The Empress's Politics
"Your Majesty. The Romans ruled tens of millions of barbarians with a mere few tens of thousands. Governance isn't about numbers—it's the superiority of civilization and systems.
Habsburg alone has the legitimacy to spread civilization—law and order—to those barbarians. It's good for Your Majesty to show them a smile. But that smile must ultimately be upheld by the German bureaucracy."
Oh... ah, now I get what the pan-Germanists are thinking.
So, they don't see them as fellow imperial subjects, but as second-class citizens.
That's why Mother-in-law and I keep running parallel. Our premises are different. From their perspective, calling barbarians equal subjects is hard to swallow.
The simplest way to end that chosen-people ideology is for our democracy fighter Adolf to show it against the Jews... but that's still a long way off.
"Baron. Rome fell. To the Gauls and Germans they called barbarians."
"That's because Rome had grown corrupt. If they upheld military discipline—"
"The Holy Roman Empire was dissolved too. Against French nationalism. We must maintain the Austrian Empire against the nationalism that dismantled the Holy Roman Empire."
"Your Majesty. Rome didn't fall to nationalism. It was because they lavishly granted citizenship to barbarians and lost the purity of the Romans."
Purity? It's bizarre to believe humans have a pure race.
"The French Revolution and Napoleon succeeded not because of ethnicity, but because their system was efficient. If Austria crumbles, it won't be because the Hungarians are angry—it'll be because we've lost the power to suppress them."
Schmerling was resolute.
My looks don't work on him. A face that charms men and women, young and old alike.
"I have no intention of bending my views. They are ultimately objects to be enlightened under the empire's guidance. Granting them autonomy is like handing a loaded gun to a child."
Words aren't getting through. Should I just ship him off to Berlin for real?
But for now, I need this stubborn bastard's grit.
First, we have to sort out the feudal remnants....
I tapped the armrest of my chair.
"Your Majesty, we must move for the next appointment."
Esterházy moved to dismiss him at my signal.
Yeah, if I can't get through, what choice is there?
You can't persuade an ideologue with words—it'd take all-night debates and still go nowhere.
"I shall take my leave."
He gave a curt nod, backed away three steps without turning his back to me, then turned and exited the door.
Stiff even as he leaves. A bureaucrat so rigid not even a knife would draw blood. That was my assessment of him.
I picked up my quill to play my next card.
The empire doesn't have just one empress, right? Time for a handwritten letter after ages.
In the end, he'll have no choice but to come to me.
To my beloved Joseph, whom I miss—
My weapons aren't just my beauty, and do I really need to win this guy over with words?
In the end, all Vienna's bureaucrats crave the emperor's favor.
Sent on purple stationery—it'll go straight without censorship.
Now, let's set aside the headache of politics and go play with the kids.
Venice is famous as a tourist spot, after all.
Better than palace inspections—time with the children.
"Chief lady-in-waiting, prepare to go out."
"Where to, Your Majesty?"
"For gelato."
Need something sweet to melt this stress.
Street gelato tasted a bit different from the palace version.
A little tangier, less icy, sweeter.
...But can ordinary eateries even get ice at this time of year?
"Chief lady-in-waiting."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"...Was the chef pleased?"
"...Yes."
As I thought. The ladies-in-waiting worked to preserve my illusions.
Hygiene issues too, probably.
Let the empress eat mysterious street food?
If I got sick... well, I don't even want to imagine the fallout.
Even street freedom was just liberty permitted under imperial control.
I fiddled with my Vienna gelato cup, watching the kids romp about.
"Next time I request it, tell the chef it was too refined for street food."
"I'll remember."
"And street vendors wouldn't sell gelato loaded with milk instead of just juice."
Still a long way to go.
I smiled, watching the children play freely.
"Sophie, you'll fall."
Sophie chased a flock of pigeons, skirts flying, making my worry seem unfounded.
...Are pigeons okay for the kids' health?
"Rudolf! There's water there! Don't go!"
"Ung...."
Seeing Joseph in Gisela, arms crossed and shaking her head—is that just my imagination?
Twins, yet so different?
"Your Highness!"
"Sophie!"
I rushed to Sophie, who had tumbled onto the grass.
"Mooom—"
Sophie looked up at me, dirt-caked and teary-eyed.
"It's okay, it's okay."
I brushed off the dirt and hugged her tight.
Nanny, you can breathe now.
"Want hot chocolate with Mommy?"
"With cream too! Grandma won't let me...."
I stroked Sophie's hair and took her hand.
"Let's go back for hot chocolate."
Joseph read Sisi's letter.
No complaints about her leaving for Venice. He'd worried when she returned from Madeira too.
Schmerling—what's Sisi thinking?
Wasn't he the one who'd pushed Austria-led pan-Germanism at the 1848 Frankfurt Assembly, only to return empty-handed after Prussia pushed him out?
A failed politician. Why that grumpy old man of all people?
But Joseph soon tried to guess Sisi's intent. To suppress the liberals, she needs a stuffy bureaucrat who knows the law better than they do?
Or... Mother's doing?
He speculated there might be some political deal between his mother and wife.
"Off to Venice again."
"Her Majesty's health being what it is, it was unavoidable."
"Always just looking after your wife."
"Won't you even call me Emperor now?"
Archduchess Sophie stared at Joseph.
"When did you ever want to be called by name instead of Emperor?"
"...Do you know how old I am?"
What does age matter? You still don't get it, even after fathering her children.
"If the Empress heard that, she'd clutch her stomach laughing like a fool."
"Acknowledge the Empress now, Mother. She's the only one who understands me."
"The court needs no such person. And...."
If I hadn't allowed that flighty Sisi over Helene, you'd have married Nene.
Sophie clicked her tongue inwardly, rose, and left.
"Enough. Distracted by your wife."
Joseph had no idea that Sophie's continued opposition would have made marriage impossible.
Sophie thought it better for the emperor to believe he'd accomplished it himself, and exited the office.
Alone in the office, Joseph recalled one prerequisite before using Schmerling.
Hungary and Milan.
He had to calm those two regions' sentiments.
"Chamberlain, order all preparations for the Milan procession."
"Your Majesty, since Her Majesty awaits, why not simplify procedures and depart within two weeks? We can send the guard force ahead."
Grüne's proposal was a sweet temptation to Joseph.
He desperately wanted to board a train to Venice right now.
But Joseph kept his eyes on the papers and shook his head firmly.
"No. Proceed by the book."
"Understood."
Grüne's scheme, born of worry over his precarious power, had failed.
"We're not going on a picnic. This is Milan, where rebellion's embers still smolder."
Grüne still couldn't fathom the emperor.
Isn't the Milan trip just an excuse?
Over ten years at the emperor's side, yet the standard for the empress remained elusive.
"Chamberlain. A month might be a bit much."
Propose cutting it further....
"For safety, make it maximum scale."
...Did she go to Venice without a word, straining things with Her Majesty?
He wanted to ask, but Grüne held back.
Private opinions weren't for aides.
"Understood."
Keep mouth shut, ears open, hands and feet swift.
The iron rule for survival among Habsburg courtiers.
No matter how close like friends, aides were subordinates. Only spouses could truly open hearts as equals.
At that moment, the empress was....
"Your Majesty, no matter how opposed they are to Your Majesty's views, Her Majesty must not voice dissent. Engaging in debate itself diminishes Your Majesty's authority."
Receiving etiquette lessons from Esterházy.
"...It was my first time, so I might slip. But shouldn't my ears be spared the nonsense?"
The lesson began on Sisi's first debate with a subject on politics.
Esterházy shook her head.
"Your Majesty. Empresses do not debate with subjects. Debate implies equal footing. The moment Your Majesty raises her voice in argument, that man's status equals Yours, and Your authority drops to his level."
"I didn't raise my voice...."
As Sisi defended herself, Esterházy's expression shifted slightly.
More words, longer lesson.
"Königseck."
At Esterházy's call, Königseck stepped forward to demonstrate.
"Explain how to handle a bureaucrat without debate."
Königseck unfolded her fan, furrowed her brow slightly, fixed Esterházy with a cold gaze, and said to the nearby Hunyadi,
"The air in the room feels stale."
'Damp.'
Esterházy added sternly, leaning on her cane.
"Speaking directly is the lowest of the low strategies. Laws or administration from Your Majesty's lips is unwise. That's bureaucrats' language."
"Then what language should I use?"
"Concern, sorrow, mercy, and hope. These four suffice. Key point: expressionless face, convey only through words."
"When I want to say not to oppress the Hungarians?"
"'It pains my heart to see my beloved Hungarian subjects suffer. Find a more lenient way so they may see the empire as their father.' Something like that."
Sisi let out a hollow laugh.
"Forever? Isn't speaking directly faster and more efficient?"
Königseck answered for Esterházy.
"Then rebuke their incompetence. No specific method given, so failure's blame isn't Yours."
Hard. So hard.
Sisi straightened, chin slightly raised.
Erase emotion from face, narrow eyes....
"......"
As Sisi sat silent, Esterházy prompted.
"Have knights who worship Your Majesty wield the sword instead."
"Tell Schmerling the Empress worries about Vienna's loaches."
Esterházy nodded at Sisi's sparkling eyes checking the answer.
"But 'stale air' is better than 'loaches.'"