Last year was the 100th anniversary of the Empire’s final dissolution via the Treaty of Trianon,
which fixed the lasting borders of the successor states. The
coincidence spurred a minor flurry of books on the dynasty’s dénouement,
of which Martin Rady’s huge — but gripping — The Habsburgs: The Rise and Fall of a World Power (Penguin) stands out.
As the title suggests, the volume is equally about the early as late
phases of the Habsburg story. Yet, probing the Dual Monarchy’s
pre-history alerts us to enduring traits which enabled the later
Habsburgs to hold together their “rag bag” of heterogenous territories,
in defiance of powerful romantic and liberal nationalist movements.
In 1848, in the face of a radical uprising in Vienna, and a
nationalist one in Hungary, it looked to many observers as if the
Habsburg Empire was finished. Yet, after restoring order with Russian
help, in cultural and intellectual terms it thrived for another seven
decades.
For Rady the unquestionable key to the dynasty’s might was its
mystique. It was imbued with an aura of sacral legitimacy which not only
held the loyalty of subjects but imbued the family’s members with a
driving sense of vocation: “they conceived of their power as both
something they had been predestined for and part of the divine order in
which the world was arranged.” The self-concept was manifested through
intense Eucharistic and Marian piety — well beyond that of other royal
households.
Domestic super-piety put something numinous at the heart of the “Holy
Roman Empire”, over which the family presided almost continuously
between 1438 and its dissolution in 1806. It also meant that, whatever
the personal moral failings of its leaders, the “odour of sanctity”
clung persistently to the Austrian polity, and even more to the imperial
personage.
Franz Joseph’s long reign (he ruled from 1848 to 1916) and the
literature through which perception of its later decades is refracted,
including the retrospective novels of Joseph Roth and Jaroslav Hašek,
tend to anchor it in our minds as something tragic — an age of elegant
uniforms and doomed politics.
For contemporaries, their own lived experience was different.
Presentations of the royal house in popular literature had a sense of
“sacred drama” about them. The personal sorrows of Franz Joseph, who
lost both wife and son before their time, together with the burdens of
ruling “were likened to Christ’s Crown of Thorns, confirming the emperor
as not only the ruler of peoples but also their redeemer.”
Ethnic fragmentation was contained because the emperor “became the
almost exclusive focus of loyalty and symbol of an idea that transcended
nation.” Unlike in today’s culture war and Brexit battles,
national-separatist ambitions were more pronounced among the
intelligentsia than urban-worker and rural-labourer population bases.
In 1908, honouring the 60th anniversary of the Emperor’s
accession, “hundreds of thousands of Galician Poles and Ruthenes bought
cheap transparencies of the emperor, putting them in their windows so
that at night the streets … shone with identical portraits of Franz
Joseph.” Translucence and transcendence momentarily coalesced.
As Rady points out, Franz Joseph’s recovery of the older Habsburg
genius for “revolution from above” also served to forestall political
radicalism, with timely social reform staving off dislocating socialist
revolution after 1848.
The later Habsburgs, though devoutly Catholic, were, for the period, surprisingly unsectarian. As John Van der Kiste notes in The End of the Habsburgs: The Decline and Fall of the Austrian Monarchy (Fonthill)
when the emperor travelled within his dominions, “he not only visited
Protestant and Orthodox churches but attended services in them”. His
interfaith encounters extended to synagogues and, after the occupation
(later annexation) of Bosnia, mosques as well.
Franz Joseph occasionally made off-colour remarks about Jews in
private but was a zealous defender of their civil rights — a reminder
that the policing of language is not an invariable guarantee of social
progress. Full emancipation of Jews in both halves of the empire came as
an integral part of the emperor’s constitutional reform programme of
1867. Later he blocked the entry into office of vicious anti-Semite Karl
Luger as elected Mayor of Vienna for two whole years from 1895.
Maybe Franz Joseph was influenced by the late medieval chroniclers
who constructed elaborate lineages linking the Habsburgs back to the
Kings of the Old Testament and even to Noah. Certainly, the very real
affection the Empire’s Jews felt towards him is attested to in surviving
silver Torah scroll holders, capped with the Habsburg double-eagle,
produced in significant numbers during his reign. (Read more.)
Early in her reign, Sisi developed a deep interest in Hungary, then a
rebellious part of her husband’s empire. She believed the Hungarian
people deserved greater freedoms and respect, and collaborated with her
close friend, the dashing Hungarian statesman Gyula Andrássy, to advance
the Hungarian cause. She further alienated the Viennese aristocracy by
filling her personal staff with Hungarian nationals.
In 1867,
Hungary became an equal partner in the Austro-Hungarian empire. Franz
Joseph was crowned King of Hungary and Sisi became queen. Hungarians
were given new freedoms, and Franz Joseph was allowed back into the
royal bed (the couple’s last child, Marie Valerie, was born in Budapest
in 1868). For her part in the Austro-Hungarian Compromise of 1867, Sisi
was beloved by the Hungarian people. (Read more.)