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  Unfortunately, since we have none of Sisi’s letters from this period, we do not know whether she commented on political questions during this first visit to Italy. All we know is that her opinion on the Italian question was less optimistic than her husband’s. This information comes from her brother Karl Theodor, who visited her in Venice and took back to Bavaria a very negative vision of Austria’s position in these provinces.16

  *

  Only a few weeks after their return from Italy, the imperial couple visited another unquiet province—Hungary. Relations between Vienna and Budapest were tense. Minister of the Interior Alexander Bach conceived the ambitious plan of turning all of Austria into a unified, centrally ruled realm and to bring refractory Hungary “into line.” The old Hungarian constitution had been abolished. The revolutionaries of 1848 had emigrated, their goods had been confiscated. The Viennese court, represented by Archduchess Sophie as well as by the military governor of Hungary, Archduke Albrecht, harbored extremely anti-Hungarian sentiments.

  The young Empress was Hungary’s hope. It was known that, influenced by Count Mailath, she cared about Hungarian history, with a special interest in the liberation movements. The political relaxations on the occasion of the imperial wedding had made a favorable impression. Elisabeth’s opposition to Archduchess Sophie was sufficiently well known. The Hungarians now hoped that these circumstances could be exploited to their advantage.

  The journey proceeded by ship down the Danube from Vienna by way of Pressburg to Budapest. This time, Sisi had insisted on taking both children along, again against her mother-in-law’s protests. According to Franz Joseph, before the departure, little Sophie had come down with a fever and a slight case of diarrhea. The doctors had assured the parents that these symptoms were related to teething.17

  The receptions, the military parades, the first court ball held in the castle at Budapest after many years—all these were carried out with the usual display of splendor, but they were handicapped by rather moderate enthusiasm among the Hungarians. All those who attended agreed only on the beauty of Elisabeth, not yet twenty years old. Nor was it difficult to recognize how susceptible she was to the magnates’ compliments. The Hungarian nobles in their diamond-studded costumes and their extraordinarily self-confident, proud bearing were so strikingly different from the Viennese aristocracy, almost opposites, that from the first moment the young Empress developed a liking for Hungary. At the court ball, she enthusiastically watched the Hungarian dances, which she had never seen before, and then she danced a quadrille herself—first with Archduke Wilhelm and then with Count Nikolaus Esterházy, who would subsequently become her favorite companion at the hunt. The Hungarians’ appreciation of the young Empress was returned. From this time on, the Hungarians ascribed any political relaxations to the Empress’s favorable influence, just as they laid every harassment at Archduchess Sophie’s door.

  Elisabeth championed the Hungarian cause even then. It is true that during the trip, the Emperor refused to accept a petition from the nobility to reintroduce the old Hungarian constitution; but the return of prominent emigrants, such as Gyula Andrássy, who came back from Paris, was made easier, and some of the confiscated estates were released. Cautious indications of further liberalization were evident, although the Emperor persisted in his rigidly centralist policy.

  Morale in Hungary improved gradually in the course of the visit. The mood brightened especially whenever the Empress appeared in public—when, for example, she attended one of the military reviews, appearing on horseback at her husband’s side. Her riding skills found many admirers in Hungary. Count Franz Folliot de Crenneville, who was one of the party, however, was scandalized at having to see an empress on horseback. “This riding performance, entirely unsuitable to the dignity of an empress, made a painful impression on me,” he wrote to his wife.18

  Just when the Emperor and Empress were about to set out for the Hungarian provinces, as had been arranged, ten-month-old Gisela suddenly came down with a fever and diarrhea. The trip was postponed. When Gisela recovered, two-year-old Sophie fell ill. Her parents were very worried. Franz Joseph to his mother: “She slept only 1 1/2 hours all night, is very nervous, and keeps crying constantly, it’s enough to break your heart.”19

  Dr. Seeburger, the personal physician, reassured the Emperor and Empress. Franz Joseph found the leisure to go hunting and, as he proudly wrote his mother, to shoot “72 herons and cormorants.” The couple started on the trip to the interior; after five days, however, it was broken off in Debrecen because the news of little Sophie grew worse.

  For eleven hours, the nineteen-year-old Empress watched in despair as her child died. “Our little one is an angel in heaven. After a long struggle, she finally passed away at nine thirty. We are devastated,” the Emperor telegraphed his mother from Budapest on May 29, 1857.20 The young couple returned to Vienna with the body of the child.

  Elisabeth was inconsolable. After a suitable period, the Emperor became resigned; but Sisi withdrew from everyone, sought solitude, wept for days, even weeks, refused all nourishment, abandoned herself completely to her grief. In view of her despondency, no one dared openly to reproach her. But the relationship with her mother-in-law, whose favorite little Sophie had been, grew frosty. After all, it was the young Empress who had taken the children to Hungary against the expressed wishes, even the opposition, of the Archduchess.

  In the following weeks and months, a significant change took place in Elisabeth. After this misfortune, for which she did not feel blameless, she gave up the struggle for the daughter who was left her, little Gisela. It seemed as if she were no longer willing even to acknowledge the existence of this child. She paid no attention to the little girl, abandoning the field entirely to Grandmama Sophie.

  Sisi’s emotional state and her weak physical constitution gave ample grounds for worry in the summer of 1857. Since neither Franz Joseph nor Sophie could think what was to be done, Duchess Ludovika was summoned to Vienna. She arrived with three of Sisi’s younger sisters. Ludovika: “The company of her young, cheerful sisters seemed to do Sisi much good; since parting from us was so hard for her, she made me promise to come to Ischl if at all possible.”21

  Even six months later, Sisi had not become reconciled to her loss. The Emperor wrote his mother, “Poor Sisi is much affected by all the memories that confront her here [in Vienna] on all sides, and she cries a great deal. Yesterday Gisela, visiting with Sisi, sat in the little red armchair of our poor little one, which stands in the den, and at that, both of us cried, but Gisela, happy at this new place of honor, kept laughing so charmingly.”22

  It was just during this difficult time that Emperor Franz Joseph’s younger brother, Archduke Ferdinand Max, married Charlotte (Carlotta), the daughter of the King of the Belgians. Sisi’s new sister-in-law was not only beautiful and intelligent, but also enormously rich. Furthermore, she had an impeccable pedigree. Sophie and her faction now did all they could to pit the new wife of Max, who was next in line to the throne, against the Empress, who was descended from a far more humble family. In their correspondence and their talks, and in her diary, Sophie could not find enough praise for Carlotta’s upbringing, her beauty, her cleverness, but most of all for the affection she showed her husband and her mother-in-law. With every word, Sisi could not help but feel scolded. “Charlotte is charming, beautiful, attractive, loving, and gentle to me. I feel as if I had always loved her…. I thank God with all my heart for the charming wife He has given Max and for the additional child He has given us,” reads Sophie’s diary.23 That the two sisters-in-law took a cordial dislike to each other is not very surprising. Elisabeth’s position at court notably deteriorated.

  In December 1857 the Empress gave signs of the new pregnancy everyone had hoped for. A letter from Ludovika to her sister Sophie gives some indication of the discord between Sophie and Elisabeth. “As far as Sisi’s expectations are concerned, they have given me great reassurance, great joy,” Ludovika wrote, but added, �
�You say that they have freed you from many a worry—were these worries related to the physical or the moral? If an improvement that satisfies you has set in, I am immensely pleased.” And the very next day, Ludovika wrote to Sophie again about her “great reassurance that Sisi has now become so reasonable and conscientious about lacing and tight clothes, a matter that always worried and bothered me; I myself believe that it can have an effect on one’s mood; for an uncomfortable feeling, like constant embarrassment, may truly put one out of sorts.”24

  Starvation diets and her beloved riding had to be abandoned now, to Sophie’s great satisfaction. Instead, Sisi was supposed to go for long walks. Franz Joseph went with her as often as he could find the time. The harmony between the couple had not suffered even during the recent difficult months. Franz Joseph showed his love for his young wife openly.

  Sophie, of course, found repeated cause to complain of the young Empress. Submissive and anxious, Ludovika wrote letters like the following: “I want to be able to hope that all situations have turned out to be more pleasant than in the previous year, that you have cause to be more satisfied, which is always so close to my heart.”25

  *

  During these same months, Ludovika was deeply agitated about all her beautiful, difficult daughters. The oldest, Helene, cast aside at the engagement in Bad Ischl, was now twenty-two years old. Ludovika: “She would have been a good wife and mother; now she, and all of us, has given it up entirely, though she remains very cheerful.”26 Helene filled her time chiefly with painting and “also visits the poor and the sick in the villages a lot.” Abruptly, a suitor for Helene’s hand turned up in the person of the Hereditary Prince Maximilian of Thurn und Taxis. The King of Bavaria hesitated to give his permission for the marriage because the Thurn und Taxis family was not of equal rank. Ludovika wrote urgent letters to her daughter in Vienna. Sisi was to intervene with the Emperor on her sister’s behalf, and he in turn was to put in a good word with the King of Bavaria. No matter how diffident the Empress was in other situations—for her family she would do anything. She diligently wrote hither and yon, comforting her mother and Helene. A remnant of a guilty conscience because of Helene’s failed marriage plans may also have played a part in her efforts. Finally, in 1858, the marriage occurred.

  In the winter of 1857, Sisi’s younger sister Marie was considered a match of great beauty. One suitor who applied for her hand was the Crown Prince of Naples—whom no one from the Bavarian family had ever met, of course. Once again, the correspondence with Vienna increased. Ludovika: Marie “thinks that you have the most detailed and reliable information about the young man, and she needs to be reassured, since she knows no one, and the thought of belonging to a man whom she does not know and who does not know her makes her so afraid…. That he is not pretty she already knows.” This fact, which could not be denied, Sisi had found out from Habsburg relatives who had been to Southern Italy.

  Ludovika also feared that the “great piety” of the suitor might “scare off” young Marie, but, she quickly added, surely to reassure Sophie about the loose ideas held in Possenhofen, that she hoped this piety would, “little by little,” make Marie “herself increasingly more pious.”27

  Once again a swarm of new teachers traveled in and out of Possenhofen. Once again a country girl had to be drilled in court manners. And once again a Bavarian duchess was not very happy with all her new obligations: learning Italian, receiving ladies “to get used to talking.” Since the girl was not yet “formed” (that is, had not started her menses), the doctors tried all their skills on her, treating her with leeches and hot baths.

  Ludovika complained, as always bereft of any help from her Max. “The thought of the separation grows ever harder for me now, although I must wish that it will not be drawn out, for surely it is better that she comes young into this altogether different, foreign situation, she will find and adapt herself all the more readily and with less difficulty.”28

  Unfortunately, the only clues we have so far to Sisi’s efforts on behalf of her sister come from the voluminous letters of Archduchess Ludovika. Sisi’s own letters (and the young Empress was a most diligent correspondent when her Bavarian family was concerned) are still not accessible to historians.

  *

  On August 21, 1858, in Laxenburg, the Empress was delivered of the Crown Prince. He was named Rudolf, after the Habsburg ancestor who, in 1278, won the Austrian dominions from King Ottokar of Bohemia and invested his sons with them. As had been the case in naming Gisela, the imperial family reached far back into medieval history, thus affirming its tradition. Around this same time, Franz Joseph also had the grave of Rudolf of Habsburg in Speyer restored at his own expense. He still hoped to be able to reestablish the old tradition of Habsburg rule over all of Germany, which Emperor Franz had relinquished in 1806 with the retirement of the crown of the Holy Roman Empire. The choice of name for the Crown Prince was politically motivated.

  The joy at a crown prince, hoped for such a long time, was overwhelming at court and genuine among the people, if for no other reason than because this birth was the occasion of generous donations. The Emperor gave his wife a triple strand of pearls worth 75,000 guldens. He laid the Order of the Golden Fleece in little Rudolf’s cradle, and on the first day of the child’s life, his father made him a colonel in the army. “I want my son, granted me by God’s grace, from his entry into the world to be a member of my brave army.”29 This was not only a demonstration of the military state, which angered so many “civilians,” but also a decision about the newborn Prince: Whether he liked it or not, he would have to be a soldier. The subsequent conflicts between father and son had their source in that determination.

  The Emperor had warm words of thanks for the good wishes proffered by his capital and residential city. “Heaven has given me a child who will one day find a new, larger, and more elegant Vienna. However, though the city will change, the Prince will nevertheless find no change in the loyal hearts of old, and therefore he will meet with the Viennese of old, who, should it become necessary, will prove to him as well their tested willingness to make sacrifices.”30

  For the Crown Prince was born at the time Vienna was being transformed. The medieval city walls were being torn down. Their place was taken by a broad, splendid avenue that enclosed the inner city like a ring, the Ringstrasse. The constrictions of the old town, squeezed inside the walls, was intended to make way for the grandeur and spaciousness of a modern city connected to its outskirts.

  That such a monument in stone to a new time and a crown prince was not, however, in itself enough was hinted by Franz Grillparzer in one of his quatrains.

  Wiens Wälk fallen in den Sand;

  Wer wird in engen Mauern leben!

  Auch ist ja schon das ganze Land

  Von einer chinesischen umgeben.31

  [Vienna’s ramparts fall to the sand; / Who would live in narrow walls! / Especially as the entire land / Is already surrounded by a Chinese one.]

  Public pressure on the Emperor increased to create a modern state, and especially to grant a constitution.

  The birth was a difficult one. Elisabeth recovered slowly, especially as she was not allowed to nurse the baby and therefore suffered from milk congestion and fevers. In this instance, too, no exception was made, in spite of Sisi’s pleas. As previously arranged, the child was fed exclusively by the wet nurse, Marianka, an “exceedingly beautiful” (according to Sophie) peasant woman from Moravia. Sisi’s convalescence took longer than normal. The fever recurred for weeks after the birth, weakening her immensely. Under these circumstances, there could be no question of the child’s being in his mother’s care. As she had done earlier, Grandmother Sophie once again assumed full responsibility for the nursery.

  Since Sisi’s health did not improve by fall and winter, Duchess Ludovika was summoned to Austria once more. She arrived with several of the Empress’s younger sisters, and she also brought along the old family physician, Dr. Fischer, in whom the young Empress h
ad more confidence than she did in Dr. Seeburger. Dr. Fischer’s diagnosis is not known. Sophie’s diary, too, is filled with remarks concerning Sisi’s illness, but no clear-cut symptoms (except for frequent fevers, general weakness, and lack of appetite) are recorded.

  The old enmity between mother-in-law and daughter-in-law was not diminished by the birth of the Crown Prince. Matters grew so grave that Sophie complained to Ludovika, who for her part lamented, “Your letter made me feel very bad in one respect, I thought it was going much better and such things as you wrote me were no longer happening. It is a real sorrow to me that it always remains the same, and the years bring no change. It is an incomprehensible way to behave, an injustice that bothers me and makes me afraid, my only grief whenever I think joyfully of this happy situation, where everything is so arranged for happiness and the grateful enjoyment of such unusual happiness.”32

  The only times Sisi’s illness disappeared were when someone from the Bavarian family was with her. In January 1859, her younger sister Marie—now married by proxy to the Crown Prince of Naples—stopped off in Vienna on her way to her new home. The beauty of the seventeen-year-old bride was admired even by Archduchess Sophie. “Her beautiful eyes hold an expression of sweet melancholy which, if that is possible, makes her more beautiful still.”33

  Marie spent two weeks in Vienna, lavishly spoiled by the Empress. “Sisi writes such happy letters … and Marie as well, it really must be a joy to see them together,” Ludovika wrote to Sophie.34 Sisi took her younger sister to the Burgtheater, to the Prater, to the Circus Renz. The two spent many hours alone chatting. “It was almost as if fate, well aware what was in store for our poor Maria in future, wished to grant her a few day’s delay,” Sisi was to say later.35