Royal Hunt

I woke up to a stream of sunlight hitting my face. The maid entered the room and abruptly opened the curtains, letting in light and a breath of fresh air. Birdsong also came into the room from outside. "Good morning, Princess." Margaret sang cheerfully, "The bath is ready." Before I could look around, the maids were pulling the covers off me. Margaret took my hand and helped me out of bed. She sat me down at the table, grabbed a pearl comb, and began to comb my hair. I was glad to have Margaret taking care of my morning hygiene. She was more careful with the comb than the other maids, not pulling and twisting my head in all directions. Meanwhile, another girl appeared at my right side with a basin full of hot water. She began to wipe me with a fine sponge. She carefully wiped all the visible parts of my body. In my long nightgown, however, that meant she washed my hands and ankles. "Don't be afraid to push," I urged her, pulling my nightgown up above my knees so she could continue. As soon as the girl saw my knees she squeaked and looked over at Margaret in embarrassment. She motioned for her to continue and continued to comb my hair.  "It's getting harder and harder to find maids that want to go get you ready in the morning." She said nonchalantly "There are rumors downstairs about the shamelessness with which you demand to be washed completely whole every morning."  "Unlike half the royal court, I do not share their concern with too much washing. For God's sake, we are a modern civilized society. At the last ball, I nearly fainted from the amount of perfume in the air, which some of the attendees tried to use to overpower their own body odor. Moreover, I recently met a young Jonah Jajteles at university and he was showing me under a microscope how much dirt there is even on seemingly clean skin. If you could see that, you'd wash yourself with boiling water every day too." I replied. This obscurantism and medieval views that persisted among some of our servants annoyed me. To be honest, however, I was much more annoyed by similar views at court.  People as rich as they are, who prided themselves on being educated, modern and progressive, but paid no attention to contemporary science.  "My goodness, you're confused, if God wanted us not to get infected, we wouldn't," said Countess Kounitz the last time I told her that in America they had started vaccinating soldiers against smallpox. And they were all like that in Vienna.  God, how glad I was that the season was over and we could return home to Prague. I liked our palace and its gardens better than all the glitter and gold of Schönbrunn. Here I could spend time in peace in the library, wander the garden and do whatever I wanted. The University of Prague was a stone's throw away and my father persuaded some of his friends to meet me for what they called "informal meetings". When they couldn't accept me as a regular student.  I took the plunge. Some said I was better than all their students put together. But I was unlucky enough to be born a girl.  The way I see it, I was lucky. I was born a girl, but I was born a princess. And my father is fortunately progressive enough to understand that a girl needs the education to survive in today's world. An education that includes more than dancing and watercolors.  As if on cue, Valentina, my youngest sister, burst into my room. Beautiful, blonde, in a cloud of powder and perfume, with satin ribbons trailing behind her.  "Kristine, it's great that you're awake. May I borrow your stockings? My stupid maid ripped mine."  "Really? A maid?" I raised my eyebrows. Valentina was known for the carelessness with which she approached her own and others' possessions. Father paid the bills, she spent. With incredible speed. Her main weakness was fashion and pageantry. If she found a new fabric somewhere, she had to have it. Perfumers and cosmetics manufacturers were lining up behind our door. I doubt she wore any of her clothes twice.  Without waiting for my answer, she leaned over to my closet. I quickly stood up and pushed her away. Among my underwear, I hid some of the books that even my father would not have considered appropriate for a young lady. I didn't want Valentina to come across the latest treatise on sexually transmitted diseases that I had tangled in my underwear. I handed her two stockings. "But these are plain." She wrinkled her nose at them. "Do you have any silk ones?"  "I don't. My last pair of silk stockings fell victim to a ball at the opera hosted by Count Czernin."  But Valentina was no longer listening to me. As soon as she perceived that I cannot help her, she turned around and, with her hand on the doorknob, told me, "Father does not have to go to the office today; he expects us to have breakfast together." And she disappeared.  I was delighted and returned obediently to the chair by which an impatient Margaret was already standing with other maids with dresses ready.  The days when father did not have to go to the office were my favorite. He spends all the time with us and I could finally have a meaningful conversation with somebody who did not think only about dresses or getting married. Margaret quickly finished doing my hair and motioned for me to slip my nightgown off my shoulders. Together with the two maids, she then pulled the chemise over me and then pulled up the corset.  I sighed. Sometimes, especially when both parents were busy and we weren't expecting any visitors, I managed to convince Margaret that the corset wasn't necessary.  In my opinion, it was indeed an unchristian practice. Stripping young ladies like smoked ham just because it's been done for four centuries? Not to mention the fact that you can't breathe, walk, hardly even sit in that thing.  "Father would like you to come to the table as well-groomed as a well-mannered young lady," Margaret warned me when she saw that I didn't want to get into my corset.  I sighed again and held out my hands. The maids pulled my corset tight and Margaret approached from behind so she could lace it up tightly. Sometimes I suspected she took a mischievous pleasure in the activity. She pulled the lace through all the holes and began to tighten. Gradually, my breath got shorter. "That... that's enough." I barked. "Just a little more of that.'" Margaret murmured after going around me twice. I gave her an evil look, but she didn't see it anymore. A moment later, I nearly fainted. "There, now it's perfect." She gave me a satisfied smile. Then she beckoned to the young maids who stood in the background with their dresses ready. As a little girl, I didn't understand why so many maids took care of me in the morning. Once the corset came into play, I understood. Lace-up like that, I could no longer bend, turn, let alone dress.  They tied padding around my hips. And I thanked God again that we were at home and not at the court where I would have to wear a crinoline. Over the padding, they pulled the lower linen skirt, the trimmed front skirt, and finally carefully draped the top skirt over all those layers. Margaret chose a blue brocade for today, she knew that my father liked me best in blue.  Finally came the bodice. While the maid laced it up in the back, Margaret pinned on my jewelry. She never let anyone else take care of my jewels. She didn't bother with makeup, I didn't wear any outside of Vienna and she respected that.