B008AITH44 EBOK

by Hamann, Brigitte

  Once again, the worried Emperor, preoccupied by a governmental crisis, could hardly take comfort from the news of his wife, who proudly wrote, “Rudi Liechtenstein also fell without hurting himself, and Lord Langford, our landlord, who fell on his face, has had difficulty swallowing ever since.” And, “Middleton took a spill and so did I … but the ground was very soft. Many others are said to have fallen as well … but since of course I rode on, I did not see it. I saw Lord Langford standing in another ditch fishing for his horse.”68

  Reports from Prince Liechtenstein and Countess Festetics to the Emperor also make much mention of spills, broken jaws and shins, and daredevil leaps over moats and walls. During a particularly hazardous hunt, Elisabeth even rode without gloves, so as to be able to control the reins more subtly. She, who was so fastidious in Gödöllö that she wore three pairs of gloves on top of each other, here in Ireland, at Middleton’s side, accepted hands that were roughened and bloody. That she would triumph over all the other horsewomen and be admired accordingly was, by now, taken for granted.

  Triumphing at the hunts brought Elisabeth both an increase in self-confidence—since she shone not as an empress, but as a horsewoman and a beauty—and the freedom from court obligations that she sought. But such days on horseback generally ended in despair and bitter complaints about her life. “Why must I return to my cage? Why could I not have broken all my bones, so as to put an end to it—to everything!”

  Such outbursts, bordering on hysteria, always frightened the people around her. In such cases, what helped was to remind Elisabeth of her favorite daughter, Marie Valerie. Elisabeth to Marie Larisch: “I would be blaspheming if I wished to abandon her. My kedvesem [Hungarian: “darling”] is all I still have in the world. The only thing that has not been taken from me.”69

  In this time of unbridled thirst for life, surrounded by sporting friends, Elisabeth’s cynicism deepened. Except for Middleton, there was no one around her who would have dared to speak openly. Some flattered her, manipulated her. Marie Festetics worried but was powerless: “If one’s world teaches one to think small, how can one respect others without placing oneself higher? And the worst is—not to despise them as puppets…. With her, that is a great danger, for—anyone she does not respect is someone for whom she need have no consideration, and that is convenient!!?”70

  Soon differences of opinion arose even between the Empress and Marie Festetics. The Countess could not warm up to Elisabeth’s new friends, and she always cautiously reminded her mistress of some obligation—usually in vain.

  Before her departure from Ireland, Elisabeth ordered an additional four horses to be brought from Austria, so that they could be broken in for the next season. As a matter of course, she kept her Irish stables going.

  On the return trip, she made concessions to the wishes of the Viennese court. She broke the journey in London and met with Prime Minister Benjamin Disraeli and the Austrian ambassador. She was courteous and friendly. And as always when she made the effort, she immediately won all hearts. Finally, she also paid a call on the Prince of Wales and even on Queen Victoria. Nevertheless, she wrote her mother, “Unfortunately, I am supposed to visit the Queen in Windsor on my way back, the idea bores me terribly. One of the many advantages of Ireland is that there is no royalty there.”71

  In London, a telegram reached Elisabeth announcing that Crown Prince Rudolf had become engaged to the sixteen-year-old daughter of the King of the Belgians, Princess Stephanie; the engagement took place in Brussels. “Thank God that it is not a disaster,” was Marie Festetics’s comment on receipt of the telegram. To which Elisabeth replied, “Pray God that it is not.”72

  The news forced Elisabeth to interrupt her journey home in Brussels to tender the young couple her felicitations. She had never met young Stephanie; but she had an intense antipathy to the Belgian Royal House because it was the family of Carlotta, the former Empress of Mexico.

  The short visit of congratulations in Brussels by Elisabeth was merely an onerous duty. King, Queen, bridegroom, and bride were waiting to greet her on the station platform. Once again Marie Festetics hymned the beauty of the Empress, at that time forty-three years old, and the veneration Rudolf showed toward her: “he literally threw his arms around her neck—kissed her hands over and over, and then came the bride—young, sparkling, unformed, a badly dressed child…. The Empress bent forward, embraced her—kissed the little one, and that one looked up to her beautiful mother-in-law with undisguised admiration, and her bright-red little face looked happy and merry!”

  Even at this first meeting, the Empress managed to get the better of her daughter-in-law.

  Marie Festetics: “I was so proud and could not help staring at the Crown Prince!— he looked at his mother, then his bride. I was sorry, for that could hardly be to her advantage! but I think he looks more contented than happy!”

  The visit to Brussels lasted exactly four hours—from the arrival at eight o’clock in the morning to the equally ceremonial departure at noon. The time was spent with a breakfast in the Palais de Bruxelles. Marie Festetics felt just as ill at ease as did her mistress: “to me every thing seemed so theatrical—parvenu?? … I did not like it. Everything so banal, so hackneyed, and everything so borrowed.” The kingdom of the Belgians, in spite of its enormous wealth, was considered an upstart. “We Austrians are not so favorably disposed to the Belgians,” Marie Festetics wrote, chiming in with her mistress.73 The relationship between Elisabeth and her son was hardly improved by the fact of the new daughter-in-law.

  Elisabeth prepared herself for still another hunting trip in 1881. She trained as usual but increasingly suffered from attacks of rheumatism, the first sign of age. Her mood became increasingly somber. She also underwent more frequent nervous collapses, which frightened those around her, including little Valerie. On January 1, 1881, for example, Valerie noted in her diary, “Mama had a very strong bath, and when I went in to her, she could not stop laughing, the bath had made her completely nervous. I was afraid, but fortunately she is already well again today.”

  Beyond all measure Elisabeth worried about Middleton, who had suffered a skull fracture in a fall but who was back in the saddle after only a month. It was arranged that he would be guiding the Empress soon again.

  This time, however, Elisabeth could not get her way. A new trip to Ireland was no longer politically feasible. For better or worse, she had to deign to hunt in England if she was going to hunt at all. A suitable mansion was found in Cheshire: Comermere Abbey, whose owner was traveling in the West Indies at the time. Austrian workmen were sent there as before all the Empress’s trips, to make structural changes. Most importantly, a chapel and an exercise room had to be added, and electric bells had to be installed all over the house.

  Elisabeth’s living room was provided with a new spiral staircase, which allowed her to descend unnoticed to her own kitchen; there, undisturbed, she could take her scanty meals alone. The little railroad station at Wrenbury was given an additional waiting room, for this was where the hunting party took the special trains that carried them to the races. An additional siding was required for the horse-transports. Since the expectation of going to Ireland after all had not been abandoned, at the same time expensive preparations were made in Summerhill. Finally, however, England was settled on, and all the horses were taken there from Vienna, from Gödöllö, and from Ireland. Count Rudolf Liechtenstein, who was once again among Elisabeth’s companions, brought an additional eight horses from his stables; Middleton contributed ten.

  The Empress rode out on twenty-two hunting days of a total of twenty-eight; two were omitted because of snow.74 Middleton was always at her side. The Empress was exceptionally well prepared; but the strenuous hunts at the side of Bay, only thirty-five years old, took their toll on her far more than they used to. Middleton, for his part, had personal problems: His fiancée of many years, a daughter of the landed gentry, was jealous. After the long engagement, she was eager to be married, and she had no in
tention of continuing to tolerate Bay’s adoration of the Empress. The English press published numerous highly critical articles concerning the Austrian Empress, who responded in high dudgeon, “I am surprised all the more when someone writes or speaks well of me.”75

  Only one more time, in 1882, did Elisabeth go hunting in England. But Middleton was no longer her guide. And with someone else, Elisabeth no longer enjoyed hunting. She abruptly gave up hunting and sold all the horses from the English stables. A phase of her life had come to an end.

  *

  Instead, the Empress gave in to the Austrian army’s request to appear tall in the saddle at a military review on the Schmelz, at the side of the Emperor, the Crown Prince, and the Crown Princess.

  Oddly enough, the horse she rode, one of her favorites, was named Nihilist. Marie Festetics could hardly contain her pride: “It was so solemn and splendid that it filled one’s heart;—from every direction drumming, trumpeting, national anthem, lowering of flags, and the thunder of the ‘Attention‚’ the chief! It was such a beautiful picture, this beautiful, beautiful Empress who, with her horse, seemed like a statue and with majestic grace and indescribable charm lowered her head in thanks—I shall never forget the day.”76

  Elisabeth’s critical view of the military was well known in Vienna, and even Countess Festetics “heard a great deal of talk that She did not love the army.” At official receptions in the Hofburg, therefore, the Empress avoided the higher military officers (especially her principal antagonist, Archduke Albrecht) and did not dignify them by addressing them. Given the extremely important position of the army in the imperial and royal monarchy, such an attitude also meant opposition to the Emperor. On the other hand, according to Marie Festetics, “during recent weeks, the generals [drew] back almost ostentatiously” whenever the Empress appeared.77

  There can be no doubt of Elisabeth’s dislike of the army. In her poems, she confessed a clear belief in pacifism, praising, for instance, the politics of Sweden.

  Schweden, o, da geht’s schon besser!

  Sieht man ordentlich mit Neid,

  Wie, dort über dem Gewässer,

  Glücklich sind die braven Leut’.

  Konnt’ ihr Herrscher stolz gestehen,

  Dass Millionen er erspart,

  Freilich fehlen dort Armeen,

  Und Kanonen aller Art.78

  [Sweden—oh, life is better there! / We cannot help but feel envy as we see / How, across the waters, / The good people are happy. / / Their ruler could admit with pride / That he saved the lives of millions, / True, armies are lacking there, / As are cannons of every sort.]

  On another occasion, during the time of the Bulgarian crisis in the mid-i88os, she was even more outspoken.

  Das arme Landvolk schwitzet,

  Bebaut mühsam sein Feld.

  Umsonst! Gleich wird stibitzet

  Ihm wiederum das Geld.

  Kanonen sind sehr teuer,

  Wir brauchen deren viel,

  Besonders aber heuer,

  Wo Ernst wird aus dem Spiel.

  Wer weiss! gäb’s keine Fürsten,

  Gäb’ es auch keinen Krieg;

  Aus wär’ das teure Dürsten

  Nach Schlachten und nach Sieg.79

  [The poor farmfolk sweat, / Working their fields with toil. / In vain! At once they are deprived / In turn of their money. / / Cannons are most expensive, / We need many of them, / And most especially today, / When the game is turning serious. / / Who knows! If there were no princes, / There would be no war; / There’d be an end to the costly thirsting / For battles and for victory.]

  It is beyond question that all public appearances, but especially presence at military exercises, cost the Empress considerable effort. But by being present on this particular occasion, she silenced her critics.

  Once more that same year, the Empress showed her good will. In September 1882, she accompanied the Emperor on an official trip to Trieste, to attend the celebration of the five-hundredth anniversary of Trieste’s inclusion in Austria. Fourteen-year-old Archduchess Marie Valerie confided her fears to her diary. “I’m so terribly afraid…. It is awfully dangerous. For the Italians want Trieste for themselves and hate Austria. When Uncle Karl [Ludwig] was there, they threw a bomb at an Austrian general, and now there is concern…. Oh! No! I cannot even think of it.”80 Her fears were justified; two Italians were found carrying bombs “to welcome the Emperor of Austria.”

  Countess Festetics was in the entourage. Her diary records the excitement of those days. For example, “then we still have the theater paré—very unpleasant, since an assassination attempt was feared or expected?—on arrival at the theater?—inside?—or on leaving it?—Only one of these assigned to do the deed could be captured—outside the theater!—The people, the ones in charge, tried to cover it up, but were themselves so agitated that they were unable to; Their Majesties were splendid!” The Emperor ordered that only the essential retinues were to be taken along to the various public functions: “It is more than one can ask of anyone!”81

  During this trip, Elisabeth showed considerable courage. She would not be stopped from accompanying her husband on all formal visits. Elisabeth told her daughter, “In the carriage I insisted on sitting on the land side [where armed assassins were supposed to be more likely] and let the Emperor sit on the ocean side, it could not have done much good, but perhaps a little.” Valerie could hardly contain her pride in her mother: “Oh, when I have a husband, I shall also endeavor to sacrifice myself like Mama. That his life should be dearer to me than my own.”

  According to Valerie, Elisabeth was “so angry at the false Italians. I barely nod to them,” she said. “They keep shouting, ‘Evviva, evviva,’ and stab us in the back.” Marie Valerie: “I have never seen Mama like this. There were tears in her eyes, and she was still very angry at this terrible riffraff.”82

  Elisabeth’s decision to give up hunting was a great relief to those who worried about her reputation. When she appeared at the opera with her husband, daughter, and daughter-in-law on New Year’s Day of 1882, to hear Weber’s Oberon from the box where she could make a quick getaway, Count Hübner noted, “It is an event to see the Empress other than on horseback, and the public expresses its gratitude for this rare spectacle.”83

  The sudden end of hunting and daily riding left a vacuum in the Empress’s life. For almost ten years, she had led the life of a champion sportswoman, had lived for little but her horses. Now, when this activity abruptly came to an end, her body had difficulty adapting to a quiet, “imperial” life. She began to satisfy her extraordinary need for exercise in a different way: by daily walks, lasting for hours and at extreme speeds, to the point of exhaustion of the ladies-in-waiting who went with her, in every sort of weather, over mountains and meadows in the most scenic areas of Austria, Bavaria, and Hungary, as well as along dusty country roads. In order not to overtax the ladies-in-waiting, who were not in training, a carriage frequently followed them, so that the “ladies” could find refuge in it when their feet would no longer carry them. But the Empress could march on for hours. Neither rain showers nor snowstorms could keep her from her walks.

  She wore sturdy hiking shoes, a practical dark skirt of a heavy material, and with it a close-fitting jacket. (She had adapted this practical outfit from her riding costume and thus became one of the first advocates of the new “tailored suit.”) She protected herself against the sun (and more importantly, against the glances of the curious) with large, very unwieldy umbrellas made of leather. It goes without saying that she did everything even remotely possible to safeguard her anonymity and to avoid being recognized. Whenever she encountered strangers, she darted past shyly.

  When she stopped at a country inn, she invariably chose a seat in the most remote corner, where she felt safer from curious glances. Nothing pleased her so much as when she could drink her glass of milk and leave again unrecognized.

  By now the ladies-in-waiting were no longer selected according to the customary ar
istocratic rankings, for the position had stopped being considered desirable. Sound feet and an excellent physical and mental constitution had become the most important prerequisite for this honor, at one time considered such a plum.

  Especially Countess Festetics, who had had no other occupation during the English hunts than to wait for hours in inns for the Empress, had a very difficult time with this new craze. She was short and tended to stoutness, and she panted after the long-legged, wiry Empress; furthermore, she was always ravenous. For during these forced marches, Elisabeth allowed no time for eating. After all, she was constantly on a diet and had little tolerance for her companions’ needs. After one such outing, of almost six hours, the Emperor greeted the lady-in-waiting with the compassionate words, “And are you still alive, Countess? Really, it is going too far.”84

  But Franz Joseph accepted his wife’s new quirk with his usual patience and indulgent humor, even when Elisabeth, who felt bothered by sightseers, more and more frequently chose the nights for her wanderings—not unlike the nighttime excursions of Ludwig II. In the summer of 1885, for example, she set out at one o’clock in the morning from Zell am See for the Schmittenhöhe, accompanied by a lady-in-waiting and several mountain guides carrying lanterns.85