Every era contains vestiges of the past, and hints of the future, but the 19th century was a very, very strange century, in which the past loomed large and the future was not just uncertain, but an impending threat that promised to destroy everything that came before it. Monarchies still reigned in Europe, but the Curies had also discovered radium.
These contradictions of the fin-de-siecle were wonderfully embodied in Ludwig II of Bavaria, one of the final monarchs to rule (with constitutional oversight) a pre-unified German nation. Physically Ludwig was a mass of contradictions, appearing frail and effeminate on the one hand, and possessing a piercing gaze and standing well over the average height for his time on the other. Intellectually, he was an omnivore and a bit of a dreamer, a man who knew plays and operas by heart, but had little time for statecraft and regarded war as a nuisance that distracted him from the more important task of dreaming.
"The Swan King" follows him from his youth, cosseted in a series of Bavarian mansions and country estates, on into his adulthood, where he took his lavishly appointed, golden-ormolu encased carriage on rides through the towns late at night. He was something of a legend to the local peasants, with whom he felt comfortable and upon whom he showered expensive gifts. He exhausted politicians and political rivals, potential female companions, and was a bit of a tyrant with his domestics and servants. He also ultimately and unfortunately proved to be insane, and depleted his kingdom's coffers trying to bring his visions of fairytale castles and palaces to life throughout Southern Germany.
Eventually he was deposed, and after a short involuntary house arrest, he died under mysterious circumstances. There has been much speculation about the manner of his death (suicide? murder?) as well as his sexuality (latent homosexual? asexual aesthete?) These questions and others are likely to linger as long as the Cult of Ludwig persists. And since our own conception of fairytales and Wagnerian music is very much informed by Ludwig's, we're almost all of us a part of his cult, knowingly or not.
That said, author Christopher McIntosh makes good use of the previously secret or sealed documents at his disposal to clear up some misconceptions and shed light on the darker corners of the Swan King's kingdom. The prose is quietly compelling rather than lively or propulsive, and it naturally can only be so long and so in depth, when more than a century has been spent by the State of Bavaria in repelling all inquiries into the private life of the king, whose reputation they don't want sullied for obvious reasons. That said, the book is well worth the reader's time, and one can't help but ultimately be moved by the sense of romantic doom that pervades the tale of the man who, according to no less a personage than Verlaine, was the last true monarch. Recommended. With photos.