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Part 5

Posted on Monday, 7 February 2000

"The shadows are growing longer. Night's falling, before your day even began. The shadows are growing longer. The world dies with them, don't cling to it!"

--Michael Kunze, "Die Schatten werden länger"

That winter, Franz Joseph was forced to admit that he could no longer completely shield his young wife from the political problems facing him. The Italian provinces were dangerously restless, stirred up by the Italian unification movement, and Hungary had never quite settled down since the revolts in 1848. His own popularity in those parts of his realm had never been great, but his advisors, including the highly-trusted Grünne, felt that the Italian and Hungarian peoples might respond favorably to Elisabeth's beauty. Lisi had heard rumours that she would be asked to make several public appearances, and saw the coming request as a chance to achieve further victories in her struggle against Sophie; if they wanted her help that badly, surely they would be willing to give her something in exchange. It was not long before she had an opportunity to put this theory into practice.

Her husband approached her after dinner one evening. "You may know, my angel, that some of the provinces have not been very...comfortable of late. Your beauty could be very useful to me politically. Come with me to Italy and Hungary, put your charms to work for me."

"Franz Joseph, I would like my children back first," Lisi replied calmly.

"There's no defense against your enchantment..." her husband mused, as if she had never spoken.

Anger at again being ignored lent her strength she had not felt in a long time. "The children must travel with me," she insisted, "without your mother; only then will I accompany you, and make efforts to resolve a political situation which no one has ever been willing to explain to me."

"They are too young for such travel, and it is too dangerous!"

"I go with them or not at all!"

Franz Joseph, while surprised to see his meek young wife making such demands, could see that she meant what she said; it seemed he had no choice. "Very well, so be it. But perhaps, to be safe, we could take just little Sophie with us, and see how she bears the trip to Italy before deciding to bring Gisela along as well?"

Lisi was willing to make the compromise, and over Archduchess Sophie's objections, the couple took their eldest daughter for a four-month stay in Milan and Venice.

Elisabeth was shocked at the reception the Imperial party received everywhere they went in Italy. While she was used to being met coldly by the aristocracy, here she was confronted with outright hostility even by the common people, with whom she had always felt so much affinity in Bavaria and even Austria. Although no one spoke openly to her of assassination attempts, she could easily see that her husband and his ministers feared them; she sensed enough resentment herself to take the threat seriously, and not once did she object to the large military escort which constantly attended the Imperial family. She also refrained from trying to avoid making the public appearances she dreaded, the way she often did in Vienna, and from complaining about the endless troop inspections on which she was expected to accompany the Emperor, despite the recurrence of her health problems. Accustomed as she was to having her efforts overlooked at best, she was astonished and gratified to discover that, by the end of their stay, her husband was attributing the slight improvement in the political atmosphere to the good impression she had made on the populace.

Franz Joseph's gratitude for her support in Italy led him to grant permission for both of the children to travel with them to Hungary a few weeks after the first trip ended, despite little Sophie's having a fever shortly before they left. Dr. Seeburger, whose opinion even the Emperor's mother had to accept, since she was the one who had him appointed as the family physician, assured the couple that her ailments were merely related to teething, and that she was perfectly capable of making the trip. Accordingly, they took their girls to Budapest as planned, once again leaving the Archduchess behind in Vienna.

At once this trip was an improvement on the last. The Hungarians had been inclined to like Elisabeth from the beginning, since rumours of her opposition to Sophie had spread and anyone who did not like the Emperor's staunchly anti-Hungarian mother was a welcome change; they entertained hopes of winning the Empress to their cause, and using her influence to bring about reforms. Already, her presence in the realm had been to their benefit--in honour of first his wedding, then the births of his children, Franz Joseph had been persuaded to relax some of the military restrictions that had been in place since 1848. With the active support of the Empress, perhaps more could be achieved. Once they actually saw her, the Hungarians were, as predicted, drawn to Lisi for her emerging beauty as well as her potential political uses.

For her part, Lisi found herself liking the people she was now being introduced to tremendously. The Hungarian aristocrats were quite different from those in Vienna or Prague; they seemed warmer, more welcoming. More willing to forgive the mistakes she was still making, and to accept her sometimes impulsive nature. In fact, she felt drawn to the Hungarian people as a whole; they shared her love of riding, of the outdoors, of beauty in whatever form. Of freedom. For the first time, she began enjoying the receptions and public appearances. After three years of derision, it was almost overwhelming to be greeted with such genuine warmth! As she was unaware of the region's political problems that her husband was still trying to solve, the only thing which kept the trip from seeming like a dream to her was the continued ill health of her children.

The court was about to leave Budapest for the Hungarian provinces when Gisela became ill, exhibiting the same symptoms Sophie had back in Vienna. Just as she recovered, her sister fell ill again. Dr. Seeburger claimed once more that the ailment was nothing, and Franz Joseph felt comfortable enough with that diagnosis to enjoy his daily hunting parties, yet Lisi could not help but worry. Eventually, it was decided that the parents would continue the trip, leaving the girls in Budapest where the physician could care for them more easily, and despite Lisi's misgivings, the couple left. Five days later, they were met in Debrecen with a telegram: Sophie had taken a turn for the worse. Elisabeth insisted on immediately rushing back to her daughter's side, but by the time they arrived it was already too late. There was nothing she could do but watch, not leaving the crying child for a moment during the final eleven hours of her life.

The nineteen-year-old Empress could not stop blaming herself for her daughter's death. After all, she was the one who had insisted, over her mother-in-law's protests, that the children be brought to Hungary; perhaps if they'd stayed in Vienna, if Lisi had been a better mother, not so selfish, her little one would still be alive. Perhaps Aunt Sophie was right to take control of the girls' upbringing away from her.

It must have been a combination of grief and exhaustion causing her to hallucinate, for just before she fell asleep at last she would have sworn she saw that beautiful stranger from her wedding, holding her poor child in his arms, looking down at her with a tender expression. Lisi let out a cry of hope--Sophie was waving her arms! Could it be that she was not dead after all?--at which he glanced up, his attention shifting to her. His gaze was as entrancing as she remembered. For the first time he began to speak to her, his voice soft yet clear, smooth and mesmerising. "Do you remember the dance we once shared? I felt as if we were more floating than dancing, and that brief moment of contact with you burns in my memory still. You may not realise it yet, but you need me, need what I can offer. And you can have it--just admit that you love me more than that man by your side, and that even though you seem to give him everything, you will be his downfall!"

She knew it had to be a hallucination, because before she had time to reply, he faded from sight; where he had been standing moments before, there were just shadows. Somehow his disappearance, on top of her grief, was too much for her, and the last thing she knew before sleep claimed her was an unbearable despair.

The rest of the trip was immediately cancelled, and the grieving parents returned to Vienna as soon as possible. Their loss was common knowledge around Budapest even before they left, and their charming young Empress's obvious sorrow only served to increase the sympathy her Hungarian subjects had begun feeling for her.

A telegram had been dispatched to inform the Emperor's mother of the news, of course, so they were met with no painful questions regarding the condition of their little one. Lisi was barely aware enough of her surroundings to notice that her mother-in-law greeted her with a hug that was surely meant to be comforting; she lacked the energy to be surprised, however, and retreated to her room as soon as she could. All she wanted was to be alone, to never see another person again, to be allowed to mourn in privacy.

"Poor Sisi is much affected by all the memories that confront her here on all sides, and she cries a great deal."

--Kaiser Franz Joseph

Lisi's withdrawal from the world around her grew only more severe as the weeks went by. She stopped responding to all but the most forceful and direct addresses, and ate but rarely. Even that seemed to take all her energy. If she could not have the solitude she so desperately needed in the external world, she would retreat into herself, where she could be alone with her grief.

She was not, unfortunately, so dead to other people as to prevent their conversation from occasionally penetrating her consciousness. While most of the gossip that composed the majority of conversations at court swirled around her like so much fog, one day her own name caught her attention.

"Elisabeth should stop behaving like a spoiled child, I say. All this fuss because she lost a baby; well, who has not at one time or other had a child die in infancy? One must move on with one's life; it was only a girl, after all, not an heir."

"Yes, of course, but really, what can one expect? The Archduchess is right; the Empress is still a child herself, she should not be trying to raise children of her own. After all, she forced the poor Emperor to go against Sophie's wishes in taking the children to Hungary in the first place, and look what happened!"

"Very true, my dear. And now the girl is making obvious plays for sympathy; well, I for one am not surprised. Nor am I surprised that she is not receiving any. I am, however, astonished that the Emperor's mother has not properly chastised her for such behaviour..."

Lisi barely noticed when the women passed out of earshot; she was too overcome by what she had already heard. This conversation confirmed her own fears that she was at fault in little Sophie's death. The guilt she had already been feeling grew to be even stronger than her grief, and forced her further into her isolation.

Franz Joseph, while saddened by their loss, became more concerned for his wife as months passed and her emotional state did not improve. Her physical health was suffering as well, due to lack of nourishment, and for the first time he could remember, his mother was unable to solve a problem he brought her. Sophie's lack of sympathy for her niece was hardly surprising--the lost child had been a particular favourite of hers, after all, and at least Lisi had stopped trying to interfere with Sophie's more experienced efforts to raise her remaining granddaughter properly. Besides, the Archduchess did not hold with strong emotions; their expression was not consistent with the sovereignty the Imperial Family must maintain at all times, and showed a shocking lack of self-discipline as well. Such reminders could provide but little comfort to her son under the circumstances; at length it was decided that they could do nothing to help her, and a letter was sent to Ludovika in Munich. Maybe if Lisi's mother and some of her sisters were present, they could find some way to help cheer her up.

The plan worked, at least to the extent that this rare opportunity to be reunited with her family was not something Lisi was willing to miss, even in the depths of her depression. Slowly she was persuaded to focus some of her attention outward, at least while she was alone with her mother and sisters. By the time the visit was over, those around her noticed a marked improvement.

Sophie, however, had little time to spare for her troublesome daughter-in-law. Her second son, Maximillian, was shortly to be married to Princess Charlotte of Belgium, and there was much to be done to prepare for the bride's arrival. Sophie had high hopes for this new daughter-in-law, who was of higher birth than Elisabeth and more accustomed to court life. Indeed, although the same age Elisabeth had been upon marrying, Charlotte proved far more suitable to her new position than the Empress had, enjoying the state appearances and ceremony that had never grown comfortable for Lisi. She was also a good Catholic, and quite willing to take her mother-in-law's advice about anything and everything. Sophie took no pains to conceal her preference, constantly and publicly comparing her with Lisi. Feeling, as she was, rather despondent still, Lisi did not react well to the constant reminders of her own incompetence, which only weakened her already low self-esteem. Any attempts she might have made to welcome Charlotte were soon abandoned.

December brought Elisabeth's twentieth birthday, and signs that another child was on the way. Always hopeful that the next pregnancy might produce the heir, Sophie once again took charge of Lisi's every waking moment. She could no longer be allowed to starve herself, as she had since little Sophie's death; she must eat properly, and take long daily walks--whether she felt she had the energy to do so or not. Her dark moods had been indulged long enough. Lisi obeyed merely because it proved easier, and less tiring, than resuming her previous struggles against her aunt. It was not until she received a letter from her mother requesting assistance for Helene that Lisi truly began exerting herself once more.

By this time, Néne was twenty-two years old, and resigned to the prospect of remaining unwed. Ludovika had not yet abandoned her search for a suitable husband, however, and recently she had actually received an offer. The Hereditary Prince of Thurn und Taxis was not nearly so exalted a suitor as she had once hoped to find for her eldest daughter, of course, but at this stage she was just happy there was someone. The problem was Ludovika's brother; he refused to grant his consent to the match, as being beneath the niece of the King of Bavaria. It was hoped that requests from the Empress of Austria could persuade him to change his mind.

Lisi forced herself to greater pains to comply with her mother's request than she had with anything else since leaving Hungary. She was motivated not so much by the fact that it was for her mother as by love for her sister and remnants of guilt. If she had not (unintentionally, and unwillingly, it was true) captured Franz Joseph's attention that first summer at Ischl, Helene would have been comfortably married years ago, and would not now need her younger sister's help in securing a husband who was beneath her simply because he was the only person who would have her. If Néne wanted to marry him rather than remain unwed the rest of her life, then Elisabeth would do everything in her power to make that possible.

Soon there was another sister needing her assistance. Marie, who was now sixteen, had been promised to the Crown Prince of Naples, and needed reassurances. Being sent so far from her home, to a country in which she knew no one and could not speak the language, was difficult enough for her to come to terms with; worse were the rumours that her fiancé; was not only unpersonable, but a religious zealot as well. Elisabeth was her only married sister, and as such was the only person whose words of comfort she was likely to believe on this matter. Lisi could not provide much from her own experiences that might give encouragement, but she could and did find out as much as she could about the Prince so that at least her sister would have some idea what she could expect once the marriage took place. Between them, her sisters' betrothals provided the grieving Empress' only voluntary connection with the world around her, and by the time she went into labor in August, the efforts she was making on their behalf had gradually succeeded in drawing her largely out of her depression.

Unlike with Gisela and poor little Sophie, this birth was a difficult one. Long before the child actually arrived, Lisi's screams could be heard throughout the palace; when it was finally over, however, she felt that the previous twenty-four hours of torture had been worth it: at last there was an heir, and now they could not use "duty" to force her to have more children if she did not wish it. Indeed, another pregnancy right away was out of the question; between the after-effects of this birth, the exhaustion of three confinements in four years, and once again being denied the nursing of the infant, Lisi's body was worn out. For several weeks after young Rudolf's birth she suffered from recurring fevers, and her health had still not fully improved by that winter. Franz Joseph and Sophie barely noticed, so happy were they that the Habsburg line would continue uninterrupted. The day his son entered the world, the Emperor granted him the rank of colonel in the Imperial Army and awarded him the Order of the Golden Fleece. Sophie once again oversaw all aspects of her grandchild's life, beginning with the choice of his wetnurse. The Crown Prince was to be a great soldier and a credit to his illustrious ancestors, and no expense was to be spared in preparing him to fulfill that destiny.

Lisi, resigned to the loss of yet another child to its grandmother's care and still mourning the death of her firstborn, yet too weak to take part in the activities she habitually used to temporarily escape the court, was ecstatic when her sister Marie came to Vienna for two weeks in January. She had been married by proxy, and was on her way to join her new husband in Naples. While they were together, the two sisters were, for the first time in what felt like forever, happy, spending nearly every evening at the theatre or the circus, watching races in the Prater, and generally amusing themselves. Elisabeth received permission to journey with her sister and eldest brother to Trieste, where Marie would be met by the delegation from her new country. Even the Empress, who had seen so many ornate ceremonies practiced in the Austrian court, was astonished at the almost medieval rituals with which her sister was turned over to the Neapolitans. Watching her younger sister board the ship in which she was to complete the journey, Lisi realised that despite all her troubles, in some ways she was luckier than Marie; at least Lisi was in a country where she spoke the language, and that was close enough to her home that she could still see her family on occasion. Marie was still barely able to communicate in Italian, and the only creature from home she had been allowed to bring with her was her pet canary; they knew not when they might ever see her again.

The letters they soon began receiving from Naples were not encouraging. Marie's husband, in addition to being staunchly conservative and fanatically Catholic, was noticeably weak both physically and mentally. To make things worse, only a few weeks after her arrival, her father-in-law died and Marie found herself Queen of the Two Sicilies--at the head of a highly autocratic regime that was constantly faced with the threat of revolution and the Italian unification movement. She attempted to sound cheerful in her letters, but the photographs she sometimes included revealed the many hardships she was enduring. It was in light of his royal sisters' unhappiness in their marriages that their brother Ludwig caused a family scandal by renouncing his title and right to the inheritance in favour of marrying his long-time mistress. Elisabeth was delighted by the news, and the more their relatives spoke out against it, the more determined she was to publicly welcome her new sister. She was sick of marriages for dynastic reasons, and saw no reason in the world that her brother should not be happy simply because the woman he had loved for years was a mere actress. In fact, she quite enjoyed causing a minor scandal herself in inviting the pair to Vienna, and making a point of being seen together. Although she might be forced to relinquish her children, she resolved that Sophie would never succeed in dictating to her how she should treat her own siblings.

"It was all a lie, what they promised you. Everyone has betrayed you...."

--Michael Kunze, "Einladung zum Ball"

Franz Joseph persisted in his efforts to keep his wife ignorant of the political situation, but by the end of April affairs in the Italian provinces had escalated to such an extent that complete ignorance was impossible. An ultimatum he had issued in response to the increasing unrest in Piedmont was ignored, leaving him with no choice but to follow through with his threats. The rest of the world viewed Austria as the aggressor, despite the Emperor's utter belief in the impossibility of his actions being unjustified. France openly supported Piedmont, and even Prussia refused to aid its Germanic neighbor. Drastic tax increases were necessary in order to pay for the army; various Italian Habsburgs fled to Vienna seeking refuge from the upheavals in the provinces. Life for Franz Joseph continued essentially as before, however, with hunting parties to lead and horse races to attend. As a concession to the war, Sophie personally sent 85,000 cigars to the Austrian troops to boost morale; Lisi, still kept uninformed of the true state of affairs, and marginally reassured by the way everyone around her seemed to dismiss the war as unimportant, joined the ladies of the court in rolling bandages, but found she could not quite believe that matters were very desperate.

The Viennese court's complacency vanished, though, when the incompetence of the generals in the field led to a disastrous loss. Upon receiving reports of the battle, Franz Joseph immediately broke off diplomatic talks with Germany in order to travel to the front himself. Lisi at first tried to convince him to stay in Vienna, where he could continue his efforts to gain support from his allies; when he refused to even consider the idea, she begged to be allowed to accompany him. If anything should happen to the Emperor, she would be left alone in Vienna with her mother-in-law, and the thought was unbearable. Her pleas fell on deaf ears.

Soon after he left, the Empress fell ill once again, eating nothing and going riding for hours at a time, avoiding not just court functions, as she usually did, but family meals as well. Even Sophie was baffled, finally sending for the doctor who had treated Lisi's family in Bavaria, as he was more familiar with the girl and more trusted by her than the court physician. Word from Italy did nothing to improve matters; Franz Joseph's letters contained page after page describing the battles in detail, listing the names of the many wounded and dead. Despite his reassurances, no one could believe the Emperor was not in danger himself, and for once Lisi and the members of the court were united: in their worry. Unable to continue in her state of ignorance, Lisi went to any length necessary to find copies of the newspapers, especially the foreign or underground publications, as being less likely to be censored. What she read horrified her. Not only were thousands of soldiers dying, but the people even on the far side of the realm from the fighting were suffering tremendously. The army had been losing money for years, simply because the Emperor insisted on maintaining military splendour despite the costs, and now even more funds had to be raised. The people found themselves faced with astronomical taxes, rapid inflation, impossibly high rents and food prices. Throughout the Empire, complaints against the military, absolutist regime were becoming more and more common despite the government's efforts to suppress such views--and the twenty-one-year-old Empress found herself agreeing with them. What she saw at the hospital she established in Laxenburg to help care for the wounded only strengthened her opposition to her husband's current policies. Despite the drastic fundraising for the military, almost nothing had been spent on care for the wounded, who numbered over 60,000 before the war was over. Lisi did her best to find room for them anywhere she could--in the palace, in convents, in churches. Most were doomed from the beginning, for there simply were not enough doctors or medicines to care for them properly. The long days she spent among them, trying to give courage to those she could not help in more lasting ways, convinced her that nothing could justify such slaughter. Even Sophie could not fault the Empress' efforts; she often spent so much time attending the wounded that she forgot to take any nourishment or rest for herself, and began imagining she caught glimpses of the hallucination that attended her in Budapest, now standing calmly by the bed of one dying soldier or another. When she did take time for herself, she urged Franz Joseph to conclude a peace as soon as possible, but he persisted in believing that Prussia or Germany would come to Austria's aid at any time. Then it became impossible for even him to pretend that this war could be won.

On June 18, Franz Joseph expressed his dissatisfaction with the way his generals were running things, and declared himself in immediate command of the troops. The very next battle proved that decision to be a complete disaster. Losses were greater than for any other part of the war, and even Napoleon III stated that France's victory at Solferino was due entirely to Franz Joseph's inexperience and his premature decision to retreat, rendering all the lost lives completely in vain. The Treaty of Villefranche resulted in Austria's entirely losing Lombardy, once its richest province. A new revolution was threatening in Hungary. Back in Vienna, always before supportive of the young Emperor, the people were demanding that he abdicate in favour of his brother Maximillian, and that General Adjutant Grünne, whose influence was seen as a major factor in the conduct of the war, be dismissed.

Despite the open dissatisfaction with his rule, Franz Joseph went about his routine cheerfully after returning to Vienna. The military defeat, he was certain, was no fault of his own. The assassination plots that were uncovered, he dismissed easily, including the plan by a footman in the Hofburg itself to murder the Emperor and his mother while they slept. The widespread corruption that had been revealed in the financial and military systems were no more than a nuisance, causing as they did the Finance Minister to commit suicide, and forcing Franz Joseph to dismiss several other officials he had relied on for his entire reign to date. Most annoyingly, he was left with no choice but to dismiss Grünne himself from his posts of adjutant general and head of the military chancellery, although he insisted on his oldest friend's retaining the position of head of the Imperial stables.

By winter, his mother and his wife had renewed their enmity, now with the added stress of political differences. Hardly a day went by when one or both of them did not appeal to him for support against the other, and with Grünne's help he began spending more and more time away from the family apartments, either hunting or even more agreeably engaged. His absences had meant little to Elisabeth at first, but eventually the rumours reached the Empress' ears. While they were just snatches of whispered gossip that she caught as she entered a room, she could ignore them; but one day she found herself confronted by an unfamiliar courtier who, he said, wanted only to ensure she knew the truth, and told her something which she had dreaded hearing.

"That cannot possibly be true! What on earth are you thinking? To say such infamous things about one's Emperor! It is completely impossible."

"Impossible, Your Majesty? Why do you think that? After all, an emperor is still a man, is still weak. And he has more temptations than most...."

Still Lisi refused to believe it. "My husband is faithful to me!" she insisted. After all, he had not been forced to marry her, as so many men of his station were left without choice in their brides. Her own father had never pretended to be faithful to her mother, but her case was different--Franz Joseph married her not for political reasons, but because he loved her. Helene had said as much those first days in Ischl: Lisi's marriage was to be special! How could he now be betraying her this way?

"I am afraid you are mistaken, Your Majesty."

"Oh God, if it is really true, how can I ever show my face again? Everyone must know; I'm sure they are laughing at me! They never wanted me here in the first place....."

"That is certainly true. But what are you going to do about it?"

"I hate him! He will never do this to me again." Lisi was so furious with her husband that she could barely think. He was the only thing besides the children keeping her in Austria; if he, too, was now pushing her aside entirely, what had she to remain for? "I'll abandon him forever--no, better! I will kill myself!"

Her reaction was all her informant had hoped. "Do so, Elisabeth! I shall be waiting for you!"

His words shocked her, but not nearly as much as the realisation that came a moment afterwards. As if a veil had dropped, she recognised the "courtier" as the man she had seen before, and knew suddenly that his appearances in Budapest and the hospital at Laxenburg had not been hallucinations as she had believed. As the truth dawned on her, she became determined not to do as he wished after all. Had not he deceived her as well, attending her wedding pretending to be something he was not? He, too, would see that her trust could not be betrayed with impunity!

"This is perhaps your final opportunity, you must realise; seize it! Come away with me, escape this life, this husband who cannot appreciate you. Leave everything behind and know true freedom at last!" His voice was smooth and enchanting as before, but Lisi had had enough of people telling her what she ought to do, and remained firm in her decision not to allow herself to be ordered about.

"No, I'm staying here! In truth, my husband has done me a favour--where his morals end, my freedom begins! His guilt gives me the right to break the chains that bind me here; if he sees no reason to honour our vows, why should I continue to fight for this marriage? No, indeed, I will not go with you, and let his actions remain unpunished. Leave me!"

Gratifyingly, he disappeared as ordered, leaving Lisi alone to plot her course of action. Later she would find the memory of his utterly crushed expression at her rejection painful, but for now her anger left her no sympathy for him or anyone else. The entire court knew of her humiliation, it seemed; well, she would show them that she did not care. They could laugh at her all they wished, but she would not give them the satisfaction of knowing how much her husband's betrayal bothered her. Instead, she threw herself into court society with as much energy as she had formerly exerted to avoid it, attending nearly all the large private balls, not only those at which her presence was required by protocol, and even hosting six smaller ones in her private apartments during the course of the season. She took special delight in causing gossip of her own due to the guest lists of these occasions: for while she did not deviate from traditional etiquette so far as to invite young people the court would consider of insufficient breeding, she did refuse to extend the invitation to the girls' mothers. While Lisi's parties were not remotely wild enough to have made the presence of chaperones inhibiting, she particularly enjoyed using the complete absence of older women as an excuse for banishing Archduchess Sophie from them.

Sadly, all too soon Elisabeth found herself in need of Franz Joseph's cooperation; in May, Garibaldi's troops had succeeded in conquering Sicily and were now threatening Naples. Marie wrote Vienna begging her sister to send help, but Lisi was unable to persuade the Emperor to send any military or financial assistance. Sophie repeatedly declared that the state of affairs in Austria would not permit such aid, so soon after the disastrous war in Piedmont and with the government's popularity at an unprecedented low. Although this was probably true, the way her mother-in-law said it made Lisi suspect that help would have been forthcoming despite the circumstances, had the relatives in need not come from her side of the family. When it became obvious that no amount of entreaty would change their decision, she abandoned the attempt and instead invited her two eldest brothers to Vienna, hoping that between them a plan to rescue their sister could be found, but this, too, proved fruitless. In July she made one last effort to convince her husband to change his mind: she took Gisela and left for Possenhofen, her first visit there in five years, in hopes that he would yield if he was faced with the idea of losing her. Unfortunately, it appeared that his protestations of utter devotion were empty, and she was forced to return to Vienna in time for his birthday in August to avoid causing a general scandal, her quest still unfulfilled. She was too angry and disappointed to face him alone, however, and insisted on bringing Karl Theodor and Mathilde with her for moral support.