Sisi, page 18
Frederick and his wife, a young English princess named Victoria, after her mother, England’s Queen Victoria, were lodging with their retinue at the nearby Habsburg property of Hetzendorf Castle during their visit. Because this was imperial Vienna, everything had been scheduled down to the minute. Sisi and Franz were to depart shortly before their German counterparts so that they could be on hand at the fairgrounds to provide a formal and official welcome as their most esteemed guests arrived.
As the footmen opened the doors of the imperial coach, one of Franz Joseph’s generals, Count Grünne, stepped forward. “If you please, Your Majesty?”
“Yes, what is it, Grünne?”
The general appeared nervous now, hesitating a moment before answering. “We’ve received word that the crown prince and princess were ready…and rather than wait, it was Their Majesties’ wish to depart for the fairgrounds.”
Franz stood silent and still, eyeing his general. “And, have they? Departed for the fair?”
Grünne nodded once, a tight jerk of his chin, his gaze falling to the ground.
Sisi felt Franz stiffen beside her, and she turned to see that his cheeks had flushed scarlet beneath his thick beard. His words, though quiet, contained a frightening fury. “Then they shall arrive before us? And we won’t be there to greet them?”
Again, Grünne nodded.
“This is entirely unacceptable!” Franz spat. Protocol hadn’t been kept. His carefully orchestrated plans had not been heeded—this, Sisi knew, was a cardinal sin in Franz Joseph’s view. All eyes in the courtyard now rested nervously on the emperor, whose mustache had begun to quiver. “It makes us look disorganized and terribly rude for not being on hand to welcome our guests!”
The courtyard pulsed with an agitated quiet. Rudolf slid away from his father, as if to seek refuge behind his mother’s broad skirt. Andrássy and Grünne shuffled on their feet, exchanging a quick glance. Franz remained motionless, frozen in silent anger, his face appearing dark against the pristine white of his Prussian tunic. And then he barked his question to no one in particular: “Who allowed this to happen?”
Everyone in the courtyard began to fidget, the emperor’s fury all the more discomfiting because Franz Joseph so rarely displayed any chink in his well-rehearsed composure. So rarely betrayed a temper. But his anger continued to mount when no one answered, and he yelled, “And against my orders? A gross breach in protocol! This is an embarrassment! Someone will be punished for this error!”
Now even the imperial guards, usually so impassive as to resemble statues, seemed to shiver as Franz’s words filled the courtyard. Seeing that nobody else would dare to do so, and sensing that this outburst stemmed from nerves and exhaustion rather than any authentic rage, Sisi stepped forward, her tone low and conciliatory. “Franz, my dear.” She put her hand on her husband’s arm and he turned to look at her, his cheeks puce under the thick tangle of his sideburns.
Sisi offered an entreating smile, speaking so softly that it seemed she was whispering only to him. “Please, my dear, let’s not waste any more time. If Frederick and Victoria are ahead of us, then let’s go at once. We may be able to catch them.” And then, searching out the words that she knew would resonate with her husband, Sisi added: “Let’s you and I stay calm, for the others.”
Franz considered her appeal, drawing in a long, slow breath. As he exhaled, he nodded, his lips pressed in a tight line. The wild stallion of his temper reined in, heeled once more. Finally, he said, “Yes. I apologize for forgetting myself.” He offered his hand to help her into the coach, and Sisi took it.
“Let’s be off,” Franz called now to the crowd in the courtyard, and everyone, it seemed, let out a collective sigh of relief.
—
A small party was sent out to intercept and divert Frederick’s coach with a tour along the Danube so that it worked out that Franz and Sisi arrived just moments before the German cavalcade and were ready to officially welcome their guests as they arrived.
Crown Prince Frederick stepped down from his coach into the balmy May morning, a stern and unsmiling man. Sisi studied his appearance with interest. He cut an imposing figure; though he wasn’t tall, he stood broad shouldered and sturdy in the same Prussian military attire worn by Franz.
As Franz and Rudolf conducted the formalities of greeting the heir to the German Empire, Sisi stepped forward to meet his wife, a young woman with pale eyes and dark hair against fair skin. “Princess Victoria, it is such a pleasure to meet you. Welcome to Vienna.”
“Empress Elisabeth, the pleasure is mine. You are famous from my homeland of England all the way to my new home in Berlin!” Victoria was not exactly a beauty—she had too much of her mother’s boxy build—but she was warm and agreeable, and she spoke German with the hint of a charming English accent.
“I hope that your journey from Berlin was not too tiring, Princess?”
“Not at all, thank you, Empress Elisabeth. And it was worth it. Look around us! Vienna is as splendid as I’ve always heard it to be. But, if you please, Empress Elisabeth, meet my mother-in-law, Her Imperial Majesty the Empress Augusta of Germany.”
The Crown Princess Victoria slid gracefully aside as a giantess stepped forward. Empress Augusta was even more imposing than her surly son, standing at over six feet tall and with shoulders so expansive that Sisi understood, instantly, why Prussian men made for such formidable warriors, since even their women were built like Goliath. “Welcome to Vienna, Empress Augusta,” Sisi said, smiling up at the woman.
“Empress Elisabeth!” When Augusta spoke to Sisi, it was with a voice so deep and booming—a sound that seemed to originate from somewhere deep inside her cavernous chest—that Sisi had to suppress the instinct to erupt in a gale of startled laughter.
“Goodness,” Sisi whispered to Franz as the party fell into a procession, making its way toward the massive rotunda. “I shall have to call her Madame Foghorn.”
“Sisi!” Franz shot his wife a scolding look, but she noticed the hint of his smile.
Franz and Sisi were to play host and hostess, showing off the millions of marvels and exhibits assembled within the massive grounds making up the largest world’s fair ever planned. But first, as this was a Habsburg party, there had to be a proper nod to protocol and tradition. The imperial party stood solemnly while the two national anthems were played—first Austria’s, then Germany’s.
That formality out of the way, Franz led the group on a course that he and his ministers had already mapped out, the crowds gently and efficiently pushed aside like a parting sea by a column of imperial guards.
“The motto we settled upon is Kultur und Erzsiehung, ‘Culture and Education,’ ” Franz explained, gesturing from left to right. “Every exhibitor accepted to display here—and there were hundreds of thousands of applicants—had to show how he was advancing one cause or the other. In Austria-Hungary, it is always about achieving greatness in those fields.”
Frederick stood beside Franz, listening, and Rudolf stood on his father’s other side. Sisi trailed just behind with Victoria and Augusta, looking at the men. Their three silhouettes could not have been more different, she thought. In the center walked Franz, the cordial and conscientious host, advanced in his years and dignified because of his well-trained posture, his silvering hair, and his position as accomplished patriarch of his people. On his one side stood the thick and stern German officer, a man who had come of age fighting battles and forging a new empire from blood and iron and willful determination. To the other side was Rudolf—youngest of the three, slight of frame, timid and soft-spoken, his eyes roving restlessly across the space as if seeking out a path by which he might escape.
These two younger men would be rulers at the same time; allies, even, if the course set by Franz Joseph and Andrássy continued. Would Rudolf ever grow into his role? Sisi wondered. Would he ever carry himself with the same authority and self-assurance that Frederick so clearly displayed, even now when he was a guest in a foreign country?
As they entered the rotunda, all eyes from the crowd landed on them, so that Sisi felt as if she were on exhibit, even more so than the goods bursting from each of the booths. As the guards kept the crowds at bay, Franz ignored the gawking and gaping and plowed his way forward, treading determinedly down the long and colorful aisles. Andrássy, the highest-ranking minister present, kept a respectful distance behind with the nonroyal members of the entourage, accompanied by Marie and Ida.
Four massive halls sprouting off of the rotunda comprised the central core of the exhibition: the halls of agriculture, art, machinery, and industry. Franz did not skip a single aisle, paying his respects with a formal nod to each bowing exhibitor as he passed. Sisi’s favorite sight was the Ethnographic Village, a sprawling plot filled with European farmhouses that were actually inhabited by peasants and farmers of many different nationalities. She sought out the Hungarian enclave and greeted the peasants there in their native tongue.
Farther on, Victoria marveled at the mock-up of a Croatian seaside port, telling her husband that she should very much like to visit Croatia. Augusta found the collection of Japanese furniture and clothing—more than six thousand pieces—to be especially entertaining, and she expressed her appreciation in her deep baritone that seemed to startle the Japanese craftsmen and craftswomen.
When the royal party came to the model of the city of Jerusalem, Sisi exchanged a glance with Andrássy, recalling the letters he had written to her from that city, notes in which he had detailed its ancient streets and hidden gardens. How he had bathed in the Jordan River, hoping it would bring his nation good fortune. She pulled her eyes away from him now. “Come, Victoria, let’s go find that new communication device they have invented, the telephone, isn’t that what they call it? I hear that someday I shall be able to speak to my family as far away as Bavaria.”
Though Frederick remained mute and inexpressive as the group perused the stalls, Sisi noted how his eyes took in the rows of restaurants and cafés, the manicured gardens where flowers burst forth as if in their natural environment, the full-sized ships that looked as if they had been marooned on Viennese soil after Noah’s floodwaters receded.
Equally as dazzling as the exhibits and inventions were the Viennese visitors who gawked at the displays, filling the halls with their appreciative oohs and aahs. The women had all come with the obvious hope of spotting their imperial hosts, and they were covered in diamonds and pearls and feathers and silks. The young maidens giggled and smiled at Rudolf as he passed, turning only in time to catch a glimpse of Sisi. When they spotted the empress, they took in her appearance like devoted pupils, studying her hairstyle and her jewelry so that they might return to their parents’ new mansions along the Ringstrasse and find the best way to imitate her.
“Your Viennese women dress with more flair than we do in Berlin,” Victoria noted, staring at one woman in an elaborate gown of shimmering fawn satin, her hair festooned with more feathers than a plump wild pheasant.
“Ah, yes.” Sisi nodded. “In Vienna, one must always concern oneself with the appearance of things.”
The booths delighted the fairgoers, and the cafés pleased them, luring people in with the promising aromas of strong Turkish coffee and sweetly fried dough. Most impressive of all, however, were the soaring proportions of the central rotunda. Even Frederick—impossible-to-impress Frederick—asked whether they might return to look at the domed hall from the inside once more. Franz agreed with an obliging smile.
“Cost us enough! Twice the original amount my engineers projected.” Franz shrugged with indulgent, fatherly exasperation. Sisi guessed that, had he to do it over again, Franz would spend just as much, if only for the satisfaction of this present moment, having clearly dazzled his unimpressionable German rival-turned-ally. “It’s larger than St. Peter’s in the Vatican,” Franz said, looking up at the soaring ceiling appreciatively, perhaps hoping his guests would do the same. “And more than twice the size of your Crystal Palace in London, Princess Victoria. What would the mighty Queen Victoria think of that? After all of that British boasting, eh?”
Franz made the comment not with the intention of deriding England, but merely to prop up Austria—Sisi knew that. But the literal Germans seemed to have taken offense at this, because they turned toward Franz now with their mouths falling slightly open. Even Madame Foghorn went quiet.
Veiled boasting was one thing; an outright statement that one’s own kingdom might have done something better than another—why, wars had been started over less. Victoria’s light skin went a shade paler as she offered no reply.
Franz, realizing too late the coarseness of his remark, looked to his wife, his own mouth now falling open, too, but lacking the words with which to absolve himself. The world’s most seasoned, most self-disciplined host had forgotten himself, had committed a mortifying blunder.
“Victoria?” Sisi intervened, looping her arm through the princess’s, as if they were longtime confidantes whispering in a school yard. She set off at a slow walk, guiding Victoria toward a nearby booth of hand-painted Greek vases. “You must tell me about horseback riding in the English countryside. I’ve heard such fantastic things.”
“Oh?” Victoria turned, somewhat surprised but flattered by Sisi’s sudden gesture of intimacy.
Sisi leaned close now, beaming at the younger woman. “I believe your family is acquainted with Prince Nikolaus Esterházy?”
Now the princess smiled, a sheepish, eyes-tilting-downward expression—Nicky seemed to have that effect on most women.
“I ride with him in Hungary,” Sisi continued, “and he is always telling me that I must go to England if I wish to experience a true hunting season.”
“If Your Majesty enjoys riding to hounds in a fox chase, then truly, there is no better place than England,” Victoria agreed, the offense by Franz clearly forgotten. And, with that, what began as an attempt by Sisi to distract the young princess turned into a conversation of genuine and shared interest. Princess Victoria was intelligent and chatty, and she happily regaled Sisi with stories from her childhood at her mother’s countryside estate, Osborne House, where members of her royal family would ride out for fox hunts.
“And you will meet my brother Edward soon, won’t you?” Victoria asked.
“Yes,” Sisi said, “I believe the English delegation is due to arrive just after you leave. I look forward to meeting the crown prince.”
“Oh, I wish my stay could have overlapped with Edward’s…even just for one day.”
Sisi couldn’t help but notice the longing in the princess’s voice. “Do you miss home, England, ever?” Sisi picked up one of the Greek vases before them and admired it. She knew to tread cautiously in moving from talk of hunting to a topic that touched on the personal.
Victoria cast a fleeting glance toward the thick, unyielding frame of her husband, her smile faltering momentarily, like a candle flickering in a chilly breeze. But then she remembered herself, and her entire posture became more stiff. She was, after all, Queen Victoria’s daughter. She understood—had been made to understand from a young age—her role in this world. “Berlin is my home,” Victoria answered matter-of-factly, turning back to Sisi, her face inscrutable. She picked up a nearby clay amphora and appeared suddenly very taken with the bronze artwork along its rim. And then, as if fearful that she hadn’t sufficiently convinced Sisi—or perhaps herself—Victoria added: “I was honored to leave England for Germany. I’m blessed in my role as Prince Frederick’s wife.”
Spoken like a true royal, Sisi thought. But she lowered her voice and whispered: “I miss my home in Bavaria all the time.”
Victoria flashed a surprised look at her hostess, her pale eyes suddenly wide and inquiring, as if she was wondering whether she had understood Sisi correctly. Had she actually just heard the empress of Austria-Hungary, the hostess of all of this surrounding splendor, confess that sometimes she found her imperial role to be anything other than wonderful?
But Victoria was clearly more disciplined than Sisi, or else simply more content, because she did not agree with Sisi. At least, not out loud. Placing the vase back where she had found it, pulling her shoulders back so that her posture was once more impeccable, Victoria said, “But if you love hunting, Empress Elisabeth, then you simply must visit my family in England during the hunting season.”
“I would like that,” Sisi said, sighing as she turned to look at the line of nearby booths.
“Mother would be delighted to have you as a guest. Lord Spencer—he’s the nobleman you’ll want to know; he organizes the best riding parties in the whole country. Near his estate in Althorp.”
Sisi nodded. “You have me convinced, Victoria.”
“My, just look at all of this,” Victoria said, glancing down a long row lined with stalls featuring spices from Morocco, leather saddles from Spain, hand-crafted jewelry from Tyrol, and heavily plumed hats and veils and bonnets from Paris. “Anything one could ever want…it’s all right here. We are young, our new German Empire. But here, you Austrians, why, your people must enjoy such satisfaction, such fulfillment, such pride knowing that they come from such a productive and advanced society.”
Sisi surveyed the scene before her, her gaze falling on her husband, his stiff frame dressed in the hated Prussian uniform to please Frederick. Next she looked at Andrássy, who caught her eyes every few minutes before dutifully turning away. At Rudolf, who watched nervously as his father spoke to Frederick about the innovative architectural advances his engineers had pioneered in propping up the domed ceiling overhead. And then Sisi looked at the people all around her: At the ladies dressed in their brightest silks, staring at Rudolf and Sisi and Franz Joseph. At the massive hall that had cost her family millions to erect, built in such a rushed and slipshod manner that it would likely begin to decay as soon as the fair closed. Why, the people didn’t know this, but Franz had confessed to Sisi that even the ground beneath them was soggy and unstable, threatening to cause the buildings to sink and collapse. But none of these fissures or weaknesses mattered, did they, as long as nobody knew of their existence?
