B008AITH44 EBOK (38 page)

 

E
lisabeth’s triumphs in the mid-1860s—Rudolf’s liberal
upbringing
and the Compromise with Hungary—angered court society in Vienna to such a degree that the gulf became unbridgeable. Sisi, for her part, more than ever avoided the Viennese “prison fortress” because she was made to feel the general dislike only too clearly.

Not even the new misfortune in the Habsburg family, the death of Emperor Maximilian of Mexico, was able to melt the icy fronts. At the beginning of July 1867, the news arrived that Max had been shot to death in Querétaro. Archduchess Sophie, aged sixty-two, was unable to
surmount
this reverse of fortunes. Max had been her favorite son. Her only consolation was “that she had always advised him against, had never for a moment approved” his going to Mexico.
¹
She knew that in the final
hours of his life, he had behaved with dignity, devoutness, and heroism. “But the memory of the torments he had to undergo, of his friendlessness far from us goes with me through my life and is an indescribable pain.”
²
Sophie’s spirit was broken. She lived on for another five years—years filled with grieving for her Max. She grew even more pious, giving up all fights, even against her daughter-in-law Elisabeth.

Franz Joseph’s mourning for his younger brother was kept within limits. Especially while he was the successor to the throne, Max had been a thoroughly troublesome and dangerous rival. He had everything Franz Joseph lacked—imagination, charm, an interest in science and the arts, liberal tendencies even in politics. Among the common people, Max had always been the favorite brother. It was he in whom the opponents of absolutism set their hopes—as the Emperor knew only too well. Franz Joseph was probably not the right person to console his deeply stricken mother.

In this situation, the expectations placed on the Empress were all the greater. At one time, Max had been her favorite in-law—that is, until his marriage to the beautiful Carlotta. Elisabeth had had no more
understanding
for the Mexican adventure than Sophie. The misfortune in Mexico might have brought about an understanding between the two women. But these hopes, too, were dashed. Finally, it was Duchess Ludovika who took Sophie in for several weeks in Possenhofen in order to comfort her.

Sophie vehemently refused to meet the “murderer of her son,”
Napoleon
III, who traveled to Salzburg in August 1867 to express his
condolences.
Sophie could not forgive the French ruler and his wife for having lured Max into the Mexican adventure and then, when he was in
difficulties,
failing to come to his aid.

Elisabeth had different reasons for wanting to stay far away from this meeting, with its enormous potential for sensationalism. Once again, she claimed ill health, but she was already considering the possibility that she was pregnant (it was a month after the Hungarian coronation) and wrote her husband, “Perhaps I am expecting. During this uncertainty, the
Salzburg
visit is very depressing. I could weep all day long, that is how infinitely sad I am. My dear soul, comfort me, I need it very much. I have lost all interest, I do not want to go riding or walking, all, all is vanity.”
³

This time, her complaints accomplished nothing. The meeting in
Salzburg
took place. But the political results of it were meager indeed. The Franco-Austrian alliance against Prussia (which Bismarck feared) did not come about. In the circle around Archduchess Sophie, even the ladies-
in-waiting
mocked the “parvenu” Napoleon and the very inferior Eugénie,
born a mere countess. Therese Fürstenberg: “And all this time they sit cozily together in Salzburg, the representatives of strict legitimacy and the representatives of exactly the opposite, our modest imperial couple, who go to sleep at nine o’clock, and the French, accustomed to splendor and festivities.”
⁴

It was true: The French far outdid the Austrians when it came to social pastimes. Count Hans Wilczek, who was present at this conference,
reported,
for example, that during a luncheon at Hellbrunn, the Empress Elisabeth’s flatware suddenly disappeared: “The astonishment was great, it could only be a conjuring trick, but which one of us was clever enough to carry it out?” Then Emperor Napoleon, smiling, admitted, “In my lifetime I have acquired various talents, and I make use of them to amuse my friends when cheerfulness begins to flag.”
⁵
As so often at the Viennese court, this time the conversation at table around Franz Joseph and Elisabeth had come to a halt, and Napoleon III had very cleverly dispelled the awkwardness with his sleight of hand.

The meeting at Salzburg turned out to be unproductive; but the two empresses attracted universal attention. They were said to be the two most beautiful women of their day; everyone felt qualified to judge which of the two was more outstanding.

Elisabeth and Eugénie (bowing to the political circumstances) gave no signs of friendship, let alone intimacy, in public. Nevertheless, they
understood
each other far better than gossip of their alleged rivalry would have it. Count Wilczek reported that one afternoon in Salzburg, Elisabeth paid a call, inconspicuously and entirely privately, on Empress Eugénie, and he, Wilczek, had been made to stand guard outside the door to keep away all other visitors. When Napoleon III himself asked for admittance, the Count’s story continued, he became uncertain and went to ask Eugénie whether her strict orders to admit no one really applied to her imperial consort as well. Wilczek: “I opened the door very quietly and had to go through two empty rooms of the apartment, even through the bedroom to the dressing room, where the door was ajar. Across from it there was a large mirror, and with their backs turned to the door behind which I stood, the two empresses were busy with two tape measures, measuring surely the most handsome calves to be found in all of Europe at the time. The sight was indescribable, and I shall not forget it as long as I live.”
⁶

Empress Eugénie’s feet were the talk of Europe. For she wore such short skirts (Austrian observers considered them
demi-monde
) that her ankles were visible. Sisi, on the other hand, appeared in rather old-fashioned, floor-length gowns and preserved the dignity of an imperial majesty.

The opinion prevailed that though Eugénie, who was the older by thirteen years, had more regular features, Elisabeth was by far the more lovely. Other observers, however, discovered qualities in Eugénie other than beauty. “But what conferred to a particular charm on her features,” wrote Prince Hohenlohe-Ingelfingen, “was an expression of spirit and assuredness which one misses in her always shy neighbor.”
⁷

Elisabeth did not accept Napoleon III’s return invitation to Paris for the World’s Exhibition; by this time she was unquestionably pregnant and had an excuse for letting her husband go alone. In this way, she also avoided a meeting with Pauline Metternich, who, as the wife of the Austrian ambassador in Paris, brilliantly organized the imperial visit and chalked up a triumphant success.

*

Elisabeth’s self-confidence was also evidenced by the fact that, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, she regularly went for fairly long stays in Bavaria. She appeared more and more infrequently in the imperial summer resort of Bad Ischl. She showed openly that in Bavaria she felt better than in Austria and that she enjoyed the turbulent family life around Duchess Ludovika more than the cold and boring life of Vienna.

Cheerfully Elisabeth assured her son Rudolf, six years old at the time, that she went “daily with Grandmama to the house chapel, where a Franciscan reads the mass much more quickly than our Sunday mass,”
⁸
a remark not calculated to give great pleasure to Archduchess Sophie, who always read these letters. Sisi described her life among her brothers and sisters, who gathered every evening. The next to arrive was “Uncle
Map-perl
[Max Emanuel of Bavaria] with a pile of books, if it lasts a long time, everyone falls asleep, we spray Sophie with water, to make her very angry, and that is the only entertainment.” She often sat up late into the night with her youngest sister, Sophie, she reported, when all the others were already asleep, “and talked ourselves dry, which we could not do all day long.”
⁹
The ladies-in-waiting kept noting the Empress’s “infatuation” with Possenhofen.
¹⁰

It was particularly during the 1860s and 1870s that Elisabeth’s
relationship
to her sisters was extremely close. She helped wherever she could, traveled to Zurich for Mathilde’s confinement in 1867 and to Rome in 1870 for Marie’s; she paid much more attention to her sisters than to her children Gisela and Rudolf. The entourage that accompanied her to Bavaria found the Empress in the family circle “so nice to her sisters and brothers that it is a joy to see her so.”
¹¹

It was true that her son and her older daughter interested Sisi less than
ever. The children’s first visit to the theater, even Gisela’s first-communion celebration, the many significant events in the life of these healthy and well-brought-up children, all took place under the eyes of their father, their grandmother, their tutors and ladies-in-waiting, but not their mother. Therese Fürstenberg found the two children “adorable”: They are very good, darling creatures, such nice, friendly children, as if they belonged entirely to the father!”
¹²
It was their father who, in spite of his many obligations, took the time to go for walks with the children, to take Rudolf along when he went hunting and to go with him to the swimming school or the Circus Renz. Therese Fürstenberg: “The Emperor, barely arrived, yesterday took his children to Renz; that would not have
happened
if the dragon’s lair had not been empty.”
¹³
This was intended to mean that not only did Elisabeth not look after her children, but that she also monopolized her husband to such an extent that there was no time to do things together with the children when she was in Vienna. Therese Fürstenberg mentioned “circumstances which one would rather not bring to light and which are aggravated to the point of being incredible by the stays in Bavaria and the massive intercourse with her sisters.”

On another occasion she wrote “that one does not know whether one is dealing with malice, buffoonery, or foolishness, so that one would like to hide so as not to be a witness to it; and one cannot admire enough the inexhaustible forbearance and goodness of ‘my lady’ [Archduchess
Sophie].
”
¹⁴
Even Valerie’s English governess, in whom Elisabeth believed to have a loyal supporter, remarked disdainfully, “The princesses of
Possenhofen
are all like the women of the demimonde.”
¹⁵

The sisters emphasized their resemblance to Elisabeth. Marie Festetics: “Figure—veil—hairstyle—clothes—habits—one never knows ‘which is which’!” Even Marie “speaks softly. I almost could not help smiling, she is so eager to resemble the Empress.” Mathilde and Sophie were hardly inferior to the two beautiful older sisters. Only Helene was an exception. Marie Festetics found her too severe, “and she looks as if she were a caricature … of one of the sisters.”
¹⁶
If only because of this underlined resemblance, every appearance of the five in Vienna was like a
demonstration
of their mutual understanding. Sisi’s conflicts seemed almost to
proliferate,
for none of them managed to bridge the gap with Viennese society.

*

Sisi and her younger daughter spent the greater part of the year in Hungary or in Bavaria, leaving the Emperor alone in Vienna to fulfill all the duties of public appearances. This way of life gave rise to endless criticism, such as Crenneville’s diary note for Maundy Thursday, 1869:
“Church service and washing of feet. H. M. [His Majesty] alone, since the Queen!! is in residence in Budapest.”
¹⁷

Over and over the Empress disappointed the Viennese by refusing to attend major events. In May 1869, for example, the new opera house, one of the handsomest and most costly buildings in the new Ringstrasse, was opened. With great devotion, the architects had built a special salon for the Empress and furnished it. It was in Renaissance style, with violet silk covering the walls and rich gold ornaments. Everything was arranged to Sisi’s taste. Along the walls hung huge paintings of Possenhofen and Lake Starnberg. The imposing table was engraved with Elisabeth’s monogram. The ceiling was ornamented with three paintings on themes from Weber’s
Oberon
. The center painting depicted Oberon and Titania as rulers of the fairy kingdom, riding in a shell drawn by swans
¹⁸
—a very sensitive reference to Elisabeth’s favorite play,
A
Midsummer
Night’s
Dream
and its world of fairies, which Weber’s opera also presented. And since Elisabeth showed no particular interest in music (with the exception of Hungarian gypsy tunes), this roundabout route by way of literature was necessary—even as it shows clearly to what great length the artists went to fitting out the salon of the Empress.