Compromise Letters
To my beloved Emperor, Joseph,
The sun here is warm and the sea dazzlingly beautiful, but my heart sinks heavier than Vienna's cloudy skies. To wait a full month for your letter—what can ease this boredom?
Truth be told, it's so quiet here. On nights when only the waves crash, I ache for your low voice and the children's laughter.
Though the doctor says my cough has eased, I feel like I'm catching a sickness of the heart. The lodgings are cramped, the bed hard, and I've run out of books. Vienna will manage without me, but what of the children without their mother? What if Rudolf forgets my face?
Please, let me come home now. What happened in London was just overwork. I want to return to your side.
Your lonely,
Sisi.
To my eternal angel, Sisi,
Your letter tore at my heart. I long to send a ship at once to bring you back, but forgive me that I cannot.
Dr. Schoda's diagnosis is firm. Your lungs need at least a year of warm air to fully recover. The day you collapsed spitting blood, my heart nearly stopped with yours. I never want to face losing you again. Please, endure a little longer—for my sake.
Worry not about the children. Even Mother is staying quiet this time, and I tell them stories of you every night. Rudolf greets your portrait every morning, so he won't forget you.
And even if you returned to Vienna now, there'd be no place for you to rest. The city's a dust pit from tearing down the walls, and I've used the chaos to start the private bath you always wanted at the Hofburg.
They're installing England's latest plumbing. Your maids won't have to lug heavy water buckets anymore. So please, at least until the work is done, don't speak of coming back.
Your child who prays only for your health.
Dearest Joseph,
A bath! Really? With hot water flowing straight from the tap and proper drains? I never dreamed you'd remember my complaints. I can finally breathe easier.
But if the Hofburg is a construction site, where are you staying? Not in some unheated annex at Schönbrunn this midwinter, I hope?
Flowers are blooming here, but they say Vienna's in a blizzard. With your soldier's grit, you're probably stubbornly holding out with just two stoves.
For you, a gift: a portrait by a local artist. It's my hair down, so not for official display, but tuck it in your desk drawer for when you miss me.
And the rumors from Vienna sound serious. They say even His Majesty is chasing some theater actress. Has loneliness turned your eyes elsewhere?
Jealous,
Elisabeth.
My one true love,
Your portrait left me unable to work for hours. No painting can capture your beauty, but those eyes live and breathe.
Was this painted by a man? The thought of another seeing your unbound hair kept me up nights.
Schönbrunn is bearable. Seasons mean little to a soldier. Ink? A candle melts it quick enough—no need to worry.
And an actress? Nonsense. A few meetings for theater patronage must have been twisted. Where in my eyes could another woman fit besides you? I swear, my side is reserved for you alone.
So cast aside jealousy and tend your health under the warm sun. When the bath is done, my letter will be the first to you.
I love you, Sisi.
The man who waits for you eternally.
…Good grief, so much writing over nothing. Joseph never gambled with my health.
"Your Majesty, it's time to return."
I shook my head at Königseck's words.
"Königseck. What month is it now?"
"December, Your Majesty."
Right—Christmas onward, a string of religious events. I'll rest a bit more before going back.
"I still want to call you all by name a while longer."
With Esterházy around, I couldn't even use family names properly.
Hunyadi and the other maids shook their heads, as if to say I was hopeless.
"When spring comes and flowers bloom, then we'll go."
Besides, the winter here is surprisingly mild.
Next, I read the letters for official business.
News of Finance Minister Karl Ludwig von Bruck's dismissal.
The minister trying to bind the Zollverein into Mitteleuropa. A commoner who rose to finance minister on merit alone and earned a baron's title.
"Königseck."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"What did the count say?"
"The military blames him for the early war defeats."
Originally, the emperor's authority would crumble, funds dry up, and he'd reluctantly ally with liberal Plener. But now, even that seems off the table.
"I'll write to the Lord Chamberlain. Tell him to clear Baron Bruck's name."
To weaken the German nobles' power, we still need him.
Before reform initiative slips to liberals, bloating their power like in France and choking the throne—we must strike first. For that, Bruck must stay alive.
Joseph isn't indecisive like Louis XVI, but ten years wasted under Archduchess Sophie. He's only now truly ruling.
Would a single letter make that prickly Archduchess Sophie and the conservatives back down?
"…Let's just go."
Letters won't cut it. I just said no, but anxiety gnaws.
"We'll prepare for the return."
To fight Archduchess Sophie, Joseph and I can't do it alone yet.
*
The tail end of the Little Ice Age made Vienna's winter bitterly cold.
Fog hung so thick it was hard to tell if we were in London or Vienna…
"We'll depart again."
The streets, thawed and refrozen repeatedly, were a muddy mess that bogged down the carriage.
"The wheels come off more than expected."
No wonder Joseph's pushing the Ringstraße project.
No one exists on just one side, but Joseph is hard to pin down. He seems conservative absolutist, yet more progressive and civic-minded than anyone in the imperial family.
Indeed, a true die-hard conservative couldn't have shown the flexibility for the future Great Compromise and avoided total ruin.
If he were an immovable wall, I'd have ditched him and run.
I headed straight to Joseph's office upon arriving at Schönbrunn.
Only one place he'd be.
"Joseph, it's me."
Movement stirred beyond the door, then it flew open as if he'd been waiting.
"Sisi?"
His eyes wide, as if wondering why I was here.
"Missed you, so I came."
Freezing.
Even with the fireplace, the drafts were brutal.
I sat on the sofa by the hearth and eyed Joseph.
"Baron Bruck got dismissed, right?"
"…No choice. Counts Rechberg, Goluchowski, and Kuehnberg pinned the early war blunders on him."
Sipping warm coffee from Grüne, I recalled who they were.
De facto prime minister Rechberg, Joseph's mentor—hard to defy him.
Goluchowski… a Polish grand noble, probably. Joseph might have bent to him misunderstanding my moves.
Kuehnberg was likely scapegoating to preserve his faction.
Putting it together… they're pushing local economic devolution.
Switching to decentralized economy from the current centralized mess?
"Joseph, use Bohemia and Venetia."
Cutting Bruck isn't just replacing a minister—it's a call to revert to the Middle Ages.
"If we follow Goluchowski's devolution, Lombardy will serve Italy's unification, not Austria."
"I know that too. But ignore them, and we'll have to seat liberals demanding a parliament."
Back to mother-in-law territory.
Her name never comes up in our talks, but conservatives rally under the Archduchess's power.
…Strike now? Prussia war looms. Let it be? Back to medieval times.
No. Something's off.
"Sisi? Leaving already?"
"Got somewhere to be."
I leaned close and whispered in Joseph's ear.
"See you in the bedroom later."
With that farewell, I headed straight to Archduchess Sophie's office.
"What brings you to me first?"
The mother-in-law who worked to make her son emperor.
For her to endorse devolution?
I'm no liberal or separatist.
"Who's backing them?"
Conservatives aren't all centralists.
So another force pulls the strings.