The Wedding Ceremonies
On the twentieth of April, 1854, Elizabeth, accompanied by her parents
and her two oldest sisters, started on her bridal journey to Vienna.
Peasants from all the surrounding country thronged the streets of her
native city through which she passed, and, overcome with the grief of
parting, she stood up in her carriage and waved a tearful farewell to
the cheering crowds.
The steamboat _Stadt Regensburg_ conveyed the party from Straubing to
Liutz. Work was everywhere suspended as on a holiday, and nothing was
thought of but the coming of the long-awaited princess. At Liutz they
had to go ashore to change boats, and there Franz Joseph met them,
hurrying back to Vienna, however, so as to be there to welcome his
bride. The town was buried in flowers. A magnificent arch had been
erected. Bonfires burned on all the surrounding heights, while
torchlight processions, theatrical performances, and serenades concluded
the festivities of the day.
The next morning, April 22, the journey down the Danube was resumed. The
_Franz Joseph_, which carried them from Liutz to Mussdorf, was covered
with roses from stem to stern, the cabin hung with purple velvet, and
the deck transformed into a flower garden. It was a beautiful spring
morning. Banners waved from every roof and tower, and the river banks
were lined on either side with cheering throngs, eager to catch a
glimpse of their future Empress. What they saw was a slender,
white-robed figure hastening from one side of the vessel to the other
and bowing continually in response to the storms of greeting of which
she never seemed to tire.
Meanwhile, at Mussdorf, the landing place for Vienna, great preparations
had been made to welcome her. Since early morning crowds had been
flocking thither, waiting with imperturbable patience and struggling to
keep the places so hardly won. Near the bridge a pavilion had been
erected with a wide portico whose gilded turrets and cupolas gleamed
afar, and by noon it was filled with nobles, prelates, high officials,
and deputies from the middle classes. Stationed upon a terrace to the
right were the foreign ambassadors with their ladies; on the left sat
representatives from Vienna and other cities under the Hapsburg rule.
The weather had been threatening in the early part of the day, but
towards noon heavy gusts of wind scattered the clouds, leaving the
bluest of skies to welcome the bridal party. At half-past six the boat
touched the shore amid the booming of cannon, strains of music, and the
solemn pealing of bells. Franz Joseph hastened forward to embrace his
bride, closely followed by his parents, the Archduke Franz Karl and the
Archduchess Sophie, who embraced Elizabeth and then led her back to the
bridegroom.
At last came the long-awaited moment when Elizabeth, leaning on the
Emperor’s arm, entered the Austrian capital. From thousands of throats
came the shout, “Long live the Emperor’s bride!” The sound was so
overwhelming that Elizabeth stood for some moments by her lover’s side
as if spellbound; then, as her glance swept slowly over the excited
throng, she smiled charmingly and waved her handkerchief to the
delighted spectators. Many years have passed since that day, many
misfortunes have overtaken Austria and the house of Hapsburg, but
eyewitnesses are still living who remember that moment and tell of the
picture the fair young princess made as she then appeared in all her
exquisite loveliness.
[Illustration: _EMPEROR FRANZ JOSEPH in his twenty-eighth year_]
The progress from Mussdorf to Schönbrunn was a continuous ovation. At
half-past seven they reached the gates of the old palace, where the
Emperor once more bade his bride welcome before leading her up the great
staircase, which was decorated from top to bottom with tropical plants
and flowers. On the following day the state entry into Vienna took
place. Every house had been decorated by loving hands, and the streets
through which the bride was to pass were perfect rivers of flowers. The
Elizabeth Bridge, which connected Vienna with the suburb of Wieden or
“An der Wien,” was opened that day and given the name of the Empress.[1]
Here the mayor and council of the city were stationed to welcome her.
About the eight statues of famous men which adorned the bridge,
thousands of rare shrubs and blossoms from the hothouses of Princes
Lichtenstein and Schwarzenberg, the fragrance of which filled the whole
town, had been effectively arranged. As far as the Corinthian gate
stretched a triple wall of citizens, and at short intervals young girls
stood strewing flowers.
The thunder of cannon and pealing of bells from every church tower in
Vienna and its suburbs proclaimed the starting of the procession. The
golden state coach was drawn by eight milk-white horses with tall white
plumes on their heads; the harnesses were covered with gold, and the
coachman, footmen, and postilions wore white wigs. On the back seat sat
the bride with her mother. Her dress was of red satin, embroidered in
silver, and over it she wore a white cloak trimmed with garlands of
roses. About her neck was a lace handkerchief, and in her beautiful hair
sparkled a circlet of diamonds, twined in which was a wreath of red
roses. Never had Elizabeth more fitly deserved the name so often given
her, never had she more perfectly looked “The Rose of Bavaria.”
Early on the morning of April 24, 1854, Te Deums were celebrated in all
the churches of Vienna and the august pair attended high mass in the
court chapel. By three o’clock in the afternoon the crowds about the
Hofburg and the Church of the Augustins, where the ceremony was
performed, were so great that barriers had to be erected to keep a way
clear for the coaches to pass. From all parts of the Empire and of
Europe guests had been pouring into the capital. On the preceding day
alone, seventy-five thousand strangers arrived, a most extraordinary
number for those days. Even the Orient—Alexandria, Smyrna, and
Salonica—sent representatives to the wedding.
The famous old Church of the Augustins was gorgeously decorated for the
occasion. Above the high altar rose a canopy of white velvet embroidered
with gold, under which were placed two prie-dieux, also of white velvet.
The walls and columns of the church were hung with damask and costly
tapestry and the floor was carpeted. From a hundred candelabra countless
tapers shed a soft but brilliant light. The Augustin Gallery, which led
from the inner apartments of the Hofburg to the church, was similarly
decorated and illuminated.
The marriage was to take place at seven o’clock in the evening. By six
every available space in the church was filled with invited guests. The
gay uniforms of the officers, the many-colored and picturesque court
dresses of the Hungarian and Polish nobles, the sparkling jewels of the
ladies, the gold-embroidered coats of the ministers and distinguished
guests, the red robes of the cardinals, the fantastic costumes of many
of the Oriental emissaries, all united to form a scene of incredible
magnificence.
At the appointed time Prince Archbishop Rauscher, the Emperor’s former
tutor, with more than seventy bishops and archbishops in their
gold-embroidered vestments, assembled in the sacristy. The master of
ceremonies informed his Majesty that all was ready, and the procession
entered the Augustin Gallery. First came the pages, stewards, and
gentlemen-in-waiting; next the privy councillors and high court
officials; then the Archdukes with their chamberlains; and, last of all,
the Emperor himself, in the uniform of a field marshal and wearing all
his orders. Directly behind the bridegroom came his mother, leading the
bride on her left. On Elizabeth’s left was her own mother, Duchess
Ludovica, and after them followed the ladies of the court led by the
Lord Chamberlain.
The bride of sixteen was radiant with all the beauty and happiness of
youth. Her wedding gown was of heavy white silk, richly embroidered with
gold and silver, over which she wore a loose garment of the same
material with long sleeves. A diamond clasp held the long veil of
Brussels point lace, and the bridal wreath of fresh myrtle and orange
blossoms was secured by a magnificent coronet of diamonds which her
mother-in-law had worn at her own marriage and given to Elizabeth as a
wedding gift. A diamond necklace encircled her throat, and upon her
breast she wore the Bavarian order of Theresa and the Austrian order of
the Starry Cross, together with a bunch of white roses.
The Emperor and his bride were met at the door of the church by the
Prince Archbishop, who sprinkled them with holy water, after which they
knelt on the prie-dieux while the other members of the two royal
families took their places. After a short prayer Franz Joseph and
Elizabeth advanced to the high altar, made their responses, exchanged
rings, and clasped hands. As the Archbishop pronounced the Church’s
blessing at the close of the ritual, a salvo of musketry sounded from
the regiment of infantry stationed on the Josephsplatz, and the next
instant the thunder of cannon proclaimed that Austria had an Empress and
Hungary a Queen.