Sisi, page 10
“Ludwig was always eccentric.” Sisi shook her head, confident in her memories of the romantic young prince. Forcing herself to feel that confidence now. “He was always a dreamer. Passionate enough to make me look stodgy and reasonable in comparison.” Sisi kept her tone light, but there was no way to ignore the heavy, wide-eyed look Helene offered in response.
“No, Sisi, there is eccentric, and then there is something else….” Helene held Sisi’s gaze for a moment without saying anything, as if she were picking her words carefully. And then, at last, she leaned close and whispered the words: “They call him Mad King Ludwig.”
Sisi narrowed her eyes, trying to peer through the thick black forest of pine and fir that bordered the steep lane, as if through increased effort her vision might pierce the impenetrable forest wall. But no, she could not see farther than an arm’s length to either side of the road, so densely packed were the trees.
“It can’t be much farther up this hill now,” Sisi said, turning back toward Marie and Ida. The two women let their pinched expressions serve as reply even though they dared not voice their concerns aloud.
The three of them were riding in one of Ludwig’s covered carriages. Her cousin, on receiving word that Sisi wished to pay a visit to his new cliff-top castle, had insisted on sending his own carriage. “You’ll never find the palace otherwise,” he had written. “I must insist—my sense of chivalry will not allow you to get lost atop the Bavarian peaks.”
Yet his sense of chivalry would allow him to repeatedly jilt her sister? But Sisi had accepted the offer and had climbed in when his coach had arrived at Possi that morning.
True to Ludwig’s sensibilities, it was an outrageously lavish conveyance, burnished in gilt. Carved angels sat on its top, their flawless naked bodies raising a massive crown skyward. The four white horses that pulled it, themselves elegantly adorned in golden tassels, now panted as they led Sisi and her attendants up a meandering mountain lane that seemed to have no end.
Overhead, the canopy of pine and fir needles grew thick and close, creating a damp tunnel all around them. The air hung cold and dark, redolent with the scent of bark and sap and sweet pine. Higher and higher they climbed, the ladies across from Sisi seeming to share her confusion—and mounting unease—as the coach spiraled farther upward in the black forest.
“Perhaps Néné was right, after all,” Sisi said, attempting a tone of levity. “Valerie might have been afraid of the wolves in these woods.” She tried again to see through the dense wall of trees, as if by spotting the menaces that lurked nearby she might be made less frightened by them. She gave a silent prayer of thanks that the coach was covered and enclosed.
“It’s not the wolves, Empress,” Marie Festetics said, her voice hushed. “I’m more frightened of what awaits us at the top of this mountain.”
Sisi frowned at the countess, surprised by this uncharacteristic expression of dissatisfaction, however veiled it was. “Oh, don’t tell me you pay any heed to the silly gossip,” Sisi snapped, folding her hands in her lap. “Ludwig is a darling. I, for one, am very eager to see him.”
“Of course, Your Majesty,” Marie said, chastened. Beside her, Ida, ever obedient, avoided Sisi’s eyes and stared out the window.
But Néné was the opposite of silly and the furthest thing from a gossip; Sisi had never known her sensible, circumspect elder sister to utter a negative remark about anyone. Even the Archduchess Sophie. The fact that even Néné had expressed concerns over Ludwig’s recent behavior told Sisi that perhaps all was not as it should be at the top of the mountain they now climbed.
And what was best for her younger sister? Sophie-Charlotte would be removed from the entire world if she moved up here as Ludwig’s bride. Sisi couldn’t help but feel troubled; she couldn’t deny that her dread thickened as the forest around her did, and as the road continued to wind skyward.
Finally, after what felt to Sisi like an eternity, the forest wall seemed to thin out, with patches of blue sky becoming visible ahead. Sisi sat up, relieved as she looked out the window at the scene that opened before her. She saw for the first time just how high they were. Far below, a stretch of green pastures came into view. And then, just ahead, at the top of the craggy cliff before them, Sisi caught her first glimpse of Neuschwanstein Castle.
The first thought to strike Sisi was that such a building defied explanation. It was a colossal structure of white stone perched atop the summit; in keeping with its name, “New Swan Stone,” it appeared like a massive white body poised in momentary rest atop the weather-beaten peak, waiting to spread its wings and take flight into the sky that encircled it.
“Oh!” Sisi pulled a hand to her mouth as she gasped. She noted that, across from her, the two attendants were struck just as speechless by the sudden appearance of the castle.
“It’s remarkable!” Marie said after a moment, her jaw falling open.
And it was. Neuschwanstein was the most extraordinary structure Sisi had ever beheld. Even in her tours of the ancient ruins at Corfu and Egypt and Rome, she had never seen this castle’s equal. That such a palace existed—its ornamentation as delicate as the ethereal mists that enshrouded it, and yet, its frame sturdy enough to blend so flawlessly with the stone peak out of which it sprung—eluded logic. Sisi couldn’t help but gape.
The coach sped past a red gatehouse, and Sisi noticed the uniformed attendants peeking up at her as she passed, eager to catch a glimpse of the famously beautiful empress. The horses trotted up the remainder of the steep drive, and they rolled to a halt before the largest front door Sisi had ever seen.
Birdsong filled the air around her now as Sisi was helped out of the coach. She was amazed that the birds had managed to ascend to this remote height; she looked down on the entire world from up here, with even the neighboring peaks appearing like distant lowlands far beneath them. And yet, as high as she was, the castle vaulted upward even higher before her.
Everything about the building and its setting gave a sense of the vertical, of the soaring climb toward the heavens. The castle was a spectacle of pointed turrets, arches, and vaulted towers. Ludwig, the dreamer, the romantic—even he, with his penchant for bold proclamations and fantastical language, had not overstated the majesty of his mountaintop masterpiece. Oh, perhaps Sophie-Charlotte wasn’t as unlucky as Sisi had feared her to be!
Before the front door hung a large plaque, and the words carved into it were so typically Ludwig that Sisi could practically hear her cousin bellowing the greeting: WELCOME WANDERERS! GENTLE LADIES! PUT YOUR CARES ASIDE! LET YOUR SOUL GIVE ITSELF OVER TO POETRY’S GAY MOOD!
“Ludwig is not mad; he’s just misunderstood,” Sisi said, thinking aloud as she was ushered through the door, her mood soaring as high as the towers of this castle. If building such a home as this made a person mad, then she would gladly accept a similar diagnosis. Didn’t one have to be a bit mad to conceive of such a spectacular place as this? And then, what’s more, to turn it into reality? It reminded her anew of why she had always loved Ludwig so much, why she had admired his indomitable spirit, his limitless dreams. It was all so romantic; she even wished Franz might be touched by a bit of this same madness.
As Sisi stepped through the opened doorway, she heard Ludwig’s voice before she located him. “Sisi!” Her host stood in the front hallway of his castle, clearly expecting her, and his appearance so distracted Sisi that she fixed her eyes on him before taking in any more of her surroundings.
“Oh, she’s here! She’s here!” Ludwig skipped toward her, his tall frame a riot of colored silk and giddy energy. “The empress is here! Let the joyous news be proclaimed from my mountaintop!” Ludwig was well built, the tallest man she knew other than Andrássy. At well over six feet, he crossed the room in several strides.
“Hello, my dear cousin,” Sisi said, smiling at him. Ludwig’s clothing made her—a famously elaborate dresser—feel bland in comparison. He wore cropped breeches of soft blue velvet and rose-colored stockings underneath them. A flouncy cape draped over his broad shoulders, and his hair looked as if it had been coiffed and curled with the same attention that she herself paid to her toilette.
Sophie-Charlotte called Ludwig handsome. Yes, Sisi thought, she supposed he was handsome. He had Sisi’s coloring, and in fact, the villagers and farmers had always thought them brother and sister when they were together as children in Possenhofen. They had the same bright hazel eyes, long lashed and almond shaped. They had the same hair, golden in their youth, thick and chestnut colored now. Though he was not necessarily virile or swarthy in the imposing way Andrássy was, no one could deny the beauty of Ludwig’s features, the flawlessness of the way he groomed himself.
“Sisi, oh, I am dizzy with delight at seeing you!” Ludwig took her in his arms, spinning her around as his uninhibited giggles echoed off the muraled walls. As she spun in his embrace, Sisi’s eyes took in the whirling view of frescoed figures, glistening chandeliers, and high-vaulted ceilings.
“It’s marvelous to see you, too.” Ludwig lowered her to her feet, and Sisi waved Marie and Ida forward so she could introduce them. As Ludwig greeted the ladies, Sisi looked once more over her cousin, studying this buoyant man who seemed perfectly content to live alone at the top of the world.
“You look splendid, Sisi, as always. I told the servants, I said, ‘Now, be prepared to fall in love today, for my cousin is known as the most beautiful woman alive.’ ”
With that, Ludwig giggled again, and Sisi lowered her eyes to the floor. “You look very fine, too, my dear cousin.” Her eyes couldn’t help but study his wide-legged pants and his colorful pink hose.
“Do you like this?” Ludwig spread his arms wide. “I’m dressed as a troubadour today.”
Sisi nodded. Perhaps Ludwig simply needed human company. Perhaps this mountaintop was so lonely and isolated that he was bored—growing eccentric for lack of outlets for stimulation or diversion. She commented, “On the way up, Lud, we felt as if we would climb—”
“Forever and ever,” Ludwig interjected, rocking in his heeled shoes. “Up, up, up! So”—Ludwig waved his hands around, his heavily ringed fingers fluttering, adding to the cacophony of color that Sisi’s eyes now tried to take in—“what do you think of my humble abode?”
“What do I think? I think I’m a bit stunned. My word…Ludwig, it’s magnificent.”
Ludwig clapped, delighted to have her approval. “And you haven’t even seen anything. How about le grand tour?” At that, Ludwig took Sisi’s hand in his own and set off at a skip, pulling her toward a hallway so long that she could barely make out its end. Marie and Ida jogged behind, attempting to keep pace with Ludwig’s long-legged strides.
They swept past room after room, each one grand and imposing, each one large and lavish enough to serve as a ballroom, even by the standards of the snobbiest court—Vienna’s. Only, Sisi suspected that Ludwig did not intend to host many balls here at Neuschwanstein. One did not build one’s castle so far removed from society if one craved a steady stream of guests and visitors in one’s halls.
Ludwig had pleaded incompletion of his castle as his reason for not being ready to marry, but the structure Sisi now saw appeared nearly finished. She supposed she could see the incompletion if she looked closely: figures only half painted on the colorful murals, chandeliers not yet stocked with candles, floorboards still being laid and polished and buffed. But certainly Sophie-Charlotte would not be in any way uncomfortable if she were to move here.
They walked on. Behind her, Sisi could hear poor Marie Festetics panting. Ludwig, on the other hand, seemed to be growing more effervescent as he guided them on, and his voice bounced off the interminable corridor as he chattered. “I wanted hallways long enough that I could race my horses down them. I’ve succeeded, haven’t I?”
Sisi gave her cousin a sideways glance, certain that he was teasing. But though he smiled, there was nothing about his expression to indicate that he had made a joke.
“And, at night, sometimes I suit up in my armor, and I pick a lucky servant to do the same, and we mount our steeds and joust in these hallways. We pretend we are medieval knights on the quest for the Holy Grail. Isn’t that marvelous? Ah, here we are, the stairs! Prepare to climb.” Ludwig took the first two steps at a leap. The ladies followed behind, Sisi growing tired and short of breath even though she imagined herself in better condition than most people of her age, thanks to her strenuous horseback riding. Poor Marie was now wheezing behind the empress.
“Ludwig, wait,” Sisi said, pausing on the endless stairway. “Perhaps Ida and Marie should wait for us downstairs? We’ve had a tiring trip. They might prefer to rest.”
“Fine.” Ludwig didn’t seem to care, and didn’t wish to be delayed. Sisi nodded and let the attendants go down as she reluctantly continued her climb, picking up her pace to try to keep up with her cousin. At the top of the stairway, Ludwig raised a hand like a conductor, his breath barely labored. “Après vous, after you, ma belle cousine.”
At the top he directed her into a room, this one the biggest space Sisi had seen yet. “The Singers’ Hall,” Ludwig proclaimed, looking around with proprietary pride. Sisi, still panting from the dash up the stairs, couldn’t help but gasp anew. They were at the top of one of the castle’s soaring towers, and the entire wall was made of windows so that they had a panoramic view of the world below.
Sisi may have thought that they were high up before, but this was an even more remarkable vista. Looking north, she peered out over jagged peaks dotted with fir trees and a wispy mist that hugged the seam where the mountains met the sky. Beyond the mountains curved a shimmering ribbon of blue, the gentle river carving its way through rural countryside and green pastures.
The room itself was almost as staggeringly beautiful as the view it afforded. The roof soared overhead, covered with crimson and gold panels. On the panels were painted angels and saints and demons and dragons, supernatural figures locked in an epic battle for the earth below. Sisi couldn’t decide which side looked more beautiful—the armies fighting for God or the armies fighting for Satan.
The wall space that wasn’t pierced with pristine floor-to-ceiling windows bore a series of frescoes. Sisi studied them now, intrigued, but unsure of their meaning. “The quest,” Ludwig said, standing over her shoulder to survey the scenes alongside her, “for the Holy Grail. It’s just as Richard—”
Sisi turned and saw how Ludwig’s golden eyes flickered, flashing with a quick burst of lightning as he spoke the name of the world-famous composer Richard Wagner.
“Richard wrote about the quest in his opera Lohengrin.” With that, Ludwig raised a hand, gently touching the image, stroking the cheek of the delicately painted knight.
For the first time since she’d arrived, Sisi noticed, her cousin wasn’t bouncing or fidgeting or darting giddily about—Ludwig stood completely still. Transfixed. Staring longingly at the mural inspired by his friend and composer. When he spoke again, Ludwig’s previously feverish voice was soft, even tender: “I wanted this room to be a place where he could come to be inspired.”
Sisi swallowed, turning away from the vivid mural and glancing back toward the windows, staring out over the expansive wilderness below. A bird soared beneath the castle’s cliff-top peak, and it looked as if it was a world away, so far below them it flew.
Ludwig’s achievement was remarkable, Sisi had to concede it. Here his most outlandish fantasies had been made solid; through sweat and masonry and his millions, Ludwig had turned his wild thoughts and illogical dreams into stone and marble and fresco. The result was nothing short of breathtaking. One had to be a bit mad to conceptualize such a place, Sisi reasoned. And even more so to have the audacity to build it once it had been imagined.
“Sisi?”
She turned now, back toward her cousin. “Yes?”
“Can we go down?”
“Yes, of course. Is everything all right?”
Ludwig shrugged. “I don’t like to be in this room without Richard; it makes me…well, I don’t know. I suppose it makes me sad.”
—
Once down from the tower, they traipsed along the interminable hallway in the other direction. “Remember how I told you that I wanted the hallways to be long enough to ride horses in them?”
“Yes.” Sisi nodded, wondering how she would ever find her attendants among these endless corridors.
“Well, it was making it very difficult for the servants to serve me a warm meal. The food always grew cold on the long journey from the kitchens to my table. So you’ll see the solution I conceived!” Ludwig, his high spirits apparently recovered, now ushered Sisi into a monstrously oversized dining hall where the longest table she had ever seen was set for two—one chair at each end of the sprawling table. She would need to shout in order for him to hear her.
They took their places at opposite ends, and Ludwig stood, holding his hands aloft like a conductor. Sisi noticed there was no food on the table. Then, with a flourish of his wrists, he shouted, “Tischleindeckdich! Table, lay yourself!”
At that command, the table disappeared, sinking into the very floor on which it had stood an instant earlier. Sisi watched in open-mouthed silence, dumbfounded, as the table reappeared through the floor a moment later, its previously bare surface now heaped with steaming platters.
“Isn’t it splendid?” Ludwig clapped, his high-pitched voice sounding distant at the far end of the table. “It was my very own idea!”
“But…how?” Sisi stared at the now fully set table before her.
“They said it couldn’t be done, but I told them to find a way! The kitchens are right below us, so we simply lower the table down, they load it up, and voilà!”
Now servants appeared, as if themselves emerging through the walls, and they transferred food from the porcelain platters onto a plate, which they placed before Sisi. “Thank you,” she said, looking up at the footmen before her. Even her cousin’s servants were beautiful—each one more attractive than the most well-groomed courtiers in Vienna.
