Cold Open

It’s June 13th, 1886 in Bavaria, Germany.

A young police officer tramps through the grounds of Berg Castle on the shores of Lake Starnberg, near Munich. The officer holds a lantern aloft as he picks his way through the dense undergrowth, scanning the woods for any sign of the man he’s looking for: Bavaria’s recently deposed monarch, King Ludwig II.

Just yesterday, Ludwig was declared insane by a royal commission and forcibly removed from power. The king was institutionalized here at the castle, despite his claims that there’s nothing wrong with him. Earlier this afternoon, Ludwig went for a walk in the grounds with his doctor. But the pair never came back, and the alarm was sounded. A team of police officers was called out to scour the grounds with sniffer dogs. But despite searching for hours, nobody’s been able to find the missing men.

So now, the young police officer wanders down a slope toward the lake. Silver moonlight catches the waves rippling the water’s surface. The officer peers into the gloom, his lantern swinging from his extended hand. He’s about to turn away and continue the search elsewhere when he spots two dark shapes bobbing around in the shallow water. The officer squints, then gently steps into the water, his feet immediately sinking into the soft mud. He starts wading deeper until he’s in up to his waist. The floating shapes are just a few feet away now. The officer holds up his lantern… and lets out a small gasp as the light falls across a human face, ghostly pale and lifeless, drifting on the surface of the lake.

With trembling fingers, the officer raises his whistle to his lips… and sounds the alarm that King Ludwig has been found.

The other floating body is soon identified as the doctor, and once both corpses are removed from the lake, the coroner will come up with a theory of what happened on that warm evening in June. According to his report, Ludwig tried to drown himself before the doctor intervened. The king then murdered the doctor before committing suicide.

But even after the official autopsy report is filed, many questions will remain unanswered. No water was found in Ludwig’s lungs, casting doubt over the theory that he drowned. The King was also a strong swimmer, ruling out the possibility that his death was an accident. Rumors will quickly emerge that the former monarch was murdered and that the men who forced him from the throne were the same men who arranged his assassination. Whatever the case, Ludwig’s mysterious death will spark endless gossip and intrigue throughout nineteenth-century Germany, as people debate exactly what happened to “Mad King” Ludwig II of Bavaria on June 13th, 1886.

Introduction

From Noiser and Airship, I’m Lindsay Graham and this is History Daily.

History is made every day. On this podcast—every day—we tell the true stories of the people and events that shaped our world.

Today is June 13th, 1886: The Mysterious Death of King Ludwig II.

Act One: The Fairy Tale King

It’s June 10th, 1865 inside an opera house in Munich; twenty-one years before King Ludwig’s body will be discovered in a lake.

The audience is taking their seats for the opening night of Tristan and Isolde, a new opera by the composer Richard Wagner. Excited murmurs ripple through the hall as wealthy members of Munich high society settle down for an evening of entertainment.

Up in the royal balcony, a dashing young aristocrat with dark, brooding eyes watches the empty stage. 19-year-old Ludwig II is one year into his reign as the King of Bavaria, an autonomous kingdom within the German Confederation. Following the unexpected death of his father last year, Ludwig suddenly found himself on the throne, and as monarch of one of the largest German states, he’s expected to play an active role in government. But the young man is ill-suited to the demands of kingship. He is sensitive, whimsical, and introverted. He avoids large public functions and shies away from crowds. On the rare occasions when he does attend ministerial meetings, he passes the time by daydreaming about his favorite artistic pursuits, like poetry and painting.

Ludwig’s real passion, though, is the opera. Watching love stories unfold on stage allows the young king to retreat into his own fantasy world of medieval knights and damsels in distress. He adores the work of Richard Wagner, a composer whose left-wing political beliefs have led to his work being banned across the German Confederation. So one of Ludwig’s first acts as king was to help Wagner recover his tarnished reputation, becoming his patron and financing this production of Tristan and Isolde, the composer’s first new opera in fifteen years.

Now, Ludwig watches from the balcony, transfixed, as the opening orchestral overtures reverberate through the packed opera house. Four hours later, when the curtain drops, Ludwig joins the rest of the audience in a standing ovation, clapping longer and louder than anyone else.

After returning to his castle in the foothills of the Bavarian Alps, Ludwig writes a congratulatory letter to Wagner, gushing about the brilliance of his opera. Ludwig’s heart flutters as he writes because his feelings for the composer go beyond mere admiration. Ever since meeting him in person last year, Ludwig has developed an infatuation with Wagner, a sentiment he has expressed in his correspondence with the older man.

But Ludwig knows he can never act on his feelings. As a devout Roman Catholic, the king is experiencing a painful internal struggle. Despite pressure from his family to marry and produce an heir, Ludwig remains childless and single. Forced to suppress his emotions, the king retreats further into his fantasy world, spending hours on end locked inside his bedroom, humming his favorite arias, and imagining an existence where he can be his true self.

These first few years of Ludwig’s reign coincide with several seismic political shifts in Germany. Two years after the opening night of Wagner’s opera, war breaks out between the two most powerful German states, Prussia and Austria. After a series of bloody battles, Prussia emerges victorious, resulting in Austria’s diminished status in Europe, and the unification of the remaining German states into a cohesive German Empire. For the rulers of the smaller German kingdoms, such as Bavaria, unification means a loss of autonomy, as power shifts from state assemblies to a centralized parliament in Berlin.

But for Ludwig, Bavaria’s loss of independence only allows his fantasies to escalate. Without any actual power, Ludwig turns to his imagination once more, picturing himself as a legendary king from Germanic folklore. He embarks on an ambitious construction campaign, designing a series of breathtaking castles whose ivy-strewn turrets evoke magical fairy tales and give rise to Ludwig’s nickname: “the Fairy-Tale King.”

As the decades pass, Ludwig becomes increasingly withdrawn, rarely leaving the opulent confines of his castles. But meanwhile, discontent is brewing among Ludwig’s ministers. The king’s building projects have left the royal coffers empty. But rather than attempting to curb his spending and strengthen the Bavarian economy, Ludwig tries to borrow money to build even more castles. He dispatches envoys to foreign countries to beg for loans, or to source new architectural details for his next masterpiece.

The situation is becoming desperate. So in January 1886, the ministers convene to work out how to remove Ludwig from the throne. They will decide that the best course of action is to compile a report claiming that the king’s eccentric behavior is evidence of his insanity and that removing him from power is in the best interest of Bavaria. In June, the report will be examined and approved by a psychiatrist, giving the ministers the go-ahead to ride to Ludwig’s castle and take the king into custody.

Act Two: The Psychiatrist

It’s June 1886 at a psychiatric hospital in Munich; a few months after the Bavarian ministers started plotting against King Ludwig.

Dr. Bernhard von Gudden sits behind his desk reading a report into King Ludwig’s mental health. Bernhard is the director of the Munich District Mental Asylum, and he has been asked by a ministerial commission to provide his opinion on whether or not Ludwig is fit to rule. The 62-year-old strokes his beard as he considers the papers before him.

The report contains examples of Ludwig’s eccentric behavior: his pathological shyness, his refusal to attend state occasions, and his expensive flights of fancy. There are also more specific details, such as the king’s insistence on dining outside in cold weather, his poor table manners, and his occasional fits of rage directed at servants and footmen.

Once, many years ago, Bernhard himself met King Ludwig and was struck then by the monarch’s eccentricities. But he wouldn’t go so far as to deem him insane. Bernhard pities the king, whom he believes is demonstrating the childish behavior exhibited by many who have led lives of exorbitant wealth and power. He also recognizes how unfortunate it is that someone like Ludwig – a man of artistic sensibilities – should find himself, through an accident of birth, as the leader of a sovereign state.

Bernhard removes his spectacles and rubs his eyes wearily.

The doctor is well aware that Ludwig is an irresponsible and feckless king, and he understands the ministers’ desire to depose him. But Bernhard is a man of principle. He has been practicing psychiatry for forty years, and diagnosing a patient before a thorough examination goes against his most deeply-held convictions. And yet Bernhard recognizes that deposing Ludwig seems in the best interest of Bavaria. So, on this occasion, he decides to sacrifice his professional scruples for the sake of the greater good. With a sigh of regret, the doctor authorizes the psychiatric report, officially diagnosing Ludwig with paranoia and declaring him unfit to rule.

A few days later, Bernhard sits inside a horse-drawn carriage as it climbs a winding Alpine road. Beneath the brim of his top hat, the doctor’s eyes are downcast and full of trepidation. Bernhard has been asked to accompany the ministers on their journey to Ludwig’s castle, where they intend to confront the king with the psychiatric report and escort him to a mental hospital. When the carriages left Munich, the ministers were bullish and confident. But as they approach their destination, the full gravity of their scheme starts to sink in, and now the ministers’ shifty looks betray their nerves.

If Ludwig’s deposition goes to plan, the ministers have made provisions for his replacement. They recently approached the king’s uncle, Prince Luitpold, and invited him to replace his nephew. The Prince agreed, but only on the condition that the ministers prove Ludwig’s insanity. Now, armed with their authorized psychiatric report, the ministers do feel confident that their plan will go forward. 

At four o’clock in the morning, the carriages pull up outside the castle gates. But as soon as Bernhard and the ministers climb out, they are swarmed by barking police officers wielding rifles. Clearly, someone has tipped Ludwig off, giving the king time to double his security detail. Bernhard puts his hands in the air as the officers march the conspirators to a corner of the castle courtyard, where they hold them at gunpoint.

A short while later, Ludwig himself comes down. His jet-black hair is unkempt and his eyes are bloodshot and wild. The king exchanges some words with the chief of police, before vanishing back inside the castle. The chief officer strides over to the detained ministers and informs them that they are free to go.

The deposition committee travels back to Munich in silence. They underestimated the loyalty that many of his subjects still feel for Ludwig, and they must now come to terms with the fact that his ouster may not be as straightforward as first assumed.

But over the next several days, the ministers’ optimism returns.

Rumors of Ludwig’s declining mental health spreads and, fearing a complete constitutional breakdown, the head of the Bavarian government announces Luitpold as Prince Regent. Support for Ludwig gradually wanes. And the local peasants who had flocked to the castle to protest the deposition are dispersed, and the security detail at the gates is reduced. Ludwig’s friends urge him to abdicate, but the king is stubborn. He remains in his castle, awaiting the inevitable.

On June 12th, the deposition committee returns. This time, they pass through the gates unopposed. They seize Ludwig and march him outside to the waiting carriage. And when the king spots Bernhard, he cries out: “How can you declare me insane? You have never examined me!” But before Bernhard can explain himself, Ludwig is pushed into the carriage and whisked away from the castle.

But this is not the last Bernhard will see of Ludwig. He will travel to the lake-side castle where the deposed king will be detained. Feeling the need to provide medical advice, he will accompany Ludwig on a walk of the grounds. But when the pair doesn’t return to the castle before nightfall, a search party will be sent out, and by the time morning arrives, both Ludwig and Bernhard will be dead. 

Act Three: Bodies in the Lake

It’s late afternoon on June 13th, 1886 on the grounds of Berg Castle near Munich.

Jakob Lidl crouches behind a bush near the shores of a large lake. The water is perfectly calm and still; the surrounding snow-capped mountains are reflected in its glassy surface. But Jakob’s heart pounds with anticipation as he prepares to enact the daring scheme that he hatched yesterday with his employer, King Ludwig II.

Jakob is Ludwig’s personal fisherman. Yesterday, mere moments before the King was seized, Ludwig pulled Jakob aside and hastily came up with an escape plan.

The monarch knew he would be taken here to Berg Castle, a former royal residence which has been converted into his own personal insane asylum. According to the plan, Jakob is to meet Ludwig by the lake at five o’clock. Jakob has moored his boat by the reeds a few feet from where he’s hiding. Once Ludwig is safely on board, Jakob will row across to the opposite shore, where a group of Ludwig’s friends are waiting to smuggle him out of Bavaria. It’s a simple enough plan, but it depends on Ludwig slipping away from the castle unnoticed.

Jakob glances up at the sun dipping behind the mountains. It’s getting late, and Ludwig should be here by now. Something must be wrong.

Hearing the sound of voices, Jakob peers from behind the bush. Two men are approaching the lake. One is King Ludwig; the other Jakob recognizes as Dr. Bernhard von Gudden, the psychiatrist who diagnosed Ludwig’s insanity. The doctor appears to be chasing after Ludwig, who is rushing toward the water.

Jakob watches, rooted to the spot, as the doctor tries to restrain Ludwig, who turns and then strikes Bernhard around the head with some blunt instrument. The doctor falls face down into the water, motionless. Ludwig spins around and wades toward the boat hidden in the reeds. But before he can get there, a gunshot rings out from somewhere unseen. Jakob recoils in horror as King Ludwig collapses forward with a bullet in the back. With fear pulsating through his body, Jakob turns and flees into the gathering dusk…

Later that night, the bodies of King Ludwig and Dr. Bernhard von Gudden will be discovered face down in the water. The official autopsy will declare Ludwig’s death a suicide, while the doctor’s demise will be chalked down to a freak accident.

It will be only until 1933, when on his deathbed, the fisherman Jakob Lidl will reveal what he witnessed, claiming that he was pressured into silence by the German government. But even today, questions swirl around the precise circumstances of the incident. No gunshot wounds were found on Ludwig’s corpse, and nor was any water discovered in his lungs. Ultimately, the truth of what happened that night will likely remain a mystery. Decades after the incident, a cross will be erected in the lake where the bodies were found. And every year, tourists and locals will flock to the site for the annual commemoration of the eccentric life and strange death of King Ludwig II of Bavaria on June 13th, 1886.

Outro

Next on History Daily. June 14th, 1982. Argentine forces surrender to Britain in their fight over the Falkland Islands, returning the archipelago to British control. 

From Noiser and Airship, this is History Daily, hosted, edited, and executive produced by me, Lindsay Graham.

Audio editing by Muhammad Shahzaib.

Sound design by Mischa Stanton.

Music by Lindsay Graham.

This episode is written and researched by Joe Viner.

Produced by Alexandra Currie-Buckner.

Executive Producers are Steven Walters for Airship, and Pascal Hughes for Noiser.