Winkelhofer The Everyday Life of the Emperor
1. Auflage 2012
ISBN: 978-3-7099-7416-2
Verlag: Haymon Verlag
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 6 - ePub Watermark
Francis Joseph and his Imperial Court
E-Book, Englisch, 264 Seiten
ISBN: 978-3-7099-7416-2
Verlag: Haymon Verlag
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 6 - ePub Watermark
The Court in Vienna under Emperor Francis Joseph was not only Europe's most illustrious and refined, it was also a huge economic enterprise, serving as both home and workplace for just under 2,000 people. The author reveals multitudinous facets of Emperor Francis Joseph's court and displays them in highly entertaining fashion, the court truly comes alive again. She takes the reader through a typical day in the life of the emperor, from his early morning toilette to the evening ceremonies; she tells tales of glittering ceremonies, receptions and audiences; she provides insights into the private and the family life of the emperor.
Weitere Infos & Material
I A Day in the Life of the Old Emperor
Emperor Francis Joseph was awakened by his First Valet every morning at 3:30 am. Following his morning prayers, a rubber bathtub was dragged into the room and His Majesty’s First Bath Attendant – tauntingly called ‘Washcloth’ by the courtiers – began his daily period of service. His undemanding duties consisted of soaping up the emperor and rinsing him off. His task was made more difficult by the fact that he invariably came to work inebriated. Often reprimanded by his superior, Washcloth invariably protested that he was the victim of his early hour of service. He had to start the day so early that he couldn’t get out of bed; so he simply didn’t go to bed, and stayed up all night at a local inn. And in order to keep awake until 3:30, he treated himself to a glass or two of wine. That was the sole cause for his staggering to work each day, redolent with alcohol, to perform his duties. The emperor was always lenient with Washcloth. Occasionally, Francis Joseph remarked that the bath attendant really did reek of alcohol, but was always reluctant to fire him. It was not until Washcloth one time appeared for work so drunk that he couldn’t even stand up straight, and had to hold himself upright by grabbing onto the neck and shoulders of the soaped-up emperor with all his strength to keep from toppling over, thereby nearly overturning emperor and bathtub alike, that the limits of patience were exceeded. The bath attendant had to be relieved of his arduous duties. However, he was not dismissed, merely transferred to a different court job which did not entail getting up so early in the morning. The story of Emperor Francis Joseph and his bath attendant is symptomatic of the relations between the emperor and those in his employ at court. Francis Joseph was indulgent, he shied away from harsh penalties and above all refused to dismiss servants, much to the despair of his leading officials. He lived utterly in the aura and unspoken terms of patriarchal traditions of providing for those beneath him, seeing himself as father of his court servants. They were his children whom he had to take care of. They were not to be dismissed, even if they performed their duties poorly. After his bath, valet Eugen Ketterl helped the emperor put on his uniform. Then followed breakfast: the identical breakfast served to officials and servants was brought to him at his desk. Apart from coffee and milk, he had breakfast rolls, butter and ham. And in the meantime, the court slowly lumbered to life. By 5:00 am at latest, a buzz of activity filled the halls of the court of Vienna. The first coaches delivered firewood, groceries and stationery needs for the officials. The wood carriers wheezed beneath the burdens of their bundles, trudging up and down every staircase of the Hofburg to supply each living and working section with the requisite fuel to last through the day. The cleaning staff ran back and forth across the inner yard carrying buckets full of water to commence the daily cleaning labours. In the court kitchen, more than 500 breakfasts were prepared, since only those servants who began their period of duty at 4:30 am had already had breakfast. The huge ovens in the court kitchen were fired up and the kitchen staff began to wash, scrub and slice the ingredients for the day’s pre-planned menu. As on every other day, hundreds of breakfasts, lunches and suppers had to be prepared. Throngs of livery servants, doormen and chamber servants scampered across the inner courtyards to their respective places of work, while night watchmen and supervisory staff retired to their rooms after a long night of service to finally rest their weary heads. By 7:30 am, the entire court was awake and humming. The court officials started their shift. They bade their wives farewell, left their court apartments impeccably dressed in the official uniforms of which they were so proud, clearly distinguishing each official from simple servants, and went to the court chancellery and office chambers. Another day of studying files, reports and correspondence began anew. When the officials took their place at their desks, the emperor already had three and a half hours of work behind him. Francis Joseph began his work with the first labourers who appeared at court and didn’t terminate it until the last shift of servants had retired to their quarters. In the interim, life at court ran like a strictly regulated precision clock, day in and day out. It was a mechanism which employed more than 1,500 people, each with his or her own specific working place and list of tasks, trimmed to each individual yet intertwined in many ways. Not even large-scale ceremonial events like court balls or state visits could disturb or impede the perfect operations. The microcosm of the court was based, after all, on 600 years of experience. Visitors walking through the courtyards of the imperial residence nowadays feel an aura of cool serenity. The windows are closed and one assumes that there is not much going on behind the walls, with the possible exception of the gala rooms of state. The attic abodes appear to have been unlived in for a century. Nothing about this tranquil, stately silence at the Hofburg recalls the bustling little city within the city of Vienna which once thrived. In Emperor Francis Joseph’s day, the court radiated the hustle and bustle of a beehive. The residence was crammed to the roof with people. Whoever worked at court also lived there. All the living units in the vast tracts, from the cellar rooms to the attic lodgings, were occupied. Depending on one’s societal rank, court ladies, officials and servants residing in the countless apartments spent not only their working days but also their entire lives at court. People were born here, worked here, served their emperor here and died here. For generations of employees, court was not only the lustrous center of the Habsburg Empire, it was also space to live in, one’s home and place of origin. A majority of the officials and servants lived with their entire family in the innumerable apartments; sometimes married couples and their children lived no more than a few hundred meters distant from the imperial family, all of them under the selfsame roof. A greater degree of social intermingling could not be found anywhere in the empire. The Hofburg was a bubbling, animated bit of territory and not at all cut off from the real world, even back then. The gates of the court gardens were not ever locked. On the contrary, they opened the way to passages and paths through the imperial grounds. Every child knew which windows the emperor worked behind, and behind which windows he slept. Whoever walked through the palace grounds during the day invariably encountered an immense buzz of activity. Officials ran back and forth from one office to another with files under their arms. Livery servants rushed about, carrying buckets of water or trays across the yards. Coaches stopped and started. Delivery wagons drove up, blocking the way, prompting enraged, fist-shaking responses of passers-by and valet coaches alike. The entire spectrum of society came and went, day after day. The prime minister and his cabinet drove up once weekly, the imperial suppliers of goods came daily. Aristocratic gentlemen cantered on horseback across the palace grounds each day on their way to the racing grounds in Prater. The nannies of the rich citizens pushed their prams through the court gardens. The maidservants and hired hands of neighbouring palaces bore their groceries from the Naschmarkt or fish market stalls across the grounds on their way back to their employers. In the epicentre of all this humming activity beat the heart of the empire. Emperor Francis Joseph personally held the reins of an empire comprising 50 million people in his hands. The court was not only his own representational stage setting, for official state receptions of new ambassadors or affairs of state in the gala halls of the Hofburg, it was also his living quarters and home. Regardless whether the emperor was in residence at the Hofburg, at Schönbrunn Palace or in Budapest, the imperial court was wherever he was. The miniature universe of the imperial court was simply unimaginable without the person of Francis Joseph. And yet, the emperor could not form, could not hold together that court without the human beings who were the backbone of its operations. Francis Joseph and his officials and servants were bonded inexorably to one another: they lived together, they interspersed and intermingled, and although they hailed from vastly different social backgrounds, they remained intimately tied to each other. The autonomy of the court was demonstrated not least by the loyalty of its members. Its officials were servants of the emperor, not of the state, even though de jure the emperor held sway over this court only as head of state. Every right and every guarantee of a safe and secure life for employees at court stemmed solely from the person of Francis Joseph. He alone guaranteed compliance with the centuries-old privileges of court officials. As long as the emperor remained in place, the work and security of every person employed there was assured. After he finished breakfast, Emperor Francis Joseph rang for his adjutant, Count Heinrich Hoyos, who sat poised for action at his desk in the charge office adjacent to the imperial apartments, impeccably outfitted in full uniform as of 3:00 am each and every day. It was his habit to lay his head in his folded hands and try desperately to get a bit of sleep until the moment when he was called. As soon as the imperial bell rang, he sprang still half asleep to his feet, quickly combed his hair, grabbed his...
