Did Maximilian break my concept?
Today’s role was supposed to be, first and foremost, the empress who loved artists. Had I been so flustered by his sudden flirtation that I’d seemed, for a moment, like an empress engaged in politics?
For now, I had to continue the conversation with the next actor.
“Bauernfeld, the plays at the court theater these days seem to repeat the same stories every time. Are there no new plays in fashion in Vienna?”
As I spoke to him first, I recalled what Esterházy had briefly explained to me.
‘Unlike His Imperial Highness Archduke Maximilian, Bauernfeld is a playwright influenced by English liberalism. During the Metternich Regency Council, he was even offered a court post, so his political instincts are quite exceptional.’
“Well, there is a comedy I would like to recommend to Your Majesty, but I imagine you have already seen most of the worthwhile ones. Are you interested in English literature?”
“Of course. I recently read Frankenstein. Are there any similar novels?”
Frankenstein was classified as a Gothic novel.
In the future, it would occupy roughly the same position as pulp fiction, or perhaps a web novel. It was not the sort of Schiller or Goethe novel that would be in Josef’s study.
On the surface, I had to appear as nothing more than a girl who enjoyed sensational ghost stories.
“I never imagined Your Majesty would have read that novel.”
He smiled.
“Walter Scott once said of it, ‘This novel is the result of an imagination difficult for ordinary people to accept, and it possesses an irreverently gloomy and dark view of nature and humanity.’ What does Your Majesty think?”
I was supposed to be a seventeen-year-old, thoughtless Bavarian girl who wanted to see new art. In this place, there were not only my allies, but also the Archduchess’s eyes and ears.
“As I said at the beginning, Vienna has not seen many new works lately. Do you wish for me to become your patron, theater director?”
“Would Your Majesty grant me the honor?”
I extended my hand in response. Bauernfeld lightly kissed the back of my gloved hand, confirming that the agreement had been made.
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
Next was Rothschild, then.
I want to finish this quickly and rest in bed…
On my way to him, I exchanged a few words with those I encountered and slowly made my way before him.
“Baron Anselm von Rothschild. I am pleased that you came to my salon tonight. I have often heard of you from Countess Esterházy. She says the works of art hanging in your mansion are no less magnificent than those in Vienna’s palaces.”
“How could they compare to the artworks of the imperial palace?”
The baron answered with a courteous smile, one that left no opening to slip through.
“You are far too modest, Baron. I have heard that you are one of the great patrons of the art world.”
Rothschild studied me for a moment, as if measuring my intentions.
He’s the most exhausting person I’ve met so far.
If I can’t approach him through art, what method should I use…?
***
The frivolous strains of the waltz drifting from the empress’s salon could not be heard here.
Archduchess Sophie’s office was the complete opposite. Instead of chairs upholstered in red velvet, there stood Biedermeier chairs with rigidly upright backs.
What adorned the walls were not splendid Rococo decorations, but only solemn portraits of the Virgin Mary and the successive Habsburg emperors.
The room was so still it almost felt as though one could hear ink drying.
Knock, knock.
With a light knock, Baron Johann von Kempen, the director of the Court Police Bureau, entered the room.
As a secret policeman, he wore not a splendid uniform, but inconspicuous clothes in dark colors.
“Your Imperial Highness.”
“Report, Baron.”
Sophie spoke without even lifting her head, her gaze fixed on the documents.
Kempen began his report in an emotionless voice.
“Thus far, there have been no unusual movements at Her Majesty the Empress’s salon. She exchanged light conversation with His Imperial Highness Archduke Albrecht, and with His Imperial Highness Archduke Maximilian, she appears to have had a somewhat passionate conversation about Italian art.”
Sophie’s pen paused for a moment atop the document.
Passionate. She thought of her second son.
A romantic forever intoxicated by ideals, unable to see reality. And beside him, a thoughtless Bavarian girl. The worst possible combination.
“…Continue.”
“After that, she briefly discussed English novels with the playwright Bauernfeld.”
Sophie recalled, for a moment, the books that had been in the empress’s study.
‘Nothing of substance. Novels meant merely for amusement.’
“I see.”
“She said she would offer him new patronage.”
The corners of Sophie’s mouth twisted in disdain.
‘Bauernfeld. A liberal who opposed the Metternich system. And the empress of the empire is to patronize such a man.’
“Perhaps because she is still young, she cannot even distinguish art from treason.”
Rather, Sophie considered this an opportunity to rally the conservative forces back to her side.
“Continue your report.”
Kempen paused briefly before speaking the next name.
“She conversed with Baron Anselm von Rothschild.”
At last, Sophie raised her head.
Rothschild.
The others were all people grasping at empty clouds called honor or ideology, but Rothschild was different.
They were money. The empire’s wars and peace began and ended in their vaults.
“Is the Creditanstalt Bank not enough for her?”
“That does not appear to be the case. Her Majesty the Empress praised the baron, but Rothschild gave only a formal reply.”
Sophie lowered her gaze back to the documents.
‘They are the ones who know best where they should stand.’
“Continue watching Rothschild. And record every conversation and movement of those who leave that room. You must not miss even the smallest whisper.”
“I shall do as ordered, Your Imperial Highness.”
After Kempen withdrew, only silence remained in the room once more.
Sophie looked at the childhood portrait of the emperor beneath the candlelight.
‘Josef. While you are away, this mother of yours must protect the empire.’
It was Sophie who had given up even the position of empress and made Josef emperor.
***
The room I returned to after successfully finishing the salon had been warmed comfortably.
“Chief lady-in-waiting. It seems the Rothschild family has already made its choice.”
“That is correct, Your Majesty. I will look into other families.”
“What about the Fugger family?”
I didn’t know the details, but I thought I had seen on a wiki somewhere that it was the Fugger family who had made the Habsburgs victorious.
“They will not help us.”
“Why not?”
“The Habsburgs brought them to ruin.”
I stayed silent, implying that she should explain in more detail.
“They lent astronomical sums to Charles V and Philip II. In return, they even gained the status of princes.”
Then shouldn’t they have been on good terms with each other?
“Philip II declared state bankruptcy several times, which dealt an irrecoverable blow to the Fugger family’s banking business. In the end, their bank closed its doors.”
“If Rothschild gained power by lending money, then Fugger learned the lesson that one must not lend money.”
“That is correct, Your Majesty.”
“But wasn’t that Spain? In the case of our Austrian Habsburgs, we had already split off into a separate branch by then.”
“Your Majesty, they have no reason to fight Rothschild, nor any reason to help us. The Fugger family does not trust the name Habsburg itself.”
Ugh, what should I do?
At present, within the Habsburg family, the Empress Dowager, the Archduchess, and I—three people in total—were dividing and using the privy purse of the empress’s household.
Her Majesty the Empress Dowager devoted herself solely to charity, so she likely did not cling to the privy purse, but the Archduchess and I were squeezing every last bit out of our allotted funds.
The salon held today had been paid for with the privy purse, and the funds promised to the artists I had agreed to patronize would also come from the privy purse.
As expected… the only thing left is that.
“Chief lady-in-waiting. What is the most promising business in Vienna right now?”
Esterházy glanced at Lamberg before answering.
“Court lady Lamberg should be able to inform Your Majesty on that matter.”
Did that mean Esterházy, being a widow, did not know much about matters related to business?
Lamberg stepped forward and reported to me.
“Your Majesty, you will not be able to defeat Rothschild with money. They are the founders of the Creditanstalt established by Her Imperial Highness Archduchess Sophie.”
Esterházy had brought me incorrect information.
Since it was a recently established company, had they deliberately sent false information to Esterházy, who had fallen out of favor with my mother-in-law?
“At present, money, land, and buildings are all within the reach of Her Imperial Highness Archduchess Sophie. Your Majesty must possess what they do not.”
“And what is that?”
“Roads and light, Your Majesty.”
Roads and light, is it?
“You mean railways and gas lamps.”
Lamberg bowed deeply at the waist.
“As we are currently in a state of war, they are being used for military purposes, but once the war ends, the railway construction plans that had been scheduled will proceed.”
“Railway construction?”
“The Empress Elisabeth Railway, Kaiserin-Elisabeth-Bahn. As it is a line named after Her Majesty the Empress, I believe there could be no better justification.”
For a moment, my throat caught and I coughed.
“…The Empress Elisabeth Railway?”
“Yes. It is the western line running from Vienna through Linz to Salzburg, and then toward Munich in Bavaria, Your Majesty’s homeland.”
Ah, how embarrassing.
I could feel my face burning hot.
I was probably bright red right now.
“…What was the original name of the line?”
“It was the Westbahn, the Western Line, but His Majesty the Emperor gave it Her Majesty the Empress’s name upon your marriage.”
I was so embarrassed I couldn’t lift my head.
Seeing me at a loss, Esterházy continued gently.
“Your Majesty, the bridge crossing Karlsplatz and the Wien River already bears Your Majesty’s name as well. There is also a hussar regiment bearing Your Majesty’s name. The regiment that succeeded in crossing the Danube previously was the Empress Elisabeth Hussar Regiment.”
Agh, what am I supposed to do with my hands and feet…
“…I suppose I must write a letter to His Majesty the Emperor.”
I should tell him not to do that anymore.