The peace negotiations dragged on. Everyone realized that Austria’s position of supremacy in Germany had come to an end. Franz Joseph to his wife: “In any case, we will withdraw from Germany entirely, whether it is demanded or not, and after what we have learned through bitter experience about our dear German allies, I consider this a fortunate turn of events for Austria.”42
On July 29, Archduke Ludwig Viktor wrote to his mother:
Peace would seem to be just about assured. At first, this gave me no joy. But then I read several letters from military men who were always very much in favor of the war and yet think now that we cannot carry on any longer, since the troops are too worn out and too discouraged by their lack of needle guns. Furthermore, it is said to be very necessary to make peace because of Hungary, since that country is not at all what it should be…. Bismarck, since he is clever and the King is trapped in his stupid arrogance, is now said to be much more malleable than the latter. For the time being, however, they are in Nikolsburg with poor Alinchen and are said to be ravaging the place.43
Of course, Archduke Ludwig Viktor failed to mention that it was not only Countess Alinchen Mensdorf who was suffering because the King of Prussia was quartered on her estate, but that whole provinces groaned under the yoke of Prussian occupation. Franz Joseph to Elisabeth: “The Prussians wreak havoc in the provinces they have occupied, so that a famine is imminent therefore and constant cries for help from there are heard here. It is heartrending.”44
The Emperor himself then informed his wife about the principal provisions of the Truce of Nikolsburg. It allowed “the integrity of Austria and Saxony [to be] preserved, we leave Germany entirely and pay 20 million thalers. What the Prussians do in the rest of Germany and what they will steal, I do not know, nor does it concern us further.”45
In this situation, too, Franz Joseph begged his wife to visit him in Vienna. “Now I have a pretty request. If you could visit me! It would make me infinitely happy.”46
Elisabeth actually did go to Vienna for a few days. But her visit was not an unmixed pleasure to the Emperor. The Hungarian affairs completely occupied her mind. Once again she used the opportunity to put political pressure on her husband. Franz Joseph continued reluctant to give in to the Hungarians’ demands, plagued as he was by scruples concerning the Bohemians. He stalled Andrássy, who was in Vienna for an audience, with the words, “I will study the matter thoroughly and think it over.”47
The following day, Empress Elisabeth invited Andrássy to an interview at Schönbrunn. Andrássy did not know whether she was speaking on the Emperor’s instructions or on her own initiative (the latter is more probable). On July 30, 1866, he entered the following sentence in his diary: “What is certain is that if the matter is successful, Hungary will be more beholden to the Beautiful Providence [a phrase by which he always meant the Empress] that watches over her than she suspects.”48
In the interview, Elisabeth showed herself more pessimistic, going so far as to state that she harbored no hope of seeing her efforts crowned by success. Thus she made it very clear to Andrássy that she did not approve of the Emperor’s position. Nevertheless, Andrássy was given one more long audience with the Emperor; he was also allowed to submit a memorandum concerning the reorganization of the monarchy in the spirit of dualism (rather than feudalism).
Sisi’s harsh demands on behalf of Hungary embittered the Emperor during these few shared days and cast a dark cloud over their relationship at the time. Franz Joseph to his wife after her renewed departure for Budapest: “Even though you were quite angry and importunate, I still love you so infinitely much that I cannot live without you.”49 And two days later, a little irritable: “I am very happy that you are now resting well and sleeping late, though I do not believe that your stay here and my company have tired you so much.”50 The tensions escalated into a serious quarrel when Sisi adamantly continued to refuse to leave Budapest with the children. Instead, she suggested that the Emperor visit her in Budapest.
It is necessary to imagine Austria’s military and political situation and the countless cares weighing the Emperor down. No peace had yet been made with Italy; in fact, a resumption of the fighting had to be expected. Negotiations with Prussia were still up in the air. The Hungarian Legion fanned the flames of unrest in Hungary. The Bohemian lands needed immediate aid with food. Cholera and typhoid fever ravaged the downcast Austrian soldiers. In this desperate situation, the Empress of Austria not only refused to be with her husband; she even reproached him for not returning her visit. Elisabeth completely ignored her obligation as mother of the country and indulged herself in the role of neglected, sulking wife. Under the spell of the Hungarians, she worked with unparalleled fanaticism and energy toward one goal and one goal only: conciliation of the sort envisioned by Deák and Andrássy.
The Emperor, on the other hand, in spite of the Hungarian demands, was forced to consider the needs of the other provinces as well; in the current situation, these actually had a much greater claim to consideration than Hungary. For the Bohemian villages and countryside were devastated by battles, sickness, hunger, and misery, while Hungary was practically untouched by the war. Franz Joseph appealed in vain to Sisi’s understanding “that it would go counter to my duty for me to adopt your exclusively Hungarian point of view and to discriminate against those lands which, in unswerving loyalty, have endured unspeakable suffering and which now more than ever require special consideration and care.”
But Elisabeth gave no sign whatever of affection for her “lonely manikin” in Vienna. With the transparent excuse that the Viennese air was unhealthy, she continued to stay in Budapest. Franz Joseph, resigned: “so I simply have to console myself and once again bear my soul in patience and continue alone, as I have become used to being. In this respect, I have already learned to put up with a great deal, and finally one gets used to it. I shall not waste another word on this point, otherwise our correspondence will become too tedious, as you quite rightly note, and I shall calmly await your decision.”51
Sisi’s selfishness did not stop there. In a time of extreme need and the most exigent thrift, she conceived the intense desire to buy a castle in Hungary. By the terms of the Truce of Nikolsburg, Austria had obligated herself to pay 20 million thalers as the precondition for withdrawal of the Prussian troops. For the Emperor, the most urgent matter was “to pay them, so as to get them out of the country they are ruining.”52 In every area, the small as well as the large, there would have to be economies in order to raise the huge sum. The spending reductions went hand in hand with discharges. The populace, already decimated and famished by war, now also had to struggle against massive unemployment.
Instead of concerning herself with these hardships, the Empress saw nothing but her own comfort and her own need to establish herself more solidly in her beloved Hungary. The villa she rented at present was too small for longer stays in the country, the Budapest castle was too hot in summer; she wanted a castle in the countryside, and she knew exactly which one: Gödöllö.
In the midst of armistice negotiations with Italy, Franz Joseph wrote his wife:
If you like, you can go to Gödöllö to visit the wounded. But do not look at it as if we wanted to buy it, for I have no money now, and in these hard times, we must economize rigorously. Even the family holdings have been terribly devastated by the Prussians, and it will take years before they recover. I have reduced the court budget for next year to 5 million, so that we have to economize by 2 million. Almost half the stables have to be sold, and we have to live in very reduced circumstances.”53
During these various excitements, the news suddenly arrived that Empress Carlotta of Mexico had descended on Paris in order to ask Napoleon III for help for her hard-pressed empire. Franz Joseph’s first reaction: “I only hope that she does not come here, for at the present moment, she is all we need.”54 Serious worry about Maximilian did not seem called for. In his regular letters to Archduchess Sophie, he always pictured his situation i
n optimistic terms. The fact that in the meantime the insurgent natives had put the Emperor—who, though well-meaning, was a stranger to the country—on the defensive was not known in Vienna. All the problems in far-off Mexico had been pushed into the background by the unfortunate events in Austria. Furthermore, it took six to eight weeks for mail from Mexico to reach Vienna. No one could know precisely what was really happening, and it was therefore reassuring to believe that matters could not be so very bad.
When the Emperor’s birthday on August 18 approached, Sisi had no choice but to go to Vienna, a trip that occasioned Franz Joseph’s almost abject gratitude. “I thank you with all my heart for being so good and paying me another visit…. Be good to me when you get here, for I am so sad and lonely and in great need of some cheering up.”55 The children, however, remained in Budapest. Landgravine Fürstenberg, at that time still lady-in-waiting to Archduchess Sophie: “They did not even bring the children to see him for the day from Pest! That does hurt ‘my lady’ [Archduchess Sophie].”56
Elisabeth actually spent only one day in Vienna. August 19 was St. Stephen’s Day, the festival of Hungary’s patron saint, and on that day she was back in Hungary. Franz Joseph after her departure: “Oh! If only I could be united soon with my family and experience somewhat better times. I am very melancholy, and my courage ebbs ever more the closer we come to peace and I can see more clearly the internal difficulties that will have to be overcome. My sense of duty alone keeps me going, as well as the gentle hope that perhaps, after all, one day better times will emerge from the European entanglements that are now beginning.”57
In the meantime, cholera had begun to spread to Hungary. The epidemic had already claimed some deaths. Nevertheless, Sisi, usually so concerned with her health, remained in Budapest with her children. Franz Joseph wrote her: “I miss you terribly, for with you I can still talk, and then you cheer me up sometimes, though at the moment I find that you are a little troubling.”58
Finally, in late August, the Peace of Prague was concluded with Prussia. It was not until October, however, that the peace with Italy came about. In spite of Austrian victories, Venetia was lost. First ceded to France, the province, in a plebiscite, joined Italy. Prussia annexed Hanover, the Electorate of Hesse, Schleswig-Holstein, Nassau, and Frankfurt am Main; it established the North German Confederation (which also included Saxony, the former Austrian ally), and concluded an alliance with the South German states. After a thousand years of shared history, Austria left Germany.
Not until the beginning of September—that is, after a stay of almost two months—did Elisabeth and her children leave Budapest for Vienna.
*
During all these crucial months, Ida Ferenczy did not leave the Empress’s side. In the autumn of 1866, another Hungarian was added to Elisabeth’s intimate circle; this was Max Falk, a journalist then living in Vienna. Employed by a savings bank, he also wrote articles for the Budapest newspaper Pesti Naplo; he was a close friend of Andrássy—and known to the police. In 1860, the Vienna constabulary had instigated a house search, confiscated his entire correspondence, and carried it off in two flour sacks.59 Falk had spent some time in a Viennese prison for offenses against the press laws and had written widely read articles on the experience.
The astonishment of Countess Königsegg can be imagined when the Empress ordered her to ask Max Falk of all people to give her Hungarian lessons. The Countess was anti-Hungarian in any case, and Falk was Jewish to boot. He, too, was taken aback at the request. “I replied that, thank God, I was long since past the time when I was forced to ‘give lessons.’ But Her Majesty’s wish, I added, was not only my command, but also a high honor.”
The daily meetings were no more than a pretext or a profitable side effect. The issue at hand was the matter of Hungary—in Andrássy’s sense. Obviously Max Falk would not teach Elisabeth, whose Hungarian was excellent, grammar. He suggested that he would recite the history of Hungary to her, “the more remote periods as briefly as possible, the more recent ones in greater detail”; furthermore, he would make her more familiar with Hungarian literature, and for “homework” he assigned translations into Hungarian.
Subsequently, Falk wrote that “the lessons in the narrower sense of the word receded further and further into the background…. We began occasionally to discuss current events, then very gradually moved on to politics, and with a few cautious forward steps, we arrived at Hungarian affairs.”
Falk established a connection with another liberal politician and writer, Josef Eötvös. In this matter, too, he proceeded with extreme caution, first reading the Empress some of Eötvös’s poems, then arousing the Empress’s curiosity about a banned poem. The Empress to Falk: “What do you mean, banned? So even an Eötvös is already banned? But do tell me what the poem says.” Falk: “I had been ready for this moment for a long time, and the manuscript of ‘Zaszlotarto’ [The Standard-Bearer] had been in my pocket for several days. I read the poem to Her Majesty, who liked it extraordinarily; she took the manuscript from me and kept it.” The poem dealt with the symbolism of the Hungarian flag as the sign of national freedom and independence.
Sisi also expressed a wish for the banned pamphlet by the Hungarian national hero Stefan Széchenyi, A Look at the Anonymous Backward Look, published in London in the late 1850s; the printed sheets had been smuggled into Hungary one by one. When Falk was reluctant to bring the pamphlet to the Hofburg, the Empress took from a drawer still another banned brochure, which had appeared in 1867 and caused a secret scandal, The Collapse of Austria. The anonymous author, the son of an imperial official (as Elisabeth knew), addressed hate-filled tirades, bolstered with the most accurate facts about Austrian policies of recent years, blaming especially the Kamarilla around Count Grünne, as well as the young Emperor. He concluded with the sentence, “The collapse of Austria is a European necessity!”
The significance of these daily conversations with Falk can hardly be overestimated. There are clear parallels to the subsequent meetings of young Crown Prince Rudolf with the journalist Moritz Szeps during the 1880s. Both—Elisabeth as well as Rudolf—were interested in politics but uninformed. The information that was officially kept from them they managed to obtain by private means. In both cases, the political informants—Falk and Szeps—seized the opportunity for massive political indoctrination.
Elisabeth asked Falk for Eötvös’s letters, and Falk informed Eötvös to that effect. Eötvös, in turn, began to write accordingly, “and so, in the form of letters directed to me, so many things were expressed to Her Majesty she would hardly have learned about in any other way,” Falk reported.
During the coronation year, Max Falk returned to Hungary. He became editor in chief of the German-language liberal daily Pester Lloyd, where he supported the policies of his friend Andrássy. Before long, he was a leading member of the Hungarian diet and became one of the most powerful men in Hungary.
*
Unexpectedly, disturbing news arrived early in October. Empress Carlotta of Mexico had gone to Rome to ask the Pope to aid the Catholic Mexican empire, having been refused by Napoleon III. But the Pope saw no way of helping, and he treated Carlotta with great coolness. She had a mental collapse and fell prey to delusions. An alienist and two attendants took her to Castle Miramar outside Trieste, where she remained in excellent physical health and lived to 1927—without ever seeing her Max again or learning of his tragic end. She no longer had any links with the court in Vienna.
After some hesitation, Max decided to remain in Mexico, in spite of the difficulties of his situation. Archduchess Sophie approved of his choice, though she worried about him, her favorite son:
Fortunately he is making the sacrifice for his country of remaining there, which at the moment is an urgent necessity. For were Max to leave, the country could immediately become the prey of party anarchy. Recently he wrote to me that the interest and the devotion shown him are deeply affecting. By staying, he acts honorably, in contrast to the bad behavior of
Louis Napoleon [Napoleon III]. And if one day he is forced to yield to the machinations of the United States and leave his post, he will do that with honor, too.60
The idea that a member of the House of Habsburg could be put to death was unthinkable to Archduchess Sophie, even in Mexico, a land that seemed so foreign, so eerily strange.
The ladies-in-waiting critically and compassionately observed the many misfortunes that befell the imperial family: “how these poor things here, of whom one is a quasi member, are afflicted by blow after blow and pressed by sorrow after sorrow! and how they cannot have true joy because they are unfamiliar with any sort of family life and only their innate elasticity helps them through it, one feels terribly sorry for them! … These are the important figures of our world who, seen close up, are no more than the most piteous unfortunates.”61
At this time, however, cares closer to home were still most pressing. In late October, Emperor Franz Joseph visited Bohemia, which had been heavily devastated by the war. Elisabeth did not go with him. She, who had done so much for Hungary in this year, acknowledged no obligation to prove herself, during these unhappy times, a good Queen of Bohemia as well.
The visit to the Bohemian battlefields depressed the Emperor deeply. The villages were destroyed, hundreds of thousands of people were homeless. The broad fields around Königgrätz, Trautenau, and Chlum were trampled hard by the combatants—not so much as a blade of grass would grow on them, so that famine was inevitable. On the battlefield itself, no fewer than 23,000 soldiers and 4,000 horses were interred; because of the heat and the danger of epidemic, no proper burial had been possible. Finally, after four months, thorough disinfecting of the entire area removed the stench of corpses.62
How desolate, as well as politically volatile, the mood in Bohemia was became clear through an assassination attempt on the Emperor in the Czech theater in Prague. Franz Joseph’s position was no longer undisputed. Evil was brewing. Czech nationalism grew in proportion to the preference shown the Magyars. The Empress, too, realized—although not until much later—the significance of the Bohemian anger. “I do not hold it against the Czechs one bit if they revolt against Austrian rule; Slavs belong with Slavs! One day, probably only after many decades, Bohemia will manage to assert her will. But even now, we are sitting on a powderkeg.”63 That Bohemia, until now relatively peaceful, was turning into a powderkeg was not the least of Elisabeth’s work.
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