B008AITH44 EBOK (11 page)

The first causes of conflict in the imperial family could not be
overlooked.
The differences in the couple’s lives up to that time were too great. To Franz Joseph and his mother, the rigid formality was a matter of everyday practice, even indispensable to demonstrating the power of the crown. That the young Empress would have to learn to accustom herself to the ceremonial was a matter of course. Most young girls would gladly have accepted this magnificent burden, even enjoyed it.

Elisabeth, however, had inherited the Wittelsbach family traits to an extreme degree: high intelligence coupled with an excessive sensibility and a strong desire for freedom. Until this time, she had been able to develop her natural tendencies freely and had had practically no obligations
imposed
on her. And with the exception of the household help, she had never actually seen anyone work. As far as her father, Max, was concerned, as a general, he was a member of the Bavarian army; but this position by no means took up much of his time or energies. He lived on a generous grant of 250,000 guldens a year, neglected his family and paternal obligations, and did only what he felt like doing. A sixteen-year-old girl from such a background could hardly be faulted for lacking a sense of duty.

Titles, honors, money—these were concepts that held no meaning for young Elisabeth. She was made entirely of feeling, and her childish
imagination
had none but purely sentimental expectations of her future
marriage.
A rude awakening in Vienna was only too inevitable.

The exertions of the wedding-day protocol ended with the illumination of the “capital and residence”—an obligatory part of all the most exalted festivities. Great crowds came from the outskirts to the inner city to witness this popular display. One chronicler reported that “the area around the gates was constantly enveloped in dense clouds of dust, caused by the movement of so many thousands.” The most magnificent illuminations were in Kohlmarkt and Michaelerplatz, where the open two-horse carriage bearing the young couple appeared in the course of the evening. “It seemed that the entire street had been transformed into a ballroom.”
¹⁴

Connoisseurs of the situation at court, however, noticed that even on this wedding day not everything was as rosy as it seemed. One eyewitness, Baron Karl Kübeck, wrote in his diary on April 24, “On the podium and among the spectators, jubilation and expectant joy. Behind the scenes, increasingly somber, very somber signs.”
¹⁵

A gala banquet took place between ten and eleven o’clock at night. Only then did the public festivities end. Sophie: “Louise [Ludovika] and I led the young bride to her rooms. I left her with her mother and stayed in the small room next to the bedroom until she was in bed. Then I fetched my son and led him to his young wife, whom I saw once more, to wish her a good night. She hid her pretty face, surrounded by the masses of her beautiful hair, in her pillow, as a frightened bird hides in its nest.”
¹⁶

This
coucher
, normally attended with great ceremony, was, in court terms, decidedly familial and intimate. Other bridal couples at other
European
courts had to suffer a great deal more protocol in equivalent
situations.
King Johann of Saxony, for example, wrote about his bridal night with Sisi’s Aunt Amalie: “All the married princesses and their chatelaines escorted the bride home, assisted at her toilet, and said a prayer, whereupon she was taken to her bed. Now the bride’s chatelaine had the job of informing me that I could come in. Accompanied by all the married princes, I entered the bedroom and had to get into bed in the presence of all these princes, princesses, and ladies. When the families and their
entourages
had left, I arose again to make my actual night toilet.”
¹⁷
In the case of the young Emperor and his bride, the two mothers rejected those ceremonies that were too complicated and too embarrassing. But even the little that remained was too much for the sensitive girl after such a strenuous day.

*

The following morning the pair did not remain alone for long. Even at breakfast they were interrupted by Archduchess Sophie, who brought along Duchess Ludovika. Sophie wrote in her diary, “We found the young
couple at breakfast in the pretty writing room, my son beaming and all over the picture of sweet happiness (praise be to God!), Sisi emotional as she embraced her mother. At first we intended leaving them again, but the Emperor held us back with a touching eagerness.”

Whether this last statement can be taken at face value is open to doubt. The two mothers—people commanding respect from the young, overly courteous Emperor—had interrupted the couple’s first breakfast, had
inquisitively
scrutinized their expressions, and then suddenly and politely announced that they were leaving. What choice did the Emperor have but to request them to stay? A fairly obvious situation to anyone familiar with Viennese customs. Sophie’s diary continues with the revealing sentence, “Thereafter a confidential talk between each child and its mother.” This clearly means that Sophie subjected her son to a detailed inquisition even while he was still at breakfast. In the course of it she would learn that the performance of marital duties had not yet been accomplished—a fact known all over the court before the day was out. Footmen and
chambermaids
were reliable informants.

Even the imperial bedchamber enjoyed little privacy. Everyone knew on which night (the third) Sisi became a woman. The following morning, the young Empress was bidden to appear at a family breakfast in her mother-in-law’s apartments, although in her shame and embarrassment, she was reluctant to go. According to Sophie’s diary, that morning the
Emperor
climbed the stairs to his parents’ apartments alone and “waited for his dear Sisi to arise.”
¹⁸
He did not understand his young wife’s wish that they remain alone rather than presenting themselves to the assembled family, who had been watching every movement of the bridal couple for days.

Much later, Elisabeth explained this embarrassing situation to her then lady-in-waiting, Countess Marie Festetics. “The Emperor was so used to obeying her that he gave in to this demand as well. But it was horrible for me. I went only for his sake.”
¹⁹
In later years Elisabeth repeatedly referred to this particular morning.

During the day, it was her duty to receive deputations from Lower and Upper Austria, Styria, Carinthia, Carniola, and Bukovina, standing
between
her husband and her mother-in-law. Even Sophie found these audiences so tiring that she “simply couldn’t” and needed fortifying in between. All meals were official events, preceded by a change of clothes.

At the audience for the Hungarian deputation, Sisi wore Hungarian national costume for the first time—a pink dress with a black velvet bodice and magnificent lace trimmings. It was, oddly enough, a gift from her
mother-in-law. Archduchess Sophie, whose feelings for Hungary were anything but benevolent, admired her daughter-in-law’s beauty
particularly
in this dress. “She and the Emperor in his hussar’s uniform made such a handsome and gracious couple,” she confided to her diary.

On the evening of April 27 a large court ball took place. The young wife had to withstand the inquisitive looks of the “socially acceptable” aristocracy. The news of the current status of the imperial marriage had already made the rounds. “Her Majesty,” this time dressed all in white, her new diamond belt around her waist, a tiara and a wreath of white roses in her hair, sat with “His Majesty” under a canopy of red velvet and listened to “Master Strauss” letting “his tunes ring out.” Both Their Majesties danced several times—not with each other, of course, but with the personages designated by protocol. Archduchess Sophie did not forget to note in her diary that the Emperor had to “prompt” his young wife in the figures of the dance.
²⁰
Sisi’s dancing skills could not yet measure up to the standards of the Viennese court. At the high point of the ball, the cotillion, Strauss’s “Elisabethklänge” was heard for the first time. As tribute to the bride and groom, both the imperial anthem and the Bavarian anthem were woven into the composition.

Duchess Ludovika remained remarkably objective, unaffected by so much glitter, in her report to Bavaria. “Yesterday’s court ball was very nice, enormously crowded, brilliant, but the rooms are too small for here, there was such pushing and shoving that one was almost crushed. Many beautiful women and much jewelry make all the festivities glitter.” Ludovika saw very clearly that this magnificence meant only work for her daughter. “I see little of Sisi, she is much in demand, and I very much fear to embarrass the Emperor, a young married couple should be left alone.”
²¹
But there was to be no minute of the day that the young couple was left in peace.

The Emperor, dutiful as always, was disciplined enough to see to his paperwork and give audiences in between festivities. The Austrian
ambassador
in Paris, Count Alexander Hübner, for example, that same day spent more than an hour with the Emperor discussing the Eastern question. He found him “physically and mentally matured” and wrote in his diary, “How cheerful, happy, and so very openly in love he looked! It was a joy to watch him. May God preserve him!”
²²
Archduchess Sophie expressed quite similar sentiments in her diary. She repeatedly emphasized how much in love and how happy her Franzi was.

What the court ball was to society, the celebration in the Prater the following day was to the people. The open state carriages bearing the
imperial and ducal families drove through the hurly-burly of the park, along the principal avenue, decorated with Japanese lanterns, and through the Wurstelprater to the Feuerwerksplatz, where the Circus Renz was giving a gala performance. This time the Empress’s pleasure was visible to all. She enjoyed the acrobats’ tricks, especially those of the horseback riders in medieval costumes, and the famous handsome horses of the Renz family. Elisabeth’s love for the Circus Renz, which was kindled that night,
remained
with her to the end of her life.

Four days after the wedding, Elisabeth was so exhausted by all the gala activities that for her sake the Emperor canceled all the planned receptions, taking her instead to the Prater in the afternoon, driving the phaeton himself.

But Elisabeth drew the greatest comfort from her brothers and sisters, who spent a few more days in Vienna before returning to Bavaria. She especially liked being with her older sister Helene, with whom Sisi could talk freely. Ludovika wrote to Marie of Saxony, “As long as the sisters [Sisi and Helene] were together, they were inseparable, and always spoke English, but took no part in our conversations, which was not at all nice of them … although it got them into trouble … more than once.”
²³

The two girls used English as something like a secret language. At the Viennese court, English was not customarily spoken. Neither the
Emperor
nor Archduchess Sophie knew the language. The annoyance at the sisters’ mysterious conversations was therefore entirely understandable. But anyone could also see how steadfast was the love between them—even after the engagement in Bad Ischl, such an unhappy episode in Helene’s life.

The festival week concluded with a municipal ball in the
Winterreit-schule
(Winter Riding School) and the Redoutensäle (Masked-Ball Halls), which were connected specifically for this occasion by breaking through the walls. Once again Johann Strauss provided the music. Once again Sisi felt herself the target of thousands of eyes. As the new Empress, after all, she was supposed to be seen by as many people as possible as soon as possible.

Ceremonial controlled even the honeymoon, which, once the festivities were concluded, the couple spent in Laxenburg Castle outside Vienna. Since punctually every morning the Emperor drove to his desk in the Hofburg in Vienna, the young woman was left alone all day long in Laxenburg—that is, isolated within a large circle of people ready to educate and serve her. Archduchess Sophie joined her daughter-in-law every day “to keep her company.”

Sisi’s sisters, including Helene, returned to Bavaria. Sisi was homesick and wrote sad poems during her Laxenburg honeymoon. One she entitled “Sehnsucht” (Longing).