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The privileged position of the Bohemian lands during this time can also be seen in the fact that the first new language Sisi was expected to learn was Bohemian. Archduchess Sophie once noted in her diary that Sisi could already “count in Bohemian,” though later there was very little mention of Sisi’s progress in the language.
Sisi had no choice but to grow used to the extensive retinue that always accompanied the imperial couple on all travels. There were aides-de-camp, military officers, household troops, clergy, the personal physician Dr. Johann Seeburger, Adjutant General Grünne. Then there was Sisi’s personal entourage: chief steward and chatelaine, two ladies-in-waiting, a secretary. All these people brought along their own servants—valets, hairdressers, bathing attendants, footmen.
A rail line—the Nordbahn (Northern Railway)—had already been built along the stretch from Vienna through Brno to Prague, which was of great economic importance. The flower-bedecked locomotive Proserpina brought the imperial couple to Brno, the capital of Moravia, in a mere four hours. They were greeted with arches of triumph, girls dressed all in white, waving flags, speeches by dignitaries and the Emperor in German and in Czech, festive illumination, gala performances at the theater, a public festival in Brno’s Augarten with sack races and ropedancers, a torchlight parade. A parade in Moravian costume featured a colorful float bearing a bride and groom and the entire rustic wedding party. They presented the Emperor and Empress with gifts—including a bottle of local wine, vintage 1746.
Here in Moravia, young Elisabeth made her debut in the role of sovereign. She visited orphanages, schools, and a charity hospital. Wherever she went, she made “a highly favorable impression by her gracious condescension and kindness,” as the Wiener Zeitung reported the following day. The simple and natural manner in which the young Empress was able to speak with people from the lower classes was noticed, and it nourished the hope that some day this woman would espouse social problems.
Two days later, arrival in Prague: guard of honor made up of mine workers, the guilds, and the trades of this highly industrialized land. Franz Joseph and Elisabeth stayed in Hradčany Castle, the old seat of the kings of Bohemia; and it was here that they received the homage of the nobility, the city, the university, the army, and the regional deputations. The new Queen of Bohemia was also introduced to the “socially acceptable ladies”—those, that is, who could furnish proof of sixteen highly aristocratic ancestors and who were therefore worthy to attend court functions.
Exactly as happened in the Viennese Hofburg, in Hradčany Castle in Prague the schedule was crammed with hours of audiences and official dinners. The newspapers allow us to reconstruct the imperial couple’s daily ordeal in precise detail. The Emperor permitted himself no rest, used as he was from childhood to fulfilling his duties. He expected the same readiness to meet obligations from his young wife, whose health was not the best.
So the sixteen-year-old girl received delegations and petitioners, such as the deputation from the Erzgebirge. The Wiener Zeitung noted with some emotion, “But when the President movingly described the poverty of the mountain people, the beautiful eyes of the lovely sovereign filled with tears, and Her Majesty was hardly able to master her inner emotion. What a deeply affecting impression this new proof of her angelic gentleness had on those present is indescribable, it was a solemn moment.”35
The young couple laid the cornerstone for a church; opened a target shoot; and visited a home for deaf-mutes, an insane asylum, and an agricultural fair. At this last they were given a demonstration of a new baking oven (the baker made them a pretzel in the shape of the Austrian eagle) and a new centrifugal pump before they inspected the horned-cattle breeds. At the fair, it was said, “Their Very Majesties enchanted all those present by their amiability and interest.”
In spite of many events featuring the populace, however, the powerful Bohemian nobility clearly set the tone of this imperial visit. In his speeches, Emperor Franz Joseph laid particular stress on the significance of the Bohemian nobility: “I am convinced that in future, too, the Bohemian nobility will remain a pillar of my throne and realm.”36 For months now the first families of Bohemia had spared no effort and no expense to arrange one of the most splendid functions in old Austria: a carrousel—a tournament on horseback executed by trained cavalrymen—featuring a gala joust in late-medieval costume. It was held in the great riding academy of the Waldstein Palace. The Bohemian nobility furnished the horsemen. The climax of the event was the reenactment of the entrance of Ferdinand III and his consort into Prague in 1637. The costumes and armor, patterned on old illustrations, had cost more than 100,000 guldens.
All her life Elisabeth had a strong dislike of the Bohemian aristocracy. Whether this feeling was connected with her first visit to Prague we do not know. But the Bohemian nobility—Schwarzenberg, Waldstein, Lobkovics, Mittrowsky, Khevenhüller, Liechtenstein, Auersperg, Kinsky, Kaunitz, Nostitz, Clam-Martinitz—set the tone at the court of Vienna as well. The contempt shown in Vienna to the little Duchess from Bavaria may well have been echoed in Prague.
As happened wherever the Emperor visited, great military parades were arranged in Prague as well, including even a field maneuver. The Wiener Zeitung noted, “Her Majesty the Empress also followed the imposing martial spectacle with unmistakable interest and, heedless of repeated rain showers, remained in the open carriage to the end.”37 While the Emperor reviewed the parade on horseback, Sisi was driven around in a two-horse state carriage—exactly like Archduchess Sophie, who knew very well that her Franzi loved nothing so much as these splendid military march-pasts. During her five weeks of marriage Sisi had already seen more parades and drills than in all her previous life, although her father was a general.
Prague also became the center of a visit to other family members—the abdicated Emperor Ferdinand and Empress Maria Anna, who had their summer residence at Ploschkowitz Castle near Prague. Empress Maria Anna devotedly cared for her husband, who was severely afflicted with epilepsy and feeblemindedness. Landgravine Therese Fürstenberg, a lady-in-waiting, described him as follows: “he was short, carried his large head at a slight tilt, his small eyes had an uncertain look, and his lip sagged considerably; he always nodded in a friendly and benevolent way and asked the same thing twenty times; a sad sight.” To ease the boredom of his lonely days, the ex-Emperor spent hours every day playing dominoes.38
The family ties between the former and the ruling Emperor, who were uncle and nephew, were rather formal. Since the transfer of the throne in Olmütz, Ferdinand had retired completely from politics in order to avoid any difficulties with both the young Emperor and with the “secret Empress,” Archduchess Sophie. He did not come to Vienna even for the wedding, merely sending a generous present. Emperor Ferdinand, a man of personal integrity and genuine kindliness, still had many supporters in the monarchy. His appearance in Vienna might well have given rise to demonstrations of sympathy. That the young couple’s first visit abroad included the former Emperor and Empress was also an expression of gratitude on the part of the young Emperor to his predecessor.
In conclusion of the visit to Bohemia, Emperor Franz Joseph met with the kings of Prussia and Saxony in Count Thun’s castle in Tetschen-Bodenbach. Both kings were related by marriage to Franz Joseph as well as to Elisabeth and had known both from childhood. The meeting of the three monarchs, however, had a political significance beyond the personal: The King of Saxony presented the young Emperor with a comprehensive memorandum concerning the Eastern crisis and warned him—unsuccessfully—to stick with his anti-Russian policy. The King of Prussia’s vast retinue included Otto von Bismarck, at that time representing the Prussian assembly in the German Diet in Frankfurt.
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Even after two strenuous weeks in Bohemia, the imperial couple was given no opportunity to rest. The day after their return was Corpus Christi Day, a holiday that became the occasion of political demonstrations during Franz Joseph’s reign. The Emperor headed the procession, walking just be
hind the holy statues, to show his close ties to the Catholic Church against all the liberal and anticlerical tendencies of 1848. The army also played an important part. According to the Wiener Zeitung, “In all the streets through which the procession made its way, the military stood in ranks; these same also paraded massively on several squares.”39 After the procession, the troops marched past the Emperor on the Burgplatz. Sensitive liberal temperaments could only see this event jointly organized by state, church, and army as a provocation.
The young Empress showed no understanding for the imperial splendor unfolded on the occasion of a religious feast day. Her religious attitude, schooled at home, agreed with none of what she was expected to exhibit here. Though Sisi’s family was Catholic, it was nevertheless very tolerant and rather liberal. The fusing of religion and politics was completely foreign to her.
“But would it not be enough if I merely appeared at the church?” she demurred. “I think that I am still too young and too inexperienced to be able to take the place of an empress in full dignity at this sort of public celebration; all the more so since I have had described to me the imposing majestic presence of the former empress [Maria Anna, the wife of Ferdinand] on such occasions. Perhaps in a few years I will be able to rise to such heights.”40
But her objections were in vain. She was the principal attraction of the church feast—in full court regalia, her dress ending in a long train, a diamond tiara in her hair. Tens of thousands had come to Vienna from the provinces expressly for this event. Even the approach of the gala state coach, drawn by eight white horses, to St. Stephen’s Cathedral was a triumphal procession. Archduchess Sophie commented on Sisi’s appearance: “The Empress’s bearing was delightful, devout, collected, almost humble.”41
But Sisi’s discontent grew. There was no one to whom she could have poured out her heart. According to Sophie’s expressed wishes, Sisi was not allowed to confide in anyone, for to do so would have compromised her sovereign position as Empress. Emperor Franz Joseph could not see the isolation from which his wife suffered as anything out of the ordinary. Accustomed to such separateness from childhood, he accepted it as a natural side effect—even more, as the natural expression—of his exalted position, as his mother had taught him. A family member, Archduchess Marie Mainer, many years later explained to Sisi’s daughter Marie Valerie that it had been Sophie’s “system to isolate Papa and his brothers, to keep them far from any intimacy with the rest of the family; keeping them on an island, she thought she was providing them with greater authority over the others, preserving them from influences.” Valerie’s response to this communication is also recorded in her diary. “Now I see the reason why Papa stands so very alone, takes no pleasure in dealings with relatives, is therefore dependent on the advice of strangers, often unreliable men. I always thought that I should blame Mama for it.”42
The conversation between Marie Mainer and Marie Valerie mentioned only relations with family members—that is, the “august house.” The much greater difficulties of contact with people of a lower station—let alone the so-called people—require no elucidation. This absolute isolation, this elevation above the crowd, was something the young Empress could not deal with at all. She could not reconcile the discrepancies between her turbulent but loving family life in Bavaria and the exalted existence of an imperial majesty.
Her education and her personality made Sisi almost uniquely suited to the role of benevolent “mother of the people.” The fact that her best traits were now being forcibly suppressed can be ascribed to the rigid system of Archduchess Sophie and her exaggerated idea of the divine right of the Habsburgs. In all likelihood, the Habsburg court of the late eighteenth century (under Maria Theresia, Joseph II, and Leopold II) would have found it much easier to accept a personality like that of young Elisabeth, since that court was considerably more “progressive”—closer to the people, and more enlightened than the court of the 1850s.
Nor would the difficulties have been so great if anyone had taken the trouble to instruct the young Empress in at least current political events, making her feel that she belonged. Enough was happening: In August, Austrian troops marched into Walachia and forced the Russians to abandon the occupied territories. From week to week, the political situation became more critical. The Empress, however, knew nothing. Her time was taken up with enduring dancing lessons, learning foreign languages, practicing conversation, and listening to her chatelaine, who, as Weckbecker noted, spent hours discussing the gossip of court society. What was evident was that the insecure and uneducated young Empress was thought to be somewhat deficient in intelligence—doing her a grave injustice.
During this early period, there was only one person who paid serious attention to Sisi: Karl Count Grünne, Franz Joseph’s older friend and adjutant general, one of the most powerful and most universally hated figures of the monarchy. With Grünne, who was probably the best judge of horses of his day and also headed the imperial stables, the young Empress went riding—always a bright spot in her unhappy days at the Viennese court. It was therefore all the more painful when she had to give up the rides only a few weeks after the wedding: There were signs that she was pregnant.
Even in this psychologically taxing situation, Sisi remained alone. For hours she busied herself with the animals she had brought from Possenhofen. They alone, especially her parrots, were able to alleviate her homesickness. This pastime of the childlike Empress was another occupation of which Archduchess Sophie did not approve. She suggested to the Emperor that he take the parrots away from Sisi so that she would not “look askance” at a bird, condemning her baby to end up looking like a parrot.43 This and similar prohibitions voiced by her mother-in-law, which the Emperor usually followed without protest, reinforced Elisabeth’s great sensibility. She began literally to talk herself into hostility to her aunt and mother-in-law; she exaggerated in the process, she felt persecuted.
The complaints of the early months of pregnancy affected the delicate sixteen-year-old to their full extent. Emperor Franz Joseph reported to his mother, “Sisi could not come, since yesterday she was quite miserable. She even had to leave church and then vomited several times, furthermore she suffered from headache and spent almost the entire day resting on her bed; only in the evening did she take tea with me on our terrace on a beautiful evening. Since Wednesday she had been feeling very well, so that I already feared our expectations would be dashed, but now I am confident again, though it pains me to see her suffer so.”44
In Possenhofen, Ludovika was extremely worried about her daughter, but she did not dare to visit her for fear of fanning Sisi’s homesickness to even greater heights. Zealously she wrote letters, and as early as the end of June, she sent “caring advice and recommendations for precautions from a mother’s heart to her little daughter, who is already expecting.”45
Not until the next summer in Bad Ischl did she see Sisi again. Earlier, she expressed her indecision in a letter to Marie of Saxony. “I have been invited by Sophie and the good Emperor. But I do not know whether it is sensible for a number of reasons, it would be difficult for me personally from a financial aspect. Whether it would be good for Sisi to be with us again so soon? … That is why I have not yet decided, although I often feel such great longing for her!!!”46
The arrival of the Bavarian relatives in Bad Ischl was not without its comic aspects. “Empress Elisabeth, Ischl. Arriving with Spatz and Gackel. Mimi”—so read the telegram from Possenhofen, with the notation of the time when the train would be arriving in Lambach, the railroad station closest to Bad Ischl. A carriage was to meet the travelers there. When Ludovika (whom Sisi always called Mimi) and her children Mathilde (nicknamed Spatz) and Karl Theodor (Gackel) and their servants detrained in Lambach, no carriage was waiting. Great consternation. After a while, a servant from the Hotel Elisabeth in Bad Ischl timidly approached the disconcerted travelers. He was carrying two cages, one in each hand, for the expected birds (Spatz means “sparrow,” and Gackel means “r
ooster”), which had been heralded by a traveler named Mimi. The misunderstanding was soon cleared up. And Ludovika arrived at the imperial villa in Bad Ischl in a garishly lacquered carriage from the hotel, to be received with great astonishment, since no one had had any notice that she was arriving.47
Ludovika’s self-confidence was not bolstered by these events. They only increased her fear of her energetic sister, Sophie. Ludovika, deferential and diffident, relied absolutely on her sister’s judgment. When Sophie went to Dresden and the Emperor to Vienna to look after his affairs, while Ludovika remained behind in Bad Ischl with Sisi, Ludovika felt helpless: “Now I wish twice as much that Sophie were here; for she really is the life and soul of everything, and without her one does not know to whom to turn. One also sees what great love attaches the Emperor to his mother, it is a wonderful relationship.”48
About her daughter, Ludovika wrote to Bavaria, “I found Sisi grown larger and heavier, although her condition is not very evident yet, on the whole she is well, though afflicted with a great deal of queasiness, which sometimes depresses her a little, but she never complains and tries only too hard to conceal this discomfort; but it often makes her more quiet, but the change of coloring, which cannot be concealed, most readily reveals her condition.”49
In Bad Ischl, the young Empress had no household of her own. Even when her mother-in-law was away, Sisi was under constant observation. Franz Joseph’s twelve-year-old brother, Archduke Ludwig Viktor, once wrote indignantly to Archduchess Sophie, “Dear Mama, since you went away, strange things are going on here, to Papa’s [Franz Karl’s] great consternation; that is, the Empress and Lenza [Joseph Legrenzi, the Emperor’s chief valet de chambre] do as they like. Poor Papa complains to me every morning at breakfast … poor Zehkorn [court clerk in Sophie’s service] runs around like crazy…. Countess Esterházy and Paula [Bellegarde] wring their hands.”50 This letter allows us to draw some conclusions about the attitude within the family concerning the Empress.