B008AITH44 EBOK (9 page)

During the past few months little Sisi had learned “many and different things”: the languages of polite society, problems of protocol, a smattering of Austrian history. She had learned to dress correctly and to become a better dancer. She cleaned her teeth more carefully than before. But she had not the slightest idea of the life led by Austrians outside the court, whether or not they had work, whether or not the children in her new empire had enough to eat. She had barely heard of the impending war in the east.

By nature, Elisabeth was warmhearted and fair-minded. Like her sisters and brothers, she had been encouraged from childhood to care for the poor and afflicted. She was devoid of aristocratic pride, was familiar with the homes of the poor around Possenhofen. Most important, she was not superficial in her thinking; quite the contrary: From childhood on, she had a tendency to brood: She wasted little time on appearances, trying instead to fathom the “natural,” the “truth” of things. Though as yet she thought as a child, this was a characteristic which nevertheless developed early and which she kept to the end of her life.

All these good traits, which Sisi demonstrated throughout her unbridled but loving childhood and by her sensitive temperament, were now
worthless,
even a drawback. To lack aristocratic pride was seen in Vienna not as an advantage but as a deficiency. So was any lack of respect for the formalities. The Viennese court, even the sovereignty of the Emperor and the high position of the imperial family, were based in large part on protocol and ceremony. Truth and authenticity were not important here. The aspects Sisi saw as pure formalities had great political significance after 1848: They raised the ruling family far above ordinary mortals, allowing it to become unapproachable, untouchable; the family was a visible
expression
of God’s grace. From the day of the engagement, the warmhearted creature the peoples of Austria had hoped for was turned into a public figure representing the Viennese court—though, granted, the most
beautiful
one Austria had ever had. The seeds of all future conflicts were already sown during these months before the wedding. All had their origin in the
discrepancy between a clear-thinking, sensitive woman and her
exploitation
as a court figure, and a court figure above.

*

On April 20, 1854, Duchess Elisabeth of Bavaria left her native city of Munich. The future Empress was not informed that on this very day a crucial event in the Crimean War occurred. Austria and Prussia concluded a pact to force Russia to retreat from the Danube duchies. Franz Joseph thus set his course against Russia but did not join the Western Powers, in this way antagonizing both sides. Austrian troops were deployed on the Russian border.

After a mass in the private chapel of the Duke’s Munich palace, Sisi began by saying good-bye to the servants. For each one she had a little gift, to each one she gave her hand in farewell. As Empress of Austria, she would no longer be allowed such behavior. Very soon, in the rarefied air of the Viennese court, she would be allowed to “put out her hand for kissing” only to very specifically selected and privileged members of the aristocracy; she could not simply shake hands with anyone she took a liking to, as she was used to doing in Bavaria. At this parting the tears flowed freely—on both sides.

The family farewells were followed by the appearance of the ruling King of Bavaria, Max II, and his predecessor, Ludwig I (who had been forced to abdicate in 1848 as a result of the scandal involving Lola Montez), wearing the uniforms of Austrian regiments. With them were their wives and other members from the royal branch of the Wittelsbachs. A huge crowd had gathered on the Ludwigstrasse outside the Duke’s palace. Touched by the thunderous shouts of joy of the Munich populace, Sisi rose to her feet in the carriage, her face bathed in tears, and waved her handkerchief.

The journey took three full days (with two overnight stops). First, the party was taken by carriage from Munich to Straubing. In Straubing, a Danube steamer lay waiting, and here the travelers experienced the first reception to include local officials, bands, girls dressed all in white,
congratulations
and speeches, the waving of flags, bouquets of flowers. This scene was to be repeated at every subsequent stop.

On April 21, at about two o’clock in the afternoon, the steamer docked in Passau. A triumphal arch had been erected at the Bavarian border. An imperial deputation welcomed the future Empress. Two festively
decorated
steamers escorted her from the border through Upper Austria. At six o’clock in the evening, the ships arrived in Linz, the first stop on Austrian soil. The governor and the mayor, the military, the guilds and the
schoolchildren,
the clergy and the aristocracy, a choir, all had arranged for a splendid reception. What was unexpected was that the Emperor came in person to welcome his bride. Early that morning he had taken the steamer from Vienna to Linz to surprise her—a gesture not on the program.

That evening, there was a gala performance at the Linz theater of
Die
Rosen
der
Elisabeth
(The Roses of Elisabeth), then an illumination of the town, a torchlight parade, and choral selections. The Emperor left Linz at four thirty in the morning of April 22, ahead of his bride, to be able to welcome her once more at the official reception in Vienna.

The large side-wheeler
Franz
Joseph
set sail with the wedding party from Linz at eight o’clock in the morning. It was surely the most splendid vessel ever to have plied the Danube. Its 140-horsepower engines, which had been manufactured in London, caused a sensation that was duly
celebrated
in the newspapers of the time. The ship’s appointments were
imperial:
The walls of the bride’s cabin were covered in crimson velvet; the deck was transformed into a living flower garden with a rose arbor, where Sisi could retire. Rose garlands were looped over the ship’s sides down to the surface of the water. Blue-and-white Bavarian flags rippled next to the red-white-red of Austria and the black-and-yellow Habsburg colors. All other river traffic was prohibited on this special day.

The baroque convent of Melk, Castle Dürnstein, the towns of Stein, Krems, Tulln, and finally Kosterneuburg—an idyllic history-laden
landscape
—were festively decorated for the young Rose of Bavaria. Work was stopped everywhere. Schoolchildren, peasants, workmen, women lined the shores. At every landing stage, the local honoraries were assembled—the mayors, the teachers, the priests. Everywhere the imperial anthem was drowned out by gun salutes.

Each one of these tens of thousands of people who lined the banks wanted to see the bride. It was the third day of the journey. She was exhausted from all the new impressions. Nevertheless, she bravely stayed at her post, waved her lace handkerchief, smiled. She still, after all, had her mother by her side, her help and her refuge. Her brothers and sisters were also still with her, now and then joking to ease her nervousness. But Sisi was very pale, very quiet, very anxious.

Before arriving in Nussdorf near Vienna, the wedding party changed clothes. A spectacular reception was awaiting them. The empire’s
dignitaries,
the members of the House of Habsburg-Lothringen, the aristocracy, representatives of the municipality—all stood ready under a splendid arch of triumph to receive the future Empress in a manner befitting her station. She slipped out of her traveling outfit and put on one of her “fancy
gowns,” a filmy pink silk dress with a full crinoline; with it she wore a white lace cape and a small white hat.

The thunder of cannons and the peal of the bells in every church of Vienna announced the arrival in Nussdorf of the Emperor’s bride on April 22 around four o’clock in the afternoon. Even before the ship had properly docked, Emperor Franz Joseph bounded from the riverbank onto the boat to welcome his Sisi. In his marshal’s uniform with the wide ribbon of the Bavarian Order of Hubertus, he looked extremely handsome. Tens of thousands watched as the young Emperor embraced his bride and kissed her heartily.

Never before and never again was a Habsburg bride welcomed both with such ceremony and with such heartfelt affection. During this love scene, many an observer was reminded of the good marriage, which had become proverbial in Austria, between Maria Theresia and her “Franzl.” Chroniclers, at any rate, did not omit to mention that they felt “as if this time the gentle spirit of Maria Theresia floated above her illustrious grandson.”
³
The joy at the sight was open and honest—delight in the bride’s girlish though pale appearance.

The Viennese had had to wait long enough for a young, representative empress. The previous year, Napoleon III had married the beautiful
Eugénie
and turned Paris into the center of European glamour. Now, at last, Vienna would catch up with Paris—or so it was hoped. A young and beautiful empress would bring new sparkle to Vienna’s social life, which had slumbered for so long, and would serve as an international attraction. In this way, Vienna might become a fashion center second only to Paris. Such an eventuality meant especially a hope for an impetus to the
languishing
trades and crafts in Austria and for an increase in employment.

The future Empress could not complain of a cool reception by the populace. The simple people who lined the banks of the Danube and stood along the heights of the Leopoldsberg in order to see the Duchess of Bavaria offered her their trust. The Emperor’s evident fondness confirmed them in their hope for better times and a more benevolent ruler; surely now the “reactionary” influence of Archduchess Sophie would be held at bay by the young Empress and would give way to more liberal tendencies.

Archduchess Sophie, the “secret Empress,” boarded the ship immediately after the Emperor. The official part of the reception began. The bride kissed the hand of her aunt and future mother-in-law. She was welcomed by the rest of the family—the Emperor’s brothers, countless new aunts and uncles, cousins. Then she disembarked, leaving on the arm of her groom. Great shouts of jubilation, gun salutes, music, waving flags. A brief stop at the
gold-ornamented Triumphhalle (Hall of Triumph), the interior of which was “splendidly decorated with mirrored walls, flowers, hangings, like a fairy temple.” A resting place among flowers for Her Most Serene
Highness,
the imperial bride; platforms for the dignitaries along the sides, the delegates of foreign nations with their ladies on the right, the Viennese municipal council, the high clergy, the high nobility, the high military, the ministers, and the provincial governors to the left.

Then the coach procession from Nussdorf to Schönbrunn assembled: at its head, the Emperor with Duke Max; in the second coach, Sisi with Sophie; in the third, Ludovika with Archduke Franz Karl, the Emperor’s father; immediately following, the remaining “Most Serene Highnesses, the family members.” The procession drove under a number of triumphal arches through Döbling, Währing, Hernals, across the Schmelz to
Mariahilferstrasse
and on to Schönbrunn. Franz Joseph personally opened the carriage door and led his bride into his summer residence, the magnificent baroque castle dating from the time of Maria Theresia, with more than 1,400 rooms fitted out in the utmost splendor.

A complex ceremonial began to unfold in the Great Salon: first, Sophie introduced the archduchesses to Sisi, then the Emperor did the same for the male members of the House of Habsburg. (Sophie noted in her diary, not without pride, that besides her three younger sons and her husband, there were fifteen other archdukes.) Archduke Ferdinand Max, the
Emperor’s
younger brother, assumed the task of acquainting the Wittelsbach and Habsburg families with each other. Then came the introduction of the high court officials. All this occupied considerable time.

With great solemnity, the Emperor next presented the wedding gifts, beginning with his gift to the bride, a diamond crown with a matching diamond waist ornament—a so-called corsage. The crown was a splendid example of the old goldsmiths’ art, inset with emeralds; the modern
resetting
alone had cost 100,000 guldens.
⁴
(A few days before Sisi’s arrival, it had accidentally been dropped—an occurrence seen by many as a bad omen—and repaired in a great hurry.) Another diamond tiara was sent by the former Emperor, Ferdinand, from Prague. The widow of Emperor Franz (an aunt of both bride and groom) also gave diamonds that befitted the occasion.

Sisi’s two Bavarian “ladies,” who were no longer required in Vienna, were given precious parting gifts. Their place was now taken by a personal household. It was headed by Countess Sophie Esterházy, née Princess Liechtenstein, a close confidante of Archduchess Sophie. At the time, she was fifty-six years old—seven years older than Sophie; a puritanical
woman with punctilious respect for outward form, she was, for all
practical
purposes, assigned the job of governess to the young Empress. From the first moment, Sisi took an intense dislike to Countess Esterházy, who was viewed critically by other contemporaries as well; for example, the Emperor’s aide-de-camp, Weckbecker, noted, “on the one hand, she treated the young Empress a little too much like a governess, while on the other, she saw her principal task as introducing the incipient sovereign to all sorts of gossip about the families of the high aristocracy, for which the Bavarian Princess naturally could summon up only slight interest.”
⁵

Elisabeth had more confidence in her chief steward, Prince Lobkowitz. Nor did she dislike the two young ladies-in-waiting, Countesses Paula Bellegarde and Karoline Lamberg. Sophie made it clear to Sisi from the outset that, as Empress, she would not be allowed to establish any personal ties with these young women. Sisi’s “household” consisted of a secretary, a lady of the bedchamber, two lady’s maids, two chambermaids, one valet de chambre, a porter, four footmen, one houseman, and a chamber woman. This staff, of course, was for the Empress’s exclusive service. The Emperor had his own household, far larger and entirely separate from that of the Empress.