The Castle of Gödöllö
Not long after their wedding the Emperor and Empress visited an
exhibition of paintings in Vienna. Franz Joseph was anxious to purchase
some of them, but left the choice entirely to his wife, who went back
accordingly a few days later with one of her ladies and selected
twenty-four, every one of which when sent to the palace proved to be of
horses. Both at the Hofburg and at Schönbrunn her chief interest was in
the imperial stables, where she spent most of her mornings trying
different mounts. She loved exercise of all kinds, but riding was her
greatest delight and her skill and daring as a horsewoman were
remarkable. Authorities in these matters have declared that she outshone
any rider of her own sex, for she had a singular, almost hypnotic power
over horses, and even the most vicious ones would allow her to approach
and stroke them. Her slender wrists were like steel, and there was no
horse she could not ride when once she had made up her mind to do so.
Fear and fatigue were alike unknown to her, and she used often to
terrify the director of the riding-school in Vienna by asking him to
send her one or two of his wildest specimens to try. A cavalry officer
once expressed his surprise to the Emperor at his allowing the Empress
of Austria to spend so much time in the stables and make companions of
jockeys and circus riders. “Ah, my young friend,” replied the Emperor
kindly, “it is evident you do not know women. They usually do as they
please without waiting for our permission.”
Elizabeth never appeared to better advantage than when on horseback. Her
habit, which seemed as if moulded to her figure, was usually dark blue,
trimmed with fur. She also wore a low round hat and heavy riding-gloves,
but never a flower or bow or anything superfluous except a black fan,
which she carried in her hand or hung by a strap to her saddle.
Strangers generally supposed this was to protect her complexion, but her
friends were well aware that it was merely to guard herself from the
inevitable photographers who pursued her everywhere. “I hate being
photographed,” she once declared: “every time in my life that I have
been, something dreadful has happened to me.” She liked to attend to her
horses personally and visited them every morning, taking sugar and
carrots in her pocket for them, sometimes even going into their stalls
to pet or rub them down. At Schönbrunn she had a room the walls of which
were completely covered with pictures of horses. “Look,” she once said
to her Greek teacher when showing him this room, “all these are friends
I have lost. Many of them have died for me, which is more than I can say
of any human being. People would far rather have me killed.” She was
never so happy as when in the saddle, dashing through the forests of
Austria or the wide Hungarian plains. But these long rides also served
another purpose. On both sides of the house she had relatives whose
lives were darkened by the fatal inheritance of the Wittelsbachs; so it
was not strange that as she grew older her sensitive nature should have
brooded over the fear of developing the family disorder. To banish these
terrible fits of depression she would gallop for hours, insensible to
weather or physical exhaustion, sometimes drenched to the skin, and it
was only when she felt her horse quiver under her with fatigue that she
would slacken her pace.
Immediately after the coronation the Hungarians presented to their Queen
the castle of Gödöllö, situated in the depths of the forest, not far
from Budapest, and for many years it was her favorite residence. Here
there was nothing to break the peaceful seclusion but the plaintive
notes of the Zingaris’ violins. Here she was her own mistress, spending
long, happy, care-free days. She usually rose at four o’clock, and was
in the saddle from five till eleven, when she breakfasted. It was an
ideal country for riding, and she became familiar with every forest
pathway for miles around, often stopping at some camp of the Czikos to
chat with these half-savage Bedouins of the Hungarian Puszta, in whom
she felt the greatest interest. She brought them gifts of tobacco, and
was always welcomed with delight by these strange herdsmen.
But there were gay times also at Gödöllö in those days, when her husband
and children were there and the castle was full of guests. Her stag
hunts were famous, and the walls were covered with trophies of the
chase. “There is a tree at Gödöllö,” she once said to a companion, “who
is one of my best friends. He knows all my inmost thoughts, and whenever
I go back there I tell him all that has happened to me since we parted.”
Wherever she might be her thoughts turned longingly toward her beloved
Hungary, where she was happiest, and among whose romantic, impulsive
people she always felt most at home. All classes in Budapest adored
their beautiful Queen, who wore the national costume of the country and
lost no opportunity of remaining among them. Her courage, gentleness,
and open-hearted generosity made her universally beloved. She would go
about among the poorest and vilest quarters of the city, helping the
suffering and needy, quite unconscious of danger or fear. The wretched
creatures often little suspected who she was, but she was welcomed
everywhere as an angel of mercy, and could go unharmed where even the
police would scarcely venture.
One evening she was riding with a companion through the outskirts of
Budapest, and was just passing a hovel set back a little from the main
road when they were startled by hearing piercing shrieks from within.
The voice was that of a woman evidently in the greatest distress. On the
impulse of the moment they leaped from their horses, and rushing to the
door and bursting it open, found themselves in a low, dirty room, where
a huge ruffian of a man was dragging a woman about the floor by her
long, unbound hair, kicking her vigorously as he did so. Without a
moment’s thought Elizabeth dealt him a blow in the face with her heavy
hunting-crop, which so surprised the fellow that he dropped his victim
and stared at her in blank amazement. Elizabeth’s own astonishment was
still greater, however, when the ill-used woman arose and sprang at her
like a tiger, overwhelming her at the same time with the vilest abuse
for presuming to attack her husband. The Empress burst into a peal of
laughter, and taking a gold piece from her pocket she handed it to the
man, exclaiming: “Beat her, my friend. Beat her all she wants; she
deserves it for being so loyal to you.”