Achilleion

Listen first. Cicadas, a steady dry rattle in the cypress trees. Then the crunch of gravel underfoot, and somewhere below, the faint hush of the Ionian Sea. You are standing on a green hillside above the village of Gastouri, south of Corfu Town. The air smells of pine resin and warm stone. Ahead of you rises a pale palace with columns and terraces, built not for a Greek king, but for a restless Austrian empress who wanted to disappear.

That empress was Elisabeth of Austria, known to millions simply as Sisi. She was famous across Europe for her beauty, her long hair, and her strict diets. She was also deeply unhappy at the Habsburg court in Vienna. Formal ceremony suffocated her. She travelled constantly, by ship and by train, searching for places where she could walk for hours unwatched. Corfu became one of those places. She first came here for her health, and the island stayed with her.

In 1889, Elisabeth suffered a terrible loss. Her only son, Crown Prince Rudolf, died at the hunting lodge of Mayerling, near Vienna. His death was a scandal and a tragedy, and it marked his mother for the rest of her life. Soon afterwards, the palace on this hill took shape. It was completed in the early 1890s, designed by the Italian architect Raffaele Caritto. Many writers see it as a refuge built out of grief.

Why the name Achilleion? Elisabeth loved the poetry of ancient Greece, and she studied the Greek language. Her favourite hero was Achilles, the great warrior of Homer's Iliad. For listeners new to the story, Achilles was nearly invincible. His mother dipped him in a sacred river as a baby, holding him by the heel. That one spot stayed unprotected. Elisabeth admired Achilles for his strength, but also for his sorrow. She dedicated her palace to him.

The building follows a Pompeian style, which means it copies the look of Roman villas found at Pompeii, the town buried by Vesuvius. Notice the soft colours, the painted ceilings, and the columns that frame the views. Inside, the rooms carry religious paintings, imperial portraits, and ornate furniture. Look up in the main staircase. A large painting by Franz Matsch shows Achilles dragging the body of his enemy Hector behind his chariot. It is a cruel scene, and it is hard to forget.

Now walk out into the gardens. This is where most visitors slow down. The terraces fall away toward the sea, and the view runs across olive groves to the coast. Along the peristyle, a covered walkway lined with columns, you will find marble figures of the Muses, the nine goddesses of the arts in Greek myth. Each one holds a symbol of her art. Elisabeth liked to walk here, often very early, often alone.

The most moving statue in the garden is the Dying Achilles, by the German sculptor Ernst Herter. The hero sits on the ground, half fallen. He reaches toward the arrow in his heel. His face looks up, not in anger, but in pain and disbelief. Here is a detail many visitors miss. This is not a victory monument at all. Elisabeth chose a hero at the moment of his death, not his triumph.

Elisabeth did not enjoy her palace for long. She grew restless again and kept travelling. In 1898, while walking beside Lake Geneva in Switzerland, she was stabbed by an Italian anarchist. The wound was small, made with a thin blade, and at first she barely noticed it. She died a short time later. The woman who built a temple to a wounded hero died from one sharp, almost invisible injury.

After her death, the Achilleion stood quiet. Then, in 1907, it found a very different owner — Kaiser Wilhelm II of Germany. The Kaiser loved grand gestures. He spent summers here and changed the palace to match his own taste. Sisi had placed a statue of her favourite poet, Heinrich Heine, in the garden. Heine was a German poet of Jewish origin, and the Kaiser disliked him. The statue was removed. It no longer stands in these gardens.

Wilhelm also added the largest statue on the estate. At the end of the garden stands a giant bronze Achilles, armed with spear and shield, facing the sea. This is Achilles Triumphant, made by the sculptor Johannes Götz. Compare it with Herter's dying figure. One statue shows a hero who suffers. The other shows a warrior who conquers. Between them, you can read the personalities of the two owners. Inside, look for the Kaiser's unusual desk chair, shaped like a horse saddle.

The twentieth century brought war to this peaceful hill. During the First World War, French and Serbian troops used the Achilleion as a military hospital. Wounded soldiers rested in rooms built for an empress. After the war, the palace passed to the Greek state. Over the following decades it changed roles many times. For a period, it even housed a casino. And in 1981, it appeared on cinema screens, as a location in the James Bond film For Your Eyes Only.

The palace also returned to the world stage in 1994. That year, European leaders gathered on Corfu for a summit, and the Achilleion was one of its settings. It is a strange path for one building. A private retreat for a grieving empress became an emperor's summer house, then a hospital, a casino, a film set, and a diplomatic venue. Today it is a museum, and the rooms tell all these stories side by side.

Before you leave, stand for a moment at the edge of the garden terrace. Look out over the trees to the water. Listen again for the cicadas and the wind in the cypresses. This is the view that Elisabeth came here to find — wide, quiet, and far from Vienna. As you walk back along the gravel paths, glance once more at the Dying Achilles. He is still reaching for that arrow... still looking up at the sky.