Elisabeth

By Jennifer

Beginning, Section II

Part 1

Posted on Thursday, 23 September 1999

With the recent slump in the number of story posts, I allowed myself to be talked into starting to post one I've been working on for several months. This is a blend of Austen characters (personalities, though not names), the history of the title character, the Kunze/Levay musical about her, and a few of the legends surrounding her life. Thanks to Leea, Dawn, Spring, and Andrea for reading the first 30 pages or so and offering their feedback.

"Father, why can't I just go with you to Egypt, Spain, or Kathmandu? Living free as a Gypsy, with a zither in your arms--I'd love to be like you."

--Michael Kunze, "Wie Du"

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single young man in possession of a throne must be in want of a consort.

"Max! Max! You won't believe what my sister just wrote me! At last, it is happening--after all these years! I must gather the rest of the family to inform them of this news...How soon can they all arrive here, I wonder? Helene!"

Duke Max in Bavaria winced as the shrill voice of his wife Ludovika rang out. Before she could force him into helping with the preparations, he grabbed his hat and walking stick and headed out for a nice long walk in the hills.

As he was passing through the village, Ludovika's second daughter, fifteen-year-old Elisabeth, spotted her father and came running over to him, the peasant children with whom she'd been playing momentarily abandoned. The girl adored him, and of all her brothers and sisters, it was she whose interests most coincided with his own.

"Where are you off to, Father?"

"Just a walk, Lisi. Your mother is about to drive me insane."

"I'm coming with you!" Without waiting for a reply, she took his arm and led him down the path at a brisk pace, chattering all the while about her new horse, and the latest trick she'd learned on the tightrope.

By the time the pair returned, dinner was, thankfully, already over. Max sent Lisi to beg some food from the cook, and retreated to his library, where Ludovika was least likely to disturb him. Perhaps the day of the coming gathering would be a good time to return to Munich, pay a visit to his mistress and children there, whom he hadn't seen since bringing the official family to the lake property for the summer.... Yes, he definitely needed a break from the wife his grandfather had forced on him. Munich it would be.

The day finally arrived, but as he was packing Max discovered that his escape was not to be as easy as he'd hoped.

"Father!" Lisi came bursting into his chamber. "Do you know what's going on? Mama's invited almost all the aunts and uncles to be here tonight--it'll be dreadful! Endless gossip and fuss. I want to hide in my room, but the governess won't let me! Can't I come with you instead?"

Max laughed. "No, not on this trip, my child!"

"Well, then, can't you stay and keep me company? You know how unpleasant it will be for me."

"I'm sorry, but no. Life's too short to lose even an hour to boredom. And I hate family gatherings like the plague."

"Me, too!" The girl sighed. "And it's not just this evening, either. They won't let me do anything at all today--I can't run, or climb the cherry tree, or ride, or play with the boys...And I had promised some of the children from the village that I would join them for a race up the mountain this afternoon. I should have won it, too."

Max sympathised, but knew there would be no point in trying to convince his wife to relax the rules. "Just be glad you're not your older sister. Your mother's going to be focused on Helene tonight, I expect."

"But, Father, are you sure I can't travel with you? I would love to see Egypt, or Spain, or...anywhere you've been! It's not enough for me, just reading about such places in books. How lucky you are, getting to travel about like a Gypsy...I want to be just like you."

"Now, now. I'm not going far this time; I might even come back as early as tomorrow evening. Be good, Lisi!" With that, he left.

"Good-bye, Father..."

The governess finally found her still there, after an hour spent searching the rest of the building. "There you are, Princess! You must come dress now."

"I hate getting dressed up. I hate being a princess. If I weren't a princess, I would join the circus! I can already walk the tightrope, you know, and you should see my trapeze routine!"

Long familiar with Elisabeth's flights of fancy, the governess was not amused. "Come along now. You've wasted time enough." Lisi submitted, but she was secretly forming a plan that would let her have some fun that evening after all.

"The business of her life was to get her daughters married; its solace was visiting and news."

-Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

Ludovika could barely contain herself; the instant all of her guests had gathered in the drawing room, she announced, "It's so nice to see all of you! I asked you to come because I want to tell you that something of great importance is about to occur!" Her relatives all exchanged weary glances, being regrettably familiar with the Duchess's tendency to exaggerate her own importance.

"And what would that be, sister?"

"As you all know, I've been training my eldest daughter Helene. She is a model young lady, with such a wonderful disposition, and of course her great beauty. Well, in August I shall be taking her to Bad Ischl."

The murmurs of "is that all?" and "oh, yes, very important" could not dampen Ludovika's spirits. She explained that Helene's Aunt Sophie had written, asking them to come. The comments grew louder.

"Wait a second--which Aunt Sophie?"

"Not the Emperor's mother, surely?"

"If she goes, that means the Emperor will be there, too!"

The Duchess drew the attention back to herself by confirming loudly that "she wants Franz Joseph to become acquainted with Helene...." She tried for a meaningful pause, but soon abandoned the idea; the need to tell everyone of her good fortune was just too great.

"My Helene will be Empress of Austria."

Elisabeth, who had been waiting for this moment all evening, took advantage of the general confusion following the announcement to make her escape. As she'd hoped, the servants had not bothered with completely taking down her trapeze, but had simply tied it back behind the curtains, out of sight. Her aunts and uncles were just beginning to get over their surprise and congratulate her poor sister when she had finished freeing the trapeze and pulling back all but the flimsiest of the curtains separating her from the main portion of the room. Taking a deep breath, for this would be her first public performance--and despite her excitement, the thought of all those people watching her made her nervous--Lisi grabbed the bar and let it carry her through the remaining fabric.

She barely heard the shocked--and disapproving--exclamations as she flew over the heads of her relatives, concentrating entirely on what she was doing. As all eyes were on her at this point, and hers were focused straight ahead, no one noticed the mysterious stranger who had joined their gathering. The beautiful figure appeared silently in the shadows shortly after Lisi began her routine, and a close observer might have noticed a thoughtful look in his eyes as they followed her path through the air. However, even had someone been aware of his presence, the air of detached reserve that surrounded the visitor would have prevented such a close examination.

The newcomer's eyes remained fixed on Lisi as she lost her grip and began falling. Before the other onlookers even had time to realise what had happened, the stranger shook his head dismissively, and faded back into the shadows.

Although her fall could easily have been life threatening, Lisi landed on a rather plump aunt, who unintentionally cushioned the impact. The girl was swiftly carried to her bed, and a doctor sent for. While Ludovika was not especially fond of Lisi, who was not pretty enough for her tastes, in addition to being too wild and like her father, she was present when the girl finally regained consciousness. Helene, to no one's surprise, had never left her side, and her face was the first thing Elisabeth saw.

After assuring everyone that she felt fine, Lisi turned to her mother. Remembering what the reason for the gathering had been, she begged that when she grew up, a husband not be sought for her the way one had been for her sister. "After all, everything that makes me happy, I can do alone--writing poetry, dreaming, or just riding with the wind....I never want to be bound to someone!"

"Now she's talking nonsense, just like her father--and, just like him, always ruining my plans with those dreadful circus antics. You won't be doing anything, Elisabeth Amalie Eugenie von Wittelsbach, as you're to stay in that bed! And I doubt you have to worry in any case; how I'll ever find a suitable husband for you, I can't imagine. Although, with your sister married to the Austrian Emperor, you will have such opportunities...." Ludovika's voice trailed off as she left the room, leaving the grateful girls alone together.

"Now, Lisi, are you certain that you were not injured? I have been worrying ever since I saw you up there!"

"Oh, Néne, I'm fine, truly. But what about you? Now that Mama has finally convinced Aunt Sophie of her ridiculous scheme, leaving you forced to marry a total stranger." Elisabeth was outraged that any such thing could be happening to her much-loved Helene.

"Now, really, Lisi, it isn't so bad as all that. We are not really complete strangers, after all; surely you remember meeting our Habsburg cousins a few years ago? You still correspond with one of them, do you not?"

Lisi sighed. "Yes, Karl Ludwig is nice enough. But Franz Joseph barely said two words, like he was too good for his poor country relations. And from what Karl Ludwig tells me, it seems he almost worships Aunt Sophie, and I have never really liked her. I think it's shameful that they're making you marry him! Don't you want to marry someone you love?"

"But, darling, you know we have always been expected to marry for political reasons, just as Mama and her sisters had to. I have never understood where all your romantic notions came from, as no one has ever pretended otherwise. I will do my duty, as you will when your time comes. And I do not deny that I am sensible of the honour being paid me with this match. Assuming, that is, that the Emperor wants me...."

This last comment made Lisi indignant. "How could he not want you?!? You're so pretty, and good, and kind....Oh, Néne, how I'm going to miss you!"

"There, there." Helene hugged her sister. "You can come visit me, you know; would you not like to see Vienna? And you will not be all alone; it will be up to you to take care of the younger girls once I am gone, and make sure our brothers don't tease them too much. The boys will listen to you. But now, you must rest, as the doctor said. I'll come see you first thing in the morning, all right?"

Elisabeth had no choice but to consent. That night, she cried herself to sleep, unable to bear the thought of losing her dearest sister.

Part 2A

Posted on Thursday, 7 October 1999

"However much one plans and thinks, things never work out...."

--Michael Kunze, "So wie man denkt, so kommt es nie"

August was rapidly approaching, and with it, the trip to Bad Ischl. Elisabeth continued to sulk about Helene's coming engagement, and her parents were at a loss as to how to bring her out of her moodiness. Finally it was decided that she would accompany her sister and mother on their trip, since between them the novelty of it and being reunited with her cousin Karl Ludwig ought to cheer her up, and a trunk for Lisi was added to the luggage being packed.

At last the three set out, and the first part of the trip was uneventful. When they were but a few hours from their destination, however, Ludovika insisted on halting the carriage; she was having a headache, and the movement and noise were too much for her. Her daughters, well-acquainted with their mother's migraines, waited in silence for it to pass, but the eldest was growing increasingly anxious that the delay would cause them to be late.

They eventually pulled up to the Villa Eltz, and were startled to see Sophie come forward to meet them before they had even alighted.

"What on earth took you so long?"

"We had to stop on the way, sister. We'll just rest for a bit, and then--"

"That won't do. The Emperor was expecting you at four."

Helene blanched. "What, already?!"

"It can't be helped. Let me see how you look, Helene." The Archduchess Sophie examined her niece with a severely critical eye. "That hairstyle is simply dreadful. And the dress!"

"We thought it best to travel in mourning," Ludovika tried to explain. "We brought lighter dresses, since no one here would know that Max's sister died so recently, but I am afraid the baggage coach seems to have been delayed as well..."

"It had better arrive before this evening, that's all I can say." Sophie's eye fell onto the smaller girl, who'd been trying to fade into the background and avoid the notice of this loud, strict-seeming aunt. "And what is this?"

"Oh, well, Sophie, Max and I decided that it was best if Lisi came along. She won't be in the way, I promise."

"See that she isn't. And now, you really must come inside. One doesn't keep an emperor waiting!" With that, she turned sharply and led the visitors into the building.

The parlour they were brought to already seemed full, to Lisi's mind. There was her Uncle Franz Karl, her favourite aunt, apparently come all the way from Prussia for the occasion, and three cousins, all boys, in addition to the servants. Karl Ludwig's face brightened when he saw her, and she shyly returned his wave, but the others were rather intimidating--especially the eldest. And this was to be her sister's family?

Introductions were mercifully brief, and as soon as she could Lisi withdrew to a chair as far from the others as possible. It was difficult to sit quietly indoors on such a beautiful day; she longed to be running through the forest nearby, or exploring the mountains they had passed as they entered the town... She tried to keep from attracting attention to herself, but could not prevent her mind from wandering; therefore, she failed to notice that Franz Joseph's eyes were often fixed in her direction.

The afternoon dragged endlessly, the awkward silence only occasionally broken by attempts at conversation--most of which were prompted by Ludovika, and only served to heighten Helene's discomfort in particular. At last the company sat down to dinner, which had the benefit of providing activity for everyone. Lisi, however, could barely pick at her food, and envied her sister's apparent ease. Had she realised how much of the Emperor's attention was devoted to her, she would have been even more intimidated. She was relieved to have at least been seated by her Aunt Elise, with whom she could be honest. When her aunt, noticing how little of the girl's food was leaving the plate, asked if she felt unwell, Lisi confided in a whisper, " Néne is lucky, because she has already seen so many people, but I haven't. I am so scared that I can't even eat." Despite her aunt's reassurances, it was all she could do to make it through the evening.

The following day was just as difficult for Elisabeth, if not more so. It grew less and less possible to pretend the trip was proceeding as planned, for the Emperor made no secret of the fact that he admired the younger of the cousins most, a circumstance for which no one had been prepared. He even cancelled the hunting expedition which had been planned for the day, which greatly surprised those who knew him well, in order to spend more time with the girls. Their mothers tried to make the best of things, however, hoping that the evening's ball would show Helene off better than the more informal, and highly uncomfortable, meetings thus far. The ladies-in-waiting went to great lengths to arrange her hair in a becoming manner, with tendrils of ivy wreathing her forehead, and her pure white gown was draped with utmost care. Lisi, left to dress herself as best she could, spent but a few moments on her own hair and was forced to spend the remaining time trying to obey her mother's admonition not to wrinkle her simple pink dress.

When they entered the ballroom, Elisabeth was once again unable to speak, faced with more fashionable strangers than she could recall ever before seeing at one time. They were greeted by Franz Joseph and his mother, then retired to the edge of the room, Lisi quite content with the prospect of merely watching the dancers for the whole evening. When the dancing began, neither of the Bavarian princesses joined in; nor did the Emperor, although he was quite fond of the activity in general. As the second dance was approaching, Sophie decided to take matters into her own hands; perhaps if Lisi were otherwise engaged, her son could be prevailed upon to dance with Helene. Accordingly, she went to one of the Emperor's aides and instructed him to dance with Elisabeth. As Sophie was introducing the couple, it was clear that the girl's shyness was overwhelming her again and that she would much prefer not to dance. However, she was left with little choice, and soon Sophie had the satisfaction of seeing her led to the floor. Her real wish, however, remained unfulfilled; her son continued to stand by, eyes never leaving Lisi, while poor Helene was once again left without a partner.

Lisi, terrified that she would do something to embarrass not just herself, but her unknown partner as well, confessed to him that it was her first ball. "And I do not know at all how I shall get on without the dancing master..." She managed, however, being musical enough to have a good sense of rhythm and energetic enough to make up in liveliness what she lacked in skill, and the amount of concentration she had to focus on the steps meant that she was in no danger of noticing Franz Joseph's interest--unlike her partner, who told a friend after the dance had ended that he suspected he'd been dancing with their future Empress.

Having survived her first dance, Lisi found the rest of the evening a trifle easier. Even Sophie declared that she would not dance at all badly, if she only practiced more. The girl was doing all right until, that is, the Emperor elected to dance the cotillion with her, and afterwards presented her with the flowers that were meant to be distributed among all the ladies present. She did not know why, but she could see that all eyes in the room were on her at that point; later, her aunt Elise asked if she had felt any significance to the gesture, but all it had actually made her feel was self-conscious. All in all, she was very relieved when the evening was over and she could return to the privacy of her room.

Part 2B

Posted on Thursday, 7 October 1999

"One doesn't send the Emperor of Austria packing!"

--Herzogin Ludovika von Wittelsbach

The morning of August eighteenth arrived; Franz Joseph's twenty-third birthday. As always, he was up before sunrise, and the hour was still quite early when he came into his mother's room, unusually cheerful.

"Good morning, Mother! This will be a beautiful day, don't you think?" He left her no time to reply before continuing. "I have reached a decision. Today you shall go to Aunt Ludovika and ask her if my cousin Elisabeth will have me."

Sophie had been expecting this, but still found it a bit of a shock; her eldest son had never disobeyed her wishes before, and he knew it was Helene she had chosen for his wife. However, she forced herself to consent, although she could not resist pointing out that the girl was completely unsuitable for the position to which he would be raising her.

"Nonsense. Her pedigree is no worse than her sister's, after all, and you were willing to overlook the father's family in her case. She is perhaps a little young, but I know you can find proper people to train her to her new duties. I am certain that she has all the qualities I need in a wife. And she has such sweet eyes; she is just like a freshly bloomed flower!"

If Sophie had any remaining hopes of changing her son's mind, they dissipated after hearing that last sentence. For him to be so out of character, it must be a strong infatuation indeed. As she could not guess how far his unusually stubborn behaviour might extend, she saw no choice but to follow his wishes instead of her own, for once.

As she expected, Ludovika's reaction to the request for her second daughter's hand was surprised, but no less thrilled than had it been for Helene's. Either way, she would be mother to the Empress of Austria, and if Lisi was still too young for marriage, not even having left the schoolroom yet, well, what of it? Ludovika's fawning gratefulness towards her older sister was nearly more than Sophie could stand; she left it to the mother to break the news to the bride herself.

Once she had regained control of herself, Ludovika sent for her daughter. "Come in here, child, there's something I want to talk to you about."

Reluctantly, the girl entered the room. She was not certain what to expect, but after the previous night, she knew she probably would not like it. "Yes, Mama?"

"Don't stand there like a fool, girl! Come, sit down. I have some wonderful news for you. Franz Joseph has asked for your hand."

Lisi blanched. He had seemed nice enough, she supposed, but..."Mama, please tell him I'm sorry, but no."

Ludovika's raptures came to an abrupt halt. "For heaven's sake, what can you mean?"

"I mean I do not wish to marry him."

"Don't be ridiculous! Think of all the pin money you'll have, the gowns, the jewels! Why, you'll be fabulously rich! You'll be Empress!"

"Yes, exactly. If he weren't an emperor, it might have been possible that I could have considered it. But he is. And since I do not love him, and have no wish to be an empress, I cannot marry him."

"Nonsense, you foolish child! Not want to be Empress? That's absurd!"

"But, Mama, I don't! I'd a thousand times rather join the circus, or spend my life travelling like Father, or...or anything other than that!"

"Well, that's neither here nor there. One doesn't send the Emperor of Austria packing. He wants you, although I can't imagine why, so you will marry him, like it or no. I will not allow you to throw away this wonderful chance! Think of your sisters, if not yourself; as sisters-in-law to Franz Joseph, they will be able to make brilliant matches themselves!"

Lisi could no longer hold back the tears that had been threatening since the conversation began. "But...but what about Néne? I don't understand why, but she was willing to marry him. Can't he choose her, like he was supposed to?"

But her mother was no longer listening. Of course, this change in plans left her having to start all over again with finding a husband for Helene, who was already growing a bit old to be unwed, but she could not risk Franz Joseph's rejecting her, should he be told that if he wanted to marry one of Ludovika's daughters, it would be Helene or no one.

Ludovika left the sobbing Elisabeth and went to tell Sophie that her son's suit would be accepted. Néne, who had guessed what was happening when her sister had been called into their mother's room, slipped inside and put her arm around Lisi.

"Shh, darling, it's all right. Please don't cry. You know I hate to see you like this."

Lisi threw her arms around her sister, and cried into her shoulder. "Oh, Néne! You don't...you can't...she...she's making me marry him!"

Helene closed her eyes briefly at this confirmation of her fears, then forced herself to concentrate on comforting her younger sister. "There, there. It isn't as bad as you think. You will be treated well, I am sure of it. He does not seem like a bad man, and while he is perhaps a little too old for you right now, in a few years that won't make such a difference. And...you are lucky, you know."

"How? When I am being forced to marry someone I don't know or love?"

"Because, Lisi, he loves you. We can all see that. Why else do you think he would go against his mother's wishes on so important a matter? The most the rest of us can hope for is that we be given husbands who might come to like us; yours chose you, and not for political reasons. If all he wanted was a suitable wife, there was no reason for him to do something so unexpected."

The awkwardness of Helene's situation suddenly occurred to Lisi. "Oh! How horrible of me! How can I go on like this, when you were expecting to marry him yourself? I wish now that you were. It would be so much better for all of us."

Her sister sighed. "Perhaps you are right. But that is now impossible; he does not want me, and there's an end to it. We must endeavor to make the most of our situations. Now, if we can just get you cleaned up, we really ought to go join the others for breakfast. And I want you to try to appear more cheerful, all right?"

Part 2C

Posted on Wednesday, 20 October 1999

"The Emperor's happiness is clearly evident in every report on those days in Bad Ischl. Of Sisi's feelings we unfortunately know very little, except that she was very embarrassed, very quiet, and constantly in tears."

--Brigitte Hamann, Elisabeth: Kaiserin wider Willen

Breakfast was an almost universally awkward affair. Lisi was struggling not to let her feelings show, either her misery over the engagement or her discomfort at being the object of everyone's attention; Néne was trying desperately not to appear as disappointed as she really felt; Karl Ludwig did not want his jealousy to be obvious; Sophie could not believe her son had an opinion that contradicted her own; and Ludovika was constantly afraid that Lisi would do something foolish, like tell everyone that she did not want to marry her cousin. Only Aunt Elise, who was pleased that it was her goddaughter who would be the niece elevated to such an exalted position, and an unwontedly cheerful Franz Joseph, who failed to notice that his new fiancée did not share his joy, were able to enjoy the meal.

When they arrived at church, Lisi found herself expected to enter alongside Franz Joseph, taking precedence even over Archduchess Sophie; such a prominent position was hardly likely to set the fifteen-year-old at ease, but now that she had, however unwillingly, become engaged to an emperor, she found herself left with no chance to avoid being the center of attention. After the service, Franz Joseph led her up to the priest and presented her officially as his bride, asking that their union be blessed, in front of the entire congregation. Lisi was then made to stand, blushing, in front of everybody for several minutes more, while people she had barely met made speeches in her honour.

That afternoon she was introduced to yet more members of the court, chief among them Count Grünne, upon whose friendship and guidance the young Emperor relied almost as much as upon his mother's. Grünne was one of the few among her new acquaintances whom Elisabeth found herself liking; his manner was warm, almost fatherly, and he shared her great love of horses. She was relieved to learn that Franz Joseph had asked him to take the couple on their daily drives rather than requiring her to face a series of unknown coachmen.

The next two weeks were filled with a never-ending string of parties, sorely testing Lisi's resolve to carry out the responsibilities which had suddenly been thrust upon her without complaint, and leaving her with no opportunity to escape the town and explore the forests and mountains which had beckoned to her from the first moments she had spent in Ischl, even before the disastrous meeting had occurred. There were three more balls to be endured as well, as the focus of even more public scrutiny than she had endured at the first. She graciously accepted gifts of more jewels than she had ever wanted, and did her best not to cry at the thought of why they were being given. Her one hope of escaping her new fate, that the Pope would refuse to grant the dispensation required for the cousins to be wed, came to nothing; news of his permission arrived as soon as it could reasonably be looked for, and from that day on Elisabeth knew there was nothing to be done.

Perhaps she could have borne all this with more fortitude, had it not been obvious to her how much her favourite sister was also suffering. Always the more serious of the two, Helene had grown quite grave since their arrival at Bad Ischl, and Lisi could see through her attempts to hide it--they knew each other too well for either to disguise what they were feeling with any success.

At last the visit was brought to an end. The journey back to Possenhofen was a painful one for the sisters. Lisi could not stop crying, and Néne remained determined not to let her disappointment show. The position of neither was improved by their mother, who could not stop talking about how wonderfully everything had turned out, and planning a massive wedding for her second daughter. When at last they arrived home, Lisi barely waited for the coach to stop before jumping out and running to the stables, wanting to get as far away from her mother as her horse could take her. Helene's retreat was more seemly; she greeted her other siblings, then retired to her room to recover from the journey. Their mother, of course, wasted no time in gathering her staff to make plans for providing Elisabeth with a proper trousseau.

Max had been sent a telegram with the news of his favourite daughter's engagement as soon as Ludovika could be bothered to remember him, and had been waiting with some concern for the women's return home. One look at the girl's face as she raced past convinced him that the upcoming marriage would be a dreadful mistake. She was too young, too carefree, to be exiled to the strictness of the Viennese court. But, he knew, there was no stopping it now--Ludovika had made up her mind, and it was too late to intervene. He would consider himself lucky if he were even able to successfully curb her expenses in preparing for the wedding.

The next several months were a blend of fittings, sittings, and lessons for the young bride. When she wasn't being forced to stand still while seamstresses and shoemakers poked and prodded and pricked her, or being asked to sit for hours on end because the Emperor had requested yet another portrait, she found herself confronted with a stricter academic regimen than she had thought possible. Having been accustomed to getting her education as and when she desired, Elisabeth now found it very difficult to keep up with all the lessons in etiquette, Austrian history, French and Italian, and so on that she was expected to absorb in time to become a proper Empress; there was so much she did not know, and she soon came to despair of ever being anything other than "the most ignorant queen in Europe". Those activities which had previously given her most joy--riding, going on long walks through the mountains, playing with the local peasant children--were strictly limited, as being unsuitable to her new position and taking too much time away from her much-needed studies. Only rarely could she make time for herself, and when she did, she used the opportunity to give vent to her feelings--either in poetry, or in tears.

The unknowing cause for all her suffering, Franz Joseph, remained blissfully unaware that his bride did not share in his anticipation. Although he wrote her frequently, repeatedly assuring her of his affection, Lisi found herself wishing he would spare her the trouble of composing tolerably cheerful replies. Or, if he insisted on corresponding, that he would at least refrain from constantly informing her of his mother's superiority. She could hardly believe it! Chastising her for addressing her aunt and future mother-in-law in too familiar a manner! Not to mention his behaviour the time he visited; not only had he requested that her riding be even more limited than it already was, but she had been utterly humiliated when she caught sight of a letter in which he was informing his mother that Lisi's teeth were no longer quite as yellow as they had been! The nerve of him! But there was no getting out of the marriage now; she had no choice but to pretend not to notice, and go on as best she could.

What she could not be aware of during all this is that she was frequently observed. The beautiful stranger who had appeared in her life for the first time that fateful night when the trip to Bad Ischl was announced found himself drawn back time and again, despite his initial dismissal of young Lisi. Thinking back on the way the young girl flew fearlessly through the air and did not let even her fall discourage her, he could not recall having ever seen a person with so much spirit, so much enthusiasm, so much...life. That this free young creature was being caged up like so many other people--it was unthinkable. He could not identify just what attracted him to her so; certainly not her physical beauty, as that was a thing of the future, not yet apparent to any but himself. No, it was more her vitality, the way she whole-heartedly threw herself into any activity which gave her pleasure; and the tragedy that her life was becoming, in that she was more often than not denied access to those pleasures. Yet she struggled to fulfill her new responsibilities the best she could, even though they made her miserable...this was madness, he reminded himself. She was no different from any other human being, and therefore not worth so much of his attention.

And yet he kept coming back.

Part 3A

Posted on Wednesday, 20 October 1999

"I don't want to be burdened by questions and wishes, to be touched by glances from head to toe! I run away when I feel strangers' eyes; I only belong to me."

--Michael Kunze, "Ich gehör nur mir"

April arrived all too soon from Elisabeth's point of view, and before long it was time to begin the journey to Vienna. Her last few days in Munich, she could not stop crying, no matter how hard she tried. Saying goodbye to the rooms she'd loved all her life was nothing compared to parting from her various pets. Those animals had been her dearest friends for as long as she could remember, and she was being made to leave them behind; the thought was unbearable. When it came time to give her farewell gifts to the people who had served her for her entire life, Elisabeth found she was not the only one in tears. The staff knew they would miss their carefree Lisi as much as she would miss them, and they shared her reluctance to say goodbye. It was well past the planned departure time when the girl, accompanied by her immediate family and having been bid farewell by the Bavarian royal family itself, at last set off through the cheering crowds.

The three-day journey to Vienna began by carriage, until they reached the Danube and alighted at Straubing, where they were met with what proved to be the first of many overwhelming receptions. It was all Lisi could do to stand and smile in the face of crowds consisting of everyone from local officials to schoolchildren; the bands and speeches were nearly too much for her. By the time the bridal party boarded the steamer that would take them to Passau, she was already hoping never to see another flower or waving flag again. Unfortunately, the reception was just as grand at every stop they made along the way, and while the people's enthusiasm for her was touching, it was also exhausting. With much ceremony, they crossed the border into Austria in the early afternoon of the second day, picking up an official escort of two more steamers. The final stop for the day came mercifully early in the evening, at Linz, where they would be spending that night.

In addition to yet more crowds of local government officials, military leaders, artisans, clergy, aristocrats, children, and who knew what other segments of the population, they found a surprise waiting for them: Franz Joseph had secretly traveled to welcome them to his country and spend the evening with his bride. Despite the early stop, there was no opportunity to rest that evening--first the travelers were treated with a gala performance of The Roses of Elisabeth in honour of the Imperial bride, then they had to endure a parade conducted by torchlight and serenades by local choral groups before being allowed to retire for the night. At 4:30 the following morning, the Emperor rushed back to Vienna, in order to be there in time to officially greet his bride; the others were allowed the luxury of not leaving until eight. This final day's journey would be on the most impressive ship ever to sail the Danube, named in honour of Franz Joseph himself. By this time, Lisi was inured to the opulence surrounding her; she barely registered the fact that her cabin's walls were covered in red velvet, and the flower garden on deck and garlands of roses arranged over the railing to trail in the water seemed like a wasteful extravagance. The greetings they received from the towns along their path were as grand as the ones that had come before--and therefore all the more difficult, since they lacked even novelty to lend them interest.

Elisabeth was ready to collapse when the ship finally reached its final destination near Vienna, welcomed by cannons and church bells which almost succeeded in drowning out the noise of the crowd. Before the ship was fully docked, Franz Joseph had already leapt aboard and come to greet his bride with an enthusiastic, not to mention highly public, kiss, which she could not escape. Following close behind were several members of his family--not only his parents and brothers, whom she had met in Bad Ischl, but also several unfamiliar aunts, uncles, and cousins. At last they were allowed to disembark, only to be led to a series of coaches which would take them to Schönbrunn Palace. Once there, the barrage of introductions began. Sophie had the task of presenting to her the higher-ranking female Habsburgs; Franz Joseph did the same for the male. Fifteen archdukes, not counting his father and brothers! How would she ever remember them all? And then there were the highest court officials.... After all those introductions had been completed, it was time to say goodbye to the two ladies-in-waiting who had accompanied her from Bavaria; despite Elisabeth's protests, they had been deemed unsuitable for serving in the Viennese court, and were to be replaced by a completely new household. She had hoped for a staff she could look to for assistance in her new position, but the woman Sophie had chosen to be in charge of it, Countess Esterházy, appeared to be even older than Sophie herself, and just as strict. Nevertheless, Lisi did her best to make a good impression, frankly admitting that everyone would have to be very patient with her as she struggled to learn how things were done in Vienna. Her chief steward seemed more likely to be sympathetic, and there were two young ladies-in-waiting she took to immediately--until Sophie noticed her smiles and expressly forbid her to form friendships with the servants; Imperial majesty must not be sullied by affectionate connections with mere countesses. As for the other fourteen members of her new retinue, she thought there could hardly be a need for so many people dedicated to wait on her alone! Yet they must be tolerated nonetheless....That evening, the exhausted bride submitted to making yet another public appearance, waving her lace handkerchief from a palace balcony, and got her first real taste of life under the strict ceremonial protocol of the Viennese court at a large banquet held in her honour, which felt as if it would never come to an end. Even when it finally did, she was not yet allowed to sleep--she was under strict orders to begin learning the contents of the depressingly thick "Ceremonial Procedure for the Official Progress of Her Royal Highness, the Most Gracious Princess Elisabeth" which Countess Esterházy had given her. "Most gracious"--ha! At the moment, Lisi was feeling anything but gracious. "Trapped" is more like it, she thought, sighing.

She was awakened far too early the following morning, in order to begin preparations for her official entrance to Vienna, which had been planned with greatest attention to tradition by Sophie. Accustomed as she was to a rather simple life in which everyone was expected to take care of themselves, she had never imagined it possible to spend several hours merely dressing, particularly with so many people helping one--but it happened nevertheless. It was late afternoon before Lisi was deemed properly attired, and at last she and Ludovika were allowed to enter the glass coach which would take them to the Hofburg in the Inner City. As the coach procession wound through the city, the people gathered to catch a glimpse of their new Empress were astonished to see her sobbing, but try as she might, she could not stop. If these strict, solemn rituals she had been faced with the past few days were typical of life here, she knew not how she would survive.

When they arrived at the Hofburg and it was time to descend from the carriage, the new diamond tiara that she had been forced to wear, and to whose height she was as yet unaccustomed, caught on the top of the doorframe, causing her to stumble. Her face, already red from crying, coloured yet more as she sensed the onlookers' laughter. It was not fair! She was barely sixteen; how can they expect so much of her so soon? Somehow she made it through the official welcoming to the primary Imperial Residence, although she was not pleased to discover that the staff had two more documents for her to commit to memory, one on the wedding procedures for the following day, and nineteen whole pages dedicated to a listing, by rank, of the people who would be allowed to kiss her hand following the ceremony and precisely how she should greet each of them. Elisabeth despaired of ever remembering anything correctly; there was too much, and not nearly enough time!

The next evening it all became final. By 6:30 over a thousand people had crowded into the Augustinerkirche, which had been decked out in ridiculous quantities of red velvet for the occasion. As the bride entered, the light from the 15,000 candles reflected brilliantly off the diamonds in her gown; everyone agreed that she must surely be the most beautiful bride the world had seen. Lisi still wasn't sure why an occasion as simple as a wedding would need over seventy bishops to assist in the ceremony, but she had plenty of time to think up amusing explanations while Cardinal Rauscher delivered his interminably long and rambling speech in honour of the bride and groom; she was relieved that the spectators were behind her, and could not see her struggles not to laugh. At last the rings were exchanged, the cannons fired, and the ceremonial procession returned to the Hofburg for her official presentation as Empress; clearly, it was going to be a long night...

She managed to greet the various ambassadors and other foreign envoys, and their ladies, but when she was led into the Hall of Ceremony where the courtiers were waiting for their opportunity to kiss her hand, the multitude of strange faces before her was overwhelming. In panic, she fled the room and broke out in tears for the first time that day. When at last she had pulled herself together enough to return to the audience chamber, she could hear the ladies whispering about her, which only increased her timidity. Try as she might, she simply could not bring herself to make conversation with these fancy, intimidating strangers being presented to her.

The members of the court had been quite curious to meet this provincial princess who had captivated their young emperor, but their interest was not entirely benevolent. For months rumours of the bride's unsuitability had been making the rounds; her upbringing was said to be quite informal, almost bourgeois. And although they were officially Catholic, the girl's mother had been heard to boast that the Bavarian family had been "quite Protestantised"--everyone agreed this was most shocking! Perhaps all that could have been overlooked, however, if only this Elisabeth had proven to be of a suitable station for an Austrian Empress, but a close examination of her pedigree immediately showed that such was not the case. Her mother's line was, of course, quite proper, being the same as that of the Emperor's mother; but the paternal grandmother was not even royal, and was connected to other nonroyal families. That the granddaughter of a common aristocrat was being elevated above them was not to be borne. And she was a relatively poor one, at that; her trousseau was far from appropriate for an Imperial bride--and nearly all the valuable items, particularly the jewelry, had been gifts from the Emperor or his mother during their engagement. Clearly the girl was in no way fit to be a Habsburg Empress, and this display of weakness only emphasised the point. That the girl could not even speak to them, when they were forbidden to address her first, and Countess Esterházy was forced to officially request them to break protocol in this matter...well, it did not bode well for her abilities to fulfill her obligations, they pointed out to each other as the clock struck ten and they retired to the banquet hall.

By the time the celebratory ball arrived, Lisi had been introduced to so many people that they had all begun to look alike to her, and she had completely given up on trying to remember their names. She was actually glad when the dancing began this time, since at least while she was dancing with the Emperor, she would not be expected to talk with people she did not know. As the entire company was watching her every move, eager to determine what effect the young Empress would be having on the court, no one was aware that an uninvited guest was observing her for entirely different reasons.

In the months since he had first seen her, he had eventually come to understand his unprecedented fascination with the young Bavarian princess: he was in love. He could not understand how it had happened; his reputation for coldness towards people was not unfounded, and in fact he took pride in it. Yet here he was, after all these years, unable to put thoughts of her out of his head. They were from completely different worlds, he knew, yet he could not resist feeling that he would be better for her than the man to whom she had just bound herself. She seemed to feel it, too; he could not have come had she not been wishing to escape her new life, and from within the Emperor's arms she gave a small smile in his direction. The matter was settled: he must dance with her.

Lisi looked up in surprise at the beautiful stranger who, in violation of all protocol, stood before her and requested her hand. Unable to voice a reply, she allowed him to lead her to the floor, feeling almost as if she were in a trance. Their dance was spent in silence, and ended far too soon; she was rushed back to her husband's side, and he was left contemplating this young girl who had profoundly, unknowingly altered the pattern of his existence.

Her life may have been pledged to another, but he took comfort in the certain knowledge that, in the end, he would win the unacknowledged struggle for Elisabeth's heart and spirit.

Part 3B

Posted on Thursday, 4 November 1999

"Marriage is an absurd arrangement. One is sold as a child of fifteen and makes a vow one does not understand, and which one regrets for thirty years or more but can never undo."

--Kaiserin Elisabeth

At last the day was over; Lisi felt she could hardly remain standing for much longer, and wanted nothing more than to fall into bed and sleep forever, gown and all. Unfortunately, she found that this was not to be allowed, and she would have to endure her mother and Aunt Sophie as they helped her undress, all the while telling her about more and more duties and responsibilities. The schedule for the following day was so full that she could not imagine having time to breathe in between appointments. She thought they'd never leave, but when a lady-in-waiting mentioned the approach of the Emperor and they started to withdraw, she found herself wishing desperately that they would stay rather than leaving her alone with him. She knew it was pointless to say anything, however, so she just buried her head in the pillow and tried to appear asleep.

The sun was not yet up when she was awakened the following morning and forced to welcome her mother and new mother-in-law, who had come to join the Imperial couple for breakfast. She tried as usual to avoid drawing Sophie's attention, but once again was not successful. A question from her mother prevented Lisi from hearing Sophie inquire how her son had enjoyed the wedding night, but it was impossible to miss her reaction to the news that he had allowed his exhausted bride to sleep undisturbed. Indeed, Lisi thought, it would be a miracle if there was anyone in the entire palace who did not hear it.

"What?! I cannot accept that. Trying to avoid your duties already, before you have fulfilled your responsibilities as Empress and provided us with an heir? That sort of behaviour will not be tolerated in my court. You will do your duty, without complaint; I shall know immediately if you do not, for I am most attentive to these things. My son's happiness--to say nothing of the future of this family--will not be subject to the whims of an ignorant sixteen-year-old provincial!"

By this time even Ludovika was trying to calm her sister down, or at the least to induce her to lower her voice. Elisabeth was once again in tears, wanting desperately to run out of the room but knowing that would just make things worse; Franz Joseph simply calmly continued with his breakfast.

When her mother-in-law finally released her from the table, Elisabeth was forced to submit to being dressed by the ladies-in-waiting, feeling as if everyone thought her too stupid to dress herself, then had to endure yet more appearances and ceremonies. She made every effort to remember the things she was being told, but there was simply too much, and she was too tired--not to mention scared by all the people who were watching her constantly. She barely had five minutes alone with her brothers and sisters the entire day, and there were an incredible number of rules to learn, Viennese court etiquette being considerably more strict than what she was used to. Through it all, her Aunt--mother-in-law, she constantly had to remind herself--Sophie constantly scolded her for not behaving properly. She should not hug her cousins; she could only hold out her hand to be kissed. She should not speak English or, worse still, her native Bavarian dialect; she must use French (which Sophie knew full well Lisi had never really learnt) or, at the least, High German. She should not try to hide behind her husband; she must be seen by as many of her subjects as possible. She should not argue with her staff regarding the fate of her shoes--regardless of how wasteful it may seem to her, the Empress of Austria does not wear a pair of shoes more than once. Ever. Above all, she must not start crying! What would people think if their new Empress was seen sobbing like a child? She may not have been born to such a station, but she must now keep people from realising how out of place she was, or they would talk. Lisi sighed for what felt like the thousandth time that day. Her mother, of course, hastened to agree with everything Sophie said, leaving her daughter with no support.

How she would have endured it all without the presence of Helene, she could not imagine. Whenever they could snatch a few moments, they delighted in speaking English to spite Aunt Sophie, who, they were assured, would have been quite fluent in the language had she ever learnt; as it was not fashionable in Vienna, however, neither Sophie nor any of the other strangers surrounding them constantly could understand much English, and so it swiftly became something of a secret language for the sisters.

That night and the following day were almost identical to the ones before. Her luck, such as it was, ran out on the third night following the wedding, however. The next morning, it felt like she was wakened mere minutes after finally having cried herself to sleep, and she found that the misery was not yet over. Countess Esterházy informed her that the Archduchess required the Imperial couple's presence at a family breakfast, and would not accept any excuses. Elisabeth was still pleading, however, unable to bear the thought of appearing before anyone that morning, but most especially the entire family, who would no doubt have been informed of what had happened. The Countess was insistent, however, saying that the Emperor had already joined the family and informed them that his wife would be following shortly. Knowing that Sophie would have no qualms about coming down to fetch her personally if pressed, Lisi slowly made her way to the chamber where everyone had assembled.

Her hopes of slipping unobtrusively into her chair were, predictably, in vain; the instant the new Empress set foot in the room, Archduchess Sophie called out, "And it's about time, Your Majesty," her voice dripping with irony on the title. "I will not abide tardiness. We breakfast promptly at seven; punctuality is of utmost importance."

"Yes, Aunt Sophie," Elisabeth acknowledged quietly. Much to her surprise, she was allowed to break her fast in peace for the next quarter hour--or would have been, had she been able to bear the thought of eating anything. She was beginning to hope that the morning would not be quite so bad as she had feared, when her mother-in-law turned to her once more.

"So, Lisi, did you sleep well last night--or should I say, this morning? My son did not tire you out too much, did he? Because, of course, you need to produce an heir as soon as possible to strengthen the dynasty. We can't have you claiming exhaustion in attempts to avoid your marital duties. Franzi, see that you take that into consideration; the girl has not the experience you do in such matters. At least, she had better not!"

Lisi stared at her mother-in-law for a moment, in shock that even she could mention such a thing, and in front of so many people! Everyone was looking at her, their expressions ranging from curiosity to amusement. She could no longer bear it; she shoved her chair back from the table, and ran out of the room, barely able to see through her tears.

Part 3C

Posted on Thursday, 4 November 1999

Oh, had I but never left the path
That would have led me to freedom.
Oh, that on the broad avenues
Of vanity I had never strayed!
I have awakened in a dungeon,
With chains on my hands.
And my longing ever stronger--
And freedom! You turned from me!
I have awakened from a rapture,
Which held my spirit captive,
And vainly do I curse this exchange,
In which I gambled you--freedom!--away.

--Kaiserin Elisabeth, 14 days after her wedding

The week of wedding festivities drew to an end, and the Imperial couple--along with Sophie and what seemed to Elisabeth to be a ridiculous number of attendants--retired to the palace at Laxenburg, just outside of Vienna, for their honeymoon. The reduction in the number of appointments she faced did not bring the amount of relief Lisi was expecting; being left alone all day with the strangers who made up her new household was merely torment of a different kind. They had, she was certain, been chosen because of their willingness to act as Sophie's spies rather than due to any desire to serve their new Empress; from her behaviour, Lisi would have guessed that Countess Esterházy was assigned to be her governess, not her chief lady-in-waiting. They had no interest in serving their official mistress, but rather countermanded any requests from the Empress with "we're sorry, Your Majesty, but the Archduchess forbids it". She had no opportunity to see if her husband would support her against his mother, for he left at five every morning to return to his office in Vienna and get his work done before returning only in time for a late dinner. Much of her time was split between avoiding Sophie and playing with her pets. It seemed the parrots and dogs were the only creatures in Laxenburg who were willing to accept her for who she was, and not try to change her. The notebook in which she wrote her poems was filling rapidly.

She managed to convince Franz Joseph to allow her to accompany him one day; watching him go over the various reports and petitions which awaited him daily was rather boring, but at least she was free from her mother-in-law's presence for most of the day. When they returned to Laxenburg, however, she found a lecture waiting for her.

"And where were you all day, Elisabeth?"

"In Vienna, Your Highness. The Emperor said I could keep him company." Lisi made every effort to appear respectful, rather than boasting of her successful defiance of Sophie's plans.

"That will not do; I will not have it! An Empress does not go following about after her husband like a foolish puppy. In future, you will remain here and not interfere with Franzi's work. He cannot carry out his duties with you pestering him."

Lisi sighed inwardly. "Yes, Aunt Sophie." It was clear that the Archduchess would be giving strict instructions to her staff that further excursions into town were to be prevented; she must find some other way to help pass the time.

It was not long before she came up with an entrancing idea. Her brothers and sisters had returned to Munich only two weeks before, but she was certain her brother Karl Theodor would not mind another journey so soon. She would ask Franz Joseph if he could visit her, to keep her company while he was off in Vienna every day. As she had predicted, he granted permission to send the invitation, which she did without delay.

The day Karl Theodor arrived provided her first moment of joy since before leaving her dearly missed home. He had always been her favourite brother, and now he took on aspects of a hero, rescuing her as he was from her new life of boredom and tears. The greetings were barely out of the way before she took his hand and dragged him into one of the smaller rooms; if she could not have complete privacy, at least they could go somewhere that would not accommodate the entire household. She instantly closed the door, hoping to at least postpone being joined by various servants, and stood there, beaming at her brother.

"You have no idea how happy I am to see you! It seems like years since I saw a familiar face. I miss you all so much!"

Karl Theodor gazed fondly at his sister. "Hardly that long, Lisi; it has been barely two weeks since we left. You're letting yourself get carried away again, my dear."

"No, you don't understand; it's dreadful here! The day lasts so long when you're made to wake up at five every morning but not allowed to go do anything...There's no one I know, or can talk to, and Sophie won't let me go riding as often as I did at home, and--"

"You must stop thinking this way; Vienna is now your home. Of course things will have changed--you are married now, no longer a child, free to go wandering about at will. I'm afraid we rather spoiled you, did we not? You are not ready for adult responsibilities..."

"No," Lisi pouted, "nor are they giving me any. I must not act like a child, everyone tells me, but they all treat me like one anyway! Always telling me what to do--and what not to do. But nothing important! Being an empress seems to mean spending all day changing clothes for one thing or another, in between listening to endless gossip about people I've never met...I hate it."

"You have only been here for a few weeks; of course you need time to adjust, and the others need it as well--they are not accustomed to having a young Empress around any more than you are to being one, after all. Have you tried asking for more to do? You are new here, perhaps you should start by learning what has been happening in Austria. There has been a lot that we hear about even in Munich, so I can say for certain there are things you ought to know; there is probably even more going on right now that I don't know about. I understand our aunt is very knowledgeable about politics; perhaps she would be willing to teach you. It might make her more willing to compromise, if you show an interest in things which are important to her."

"Ask her to teach me something? I couldn't do that! You don't know how cruel the things she says to me are...I do not want to spend any more time with her than I absolutely have to!"

"What about your husband, then?"

"The Emperor? Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to ask him, if I have a chance to talk to him while his mother is not around...But do you really think it will help?"

Her brother smiled down at her. "Yes, Lisi, I do. You do not care about anything here--but that's because you don't know much about it either. If you learn more, I am certain you will start to find it more interesting. And, of course, it will give you something to discuss with people other than gossip."

Elisabeth sighed. "Perhaps you're right. I shall try it, but I am far from certain that it will help. You can't imagine what she's like."

He pulled her in for a hug. "Now, darling, it can't be as bad as all that. You will see; things will get better as you begin to adjust."

Lisi hoped he was right, but secretly, she could not believe it.

Two days later, she found the opportunity and the courage to do as her brother asked. Franz Joseph had returned from Vienna a bit earlier than usual, and they had a few moments alone before going in to dinner. She took a deep breath, and asked him how his day had been.

"It was all right."

That was no help; she wanted to be able to introduce the subject gradually, but clearly her husband would not be cooperating. "What did you do?"

"Went over reports, prepared for tomorrow's audiences, as usual."

"What were the reports about?"

The Emperor looked at his young wife, amused. "What is this sudden interest?"

It was now or never. "Will you teach me? I know nothing of politics, but I should like to learn, so I can understand what is happening here." There. She had said it.

But Franz Joseph just laughed. "Teach you about politics? Out of the question. It's no concern of yours; there is no need for you to worry your pretty little head over such matters. That is my job."

"But shouldn't I know what is going on in my own country? If I am to be Empress of Austria, I ought to know what is happening here, or I won't know how to best do my duty to the people." Surely an appeal to his sense of duty would convince him!

"Nonsense, my angel. Your duty for now is to learn from my mother; she will teach you everything there is to know about being a good empress. You have no need to worry about politics. Simply let the people see you, and look beautiful, and you will be fine; do not try to trouble yourself with such serious topics which are beyond your understanding."

"So you will not teach me, then?"

"Of course not. Let us go to dinner." She sighed and took his arm, wondering if her brother would have any more successful suggestions.

Part 4

Posted on Tuesday, 11 January 2000

"I'd gladly stand on your side, but it would be better for us both if you followed my mother's advice."

--Michael Kunze, "Eine Kaiserin muss glänzen"

The honeymoon at last drew to an end, and the Imperial household returned to Vienna. The change in scenery did nothing for the young Empress; on the contrary, she found herself expected to make public appearances on a frighteningly regular basis. Still unsure of herself, and exceedingly shy by nature, she found it dreadful to have the eyes of so many strangers on her. Her struggles with her mother-in-law did not abate, and on those occasions where she dared ask her husband for support, he merely reminded her that his mother had a great deal of experience at such things, and should be listened to.

She did gain a small victory at dinner one evening. As always, she had been struggling to make enough conversation with the courtier assigned to sit next to her at meals and tutor her in small talk so that he would not give an unfavourable report to Sophie, while at the same time trying not to spill anything on her gloves. It had been a long day, and she was even more tired and frustrated than usual, which must have been what gave her more courage than she had dreamed she possessed; for at last she stopped eating and removed the requisite white gloves. When those at the table noticed, they too put down their spoons, shocked at the sight of their Empress eating with bare hands. She forced herself to continue calmly, as if nothing unusual had happened, until Sophie spoke up, reminding her that such behaviour was deviating from the rules of etiquette. Fed up with her constant scolding, Lisi found herself saying, "Well, then let the deviation now be the rule," earning more shocked gasps from the onlookers. Her heart was racing at her own temerity; when was the last time someone had dared stand up to the Archduchess, and won? From what she had heard in her few weeks at court, it had never happened, but at the moment she could not bring herself to care.

"Your Majesty forgets that you are now Empress, and must obey established protocol."

"Yes, I am the Empress; therefore, I can also set protocol--and I choose for protocol to allow one to eat without gloves." Sophie's eyebrows rose at this sign of unexpected strength in the girl. Mindful of the public setting, she refrained from continuing the discussion immediately, and instead turned her eyes towards her son, confident that he would remind his wife of the importance of proper manners. Lisi, too, looked at her husband, daring him to take a stand against her at the table, when it would be publicly revealed how divided the Imperial family was, an event she was sure he would wish to avoid. Franz Joseph, caught between the expectant gazes of the two women he loved most in the world, assiduously concentrated on his soup. The subject was dropped for the moment, and Elisabeth was allowed to finish her meal without worrying about the bothersome gloves.

That was the only time she was successful in her attempts to resist Sophie's "education", however; after that, the Archduchess's orders to Lisi's staff were more strict than ever, and they were followed to the letter. She was not allowed to do anything alone; even her daily rides, which were far too short in her opinion, had to be accompanied by Count Grünne, although at least he was kind to her. Her health was suffering as well, even though no one seemed to take her problems seriously. The persistent cough which had developed shortly after she moved to Vienna, and which refused to go away, everyone seemed to think was a childish affectation. And of course Sophie would not accept that a Habsburg Empress, however young, could truly be thrown into anxiety attacks and unable to breathe when faced with a simple staircase to descend! Her very few moments to herself were primarily spent, as at Laxenburg, with her animals or writing poetry, although more and more often she found her thoughts drifting to the memory of that mysterious stranger who had dared approach the new Empress at her wedding ball. She began wondering who he was, and where he had come from, but before long her musings were more personal. What was he like? Why did he risk so much censure just to dance with her in silence? Where was he now, and why did he not come back to take her away from her new life, even for a few moments, as he had before?

She did not, of course, realise that he had in fact watched her unseen for the first weeks of her marriage, then torn himself away in disgust. It annoyed him, knowing that this free, innocent girl was being hidden away in the Viennese court, where her very nature meant that she would have been slowly stifled even had she not been faced with a household that had been set against her from the beginning. He finally could no longer bear to watch her struggles to adapt; her pain hurt him too much, and he had been allowing his preoccupation with Elisabeth to get in the way of his duties. He had to go, and hope that when next they encountered each other, she would be ready to join him.

Thus she was left without even this sympathetic observer when, on a state visit with Franz Joseph to the Czech portion of the Empire which seemed to Lisi to be one long military review after another, interspersed with public appearances and audiences with Czech aristocrats who were at least as strait-laced and disapproving as their Viennese counterparts (although at least the visits to poorhouses and orphanages gave her the chance to talk with people from the lower classes, with whom she'd always felt more comfortable, for the first time since before leaving Bavaria), it became clear that she was already with child, and her most difficult trials were just beginning.

Sophie was the first to suspect, and the instant her physician confirmed the diagnosis, she took charge of everything to do with the coming child. A suitable suite of rooms, near her own of course, had to be chosen to serve as the nursery, and properly decorated. Then there would have to be a staff for the little one, and who was more fitting to make appropriate selections? Her most immediate concern, however, was ensuring that the populace knew of Lisi's condition. Spreading word through the court was a matter of moments, naturally, but a potential heir was something that affected all her subjects. To this end, she tried to convince the girl to show herself as much as possible, preferably in gowns that emphasised her changing figure.

To Lisi, however, the idea of parading up and down past the palace gates so that the crowds of curious onlookers could examine her for themselves was a revolting one. Being still a shy young girl of sixteen, she felt that what was happening to her was personal, and not for public consumption. She was also, truth be told, a little ashamed to be seen in such a condition. Sophie, to whom such delicacy was yet more proof that the girl had no sense of her position and the duties it entailed, was at least forced to abandon the open-carriage drives through the city, since it would not do to have the Empress publicly ill on a daily basis. To be honest, Lisi half suspected her mother-in-law thought she had been so on purpose those times, in revenge for having been made to take the drives in the first place, but she did not care anymore. Being bounced along in a carriage had become torturous, and as long as the morning drives were stopped, Sophie's further malice was a small price to pay.

What did hurt her, though, was the discovery that Sophie had forbidden her daily rides. After all, if the Empress was experiencing such discomfort while seated in a luxurious coach, surely she would not be able to tolerate being on a horse! Besides, it was too risky; they could not take the chance of her having an accident that might endanger the life of the child. Elisabeth fought this restriction, pointing out that her skills as a horsewoman were widely praised, and explaining that she never felt at all ill while riding (indeed, galloping through a field, with the wind in her face and nature all around her, was practically the only time she ever felt truly whole since coming to Vienna, although she knew better than to try to tell that to the Archduchess), but her efforts were in vain. She could not even convince Count Grünne to ignore Sophie's edict and take her out anyway; he owed his position in the government to her, and was not willing to act against his strongest political ally's wishes even for the sake of his Empress, fond though he was of her. And since the grooms refused to let her take her horse out alone, she was left with no choice but to stay indoors.

She tried amusing herself with her pets, as during her honeymoon, but Sophie's complaints to Franz Joseph soon put a stop to that. Too much time during the pregnancy spent looking at parrots and dogs, Sophie claimed, would cause a resemblance to such beasts to develop in the child. No, Her Majesty would do far better to spend her time gazing at the Emperor, or her own image in a mirror. Her husband was no support; when she dared turn to him, he always passed her off with empty reassurances of his mother's good intentions, and requested she try harder to get along.

That summer, the Imperial family returned to the villa at Bad Ischl for a few weeks. Sophie, to Lisi's considerable relief, spent part of the time in Dresden, but as Franz Joseph was mostly in Vienna, it left her alone with his father and brothers, whom she did not know very well and at least one of whom, she was certain, was sending negative reports on the Empress's progress to his mother. Her pleasure at being for the most part away from the Viennese court was therefore not as great as she had anticipated, and in the end it was only seeing some of her own family again, for the first time in a year, that made the trip enjoyable to any degree. She had never expected to be so happy to see her mother, and she was even more thrilled at the presence of her brother Karl Theodor and younger sister Mathilde. Sophie's absence made it impossible to convince them of how difficult her new life was, however, and she could not extract a promise for longer, more frequent visits in the future, nor an invitation to join the whole family at Possenhofen for a few weeks.

"To judge from Franz Joseph's letters, it was the first and only time that the Emperor rebuked the mother he adored."

--Brigitte Hamann, Elisabeth: Kaiserin wider Willen

Elisabeth's situation did not improve once the Imperial family was together again in Vienna. Her husband spent hours closeted away with his mother, discussing politics and she knew not what else, but refused to include her in these conversations. He would not even tell her what they were about, what was happening that had everyone looking so grave all the time; he claimed she would not understand, and should not worry over things which were not her problem. If she tried asking anyone else, they just laughed at her for her ignorance, and gossiped with each other about how stupid the young Empress was. Her frustration mounted. What could be the use of changing clothes several times a day, and practicing making small talk, when clearly something of importance was occurring? Why could they not see that she only wanted to help, even if just by sharing in their concern, whatever it was?

The situation only intensified over the course of the winter, before receiving a new dimension: Lisi went into labor early one morning in March. Franz Joseph immediately ran to fetch his mother, who spent the next several hours with the young couple, giving orders to the midwife and providing her son with the reassurance he constantly needed from her. When the child was born that afternoon, the grandmother took immediate control, but Lisi was too exhausted to argue. The last thing she heard as she drifted off to sleep was her aunt's critical "What a shame that it's only a girl..."

Lisi awoke to find that her baby had been fed and comfortably installed in her new nursery--and had been given a name.

"Whose idea was that? And why did you not discuss it with me?"

"Calm down, my angel; you were asleep, and anyway I knew you would not mind. It seemed only right to name her after her godmother, especially since my mother will be taking care of her."

"But I should have been consulted--she is my child, too! I did not have a say in the choice of her godmother, and now I find she has been named without my input as well. I really think you should have asked me, as her mother!"

But of course, he would not listen; his mother could do no wrong, as Lisi had learned many times before. Not even when she chose to be in charge of the nursery a woman who had no children of her own, nor any experience raising them, but whose sole qualification was that she happened to be the widow of a general who had supported the monarchy during the attempted revolutions of 1848; no, Sophie was always right, she had a lot of experience with children, and besides, she meant well.

Lisi did her best not to anger her mother-in-law; after all, the only way she could see her daughter was by making the trip to Sophie's wing of the palace, and the Archduchess was always present when the Empress paid a visit to the young princess. It would be quite easy for the woman to invent reasons that she could not see the baby, and Elisabeth did not want to run that risk. It was a strange feeling, looking on this infant and realising that it was hers, watching it grow, searching for signs of herself in its countenance. She went to the nursery as often as she could get away from her "duties" and could bear the thought of all the stairs she had to climb, yet she still longed for more time with her daughter. In particular, she wanted to spend time alone together, so she could play with her little one as she used to do with her younger brothers and sisters. She had never really understood how loving and affectionate her family had been, despite the coolness between her parents, until she had this opportunity to observe the way her aunt insisted on raising children. First her sons, and now her granddaughter, were to be brought up in isolation, without forming ties which might later undermine imperial sovereignty. It seemed to Lisi a horrible way to spend one's childhood.

She only had a few months in which to attempt to counteract the effects of Sophie's philosophy on her firstborn, however; before the year was out, she found herself again with child, and before too long the stairs became too much for her. When the child, another daughter, was born the following July, Elisabeth was able to get her own mother named godmother. The girl's name, however, was to be Gisela--chosen in honour of a Habsburg ancestor whose memory Lisi had little interest in perpetuating. And still she was without the comfort of her own family; despite Lisi's pleas, Ludovika declined to attend the christening, and Sophie took her sister's place for the ceremony. This child, too, was immediately removed to Sophie's care.

Despite her best efforts, made in hopes of gaining freer access to her children, Elisabeth seemed to be making no progress in gaining Sophie's approval. Every time she turned around, she was confronted with yet another rule that she had violated. Things which were the most natural in the world to Lisi never failed to cause a great scandal among the court; and the summer Gisela was born, barely two years into the marriage, she committed an error which not only shocked Sophie's minions, but made its way into the press.

It was during the annual vacation in Bad Ischl; Franz Joseph and Sophie were both away, so when a clergyman came bearing a charitable petition, the Empress was allowed to receive him herself. He explained that he was wishing to take up a collection in order to build a steeple on his church; being Lutheran, that had been illegal in Austria until the law recently passed allowing non-Catholic churches to have steeples, and his congregation was too poor to pay for such a thing entirely on its own. The Empress was sympathetic.

"I am amazed that you are only now gaining this right; in Bavaria, your fellow Protestants have been allowed to build steeples for over fifty years already. In fact, my late grandfather the King used state funds to help a Lutheran congregation in Munich build theirs, and my grandmother was herself a Protestant. At home in Bavaria, the country as a whole may be arch-Catholic, but we pride ourselves on being tolerant of other views."

"Indeed, Your Majesty, I have heard as much. But as you see, here in Austria things have always been otherwise. It is only since you have come that the rules governing our rights have been relaxed; believe me when I say, most sincerely, that we are grateful to Your Majesty's benevolent influence."

Lisi, touched that the people would attribute such a thing to her, contrary to the low opinion she knew the aristocracy held of her worth, could not resist helping the poor man. Inquiring how much money was needed for the project, she instructed that the entire amount be given, out of her personal allowance. It would more than cover the donation, and after all, she did not really need more gowns! The pastor's overwhelmed gratitude at this gesture meant more to her than anything the money could possibly have bought.

The problems began when, the following morning, a report of the visit appeared in the newspaper. Sophie was scandalised; over Lisi's protests, she immediately had a further report printed, to the effect that the young Empress had been told only that a poor congregation was in need--not that it was in fact a Protestant one. It would not do for a daughter-in-law of the devoutly, conservatively Catholic Sophie to be known to take pity on heretics! Lisi pretended to submit meekly to her aunt's scolding, but was secretly pleased to see that the pastor wrote a letter in response to the lies explaining, most politely, what had really happened. Sophie's attempts to cover up the "scandal" were unsuccessful; for once, people would know the truth, and Sophie would be the one to look foolish. Besides, Lisi was not ashamed of what she had done; she saw no reason to be. Why shouldn't she make donations to worthy causes? She had not used Imperial funds to do so, and what she did with her pin-money really ought to be up to her. Inevitably, however, the rules grew yet stricter following this altercation.

A respite came a few weeks later, when Franz Joseph took her on a trip to the Carinthian countryside--without his mother. For the first time, she discovered that she and her husband had some things in common after all, such as their shared love of the outdoors. They spent many long hours hiking in the mountains, although Lisi was not yet up to full strength, so soon after her confinement. He could actually be almost pleasant, when his mother was not around and he ceased declaring how superior she was to every other human being. After several peaceful days, Elisabeth decided to seize the opportunity to ask him for a favour while his mother could not object; she wanted the children moved closer to her own apartments. It did not take too long to convince him that it would be better if they were where their parents could visit them more easily, and that as their mother she should be with them more often--without the scrutiny of their grandmother. He could not resist his wife's entreaties on his own, without Sophie's strength reinforcing the ideas she had instilled in her son, and before the week was out, he had written his mother informing her of the change. When Sophie's reply came, Lisi was certain that all was lost--surely Franz Joseph would retract his request rather than risk his darling mother's following through on her threat to move out of the Hofburg entirely if the nursery was moved out of her wing. Much to her surprise, however, he remained firm, writing his mother that he felt it too difficult for his wife and himself to visit their children as often as they would like under the circumstances, and even mentioning that he was afraid Sophie's constantly showing the girls off to her friends would make them conceited. In the end, the Empress got her wish, and the children were moved to a more convenient location. She could not help wishing Sophie had not decided to remain living in the palace after all, though; actually winning on such an important matter was hardly likely to endear the Empress to her. But at least Lisi had her children now to help console her.

Part 5

Posted on Monday, 7 February 2000

"The shadows are growing longer. Night's falling, before your day even began. The shadows are growing longer. The world dies with them, don't cling to it!"

--Michael Kunze, "Die Schatten werden länger"

That winter, Franz Joseph was forced to admit that he could no longer completely shield his young wife from the political problems facing him. The Italian provinces were dangerously restless, stirred up by the Italian unification movement, and Hungary had never quite settled down since the revolts in 1848. His own popularity in those parts of his realm had never been great, but his advisors, including the highly-trusted Grünne, felt that the Italian and Hungarian peoples might respond favorably to Elisabeth's beauty. Lisi had heard rumours that she would be asked to make several public appearances, and saw the coming request as a chance to achieve further victories in her struggle against Sophie; if they wanted her help that badly, surely they would be willing to give her something in exchange. It was not long before she had an opportunity to put this theory into practice.

Her husband approached her after dinner one evening. "You may know, my angel, that some of the provinces have not been very...comfortable of late. Your beauty could be very useful to me politically. Come with me to Italy and Hungary, put your charms to work for me."

"Franz Joseph, I would like my children back first," Lisi replied calmly.

"There's no defense against your enchantment..." her husband mused, as if she had never spoken.

Anger at again being ignored lent her strength she had not felt in a long time. "The children must travel with me," she insisted, "without your mother; only then will I accompany you, and make efforts to resolve a political situation which no one has ever been willing to explain to me."

"They are too young for such travel, and it is too dangerous!"

"I go with them or not at all!"

Franz Joseph, while surprised to see his meek young wife making such demands, could see that she meant what she said; it seemed he had no choice. "Very well, so be it. But perhaps, to be safe, we could take just little Sophie with us, and see how she bears the trip to Italy before deciding to bring Gisela along as well?"

Lisi was willing to make the compromise, and over Archduchess Sophie's objections, the couple took their eldest daughter for a four-month stay in Milan and Venice.

Elisabeth was shocked at the reception the Imperial party received everywhere they went in Italy. While she was used to being met coldly by the aristocracy, here she was confronted with outright hostility even by the common people, with whom she had always felt so much affinity in Bavaria and even Austria. Although no one spoke openly to her of assassination attempts, she could easily see that her husband and his ministers feared them; she sensed enough resentment herself to take the threat seriously, and not once did she object to the large military escort which constantly attended the Imperial family. She also refrained from trying to avoid making the public appearances she dreaded, the way she often did in Vienna, and from complaining about the endless troop inspections on which she was expected to accompany the Emperor, despite the recurrence of her health problems. Accustomed as she was to having her efforts overlooked at best, she was astonished and gratified to discover that, by the end of their stay, her husband was attributing the slight improvement in the political atmosphere to the good impression she had made on the populace.

Franz Joseph's gratitude for her support in Italy led him to grant permission for both of the children to travel with them to Hungary a few weeks after the first trip ended, despite little Sophie's having a fever shortly before they left. Dr. Seeburger, whose opinion even the Emperor's mother had to accept, since she was the one who had him appointed as the family physician, assured the couple that her ailments were merely related to teething, and that she was perfectly capable of making the trip. Accordingly, they took their girls to Budapest as planned, once again leaving the Archduchess behind in Vienna.

At once this trip was an improvement on the last. The Hungarians had been inclined to like Elisabeth from the beginning, since rumours of her opposition to Sophie had spread and anyone who did not like the Emperor's staunchly anti-Hungarian mother was a welcome change; they entertained hopes of winning the Empress to their cause, and using her influence to bring about reforms. Already, her presence in the realm had been to their benefit--in honour of first his wedding, then the births of his children, Franz Joseph had been persuaded to relax some of the military restrictions that had been in place since 1848. With the active support of the Empress, perhaps more could be achieved. Once they actually saw her, the Hungarians were, as predicted, drawn to Lisi for her emerging beauty as well as her potential political uses.

For her part, Lisi found herself liking the people she was now being introduced to tremendously. The Hungarian aristocrats were quite different from those in Vienna or Prague; they seemed warmer, more welcoming. More willing to forgive the mistakes she was still making, and to accept her sometimes impulsive nature. In fact, she felt drawn to the Hungarian people as a whole; they shared her love of riding, of the outdoors, of beauty in whatever form. Of freedom. For the first time, she began enjoying the receptions and public appearances. After three years of derision, it was almost overwhelming to be greeted with such genuine warmth! As she was unaware of the region's political problems that her husband was still trying to solve, the only thing which kept the trip from seeming like a dream to her was the continued ill health of her children.

The court was about to leave Budapest for the Hungarian provinces when Gisela became ill, exhibiting the same symptoms Sophie had back in Vienna. Just as she recovered, her sister fell ill again. Dr. Seeburger claimed once more that the ailment was nothing, and Franz Joseph felt comfortable enough with that diagnosis to enjoy his daily hunting parties, yet Lisi could not help but worry. Eventually, it was decided that the parents would continue the trip, leaving the girls in Budapest where the physician could care for them more easily, and despite Lisi's misgivings, the couple left. Five days later, they were met in Debrecen with a telegram: Sophie had taken a turn for the worse. Elisabeth insisted on immediately rushing back to her daughter's side, but by the time they arrived it was already too late. There was nothing she could do but watch, not leaving the crying child for a moment during the final eleven hours of her life.

The nineteen-year-old Empress could not stop blaming herself for her daughter's death. After all, she was the one who had insisted, over her mother-in-law's protests, that the children be brought to Hungary; perhaps if they'd stayed in Vienna, if Lisi had been a better mother, not so selfish, her little one would still be alive. Perhaps Aunt Sophie was right to take control of the girls' upbringing away from her.

It must have been a combination of grief and exhaustion causing her to hallucinate, for just before she fell asleep at last she would have sworn she saw that beautiful stranger from her wedding, holding her poor child in his arms, looking down at her with a tender expression. Lisi let out a cry of hope--Sophie was waving her arms! Could it be that she was not dead after all?--at which he glanced up, his attention shifting to her. His gaze was as entrancing as she remembered. For the first time he began to speak to her, his voice soft yet clear, smooth and mesmerising. "Do you remember the dance we once shared? I felt as if we were more floating than dancing, and that brief moment of contact with you burns in my memory still. You may not realise it yet, but you need me, need what I can offer. And you can have it--just admit that you love me more than that man by your side, and that even though you seem to give him everything, you will be his downfall!"

She knew it had to be a hallucination, because before she had time to reply, he faded from sight; where he had been standing moments before, there were just shadows. Somehow his disappearance, on top of her grief, was too much for her, and the last thing she knew before sleep claimed her was an unbearable despair.

The rest of the trip was immediately cancelled, and the grieving parents returned to Vienna as soon as possible. Their loss was common knowledge around Budapest even before they left, and their charming young Empress's obvious sorrow only served to increase the sympathy her Hungarian subjects had begun feeling for her.

A telegram had been dispatched to inform the Emperor's mother of the news, of course, so they were met with no painful questions regarding the condition of their little one. Lisi was barely aware enough of her surroundings to notice that her mother-in-law greeted her with a hug that was surely meant to be comforting; she lacked the energy to be surprised, however, and retreated to her room as soon as she could. All she wanted was to be alone, to never see another person again, to be allowed to mourn in privacy.

"Poor Sisi is much affected by all the memories that confront her here on all sides, and she cries a great deal."

--Kaiser Franz Joseph

Lisi's withdrawal from the world around her grew only more severe as the weeks went by. She stopped responding to all but the most forceful and direct addresses, and ate but rarely. Even that seemed to take all her energy. If she could not have the solitude she so desperately needed in the external world, she would retreat into herself, where she could be alone with her grief.

She was not, unfortunately, so dead to other people as to prevent their conversation from occasionally penetrating her consciousness. While most of the gossip that composed the majority of conversations at court swirled around her like so much fog, one day her own name caught her attention.

"Elisabeth should stop behaving like a spoiled child, I say. All this fuss because she lost a baby; well, who has not at one time or other had a child die in infancy? One must move on with one's life; it was only a girl, after all, not an heir."

"Yes, of course, but really, what can one expect? The Archduchess is right; the Empress is still a child herself, she should not be trying to raise children of her own. After all, she forced the poor Emperor to go against Sophie's wishes in taking the children to Hungary in the first place, and look what happened!"

"Very true, my dear. And now the girl is making obvious plays for sympathy; well, I for one am not surprised. Nor am I surprised that she is not receiving any. I am, however, astonished that the Emperor's mother has not properly chastised her for such behaviour..."

Lisi barely noticed when the women passed out of earshot; she was too overcome by what she had already heard. This conversation confirmed her own fears that she was at fault in little Sophie's death. The guilt she had already been feeling grew to be even stronger than her grief, and forced her further into her isolation.


Franz Joseph, while saddened by their loss, became more concerned for his wife as months passed and her emotional state did not improve. Her physical health was suffering as well, due to lack of nourishment, and for the first time he could remember, his mother was unable to solve a problem he brought her. Sophie's lack of sympathy for her niece was hardly surprising--the lost child had been a particular favourite of hers, after all, and at least Lisi had stopped trying to interfere with Sophie's more experienced efforts to raise her remaining granddaughter properly. Besides, the Archduchess did not hold with strong emotions; their expression was not consistent with the sovereignty the Imperial Family must maintain at all times, and showed a shocking lack of self-discipline as well. Such reminders could provide but little comfort to her son under the circumstances; at length it was decided that they could do nothing to help her, and a letter was sent to Ludovika in Munich. Maybe if Lisi's mother and some of her sisters were present, they could find some way to help cheer her up.

The plan worked, at least to the extent that this rare opportunity to be reunited with her family was not something Lisi was willing to miss, even in the depths of her depression. Slowly she was persuaded to focus some of her attention outward, at least while she was alone with her mother and sisters. By the time the visit was over, those around her noticed a marked improvement.

Sophie, however, had little time to spare for her troublesome daughter-in-law. Her second son, Maximillian, was shortly to be married to Princess Charlotte of Belgium, and there was much to be done to prepare for the bride's arrival. Sophie had high hopes for this new daughter-in-law, who was of higher birth than Elisabeth and more accustomed to court life. Indeed, although the same age Elisabeth had been upon marrying, Charlotte proved far more suitable to her new position than the Empress had, enjoying the state appearances and ceremony that had never grown comfortable for Lisi. She was also a good Catholic, and quite willing to take her mother-in-law's advice about anything and everything. Sophie took no pains to conceal her preference, constantly and publicly comparing her with Lisi. Feeling, as she was, rather despondent still, Lisi did not react well to the constant reminders of her own incompetence, which only weakened her already low self-esteem. Any attempts she might have made to welcome Charlotte were soon abandoned.

December brought Elisabeth's twentieth birthday, and signs that another child was on the way. Always hopeful that the next pregnancy might produce the heir, Sophie once again took charge of Lisi's every waking moment. She could no longer be allowed to starve herself, as she had since little Sophie's death; she must eat properly, and take long daily walks--whether she felt she had the energy to do so or not. Her dark moods had been indulged long enough. Lisi obeyed merely because it proved easier, and less tiring, than resuming her previous struggles against her aunt. It was not until she received a letter from her mother requesting assistance for Helene that Lisi truly began exerting herself once more.

By this time, Néne was twenty-two years old, and resigned to the prospect of remaining unwed. Ludovika had not yet abandoned her search for a suitable husband, however, and recently she had actually received an offer. The Hereditary Prince of Thurn und Taxis was not nearly so exalted a suitor as she had once hoped to find for her eldest daughter, of course, but at this stage she was just happy there was someone. The problem was Ludovika's brother; he refused to grant his consent to the match, as being beneath the niece of the King of Bavaria. It was hoped that requests from the Empress of Austria could persuade him to change his mind.

Lisi forced herself to greater pains to comply with her mother's request than she had with anything else since leaving Hungary. She was motivated not so much by the fact that it was for her mother as by love for her sister and remnants of guilt. If she had not (unintentionally, and unwillingly, it was true) captured Franz Joseph's attention that first summer at Ischl, Helene would have been comfortably married years ago, and would not now need her younger sister's help in securing a husband who was beneath her simply because he was the only person who would have her. If Néne wanted to marry him rather than remain unwed the rest of her life, then Elisabeth would do everything in her power to make that possible.

Soon there was another sister needing her assistance. Marie, who was now sixteen, had been promised to the Crown Prince of Naples, and needed reassurances. Being sent so far from her home, to a country in which she knew no one and could not speak the language, was difficult enough for her to come to terms with; worse were the rumours that her fiancé; was not only unpersonable, but a religious zealot as well. Elisabeth was her only married sister, and as such was the only person whose words of comfort she was likely to believe on this matter. Lisi could not provide much from her own experiences that might give encouragement, but she could and did find out as much as she could about the Prince so that at least her sister would have some idea what she could expect once the marriage took place. Between them, her sisters' betrothals provided the grieving Empress' only voluntary connection with the world around her, and by the time she went into labor in August, the efforts she was making on their behalf had gradually succeeded in drawing her largely out of her depression.

Unlike with Gisela and poor little Sophie, this birth was a difficult one. Long before the child actually arrived, Lisi's screams could be heard throughout the palace; when it was finally over, however, she felt that the previous twenty-four hours of torture had been worth it: at last there was an heir, and now they could not use "duty" to force her to have more children if she did not wish it. Indeed, another pregnancy right away was out of the question; between the after-effects of this birth, the exhaustion of three confinements in four years, and once again being denied the nursing of the infant, Lisi's body was worn out. For several weeks after young Rudolf's birth she suffered from recurring fevers, and her health had still not fully improved by that winter. Franz Joseph and Sophie barely noticed, so happy were they that the Habsburg line would continue uninterrupted. The day his son entered the world, the Emperor granted him the rank of colonel in the Imperial Army and awarded him the Order of the Golden Fleece. Sophie once again oversaw all aspects of her grandchild's life, beginning with the choice of his wetnurse. The Crown Prince was to be a great soldier and a credit to his illustrious ancestors, and no expense was to be spared in preparing him to fulfill that destiny.

Lisi, resigned to the loss of yet another child to its grandmother's care and still mourning the death of her firstborn, yet too weak to take part in the activities she habitually used to temporarily escape the court, was ecstatic when her sister Marie came to Vienna for two weeks in January. She had been married by proxy, and was on her way to join her new husband in Naples. While they were together, the two sisters were, for the first time in what felt like forever, happy, spending nearly every evening at the theatre or the circus, watching races in the Prater, and generally amusing themselves. Elisabeth received permission to journey with her sister and eldest brother to Trieste, where Marie would be met by the delegation from her new country. Even the Empress, who had seen so many ornate ceremonies practiced in the Austrian court, was astonished at the almost medieval rituals with which her sister was turned over to the Neapolitans. Watching her younger sister board the ship in which she was to complete the journey, Lisi realised that despite all her troubles, in some ways she was luckier than Marie; at least Lisi was in a country where she spoke the language, and that was close enough to her home that she could still see her family on occasion. Marie was still barely able to communicate in Italian, and the only creature from home she had been allowed to bring with her was her pet canary; they knew not when they might ever see her again.

The letters they soon began receiving from Naples were not encouraging. Marie's husband, in addition to being staunchly conservative and fanatically Catholic, was noticeably weak both physically and mentally. To make things worse, only a few weeks after her arrival, her father-in-law died and Marie found herself Queen of the Two Sicilies--at the head of a highly autocratic regime that was constantly faced with the threat of revolution and the Italian unification movement. She attempted to sound cheerful in her letters, but the photographs she sometimes included revealed the many hardships she was enduring. It was in light of his royal sisters' unhappiness in their marriages that their brother Ludwig caused a family scandal by renouncing his title and right to the inheritance in favour of marrying his long-time mistress. Elisabeth was delighted by the news, and the more their relatives spoke out against it, the more determined she was to publicly welcome her new sister. She was sick of marriages for dynastic reasons, and saw no reason in the world that her brother should not be happy simply because the woman he had loved for years was a mere actress. In fact, she quite enjoyed causing a minor scandal herself in inviting the pair to Vienna, and making a point of being seen together. Although she might be forced to relinquish her children, she resolved that Sophie would never succeed in dictating to her how she should treat her own siblings.

"It was all a lie, what they promised you. Everyone has betrayed you...."

--Michael Kunze, "Einladung zum Ball"

Franz Joseph persisted in his efforts to keep his wife ignorant of the political situation, but by the end of April affairs in the Italian provinces had escalated to such an extent that complete ignorance was impossible. An ultimatum he had issued in response to the increasing unrest in Piedmont was ignored, leaving him with no choice but to follow through with his threats. The rest of the world viewed Austria as the aggressor, despite the Emperor's utter belief in the impossibility of his actions being unjustified. France openly supported Piedmont, and even Prussia refused to aid its Germanic neighbor. Drastic tax increases were necessary in order to pay for the army; various Italian Habsburgs fled to Vienna seeking refuge from the upheavals in the provinces. Life for Franz Joseph continued essentially as before, however, with hunting parties to lead and horse races to attend. As a concession to the war, Sophie personally sent 85,000 cigars to the Austrian troops to boost morale; Lisi, still kept uninformed of the true state of affairs, and marginally reassured by the way everyone around her seemed to dismiss the war as unimportant, joined the ladies of the court in rolling bandages, but found she could not quite believe that matters were very desperate.

The Viennese court's complacency vanished, though, when the incompetence of the generals in the field led to a disastrous loss. Upon receiving reports of the battle, Franz Joseph immediately broke off diplomatic talks with Germany in order to travel to the front himself. Lisi at first tried to convince him to stay in Vienna, where he could continue his efforts to gain support from his allies; when he refused to even consider the idea, she begged to be allowed to accompany him. If anything should happen to the Emperor, she would be left alone in Vienna with her mother-in-law, and the thought was unbearable. Her pleas fell on deaf ears.

Soon after he left, the Empress fell ill once again, eating nothing and going riding for hours at a time, avoiding not just court functions, as she usually did, but family meals as well. Even Sophie was baffled, finally sending for the doctor who had treated Lisi's family in Bavaria, as he was more familiar with the girl and more trusted by her than the court physician. Word from Italy did nothing to improve matters; Franz Joseph's letters contained page after page describing the battles in detail, listing the names of the many wounded and dead. Despite his reassurances, no one could believe the Emperor was not in danger himself, and for once Lisi and the members of the court were united: in their worry. Unable to continue in her state of ignorance, Lisi went to any length necessary to find copies of the newspapers, especially the foreign or underground publications, as being less likely to be censored. What she read horrified her. Not only were thousands of soldiers dying, but the people even on the far side of the realm from the fighting were suffering tremendously. The army had been losing money for years, simply because the Emperor insisted on maintaining military splendour despite the costs, and now even more funds had to be raised. The people found themselves faced with astronomical taxes, rapid inflation, impossibly high rents and food prices. Throughout the Empire, complaints against the military, absolutist regime were becoming more and more common despite the government's efforts to suppress such views--and the twenty-one-year-old Empress found herself agreeing with them. What she saw at the hospital she established in Laxenburg to help care for the wounded only strengthened her opposition to her husband's current policies. Despite the drastic fundraising for the military, almost nothing had been spent on care for the wounded, who numbered over 60,000 before the war was over. Lisi did her best to find room for them anywhere she could--in the palace, in convents, in churches. Most were doomed from the beginning, for there simply were not enough doctors or medicines to care for them properly. The long days she spent among them, trying to give courage to those she could not help in more lasting ways, convinced her that nothing could justify such slaughter. Even Sophie could not fault the Empress' efforts; she often spent so much time attending the wounded that she forgot to take any nourishment or rest for herself, and began imagining she caught glimpses of the hallucination that attended her in Budapest, now standing calmly by the bed of one dying soldier or another. When she did take time for herself, she urged Franz Joseph to conclude a peace as soon as possible, but he persisted in believing that Prussia or Germany would come to Austria's aid at any time. Then it became impossible for even him to pretend that this war could be won.

On June 18, Franz Joseph expressed his dissatisfaction with the way his generals were running things, and declared himself in immediate command of the troops. The very next battle proved that decision to be a complete disaster. Losses were greater than for any other part of the war, and even Napoleon III stated that France's victory at Solferino was due entirely to Franz Joseph's inexperience and his premature decision to retreat, rendering all the lost lives completely in vain. The Treaty of Villefranche resulted in Austria's entirely losing Lombardy, once its richest province. A new revolution was threatening in Hungary. Back in Vienna, always before supportive of the young Emperor, the people were demanding that he abdicate in favour of his brother Maximillian, and that General Adjutant Grünne, whose influence was seen as a major factor in the conduct of the war, be dismissed.

Despite the open dissatisfaction with his rule, Franz Joseph went about his routine cheerfully after returning to Vienna. The military defeat, he was certain, was no fault of his own. The assassination plots that were uncovered, he dismissed easily, including the plan by a footman in the Hofburg itself to murder the Emperor and his mother while they slept. The widespread corruption that had been revealed in the financial and military systems were no more than a nuisance, causing as they did the Finance Minister to commit suicide, and forcing Franz Joseph to dismiss several other officials he had relied on for his entire reign to date. Most annoyingly, he was left with no choice but to dismiss Grünne himself from his posts of adjutant general and head of the military chancellery, although he insisted on his oldest friend's retaining the position of head of the Imperial stables.

By winter, his mother and his wife had renewed their enmity, now with the added stress of political differences. Hardly a day went by when one or both of them did not appeal to him for support against the other, and with Grünne's help he began spending more and more time away from the family apartments, either hunting or even more agreeably engaged. His absences had meant little to Elisabeth at first, but eventually the rumours reached the Empress' ears. While they were just snatches of whispered gossip that she caught as she entered a room, she could ignore them; but one day she found herself confronted by an unfamiliar courtier who, he said, wanted only to ensure she knew the truth, and told her something which she had dreaded hearing.

"That cannot possibly be true! What on earth are you thinking? To say such infamous things about one's Emperor! It is completely impossible."

"Impossible, Your Majesty? Why do you think that? After all, an emperor is still a man, is still weak. And he has more temptations than most...."

Still Lisi refused to believe it. "My husband is faithful to me!" she insisted. After all, he had not been forced to marry her, as so many men of his station were left without choice in their brides. Her own father had never pretended to be faithful to her mother, but her case was different--Franz Joseph married her not for political reasons, but because he loved her. Helene had said as much those first days in Ischl: Lisi's marriage was to be special! How could he now be betraying her this way?

"I am afraid you are mistaken, Your Majesty."

"Oh God, if it is really true, how can I ever show my face again? Everyone must know; I'm sure they are laughing at me! They never wanted me here in the first place....."

"That is certainly true. But what are you going to do about it?"

"I hate him! He will never do this to me again." Lisi was so furious with her husband that she could barely think. He was the only thing besides the children keeping her in Austria; if he, too, was now pushing her aside entirely, what had she to remain for? "I'll abandon him forever--no, better! I will kill myself!"

Her reaction was all her informant had hoped. "Do so, Elisabeth! I shall be waiting for you!"

His words shocked her, but not nearly as much as the realisation that came a moment afterwards. As if a veil had dropped, she recognised the "courtier" as the man she had seen before, and knew suddenly that his appearances in Budapest and the hospital at Laxenburg had not been hallucinations as she had believed. As the truth dawned on her, she became determined not to do as he wished after all. Had not he deceived her as well, attending her wedding pretending to be something he was not? He, too, would see that her trust could not be betrayed with impunity!

"This is perhaps your final opportunity, you must realise; seize it! Come away with me, escape this life, this husband who cannot appreciate you. Leave everything behind and know true freedom at last!" His voice was smooth and enchanting as before, but Lisi had had enough of people telling her what she ought to do, and remained firm in her decision not to allow herself to be ordered about.

"No, I'm staying here! In truth, my husband has done me a favour--where his morals end, my freedom begins! His guilt gives me the right to break the chains that bind me here; if he sees no reason to honour our vows, why should I continue to fight for this marriage? No, indeed, I will not go with you, and let his actions remain unpunished. Leave me!"

Gratifyingly, he disappeared as ordered, leaving Lisi alone to plot her course of action. Later she would find the memory of his utterly crushed expression at her rejection painful, but for now her anger left her no sympathy for him or anyone else. The entire court knew of her humiliation, it seemed; well, she would show them that she did not care. They could laugh at her all they wished, but she would not give them the satisfaction of knowing how much her husband's betrayal bothered her. Instead, she threw herself into court society with as much energy as she had formerly exerted to avoid it, attending nearly all the large private balls, not only those at which her presence was required by protocol, and even hosting six smaller ones in her private apartments during the course of the season. She took special delight in causing gossip of her own due to the guest lists of these occasions: for while she did not deviate from traditional etiquette so far as to invite young people the court would consider of insufficient breeding, she did refuse to extend the invitation to the girls' mothers. While Lisi's parties were not remotely wild enough to have made the presence of chaperones inhibiting, she particularly enjoyed using the complete absence of older women as an excuse for banishing Archduchess Sophie from them.

Sadly, all too soon Elisabeth found herself in need of Franz Joseph's cooperation; in May, Garibaldi's troops had succeeded in conquering Sicily and were now threatening Naples. Marie wrote Vienna begging her sister to send help, but Lisi was unable to persuade the Emperor to send any military or financial assistance. Sophie repeatedly declared that the state of affairs in Austria would not permit such aid, so soon after the disastrous war in Piedmont and with the government's popularity at an unprecedented low. Although this was probably true, the way her mother-in-law said it made Lisi suspect that help would have been forthcoming despite the circumstances, had the relatives in need not come from her side of the family. When it became obvious that no amount of entreaty would change their decision, she abandoned the attempt and instead invited her two eldest brothers to Vienna, hoping that between them a plan to rescue their sister could be found, but this, too, proved fruitless. In July she made one last effort to convince her husband to change his mind: she took Gisela and left for Possenhofen, her first visit there in five years, in hopes that he would yield if he was faced with the idea of losing her. Unfortunately, it appeared that his protestations of utter devotion were empty, and she was forced to return to Vienna in time for his birthday in August to avoid causing a general scandal, her quest still unfulfilled. She was too angry and disappointed to face him alone, however, and insisted on bringing Karl Theodor and Mathilde with her for moral support.

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