Misunderstandings and Truths
Sigh... I miss Joseph. He always understood me, even when I expressed myself directly. ...Pauline too. Königseck and Metternich have the same name but polar opposite personalities. The two Sophies are more alike, though.
"Your Majesty, a letter has arrived from His Majesty the Emperor."
"Really? Read it."
Ferenc tore open the letter and read it aloud.
— I want to come to you right away, but there is much to prepare for the Milan procession.
Milan procession?
"When does His Majesty say he'll arrive?"
Ferenc skimmed ahead through the contents before answering. "It says it will take about three months."
By then, the seasons will have changed....
"Summon the musicians and actors from Venice for me."
Oh, almost forgot one thing. "But don't bring Verdi."
Right before the war, the chant "Viva Verdi" had spread widely among Milan's unification supporters. Viva Vittorio Emanuele, Re D'Italia—Long live Vittorio Emanuele, King of Italy, right?
"Ferenc, send a letter to Johann Strauss."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Sigh, how many great musicians have I just missed by a hair's breadth. Chopin, Mendelssohn, Schumann, Donizetti, Paganini.... What a shame. If I'd come five years earlier, I could have met Schumann.
"Tell me about the musicians making waves in the salons these days."
"What about Brahms?" Königseck replied.
"Brahms... Johannes Brahms?"
"Your Majesty has heard of him too. He's the young German genius whom Teacher Schumann praised effusively before his death. I hear the Vienna Music Association has their eye on him lately."
The 3Bs, right? Bach, Beethoven, and Brahms.
"Where is he staying?"
"I hear he's conducting a women's choir in Hamburg."
Strauss's music feels a bit too light, after all. Waltzes are perfect for high society. Brahms is the man who revived the symphony after it had declined post-Beethoven.
"Send the letter to Brahms instead of Strauss."
And Königseck. Time for us to get to work.
After my bath, I said to her, "Dry my hair yourself today."
Königseck naturally took the towel and began drying my hair.
"Your Majesty, may I ask something before you give your command?"
You, teaching me etiquette? I nodded slightly.
"...Your Majesty, didn't you say back in Madeira that you wanted to address us by our names?"
I did. I nodded again, just slightly.
"I wanted to ask why you felt that way."
Because it's easier that way.
The Lord Chamberlain Esterházy also serves as mistress of the robes and chief lady-in-waiting, but that's a unique position with only one holder, whereas court ladies-in-waiting all hold the same rank. The now-retired Countess Lamberg, Countess Hunyadi, and even Countess Königseck drying my hair right now.
"What's wrong with wanting to call my people by name?"
I still remember the etiquette Esterházy taught me on the first day. 'When Your Majesty needs to refer to me, please call me Chief Lady-in-Waiting.' And what else was it? 'In the imperial court, only positions exist—no people.'
"There's no problem. In fact, addressing us that way is even more proper etiquette."
I turned around. "What do you mean?"
"Until now, saying 'court lady-in-waiting, listen' or 'court lady-in-waiting, speak' isn't wrong, but calling us by our family names is the more appropriate protocol."
"Why didn't you tell me that until now?"
"We could hardly presume to correct the etiquette Your Majesty had learned."
But then why did Esterházy teach it that way? I rang the bell to summon Esterházy.
"Chief Lady-in-Waiting."
"Yes, Your Majesty. What is your command?"
"Is it a problem if I call Königseck or Hunyadi by name?"
Esterházy answered as if it were obvious. "No."
"But you told me not to use names...."
"Reading ladies may be addressed by name."
Right, that's why we assigned her that role.
"So it means I can call you 'Königseck' or 'Hunyadi' instead of 'court lady-in-waiting'?"
"Yes, neither is incorrect protocol. If asked which is more proper, it's the latter."
"But on the first day, didn't you say only positions exist in the court?"
"Family names are positions, Your Majesty."
"Then why didn't you correct me when I said 'court lady-in-waiting'?"
No, it wasn't wrong, so no need to fix it.
"We thought Your Majesty still saw us as the Archduchess's people."
As Esterházy spoke, Königseck added, "When Your Majesty called us by our titles in London and Madeira, we were delighted among ourselves."
"Why?"
"It was as good as acknowledging the authority of our houses."
So, I'd been unintentionally slighting them for six years because of my misunderstanding of etiquette?
"What about the part where you said you'd use names after retirement?"
"Names are personal."
Who knew it'd take six years to realize this. So....
"Sophie Esterházy."
I called her mixing name and title, like in Venice. "...You mustn't say it that way."
Okay. Names forbidden, surnames allowed.
"Countess Esterházy von Galantha-Lichtenstein."
"Just Countess Esterházy is sufficient. Galantha is merely the name of the family estate, and Lichtenstein is like Your Majesty's Wittelsbach."
True, it'd be weird if someone called me Empress Habsburg-Lorraine-Wittelsbach. Not a practical everyday title. Kim Cheolsu of the Gimhae Kim and Andong Kwon clans. Yeah, sounds off.
I should have called them this way from the start. No wonder I exhausted myself deluding for six years.
"But didn't you tell me to call you Chief Lady-in-Waiting?"
That's why I diligently did. The other court ladies too.
"We were concerned Your Majesty might mix up names, so we provided the convenience."
At Esterházy's answer, I turned to Königseck and said, "Königseck."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"This is entirely the Chief Lady-in-Waiting's fault, not mine, so blame her."
At my joke, Esterházy let out a small sigh and rubbed her temple.
She should have taught me from the beginning that family names are positions too. It's not that I was unnecessarily favoring the chief and reading ladies.... Poor Esterházy had to run my errands at her age because of one slip of the tongue.
That's why Joseph calls Grüne by his surname.
"Come to think of it, no one corrected me when I called him Schmerling either."
I'd called him that not knowing his position.
"These days, Count Grüne is called the Master of the Household. That's why he's striving to receive the Order of the Golden Fleece again."
So that's why Count Grüne's been paying attention to me lately. He even poured my coffee last time.
I'd been ostracizing the world without realizing. No wonder I felt we'd grown a bit closer, yet there was still an invisible wall. Who knew.
"We thought Your Majesty had been saying that even in Bavaria."
Königseck... no.
"Did you forget the first words I heard when I arrived here?"
Both Esterházy and Königseck looked utterly puzzled. They were there—how could they forget?
"You are not the Elizabeth of Bavaria. You are the Empress of Austria and the mother of the Habsburgs. You must relearn how to smile, walk, even breathe. Throw away and forget any freedom to act as you please back in your homeland."
I mimicked my mother-in-law's voice, and they struggled to suppress laughter at the comical impression.
It wasn't worth remembering, but I'd sincerely tried to forget. Memories of Bavaria existed faintly like childhood reminiscences, making them easier to erase.
"Why did Your Majesty summon Countess Königseck separately?"
Oh, right. I'd almost forgotten if not for Esterházy.
"I want you to stand in for me."
"Stand-in, Your Majesty? But I don't resemble you...."
"Not that kind of stand-in. Meet the actors and musicians in my stead."
The Empress can't oversee it personally, after all.
"I'm planning to stage something on La Scala's boards. Something people can sing along to, with actors singing and dancing as the story unfolds."
"An operetta or Singspiel?"
I shook my head. "His Majesty will see it too, so something as blatantly satirical as Offenbach won't do."
Opera is drama wrapped in song, musicals are song wrapped in drama.
"They converse like in a play, burst into song when emotions peak, and everyone dances together at times."
"So music and drama must intertwine."
Exactly. That's why I'd considered Strauss. But the show I have in mind is a bit different.
I stood for a moment, loosening my throat for the first time in ages.
"Ah. Ahem. Ahhh."
Whew. Feels tense doing this after so long.
Esterházy and Königseck watched quietly, wondering what I was up to.
"Now, I'm going to perform a certain character."
The acting had already begun. A novel everyone in this era would know. Published 250 years ago, still beloved in the 21st century—a classic.
I steadied my breath and roughly scraped my vocal cords.
"No longer the plain Alonso Quijana,"
"but the invincible knight! Don Quixote de La Mancha!"
"Hear me, you grossly moldering world—!"
Spanish setting, but close to Catholic and Latin culture. Don Quixote's passionate, romantic tale would play much better in Milan than stuffy German moralism. And for revolution-dreaming Italians or status-quo nobles, it could resonate in entirely different ways.
I finished the Man of La Mancha number, exhaled, and asked them, "What do you think? With a show like this, even Verdi might be forgotten for a moment."