ministers to deal with; however, when he ventured into the countryside, he often met with ordinary people, even chatting with them informally. He also seldom appeared in public in his formal role, claiming it distressed him to be stared at; unfortunately, this goes with the territory and he really should have sucked it up.

The first of his peccadilloes to irritate his administration was his love and bankrolling of Richard Wagner. He was finally forced to request Wagner's removal from Munich, due to the conceited composer's behaviour making him very unpopular with the public. This did not dampen Ludwig's own ardour, however; he continued to be obsessed with Wagner for many years. But what undid him, finally, was his massive spending spree on his beloved castles - Neuschwanstein, Linderhof and Herrenchiemsee, as well as refurbishment of the royal apartments in Munich. No matter how often his ministers tried to get him to stop spending, he refused - even trying to get ministers to travel far and wide seeking loans so he could continue building. Blunt claims, as do other sources, that he used his own considerable fortune and did not denude the Treasury of funds, but constantly trying to raise loans embarrassed the state and they were finally goaded into action.

It was constitutionally possible to remove a ruler if he could be found incompetent, so the Bavarians decided to organise a report by several psychiatrists claiming Ludwig had lost his reason and could therefore no longer govern. Shortly after his removal, it was believed he was trying to escape, using the excuse of taking a walk with one of the psychiatrists who authored the report. He and the psychiatrist were eventually discovered dead, in shallow water at the edge of a lake. Ludwig's autopsy revealed that the state's official ruling of "suicide by drowning" was incorrect; no water was found in his lungs. In addition, the psychiatrist's body showed evidence of blows to the head and neck, as well as signs of strangulation. It looked like murder, but the case remains open to this day, despite numerous rumours.

Poor Ludwig! His delusory lifestyle could not enable him to see he was simply being used as a cash-cow by the self-centred, egotistical Wagner, on whom he lavished such largesse. Their correspondence reads like love-letters, but it is clear Wagner was only indulging Ludwig's romantic interest for his own pecuniary ends. Blunt asserts there was never a sexual component to their relationship. Ludwig does seem to have been gay, but, as a believing Catholic, constantly battled against his natural urges. Finally, his spree of castle-building seems like a replacement for his pursuit of Wagner: an alternative obsession for his creative energies. Ironically, he has thus bequeathed great tourist attractions to his country - everyone wants to see his fairytale castles!

Was Ludwig mad? Even in his own day, not everyone thought so. His cousin, Empress Elisabeth of Austria, said he was only "an eccentric, living in a dream world", and believed he could have been treated more kindly and saved from such a sad ending. However, it is hard not to have some sympathy for his beleaguered staff and government, having to deal with such an erratic and unpredictable individual in the position of King. Had he simply been a rich eccentric, his behaviour would not have mattered, but he was, after all, the Head of State.

Can't leave this review without commenting on the illustrations. To call them plentiful and a glorious addition to the text is to take understatement to a new level. Practically every 2-3 pages there is a colour plate or two of some gorgeous aspect of the castles as well as black and white pictures and drawings. The cover portrait of Ludwig is magnificent - in his sumptuous robes, against the mountainous background of Bavaria - and is complemented by the Gothic script of the title. Inside is a full-length portrait of the young king in military get-up, with a superb pair of polished, thigh-length black boots; had he lived in our era this alone would have made him a rock star. Unfortunately, he was to end up, in his forties, "corpulent and toothless". I guess we can't have it all.

[Colin · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a classic account of the story of Ludwig II - the so-called Mad King - who bankrolled Wagner's later operas and, most enduring, built the fairytale castles such as Neuschwanstein and Linderhof. There is no much by way of critical analysis but the author makes up for this by describing how Ludwig fell in love with Wagner and his world-view and then expended his energies - and his country's resources - in his indulgent palaces and lifestyle. In the process, he gave up his monarchical duties - such as they were - and for that, he was eventually deposed, certified as insane and then died in mysterious circumstances.

All this is covered in sufficient detail by Blunt. My edition - a paperback from 1984 - suffers from having only few illustrations. The original hardback is, I recall, lavishly illustrated and this would undoubtedly be the version I would recommend, if you can obtain it. The essay at the end of my edition - by the Curator of the Bavarian Administration of castles etc. - is well worth reading as a postscript.

All in all, a good, short account which still holds its place as a classic English language account of Ludwig.

[Ren · Rating 4 out of 5]

"I want to remain forever an enigma."

I'll admit that I picked this up because of the gorgeous cover art, and then took it home because of the appropriately fairytale-esque title and some vague memory that Ludwig II was the guy who built the castle and had a private grotto he'd escape to from time to time.

I was correct on both counts, but got so much more out of 'The Dream King' than just validation of two isolated facts. Wilfrid Jasper Walter Blunt (what a moniker!) paints a clearly very loving portrait of 'the mad king' in which he makes it clear he sides with the late king's dear cousin, the Empress Elizabeth: "the King was not mad; he was just an eccentric living in a world of dreams. They might have treated him more gently." (p.228)

Much of Ludwig's life and reign were, by design it seems, very dreamy. He was a man who made it clear he was much more invested in the world of art and, in particular, theater, than politics and war, though both would manage to penetrate his world of whimsy and beauty from time to time.

Though he wouldn't pen it until a few years after the King's death, I think Ludwig would have read Oscar Wilde's preface to 'The Picture of Dorian Gray' and nodded along enthusiastically with an agreeable: "ganz genau!"

Those who find ugly meanings in beautiful
things are corrupt without being charming.
This is a fault.
Those who find beautiful meanings
in beautiful things are the cultivated.
For these there is hope.

And though it seems many of Ludwig's contemporaries rolled their eyes and stamped their feet at the notion that Ludwig's costly castle projects and bankrolling of his favorite composer were ultimately more valuable than investment in the Bavarian military or a royal wedding...well...the thousands of tourists who visit those castles and listen to Wagner operas might have a thing or two to say.
That being said, Blunt isn't so starry-eyed that he skates over the very real problems Ludwig's reclusive and eccentric behavior caused politically; Ludwig, by all accounts, seems to have been the poster child for 'nobody wants to work anymore!', constantly and quite literally running away (by carriage) from Munich to his various hidey-holes in the countryside to avoid having to govern, and leaving his ministers scrambling to get anything done.

He also seems to have been quite capricious, and in his later years Blunt reports that his servants had an understanding among themselves not to take his more outlandish commands (mostly those involving extreme punishments for minor infractions) seriously.

Though Blunt obviously had a lot of admiration for his biographical subject, this biography is a product of its time. First published in 1970, Blunt squeamishly mentions but largely glosses over Ludwig's (seemingly) well-documented and agreed upon homosexuality. Though he includes translations of Ludwig's often very passionate letters to men, namely Richard Wagner, Blunt is quick to chime in (like a cuckoo-clock) that such language was typical for the time and not necessarily indicative of any type of romantic feeling. Curiously though, he also includes a 'love letter' written by Ludwig to his then fiancé Sophie and goes out of his way to remark how relatively passionless it is in comparison to his letters to Wagner. I dunno, Blunt seemed to just really not want to get into this side of the 'Moon King' other than to get over with the acknowledgement that that was a thing that is known about.

It makes me wonder if a biography written now wouldn't/hasn't approached this aspect of Ludwig's life differently as historians of queer history begin to piece our story together. The conflict between feeling an attraction to other men at a time and in a place where that would have been considered not only distasteful but sinful is something Blunt mentions in passing, but I think is a really important aspect of queer history and worth exploring more in-depth with the benefit of hindsight. Because part of what makes writing about queer historical figures so difficult is that the language used to describe such relationships and desires varies so much from culture to culture and from era to era. It's not accurate to say 'ah yes, the Greeks sure were gay.' Because that simply isn't how the Greeks (to the best of my knowledge) viewed such relationships. Europe in the 19th century was much closer to us in terms of how such feelings and relationships would be talked about, or, at least, the cultural framework would have been similar, but the much more pervasive compulsive heterosexuality of that time would also blur the lines between homo and bisexualities. Was Oscar Wilde gay or bi, given that he had a seemingly loving relationship with his wife in addition to whatever else he was up to? What about Ludwig? Was he 'one of the gays' and only an involuntary celibate because of religious oppression?

Well, we certainly can't speculate or get in the weeds about any of that if we don't talk about it at all, now can we, Mr. Blunt?

Speaking of gay stereotypes, we learn a lot about Ludwig's love of not only architecture, but interior design, and how he worked incredibly closely with his team of artists to put together the rooms pictured throughout the biography in gorgeous, full color prints that made me desperately want to visit Bavaria and take selfies in the hall of mirrors wearing my finest Ouji look just like God and Ludwig intended.

This biography feels like a good stepping off point for anyone who might want to go on to something more comprehensive and academic given Blunt's narrativized approach (though he really did just name drop left and right--so many ministers and servants!-- and I finally gave up trying to keep track of every single dude he mentioned).

As someone who's always been drawn to figures of the aestheticism movement and to the movement itself, I really enjoyed my time in Ludwig's dream world, and happily add him to my collection of inspirational and, to me, very relatable, men who were lovers and cultivators of beautiful things. Because really, what's more aspirational than the story of a teenager who, as King, just so happened to be in a position to pluck his favorite musician out of financial ruin and then build a castle for him and then prance around that castle in full custom Louis XIV cosplay?

We stan a drama queen.

P.S. Check out the 2012 biopic, ‘Ludwig II’ -- it’s gorgeous!

[Sandy · Rating 3 out of 5]

Having visited Neuschwanstein (one of Ludwig's castles) in 1976, I found this book very interesting. I knew little about Ludwig II, except that he was considered mad by many. This book helped me to better understand him.

Ludwig II was the grandson of Ludwig I, who abdicated in favor of his son, Max (Maximillian II).

Neuschwanstein was built near Hohenschwangau, a " little gingerbread castle in the Bavarian highlands which Max had purchase in ruinous condition in 1832 and renovated..." (pg 15)

[Giles · Rating 4 out of 5]

Beautifully written, interesting story of the tragedy of kingship. High education and a sheltered life leading to misunderstanding, imbalance and an early death.

[Steve Barrera]

A short, illustrated biography of King Ludwig II of Bavaria. This is the nineteenth century "Mad King Ludwig" who is best known for his "folly castles," including the famous Neuschwanstein which inspired Disneyland's Sleeping Beauty Castle. The author, Wilfrid Blunt, apologetically concedes in his preface that he would have preferred to write a "definitive biography," but personally I find this large format volume with ample illustrations and color plates to be a fitting treatment of its flamboyant subject. King Ludwig II was a dreamy embodiment of the Romantic era, and excelled as a benefactor and a patron of the arts, but failed as the leader of a dynasty. I didn't realize until I read this book that his life was closely intertwined with that of Richard Wagner, that he played a pivotal role in the unification of Germany under Bismarck, and that his life ended tragically. He was deposed for madness, but as the book argues, he was not insane, merely eccentric. He attempted to live reclusively as an eccentric in a dream world, but the era, obsessed as it was with Great Power politics, demanded engagement from its monarchs. Ludwig II was actually popular with the Bavarian peasantry, and he spent his private treasury on his castles, never government money. But since he was unwilling to participate in affairs of state, he was of no use to an ambitious Imperial Germany, which swept him away, replacing him with his uncle. And so the tragedy of his life is that he was born out of time, and in that sense he was a true scion of the Romantic age. Blunt's writing style is casual, witty and ironic, and creates a sense of familiarity with Ludwig and his life experience, which was so awkward and so astonishing. A final chapter by Dr. Michael Petzet has a much drier, academic style, and describes Ludwig's relationship with the arts, and how his psychology of art appreciation informed his castle creations. The color plate illustrations of details of the castles are simply gorgeous. I found them especially delightful because I love the board game Castles of Mad King Ludwig, and so it was a great pleasure to discover pictures of rooms from the game. Yes, King Ludwig II made a Venus Grotto. And a Hall of Mirrors, and a Hunding's Hut - it's all there, and much more.

[Tristan Robin Blakeman · Rating 4 out of 5]

The life of Ludwig II is so filled with outrageous events and occasions and ideas, it almost reads like a fantasy. This guy lived I would if I had all the money in the world! - or, at least, all the credit in the world, which is almost as good as having all the money, it would seem.

From his architectural dreams to his bizarre and democratic love life to his adoration of Wagner and all music Wagnerian, he constantly amazes - and now, hundreds of years later, delights.

The writing style is very straight forward - I suppose it must be - if any fantastic or exuberance came through in the prose, it might very well render the telling fictional - it's hard enough to believe as it is.

Can't ignore the photographs. The book is lavishly filled with color photographs of Ludwig's accomplished, including his rococo solid-gold sleigh (he had a coach, as well). And the exquisite grotto he had built into one of palaces where he would take his lovers rowing, as a servant traveled across the ceiling behind a candle-lit moon, so that the moon rose and fell as the king and his paramour floated on the indoor lake.

Highly recommend for those interested in history and fact stranger than fiction!

[Patricia E. Harding · Rating 3 out of 5]

I borrowed this book from the library to read before a trip to Bavaria which included a tour of Neuschwannstein. I knew little about King Ludwig before I read this book. I was glad to gave the background knowledge while visiting Germany. The earlier years were most interesting to me. The details concerning his relationship with Wagner were of course important, but less interesting to me. I'm not knowledgeable about opera, and I got lost a few times. It was also hard for me to comprehend Ludwig's extravagant lifestyle. If he had been raised in a more loving home, would he have left a more meaningful and purposeful legacy? Yes, we have Wagner and a big white fairy tale castle. It's something. Imagine what else Ludwig could have done with his fortune.

[Annabelle · Rating 2 out of 5]

One of the most intriguing royal misfits was mad King Ludwig II of Bavaria. Richard Wagner's greatest patron, he had hoped to build a boat pulled by swans. A dreamer, certainly. Cause of death: suicide by drowning.

* I borrowed this book from my piano teacher, whose room was also the library of the university's school of music. Borrowed with the tacit understanding that it may never be returned; I think of it as rescuing a book that would otherwise never be read.

[Mrs. Rosie · Rating 5 out of 5]

Visited the castles in 1975 and fell in love with them. Ordered the book on my return to the States. It has been on my shelf since then, UNTIL I lent it to someone...Now it is lost. Ordered a new copy for .01 on Amazon.com and can't wait to see it again! King Ludwig was a crazy dude and now some of the Phoenix kids and alumum will see these castles for real! Gotta get them to read this first!

[David · Rating 4 out of 5]

Purchased and much enjoyed during our newlywed days. Full review to come