Sisi: A Restless Spirit in Royal Robes
Not every crown comes with a happy ending
Empress Elisabeth of Austria, affectionately known by many as "Sisi," stands as one of history's most intriguing and captivating figures. Today, she is widely known for her remarkable beauty; her long chestnut hair and piercing blue eyes were immortalized in numerous portraits and inspired envy among many. However, beneath her striking exterior was a complex individual driven by her intense love for nature and ardent desire for personal freedom, which profoundly influenced her entire existence.
Sisi had quite an extraordinary early life.
Born Duchess Elisabeth Amalie Eugenie in Munich on December 24, 1837, she was the third child of Duke Maximilian Joseph and Princess Ludovika of Bavaria. Her father, known for his eccentric and whimsical nature reminiscent of Don Quixote (and a passion for the circus), had a unique perspective on life and fostered an atmosphere at home that defied the rigid and monotonous conventions typically associated with nobility. In this environment, surrounded by the gorgeous Bavarian countryside, Sisi thrived, and her love for horses and the open air flourished. Boring embroidery lessons were frequently exchanged for hours of horseriding, creating a passion that would accompany her throughout her life (at some point, her mastery in horse riding was so exceptional that she was considered Europe's best female equestrian).
Growing up with this unparalleled freedom, marriage wasn't really occupying space in her thoughts. But an unforeseen encounter with her cousin, who happened to be the Emperor of Austria, was about to change her destiny.
“I have awakened in a dungeon,
With chains on my hands.”
On Franz Joseph's (whose full title was - brace yourself - His Imperial and Royal Apostolic Majesty, By the Grace of God Emperor of Austria, King of Hungary and Bohemia, Dalmatia, Croatia, Slavonia, Galicia, Lodomeria and Illyria; King of Jerusalem, etc.; Archduke of Austria; Grand Duke of Tuscany and Cracow; Duke of Lorraine, Salzburg, Styria, Carinthia, Carniola and Bukovina; Grand Prince of Transylvania, Margrave of Moravia; Duke of Upper and Lower Silesia, of Modena, Parma, Piacenza and Guastalla, of Auschwitz and Zator, of Teschen, Friaul, Ragusa and Zara; Princely Count of Habsburg and Tyrol, of Kyburg, Gorizia and Gradisca; Prince of Trento and Brixen; Margrave of Upper and Lower Lusatia and in Istria; Count of Hohenems, Feldkirch, Bregenz, Sonnenberg etc.; Lord of Trieste, of Cattaro and on the Windic March; Grand Voivode of the Voivodeship of Serbia) twenty-third birthday, the imperial court gathered at the enchanting town of Bad Ischl. Orchestrating this grand event was his mother, Archduchess Sophie, who had invited her sister Ludovika along with her daughters, Helene (aged 19) and Sisi (15) with a clear intent: find a suitable match for the Emperor, with Helene being the preferred choice.
Sisi, still exuding an air of childlike innocence, was deemed to play a "supporting role" during the trip. Yet, from the moment the young Empress-to-be entered the room, the course of history completely changed. The Emperor fell head over heels.
Archduchess Sophie, in her diary, recounted that morning with vivid detail. Franz Joseph, overwhelmed by the sight of Sisi, exclaimed:
"Oh, but how sweet Sisi is, she's as fresh as a budding almond, and what a magnificent crown of hair frames her face! What lovely, soft eyes she has, and lips like strawberries."
It was a passionate infatuation that no one had anticipated.
In an attempt to steer her son's affections toward Helene, Sophie pointed out her virtues, saying, "Don't you think that Helene is clever, that she has a beautiful, slender figure?" to which he, relentless, declared, "Well, yes, a little grave and quiet, certainly pleasant and nice, yes, but Sisi—Sisi—such loveliness, such exuberance, like a little girl's, and yet so sweet!"
The emperor's younger brother, Archduke Karl Ludwig, later told their mother that “at the moment when the Emperor caught sight of Sisi, an expression of such great pleasure appeared on his face that there was no longer any doubt whom he would choose.”
Defying Sophie's plans for a politically advantageous marriage, Franz Joseph made a decisive stand, informing her that if he could not have Elisabeth, he would not marry at all. Five days later, the engagement was announced.
I am a Sunday child,
child of the sun
The news of the upcoming wedding was met with excitement and apprehension, especially for Ludovika, who was caught in a whirl of feelings, juggling joy for her daughter's grand recognition and worry about the emotional hurdles that were sure to follow.
In April 1854, Sisi made a significant commitment by relinquishing her claim to the Bavarian throne, symbolizing her dedication to becoming Empress of Austria. Her subsequent journey to Vienna was an eye-opener, for it was there that she got a first taste of what awaited her: a life devoid of privacy and bound by a fanatical devotion to protocol, in a stark contrast to the freedom and informality she had known in Bavaria.
The wedding took place on April 24, 1854, at Vienna's Augustinerkirche. Overwhelmed by the solemnity of the whole thing, Sisi was seen sobbing in her carriage on her way to the church.
The Archbishop of Vienna conducted the ceremony with the help of a group of more than 70 bishops. The wedding address, which was reportedly too long, earned him the nickname "Cardinal Plauscher" or "blabbermouth."
After the religious rituals, the newlyweds were led back to Hofburg Palace in a grand procession. Ambassadors and envoys were introduced to the new Empress in the lavish audience chamber.
During the introductions, Sisi experienced a moment of panic and fled the room in tears. She returned shortly later, but the worst was still to come. Instead of the traditional hand-kiss greeting, she embraced her cousins Adelgunde and Hildegard of Bavaria amidst the guests, in a small break of protocol. People were shocked. This deviation, while minor, was a clear reminder of the rigidity of her new life.
Sisi defended her actions, exclaiming, "But they are my cousins!"
The evening concluded with a grand banquet, after which the rituals continued. Archduchess Sophie and Ludovika accompanied the bride to her chambers. The Archduchess remained in a small room adjacent to Elisabeth's bedroom until she settled into bed, then summoned her son, and led him to his young wife's side.
As if anyone's bedtime rituals are anyone's business, but just for the sake of historical curiosity, let it be known that the consummation of their marriage didn't happen until the third night.
The honeymoon at Laxenburg Palace intended as a romantic escape, turned into a disaster. Franz Joseph spent his days at his desk while Elisabeth cried alone in the palace gardens. Her subsequent reflections on marriage would, years later, resonate with honest truth:
"Marriage is an absurd arrangement. One is sold as a fifteen-year-old child and makes a vow one does not understand and then regrets for thirty years or more, and which one can never undo again."
Elisabeth's strong-willed nature butted heads with the stiff Habsburg court customs, and her struggle with its harsh rules and high expectations led to intense mental and physical hardships. Craving the freedom she once knew, she eventually turned to poetry as an outlet for her feelings, referring to her regimented new life in one of them as a "prison cell".
To add to her challenges, her mother-in-law, always sniffing around, hovered like a relentless cloud on a beach day. It was inevitable that conflicts would arise. Sisi's routines, habits, clothes, and hobbies were all closely scrutinized by Sophie, who was always quick to criticize everything.
Over time, her family began noticing unsettling changes in her demeanor. She seemed distant and started showing signs of depression.
I wanted people to let me
In peace and unscathed,
I'm only certainly
A human born like them.
Elisabeth was caught off guard when she discovered she was pregnant ten months after her wedding. Her fragile health only amplified the physical strains of pregnancy, and Sophie's demands for public appearances made it all the more difficult.
"Hardly had she arrived than she dragged me out into the garden and declared that it was my duty to show off my stomach, so that the people could see that I really was pregnant. It was awful. Instead, it seemed to me a blessing to be alone and able to weep."
The baby was born on the morning of March 5, 1855. At Sophie's demand, the nurseries were placed near her own apartments rather than close to the imperial couple. This meant Elisabeth had to walk through steep staircases and drafty corridors every time she wanted to visit, always under the Archduchess' watchful eye. And talk about overstepping boundaries: the child was named Sophie by the overbearing grandmother (who, might I add, self-appointed herself as godmother), without Sisi having any say in it.
A second daughter, Gisela Louise Marie, was born a year later, on 12 July 1856.
As months rolled by, Sisi's court life didn't get any easier. She was constantly knocked for not quite getting court etiquette right, having questionable dance moves, and a sense of style that didn't scream elegance. The issues were amplified by the fact she hadn't yet given birth to a male heir.
My heart, filled with grief and sadness,
Weighs down my spirit.
Sisi's first trip to Hungary, in 1857, was an emotional rollercoaster. While there with her husband and children, she was completely fascinated by the local culture, even taking on the challenge of learning the language. But joy turned to despair when her daughters fell ill. While Gisela bounced back and fully recovered, Sophie's health took a turn for the worse, eventually leading to her tragic passing. The Empress could do nothing but watch helplessly for eleven agonizing hours as her baby slipped away.
The loss hit her hard. Overwhelmed by grief, she cried for weeks on end. Her mental health began to waver even more, and she became increasingly fixated on her looks and physical health, going as far as adopting fasting, rigorous exercise routines, and dedicating up to three hours a day to maintain her ankle-length hair - a ritual during which she engaged in learning various languages and studying literature. (Weirdly, I found my visit to her dressing & exercise room at the Sissi Museum incredibly moving).
By December 1857, there was a glimmer of hope: Sisi was pregnant again. On August 21, 1858, the imperial couple welcomed their third child, Rudolf Franz Karl Josef, finally celebrating the birth of a male heir.
I am a seagull, of no land,
I call no shore my home,
I am bound to no place
But the universe wasn't ready to give her a break.
Due to frequent nervous breakdowns and harsh starvation diets, the Empress' health continued to deteriorate. Dr. Josef Skoda flagged her lung issues, indicating serious health concerns. Tensions in her marriage became obvious, and her decision to recuperate in Portugal (on her doctor's advice) just fueled the gossip machine.
Sisi spent six months in Madeira relaxing in a rented villa near the sea. To everyone's surprise, and supporting the theory that her illnesses were frequently psychological and stress-related, she appeared to recover quite well in this peaceful environment, away from the stresses of Vienna. Even her self-esteem made a comeback. But, when she reunited with the Emperor in May 1861, her health took another nosedive.
Given the circumstances, it was thought best for her to travel again, this time to Corfu. Sure enough, away from her husband and royal duties, she felt better. So, a lifetime of travels began. From then on, the Empress toured from spa town to spa town, finally beginning to experience again something akin to the freedom she had always yearned for. (Allegedly, she even had an anchor tattooed on her shoulder in 1888, symbolizing her love for the sea).
This was a period of change for Sisi. Growing more self-assured and assertive, she started to challenge her husband and mother-in-law and voice her disagreements, especially concerning her son Rudolf's military education. In 1868, she gave birth to Marie Valerie Mathilde Amalie, pouring all her repressed maternal feelings into the baby.
During this time, her obsession with her image intensified noticeably. Even after going through the wild journey of four pregnancies, she weighed around 110 pounds, and sported a 16-inch waist.
Sisi eschews portraiture altogether at one point in her life, her last photograph being taken when she was thirty and her final painting when she was forty. Every time she stepped out of her private quarters, she shielded her face from public view with veils, fans, or umbrellas.
The unhappy Prince
In 1889, a tragedy sent shockwaves through the empire. Sisi's only son, Rudolf, was found dead beside his 17-year-old lover, Baroness Mary Vetsera, in what appeared to be a harrowing murder-suicide - an unfortunate event that became known as the "Mayerling Incident".
Desperate to protect the empire from the scandal's stain, the imperial family quickly labeled Rudolf insane and denied him a proper church funeral.
For Elisabeth, this was a fatal blow. She completely withdrew from the public eye and wore perpetual mourning attire as a symbol of her unending sorrow.
“Once I was young and rich,
In love of life and hope;
I thought nothing could match my strenght,
The whole world was open to me.”
As if Sisi hadn't already endured a lifetime of heartbreak, fate had one final, tragic twist in store for her. In September 1898, under the incognito alias "Countess of Hohenembs", she traveled to Geneva, Switzerland, accompanied only by her lady-in-waiting, Countess Irma Sztáray. Her stay at the Hôtel Beau-Rivage, however, wasn't as discreet as she had hoped. Someone tipped off the newspapers about her presence, and her true identity was splashed across the media the next day.
On September 10, around 1:30 pm, the two women left the hotel on foot, intending to board the steamship Genève bound for Caux. As they walked along the promenade, a 25-year-old Italian anarchist named Luigi Lucheni approached them. The ship's departure bell rang, and the young man seemed to stumble. But what appeared as a mere accident was soon revealed to be far more horrifying: he had stabbed the Empress.
Motivated by his disdain for the aristocracy, he had originally targeted the Duke of Orléans but shifted his focus to Elisabeth upon learning of her visit to the city.
Lucheni was swiftly detained by bystanders and handed over to the authorities. Sisi collapsed - but seemed to recover shortly after. A helpful coach driver helped her get back to her feet, escorting both women 91 meters to the steamship. But there, Elisabeth's strength waned again. People tried to help, loosening her clothing to aid her breathing. She woke up, and Sztáray asked if she was in pain. "No," she replied. "What has happened?"
Then, the 60-year-old Empress lost consciousness for the final time. Her body was taken back to the Hôtel Beau-Rivage on an improvised stretcher, and a post-mortem examination was conducted. She was pronounced dead at about 2:50 pm.
A funeral procession was held in Vienna on September 17, 1898.
In her will, Elisabeth stipulated that a substantial portion of her jewel collection should be sold, with the proceeds allocated to various religious and charitable organizations.
As for Lucheni, he was sentenced to life in prison, but eventually hanged himself, 10 years later, in his cell.
“I loved, I lived,
I wandered through the world;
But I never reached what I strove for.”
Sisi's mysterious, tragic life remains hard to fully understand.
By nature, she was a wild spirit, yearning for freedom, while her role demanded submission, protocol, and duty. The weight of her crown did not merely press down on her head, but on her heart and mind as well. She was that round peg in a very square hole of the Austro-Hungarian court.
While everyone saw the tiaras and the pomp, fewer saw the woman who'd rather be scaling mountains than sitting on a throne.
But, whether by deliberate intent or sheer impulse, she wasn't about to let her story be just about gilded cages and pretty dresses. She rebelled. And yes, her attempts to carve a niche of freedom for herself may not have always been graceful; sometimes they were selfish, chaotic and desperate. But they were genuine.
In her quest for inner peace, she turned to travel, horseback riding, and poetry. Yet despite her unwavering efforts, there remains an overwhelming sense that she never quite grasped what she so fervently sought. I hope that at least somewhere along her tumultuous journey, she stumbled upon moments of genuine happiness. After all, aren't these what we are all searching for?
As the streets of Vienna swallowed me back into the present, Sisi's story presented a challenge: To not just exist in our given narratives but to dare, wander, and break free, even if just in small ways.
Further reading
📚 The Reluctant Empress, by Brigitte Hamann
Who was Empress Elisabeth of Austria?
Life for this Bavarian princess was no fairy tale
I am so lucky to have toured Schoenbrunn and the Achilleion. Before I even read your comment about being moved by Sisi's exercise room, I remembered my own similar reaction. The exercise equipment was bonkers! Such deep sadness. I've heard her referred to as the Princess Diana of her day; there are quite a few similarities. Thank you for a wonderful read, it stirred great travel memories for me.
Marina, continuo amando o seu trabalho, tanto as fotos colorizadas quanto seus textos escritos combo coração.
Obrigado ☺️ 🥰