ELISABETH
Empress of Austria
I am Sunday’s child, a child of the sun;
Her golden rays she wove into my throne,
With her glow she wove my crown,
It is in her light that I live.
Empress Elisabeth.
The Fairy Princess
It is Christmas Eve, 1837. Snow falls on the Bavarian city of Munich, bells ring in the holy season and sorcery and magic fill the air. Duchess Ludovica Wittelsbach has just given birth to a baby girl, Elisabeth. The infant is born with one ‘lucky tooth’ already through, causing great excitement within the household. In Bavarian lore, this is regarded as a sign that the child is destined for great things. For Princess Elisabeth Amalie Eugenie Wittelsbach, this prophesy held true.
Myth also has it that, on this most enchanted of evenings, a Good Faerie cast a spell giving the little Princess exceptional beauty, sweetness, dignity, grace, kindness and wit. But at the same hour, a Wicked Faerie also cast a spell: nothing would bring this exquisite child happiness; even her extraordinary beauty would bring her sorrow.
Some considered it unlucky to be born on Christmas Eve and there are many legends about Elisabeth – or ‘Sisi’ – as the family called her. Destined to be the future Empress of Austria, her world famous beauty bore testament to the generous gifts of the Good Faerie. But her tragic and unhappy life constantly echoed to the cruel curse of the Wicked Faerie.
The Wrong Daughter
By the age of ten Sisi had found an enjoyable outlet by writing poems, which she kept carefully locked away in a little velvet notebook. As she grew into a beautiful young woman, the subjects of these childish verses and fairy tales changed into fantasies where she saw herself as the romantic heroine. Then she started to write about her passions for the young men she met, but who would never have been aware of these ‘teenage crushes’.
When she was 15, there was a handsome young Count whose dark eyes inspired her to compose a series of love poems. Her secret writing tells of how she spent hours waiting behind a hedge, just in order to see him go by. A few months after the start of her infatuation the young man was sent on a mission abroad – whether this is related to Sisi’s feelings being noticed is unclear – where, sadly, he caught a fatal illness. Sisi was heartbroken at his death and wrote a tragic poem into which she poured all her grief.
Duke Maximillian of Bavaria ~ (unattributed)
A few weeks later she had recovered enough to ride out with her father, Duke Maximillian of Bavaria, whom she adored. Duke Max was charming and charismatic, a visionary and a dreamer with a romantic and non-conformist nature. He was also selfish, self-obsessed and a serial womanizer. Of all his many children – both legitimate and otherwise – it is thought Sisi resembled him most in temperament.
Duke Max found court protocol stifling and avoided it as much as possible. He was a ‘wandering Albatross’, travelling for months at a time throughout Europe, a trait shown to be clearly inherited by his beautiful daughter in the years that followed. However, he passed on his belief to all his children that the Wittelsbachs were the elect of God, born into this world to patronize, inspire and enrich the great artists and writers of the day.
At sixteen Sisi had grown into a lovely young woman, she was tall for her era, over five foot seven inches, with an oval face, large eyes, a long, slender neck and abundant tresses of auburn hair.
Her unfettered and singular childhood meant she was an extraordinarily free spirit, but she was also a rare commodity, a member of one of the oldest ruling houses in Europe, a Roman Catholic and a princess. Quite a treasure to be launched on the Royal marriage market, where generations of her family had bartered their daughters successfully for six hundred years. But before Sisi could be found a husband, protocol demanded that her elder sister, eighteen-year-old Helene, would need to be suitably married.
Possibly the most eligible bachelor of the day was the Wittelsbach girls’ first cousin, the 23-year-old Franz Joseph, Emperor of Austria. In 1853, the Duchess Ludovica organized a family trip to the spa resort of Bad Ischl, Upper Austria, where Franz Joseph had his summer residence and where it was hoped that the pious Helene would attract the attention of the young Emperor. Unlike Sisi, Helene had been groomed and trained for many years in order that this exalted match could be arranged. This careful preparation was part of a long-term plan arranged between Ludovica and her elder sister, Archduchess Sophie, Franz Joseph’s mother. But the matriarchal plans went awry when, overwhelmed by Elisabeth’s astounding beauty, Franz Joseph fell head over heels in love with the younger daughter.
Elisabeth and Franz Joseph’s Engagement Announcement
He was not to be denied. And on August 19th, 1853, the engagement between Franz Joseph I and Elisabeth of Bavaria was announced. As Sisi’s mother, the Duchess Ludovica, later declared, ‘One does not turn down an Emperor.’
Engagement portraits of Elisabeth and Franz Joseph, 1853
(unattributed)
It is worth noting that Ludovica herself was, in her youth, also considered a great beauty. She too had a consanguineous marriage, when she wedded her cousin Maximilian Joseph, Duke of Bavaria, in 1828.
The marriage was desperately unhappy from the very start. Maximilian quite frankly told his bride he did not love her and was in love with another woman who he could never marry for reasons of rank. But making a suitable marriage was paramount and poor Ludovica did her duty as a royal princess. Eventually she learned to cope with her eccentric husband’s numerous affairs and lengthy absences by concentrating on her large family of ten children.
Sisi’s mother, Duchess Ludovica of Bavaria
(Possibly by Joseph Stieler)
In spite of the Duchess’ own heartbreak, when it came to finding suitable husbands for her daughters, that same focus on making a suitable match prevailed. It must be remembered that for royal princesses there was little concept of individualism or emotion, neither of which had any significance in court politics or society. Everything was based on rank, so for the Wittelsbachs the marriage of Elisabeth to Franz Joseph was a magnificent coup – they had won the marriage lottery.
That the groom was young and handsome and happened to love his new bride were incidental bonuses. He was the Emperor of Austria, an absolute monarch who ruled without parliament or constitution, this was the big prize. The fact that it was the intractable Sisi who was to make this enviable match and not the original candidate, her compliant elder sister Helene, made little difference.
The young Emperor Franz Joseph I
(unattributed)
On April 24th, 1854 in St Augustine’s Church, Vienna, aged just 16 years, Princess Elisabeth of Bavaria was married to Franz Josef, Emperor of Austria. But as the doors at the Schönbrunn closed behind her and the oppressiveness of the large and ornate rooms of the palace replaced the wide-open spaces of her beloved woods and mountains, Sisi’s golden cage imprisoned her forever.
Elisabeth, the new Empress, painted in 1855 by Amanda Bergstedt
The new young Empress started out on a life trapped and haunted by her position, constantly struggling with an innate longing for freedom and independence. Royal duties and rigid Court protocols brought huge pressures, restrictions and demands on her fragile character. But ironically, although her looks had got her into this position, they also gave a unique power over the Emperor, the Viennese Court and the Austrian people. Sisi’s extraordinary beauty was one area she could control and enhance. . . .
. . . One manifestation of her obsession was the creation of her Beauty Book, containing pictures of stunning women from all classes, races, and countries – including those collected at her insistence from Turkish Harems, even though they caused a diplomatic scandal. Near perfection was the only criteria for addition to her collection of photographs and images. Class never featured and natural beauty was held as the most desirable ‘look’.
She was critical of many within her peer group, such as the beautiful Princess Pauline von Metternich, who, in Sisi’s opinion, wore too much makeup.
‘She wears two is inches of red powder on her lips and is dressed in material from countries that are far away even though she is too flat’.
The driving force behind the perfecting of Sisi’s own appearance surely stemmed from a need to control some small aspect of her constricted life. It ignited a consuming ambition and the creation and execution of an extreme and frequently bizarre beauty regime that became a lifetime’s passion in her endless quest to become the most beautiful woman in the world.
