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Furthermore, during this time the Austrian economy slid from one financial crisis into the next, all of them caused by the extremely high cost of keeping the military during years of a state of siege. All these worries were pushed aside by the Emperor, who was head over heels in love. He wrote his mother, “I can no longer wait for the moment when I am free to travel to Possenhofen to see Sisi again, I cannot stop thinking of her.”
³⁸

Since there was no direct rail connection between Vienna and Munich as yet, the trip was arduous. Proceeding by way of Prague, Dresden, Leipzig, and Hof to Munich, it took far longer than a day. During the engagement period, the Emperor made the journey three times.

Duchess Ludovika was concerned that the Emperor might be bored in
her family circle.
³⁹
But Franz Joseph had eyes only for little Sisi; in a transport of gratitude, he wrote from Munich to his mother in Vienna, “Never, my dear Mama, will I be able to thank you enough for having brought about such deep happiness for me. Every day I love Sisi more, and I am ever more convinced that no one else could suit me better than she.”

Mindful of Sophie’s advice, the Emperor wrote about his future bride, “Besides many more important good qualities, she is a charming horseback rider—of which, however, following your wish, I first convinced myself. As you advised me, I begged my Mama-in-law not to let Sisi ride too much; but I believe that will be hard to enforce, since Sisi is unwilling to give it up. And by the way, it has a very good effect on her; for since Ischl, she has gained quite a bit of weight and never looks ill now. Thanks to her care, too, her teeth have become quite white, so that she is truly lovely.”
⁴⁰

No improvement, however, was yet evident in the area of public appearances. The Emperor wrote his mother that the tumultuous reception at the Munich theater “embarrassed Sisi very much.” But he reassured Archduchess Sophie by telling her that at the court ball (which he found “truly brilliant” and “very animated”), matters worked out more
agreeably:
“the entire diplomatic corps was introduced to poor Sisi, and she made conversation charmingly, speaking with everyone.”
⁴¹

Sisi’s engagement had raised the standing of the ducal family. Even the King of Bavaria was proud of the fact that once again a woman of the Wittelsbachs would stand beside a Habsburg emperor. After decades of discord between the royal and the ducal lines of the Wittelsbachs, the royal house now made overt efforts to court the favor of its ducal relatives. Little Elisabeth was the center of these attentions. But she was not dazzled. On the contrary: She expressed her fear of the future more and more clearly. “If only he were a tailor,” she lamented, speaking of her bridegroom to her equally fearful mother.
⁴²

Sisi’s attachment to Franz Joseph grew. But she did not understand his cares of state. Even when he was in Munich, a courier arrived daily from Vienna with the latest news bulletins. The Belgian envoy: “The seriousness of the situation forces the Emperor to hasten his return…. The political situation causes him much anxiety.”
⁴³
At his premature departure, Sisi wept so much that “her face was all swollen.”

For Christmas, which coincided with Sisi’s birthday (she turned sixteen), the Emperor brought to Munich the by now obligatory jewelry, which he had selected himself, along with a portrait of himself and a small silver
breakfast service for traveling, engraved with an
E
and the imperial crown.
⁴⁴
He also brought a gift from Archduchess Sophie—a wreath and, in the dead of winter, a bouquet of fresh roses, “which here, where such flowers are not to be found, will have quite an effect.” The Emperor wrote his mother that he had “found [Sisi] very well and blooming. She is always equally dear and attractive, and is now also learning many new and different things.”
⁴⁵

During this visit, too, the Emperor’s eastern policy forced him to return home precipitately. He deeply lamented the fact “that, between love and the vexing affairs, which plague me endlessly even here, all my time is taken up.”
⁴⁶

Only a few days after Franz Joseph’s return, the news arrived that the French and English fleets had set sail for the Black Sea. The Viennese stock market reacted with a panic. Austria’s position in this conflict was still not clear. The Emperor continued to leave his “dear precious friend,” the Czar, in the dark, thus offending him most deeply.

The extent to which court society remained untouched by the
complications
of war is astonishing. Anyone who did not happen to be a politician or had personal interests in the Balkans continued to ignore events. The preparations for the imperial wedding claimed a large share of the public interest.

The Viennese countesses, for whom the special pleasure of Carnival lay in the fact that they could win a smart young emperor as a dancing partner, suffered a deep disappointment that winter: Franz Joseph would not dance, “which is in keeping with his chivalrous sentiments,” they commented, but soon they began to complain about “Carnival, which so far is very dull. Since the Emperor will not dance, the major interest falls away. So far, there have been only three balls, of secondary brilliance. Everyone seems to be waiting for the wedding festivities.” And: “The countesses sorely miss the best, most splendid dancer.”
⁴⁷

There was, however, a more concrete reason than love for Franz Joseph’s refusal to dance: He was suffering a recurrence of the “affliction of brain disease and half-sight that appeared as a consequence of the attempt on his life”—that is, impaired vision—which compelled him to take it easier.
⁴⁸

Early in March, the marriage contract was signed. In it, Duke Max of Bavaria promised “Her Serene Highness, his daughter,” a marriage portion of 50,000 guldens, “which shall be delivered even before the wedding, in Munich, to the agent especially designated for this purpose by His Imperial Majesty, in return for the appropriate receipt.” Elisabeth was also to be provided “with all requirements of jewelry, gowns, gems, gold and silver
utensils, in accordance with her elevated rank.” The Emperor pledged himself to supplement the marriage portion with an additional 100,000 guldens. This meant that the Empress’s private capital was measurably increased. He further promised to make a gift to his bride of 12,000 ducats “after the marriage has been consummated, as a morning gift.” Such a gift was a long-standing custom in the imperial family. As a grant of appanage—lasting even into a possible period of widowhood—the Empress was to receive 100,000 guldens a year, intended solely for “finery, dresses, alms, and minor expenditures.” The cost of everything else—that is, “the table, linens and horses, maintenance and remuneration of servants, and all
household
effects”—was, of course, borne by the Emperor.
⁴⁹

This stipulated appanage was five times that of Archduchess Sophie, who received a mere 20,000 guldens a year. However, three days before the wedding, the Emperor raised his mother’s yearly income to 50,000.
⁵⁰
(At that time, a workman—provided he could find work at all during this period of pervasive unemployment—working twelve to fourteen hours a day, earned at most 200 to 300 guldens a year, women about half that, and children only a fraction. A lieutenant’s salary was 24 guldens a month, noncommissioned soldiers earned correspondingly less.)

On his last visit to Munich, four weeks before the wedding, the
Emperor
brought a magnificent diamond tiara inset with large opals, and a matching choker and earrings. The set was a gift from Archduchess Sophie, who had worn the tiara at her own wedding. It was worth more than 60,000 guldens—an enormous value even for the Emperor. Still in
Munich,
Franz Joseph wrote to his mother in Vienna that she need have no fears, the jewelry would “certainly be very carefully kept and immediately put in safekeeping.”
⁵¹
Evidently Sophie had no great faith in the
orderliness
of her sister’s household.

Sisi’s letter of thanks had an extremely awkward ring: “but be assured, my dear aunt, that I am keenly aware of your great goodness to me, and that it is comforting to me to know that always and in all situations of my life I will be allowed to entrust myself to your maternal affection.”
⁵²

Aside from the many instances of patronizing and much tactless advice, for the present Elisabeth had little cause to complain of her mother-in-law. Sophie supervised the renovations of the imperial villa in Bad Ischl, and she showered the young girl with jewelry and precious objects of every sort. Her letters to her sister in Saxony never criticized the girl; the Archduchess praised every little thing she noticed—especially Sisi’s
simplicity
and shyness.

Sophie spent months furnishing the young couple’s apartment in the
greatest good taste. These living quarters in the Hofburg consisted of an anteroom, an entrance hall, a dining room, a mirrored room, a drawing room, a dressing room, and a bedroom. If one leaves aside the magnificent furnishings and the size of the drawing room, the whole was rather more like the living quarters of the haute bourgeoisie, though without
bathroom,
lavatory (
chaises
percées
were still in vogue in the Hofburg), and without its own kitchen. All meals were taken in the bosom of the family; it never occurred to the Archduchess that a young wife might prefer having a household of her own. Sophie personally picked out the tapestries and curtains, the rugs and furniture. She placed great importance on purchasing only domestic products, to promote local trade.

Sisi was to have only the best and most expensive. Her toiletry set, for example, was made of massive gold.
⁵³
Sophie placed in the apartment precious objects, pictures, silver, Chinese porcelain, statues, and clocks from the various collections of the Imperial House as well as from the
treasure-house
and the Ambrase Collection. The inventories have been preserved,
⁵⁴
even down to the Emperor’s personal linens, which were ample indeed. And Sophie knew very well that the bride would not be bringing a trousseau that could match the Viennese provisions.

Sophie was not one to hide her light under a bushel. Her sisters admired the Archduchess’s energy. For example, Queen Marie of Saxony wrote, “My good Sophie is … as always, self-denial incarnate, eager to give everything away and to do without for her future daughter-in-law, and she thinks of every little thing that might contribute to the happiness and comfort of the young couple. Recently Luise [Ludovika] also wrote to me correctly that it is unlikely that a bride was ever looked after so lovingly as is her daughter.”
⁵⁵

A month before the wedding, the solemn “act of renunciation” occurred in Munich. This was Sisi’s waiver of any claim to the succession in the kingdom of Bavaria. The members of the royal and ducal houses, the court dignitaries and the ministers of state, all watched the sixteen-year-old girl, who sat beside the King under a canopy on the dais of the throne room, for the first time in her life. Many eyes saw little Sisi, “having bowed to Their Majesties and Their Most Serene Highnesses her parents, move to the table where the Gospel lay, which is held out to Her Royal Highness by His Excellency the Archbishop.”
⁵⁶
The declaration of renunciation was read out, Sisi was put under oath. Then she signed the document. The somber ceremony was a small foretaste of the formal life awaiting her in Vienna.

The bridal trousseau, twenty-five trunks of it, arrived in Vienna well
ahead of the bride. The precise inventory of everything Sisi brought to Vienna has been preserved; it shows clearly that the Emperor’s bride really was not a “good match.” Though the inventory lists jewelry worth at least 100,000 guldens, closer scrutiny indicates that more than 90 percent of the listed pieces had been gifts from the groom and Archduchess Sophie, presented during the engagement period.

The silver effects, at that time the pride of every bride from “a good family,” were more than modest, adding up only to a value of roughly 700 guldens. That amount included every washing pitcher, every silver dish no matter how small, every coffeepot.

Indeed, it could not be considered a trousseau appropriate to her rank, as stipulated in the marriage contract. If we consider the pride even brides from the haute bourgeoisie took in spreading their dowry before
inquisitive
eyes during this period (Sisi’s daughter-in-law, Stephanie of Belgium, would take great satisfaction in doing so in her time), we will understand the many scornful looks from the Viennese court ladies, the many
disparaging
comments among the wealthy Austrian aristocracy. Money and property—of course, along with an impeccable pedigree, an essential precondition for acceptance at court—played an excessively large role in Vienna.

At 50,000 guldens, Sisi’s wardrobe represented a considerable asset, though even here the most valuable item, a blue velvet cloak with sable trimmings and a sable muff, was a gift from the Emperor. The future Empress owned four ballgowns (two white, one pink, and one sky blue with white roses); seventeen
Putzkleider
,
“fancy gowns”—that is, formal gowns with trains (starting with the wedding dress, with its overdress of silver moiré, followed by taffeta and tulle dresses in the favored colors of white and pink, but of course also a black gown for the eventuality of court mourning); fourteen silk dresses; and nineteen summer frocks, which were, following the fashion of the day, adorned with embroidered flowers or trimmed with roses, violets, straw, and ears of wheat.