Visualizzazione post con etichetta Marie Vetsera. Mostra tutti i post
Visualizzazione post con etichetta Marie Vetsera. Mostra tutti i post

venerdì 30 gennaio 2026

Mayerling ~ Wednesday, January 30, 1889



On the morning of January 31, 1889, the people of Vienna awoke to a shocking news that chilled the streets, veiled by the icy winter fog, into silence. On every newspaper of the capital of the Austro-Hungarian Empire front-paged appears the news of the tragic death of the heir to the throne, Archduke Rudolf, which had occurred the previous morning from a heart failure while he was at his hunting lodge in Mayerling, in the Vienna Woods. Time seemed to stand still for a moment, for Vienna, for the whole Old Continent, for the entire world. As the hours passed, it was discovered that he wasn't alone, he was together with his lover, Marie Vetsera, and they had both died from gunshot wounds.

~ My Little Old World ~ has already dealt with this topic some years ago (click HERE to read the post published on January 30, 2014), but new developments prompt me to retract it. Let's look at what happened in order. At 6:30 that morning, the prince's personal valet, Johann Loschek, hears a shot coming from the room where Rudolf was sleeping. He had spent merrily the previous evening with his usual companions: the inseparable Josef Bratfisch, his personal coachman, a good-natured, singing man with a quick wit; Count Joseph Theodor von Hoyos, his aide-de-camp; and Johann Loschek, of course. Before retiring to his room at about midnight, Rudolf had bidden farewell, asking the latter to wake him at 7:00 a.m. He had to have breakfast and then meet up with the friends who accompanied him whenever a hunting trip was planned: Count Hoyos, already in Mayerling, and his friend and brother-in-law, Prince Philip of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, who would be joining them from Vienna that early morning. Hearing the shot, Loschek rushes to the door of his room but finds it bolted from the inside. A first question arises here: why would Rudolf have locked the door from the inside with the latch, thus making it unopenable from the outside, when the night before he had instructed Loscheck to be woken at a very specific time? But let's return to the story of the events of that fateful morning: Loscheck is unable to open the door of Rudolf’s room by himself. It takes the strength of two men and the aid of a lever. He then turns to Hoyos for his help. Once the door is open, the scene that unfolds before their eyes is nothing short of horrifying, so much so that they cannot explain it, much less comprehend it: the small window bangs forcefully in time with the gusts of the icy north breeze caressing the snow that has continued to fall throughout the night; someone has entered through that very window, forcing the handle, and, from there, quickly escaped, leaving the ladder he used to go up and down leaning against the windowsill. The table that was against the wall now appears torn down in the center of the room, in a pool of blood; the other furniture has also been moved and stained with blood. In all honesty, blood is everywhere. Generous splashes distressingly paint the walls, especially the one supporting the bed on which lie the lifeless bodies of Rudolf and his very young lover, the seventeen-year-old Baroness Marie Vetsera, who had followed him there and joined him the night before. There were traces left by large men near the window, and footprints and blood were also visible on the ladder, demonstrating that the prince had not only resisted for a long time before surrendering to death, but had also wounded one of his attackers. But above all, it is on the floor, in the center of the room, that there is a huge pool of it... 

What does it mean? Perhaps Rudolf and Marie didn't die in the bed they were found in? That doesn't really appear to be the scene of a suicide, but, for everyone, it had to become such. Count Hoyos appears to gather courage and offers himself to bring the news of the incident to the emperors. He then sets out on foot to the Baden station where he awaits the first train to the capital. Rudolf's other three companions—Loschek, his coachman Bratfisch, and Prince Philip of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, who had arrived in the meantime and had witnessed his heartbreaking state—ride home and will arrive in Vienna before him. But no one will ever know it. Why does Hoyos act so calmly? He should have ridden as fast as the wind to the Hofburg. Instead, he will be the last to arrive in Vienna. A few hours after hearing the news of the tragedy, the emperor summons four men before him—THE MAYERLING WITNESSES—to buy their silence. They should never have confided to anyone what they had seen in the hunting lodge where Rudolf was still laying on his deathbed. Only one man will not keep his promise, and he will do so because he feels a heavy conscience: it will be Hoyos, complicit in the death of the crown prince who had blindly trusted him. He will confess the incident and his guilt to his brother Ladislaus, and from him the truth about Mayerling will be passed from father to son for several generations. It was never made known. Until the year 2022, when the journalist François Varay published the book Mayerling, la vérite révélée. Un secret de famille dévoilé, for the Parisian publisher Michel de Maule. He was the younger half-brother of the Franco-Austrian journalist Ladislas de Hoyos, known as the man who tracked down Klaus Barbie, the Nazi leader and head of the Gestapo in Paris during the World War II, who had taken refuge in Argentina. From then on, this descendant of Rudolf's aide-de-camp went on gaining fame in France, even hosting the news on the TF1 television channel. Having no children, he orally passed on all his knowledge to the author of this book, and, obviously, what is revealed goes beyond conjecture and represents one piece of a very complex mosaic. Although these are oral evidences, that is not supported by written documents, they're are anyway worth to be considered, for they're quite interesting and make us think.

It was 13 June, 1886, when King Ludwig II of Bavaria, Sissi's forty-one-year-old beloved cousin, also known as "The Fairytale King," was found dead under suspicious circumstances. That case, too, was considered a suicide, or rather, a suicide by drowning—hard to believe, given that he was an excellent swimmer—but the proofs were silted- up. Everything was quickly hushed up. The King of Bavaria, though politically absent, was somewhat of a nuisance to Wilhelm II of Prussia, which aspired to create a confederation of German States. For his chancellor, Count Otto von Bismarck, who was his shadow, or perhaps it's better to say his right hand, it would have been easy to get rid of that man of singular sensitivity and intellect, which were never understood and were interpreted as clear signs of madness. By becoming a patron of Wagner, of whom he was a fervent admirer, he had saved him and his family from absolute poverty. His only concern was spending exorbitant sums to surround himself with castles built in keeping with medieval chivalric ideals married to Norse mythology, legends that his musician friend would adapt into operas to be performed in theaters. Given his lifestyle and the mental illness that, it was said, was afflicting him for so long, few would have believed his passing to be accidental. In everyone's eyes, he was an extremely fragile and vulnerable man. On 13 June, at 6:30 PM, he asked to take a walk with Dr. Bernhard von Gudden, whom his ministers, who thought their king to be incompetent, always wanted him to accompany him. The latter accepted, telling the guards not to follow them. The two men never returned: both were found prone, lifeless, in the waters of Lake Starnberg half an hour before midnight. But there were two others Bismarck had to "eliminate" on the orders of his Kaiser: one of them was none other than Rudolf. Two and a half years had passed since the disappearance of the King of Bavaria, first on the "Iron Chancellor's" list, and perhaps the time had come to organize another plot to eliminate the second one. United with Austria and Russia in the Triple Alliance, Prussia aspired to the most ruthless conservatism, which is why it enjoyed the sympathies of Emperor Franz Joseph, sympathies that were clearly mutual. Wilhelm II, on the other hand, harbored a clear antipathy for Crown Prince Rudolf, also mutual. In IL PICCOLO on January 30, 2019, on the occasion of the publication of the essay Mayerling, Anatomia di un Omicidio, written by Fabio Amodeo and Mario José Cereghino for Mgs Press, the following was stated:

«According to the great Hungarian-born French historian François Fejtö, author of Requiem per un impero defunto (Mondadori), it was actually the German Kaiser Wilhelm II who hatched the plot. Rudolf's sworn enemy was reciprocated: ‘At most, I would gladly meet Wilhelm on a hunting trip to rid the world of him in an elegant manner,’ Rudolf had stated. In short, a state crime, disguised as suicide, in which poor Vetsera was implicated as an inconvenient witness to be eliminated.»

François Fejtö's simple but acute intuition will be confirmed by Count Hoyos's descendant. As we have seen and will see as we read further, Count Hoyos was not only informed of the detailed course of the Mayerling conspiracy, because he was supposed to be part of it; he also knew the details of the entire plot hatched by Bismarck, of which Mayerling was merely an "episodic moment." But how did events really unfold at the hunting lodge located in the Vienna Woods of Niederösterreich (Lower Austria)?

A few days before the tragedy, some witnesses noted, in a chalet near Rudolf's castle in Mayerling, the presence of two men they had never seen before. They spoke with a remarkable Prussian accent and claimed to be hunters, but they were not carrying hunting rifles: they were two of Bismarck's snipers, tasked with eliminating the crown prince of the Danubian Dual Monarchy, one of the pawns Bismarck had placed on his chessboard. Obviously, Rudolf did not surrender to death that fateful morning. This is why the scene that originally presented itself to the first four witnesses was not that of a suicide, but rather that of a fight; and this is why Hoyos himself offered to carry news of the tragedy to the imperial palace: he had been chosen as the Prussian snipers' accomplice. He was the other pawn. At this point, it's easy to understand why he chose the longest route to Vienna: he had to stall. As soon as he left Mayerling, he passed through the neighboring village of Alland. Here he contacted the carpenter and the blacksmith, who had their workshops there, and tasked them with restoring the room where the bodies of Rudolf and the young Marie lay lifeless, prematurely stiffened by the cold that entered through the broken window. They needed time to repair it by replacing the broken handle from the outside and the shattered glass; replace the floorboards in the central part of the room, which were irreparably stained with blood; repair the furniture and put it back in its place.

«It was Bismarck who had the prince assassinated. The Emperor of Austria knew about it, but he could do nothing. The Germans sent spies who killed the prince and his mistress. And it was my ancestor, Count Hoyos, who made things easier for them by later providing false deposition. [...]» (François Varay, Mayerling, la vérite révélée. Un secret de famille dévoilé Éditions Michel de Maule, Paris, 2022, p. 174.).

The author goes so far as to compare the story to a Greek tragedy in which the king sacrifices his own son in the name of the unity of the kingdom (see François Varay, Mayerling, la vérite révélée: Un secret de famille dévoilé, op. cit. p. 183.). Indeed, enriched with these final details, Mayerling's tragedy possesses all the elements of a Greek tragedy.

The third man Bismarck had his eye on was Johann Salvator, Rudolf's great-cousin, a member of the Tuscan branch of the Habsburg-Lorraine family, his confidant and inseparable companion. Upon hearing the tragic news of what had happened at Mayerling, Franz Josef wanted to travel there to see for himself the situation, which, moreover, had already been duly distorted. Perhaps only then did he truly realize how much he had been unable to prevent it. Karl Salvator, his trusted cousin and Johann Salvator's older brother, accompanied him. When the latter learned of the tragedy, which was reported to him in detail by a direct and reliable source, he was inevitably struck by panic: he could not believe that Rudolf had disappeared in such a dramatic way and sensed that soon he too would suffer a similar fate to that of the prince he loved like a brother and with whom he shared liberal and democratic ideals. This was why they were both considered subversive and potential threats to the political stability of the empire, as well as being regarded with suspicion. As soon as he regained control of his actions and his clarity, Johann Salvator approached the emperor, asking for the renunciation of his noble titles and the privileges associated with them, which by right of blood were his, and for a new surname: he wanted to be called Johann Orth. Only by changing his identity would Johann Salvator become untraceable. Not only that, he could finally fulfill his dream of marrying his beloved Ludmilla-Milly Stübel, the  ballet dancer at the Vienna State Opera: he had long been engaged to her, but his rank prevented him from joining her and starting a family. 

Franz Josef granted him everything he had asked, but ordered him never to return to any territory of the empire. For him, this will not be a problem at all: after reaching London and taking the more Anglicized name of John, he got married and sailed for the South Americas. He disappeared by faking a shipwreck (see Daniela Lasagnini, Il figlio americano di Rodolfo D'Asburgo, Mgs Press, Trieste, 2021, chap. IV, John Orth, pp. 53-62).
Returning to Mayerling, I resume the discussion with the phrase that Franz Josef uttered after seeing his son torn apart, a phrase that only now takes on a deeper meaning:

«The truth is far worse than one can imagine!»

After the funeral, he insisted that from then on no one would ever mention Rudolf's name again: it was as if his son had never existed, although I believe not a day went by in his life when he didn't think about what he had allowed to happen. In the 1980s, the former Empress Zita, née Bourbon-Parma, consort of the last Austrian Emperor, Karl I, returned to Vienna several times after some sixty years of exile and widowhood. Determined to shed light on the "Mayerling Events," she gave a series of interviews to the Kronen Zeitung and made statements to Austrian television: she was the only one to know what had happened, both through family lineage and marriage, as Nerio De Carlo also argued in his 2013 essay, Non desiderare la patria d'altri, published by the Trieste-based publishing house Holzwege. She maintained that Rudolf had not committed suicide, but had been the victim of a conspiracy and assassinated. She was the first to speak of a conspiracy, and so far her words correspond to the reality we now know. But going further, she claimed that the perpetrators were Austrian and French secret agents, and that the motive, in the first case, was Rudolf's sympathy for Hungary, in the second the friction that had arisen with Clemenceau's France. Zita likely knew the whole truth, but fearing not to be authorized to make it public, revealed only a part of it. The fact remains that she deserves credit for rehabilitating the crown prince, who had been debased first by the theory of suicide and then by the subsequent theory of a mental illness "invented" by the emperor to obtain permission from the Holy Father to celebrate the funeral rite in church. Indeed, history portrayed him as violent towards himself, depressed by the abuse of narcotics, which he took as painkillers, and alcohol, discouraged by his father's exclusion from political affairs, and bored with life. And that night, De Carlo writes in his essay, according to the former empress,

«As a precaution, the window shutters had to remain closed, and not even the telegraph was allowed to work. There was to be no contact, not even telegraphic, with anyone [...] Baroness Mary Vetsera was staying in another part of the building so as not to be compromised. The Prince's room was carefully locked from the inside.» (Nerio de Carlo, Non desiderare la patria d’altri, Holzwege, Trieste, 2016, p. 50.).

Poor Marie was in the wrong place at the wrong time, but she was useful in giving substance to the double suicide hypothesis: murdered elsewhere and many hours before Rudolf, she was then laid next to him. The former Empress Zita knew that Rudolf did not abandon himself to death and fought long before being impeccably struck by his assassins:

«During this struggle, the fingers of the hand that was spasmodically holding the table, which had become his only protection, were severed. When it fell from his hand, he was brutally killed.» (Ibid.)

In the photograph taken of Rudolf's death body and released to the press, we see him not only with his skull wrapped in bandages, but also with his hands bandaged, so that his fingers are not visible. This explains the reason for this bandage, which even Gisella, the deceased's younger sister, could not explain herself. And it also explains why the table lay immersed in a pool of blood: it was the blood that had seeped from his brutally severed fingers, and likely from the blow that took his life. It is likely that Rudolf was mortally wounded there, and then laid on the bed, already lifeless. Even the former Emperor Karl I, while he was alive, worked to shed light on this affair, which, after decades, continued to be shrouded in mystery, and sought concrete evidence. Therefore, Zita also felt compelled to declare that:

«Karl I knew that there must be a telegram in the Vatican explaining the true causes of the heir to the throne's death. The religious authorities had, in fact, prohibited a religious burial as soon as news of the alleged suicide leaked. From his Swiss exile, Karl I attempted to obtain a copy of that clarifying telegram sent to the Holy Father. The response was that the document had indeed existed, but that the newly formed Austrian Republican Government had requested the original be returned immediately after the proclamation of the Republic. The original was returned without a copy being made.» (Nerio de Carlo, Non desiderare la patria d'altri, op. cit., p. 56.).

Hard to believe when the evidence of all the secrets that history has handed down to us are jealously guarded within the walls of the Vatican palaces…


CARRYING ARCHDUKE RUDOLF'S COFFIN IN MAYERLING.



SOURCES:

Fabio Amodeo, Mario José Cereghino, Mayerling, Anatomia di un Omicidio, Mgs Press, Trieste, 2019.

François Varay, Mayerling, la vérite révélée. Un secret de famille dévoilé, Michel de Maule, Paris, 2022. 

Daniela Lasagnini, Il figlio americano di Rodolfo D'Asburgo, Mgs Press, Trieste, 2021.

Nerio de Carlo, Non desiderare la patria d’altri, Holzwege, Trieste, 2013.


I heartily thank You for following me in this so long reading, 
Dearest Readers, 
and I hope You've found it to be interesting!
See you soon ❤


Dany


martedì 4 luglio 2017

Marie Louise von Wallersee and her beloved Aunts: Aunt Sisi (Tante Kaiserin) and Aunt Maria Sophie Queen of the Two Sicilies (Tante Königin).



Denk daran, Marie, Schweigen ist Gold.

Kaiserin Elisabeth von Österreich Ungarn






Ricorda, Marie, il silenzio e d'oro

Imperatrice Elisabetta d'Austria Ungheria




Quella del Duca Max Joseph in Baviera e della Principessa Ludovika di Baviera fu una prole non solo numerosa ( ebbero dieci figli di cui però solo otto sopravvissero, il secondogenito Wilhelm Karl non sopravvisse neppure un mese, il settimo nato, Maximilian, nacque già in fin di vita ), ma anche molto affiatata da che tutti i figli, una volta divenuti adulti ed accasatisi, conservarono vivo e forte il legame che li univa ... la principessa era stata una madre davvero esemplare, forse dava il massimo di sé ai propri figlioli pur accumulando continue delusioni di conseguenza alla vita da libertino che il marito conduceva e che la costringeva ad accettare.
Soprattutto Sisi, al secolo Elisabeth Amalie Eugenie, anche se divenuta imperatrice e residente a Vienna, non mancava di perdere un'occasione per ritrovarsi con i fratelli in Baviera, e spesso anche in altre parti d'Europa ... Maria Sophie Amalie, per esempio, ex regina di Napoli e delle Due Sicilie, una volta perso il regno ed esiliata a Parigi, sovente le sarà compagna nel suo incessante peregrinare ... e proprio di queste due incantevoli protagoniste della storia del XIX secolo mi piace parlarvi oggi, di loro e del loro legame con la nipote Marie Louise von Wallersee.

Era costrei nata da una relazione che legava il primogenito del Duca in Baviera e della sua consorte, Ludwig Wilhelm con una donna che non aveva nulla a che spartire con il mondo dell'aristocrazia, Auguste Henriette Mendel, 


ma che egli amava profondamente e che la sua famiglia, per ovvii motivi, non voleva accettare; una volta messi di fronte al fatto compiuto i coniugi Wittelsbach lo obbligarono a sposare la donna che stava per divenire la madre della sua figliola: costui avrebbe così dovuto rassegnarsi ad assentire alla rinuncia dei diritti legati alla primogenitura ed acconsentire ad un matrimonio morganatico, ovvero non in grado di trasmettere per eredità alcun titolo nobiliare alla prole; il re di Baviera provvedette a procurare alla sua sposa un nome che si addicesse alla sua nuova posizione sociale ed Auguste Henriette Mendel divenne Henriette Baroness von Wallersee, ma di fatto mai Henriette, come era chiamata in famiglia, venne vista amorevolmente.


Henriette von Wallersee e Ludwig Wilhelm Wittelsbach il giorno del loro matrimonio



L'imperatrice d'Austria, non solo un modello in quanto a Grazia, ma anche forte del suo buon cuore che guardava prima di tutto alla bontà d'animo altrui, ebbe per lei già da subito una profonda stima e simpatia, e questa sua prima figliola, Marie Louise, divenne la sua nipote preferita.
Numerose sono infatti le fotografie che ritraggono Marie Louise con Marie Valerie, l'ultima figlia prediletta della coppia imperiale, per la quale divenne una sorta di sorella (Gisela era già non solo sposata, ma madre e viveva in Germania): 



Marie Valerie con Marie Louise



era facile trovare Marie a Vienna a corte o accanto all'imperatrice in Ungheria, presso il castello di Gödöllo o ancora in Inghilterra a cavalcare al suo fianco per le battute di caccia che animavano la stagione primaverile ed autunnale inglese; Marie amava questa sua zia che si prodigava per lei, che le donava suoi abiti, gioielli e che le aveva trasmesso l'amore per i cavalli e per le cavalcate spericolate:


La prima volta che ricordo di aver cavalcato con l'Imperatrice ero una bambina. I miei capelli biondi volavano selvaggiamente mentre camminavo con la mia Zia adorata attraverso il Prater, il Parco Centrale di Vienna. La gente si fermava, sollevava i cappelli in segno di saluto o si inchinava enfaticamente. I loro occhi seguivano me e la mia chioma fluttuante. Quando tornammo alla Hofburg - il palazzo imperiale - quel giorno, Zia Sissy diede disposizioni affinchè io portassi in futuro i miei capelli acconciati à l'impératrice. Non ho mai cambiato il mio stile di acconciatura fino ad oggi. 1

La sua 'Tante Kaiserin' (zia imperatrice) era per lei di una bellezza straordinaria, dirompente, ed, ogni qualvolta si trovava in sua compagnia, non mancava di affascinarla


Ai miei occhi Zia Sissy sembrava possedere la bellezza di una regina delle fate, soprattutto quando era di buon umore. A volte i suoi bei occhi bruni s'illuminavano di una gioconda malizia e poi, di nuovo, riappariva un'angosciata disapprovazione. Aveva un sorriso incantevole e la sua voce era delicata e melodica. Ero completamente affascinata da lei, e la mia felicità non conosceva limiti ogni volta che mi veniva detto che avrei incontrato la "Zia Imperatrice". 2 

Ma nelle sue memorie ella confessa che nonostante l'ammirazione e l'affetto nutriti per l'imperatrice, il suo cuore apparteneva all'altra zia, Marie Sophie, più simile a lei per temperamento, la quale, anche se visse più nell'ombra, fu per lei una seconda madre, come ella stessa ci racconta: 

Non appena si disfece il loro ultimo progetto ( N.d.A. per trovarle marito ), Tante Königin - Zia Maria, già Regina di Napoli e delle Due Sicilie, mi invitò ad andarla a trovare a Parigi per rimanere alcune settimane. Ne fui felicissima. Sapevo che lei aveva un debole per me, forse perché le somigliavo molto. Mi chiamava sempre "bambina", e lo farà anche negli anni successivi quando avrò dei figli a mia volta. La sua voce, ogni volta che mi parlava, sembrava prendere una nota speciale che non mancava mai di toccarmi profondamente. Da bambina avvertivo istintivamente l'attaccamento di Tante Königin per me. Di tutte le zie coronate e non mi sentivo più attratta da Zia Maria, ancor più che da Zia Sissy. Amavo Zia Maria tanto caramente quanto amavo mia madre. Per me era la quiete personificata. Contrariamente a sua sorella Elisabetta, che era molto più vivace, sarcastica e spiritosa, la Regina Maria era sempre tranquilla. I suoi occhi scuri ed espressivi non sono mai riusciti a non fare una profonda impressione su di me, soprattutto dopo aver udito la storia responsabile della loro triste espressione. Non solo la Regina Maria era stata costretta a vestire i panni dell'eroina di Gaeta durante le giornate ardenti quando il marito perse il suo trono a causa dell'unità d'Italia; il destino decretò, inoltre, che lei giocasse un ruolo di primo piano in una tragedia d'amore. Mentre la prima parte del dramma era stata scritta nelle pagine della storia, la seconda parte è rimasta celata fino ad ora. 3 pag. 59


Marie Sophie, nata il 4 di ottobre del 1841 presso il Castello di Possenhofen, data in isposa per procura nel 1859 a Francesco, Duca di Calabria e Principe Ereditario del Regno di Napoli e delle Due Sicilie, figlio di Re Ferdinando II di Borbone, visse una vita coniugale decisamente infelice: appena giunta a Napoli godette della simpatia di tutta la corte, ma il marito spesso evitava di avere contatti con lei e già a partire dai primi anni della sua vita nel meridione d'Italia, animati dal malcontento del regno - l'Italia meridionale con l'approssimarsi della fine degli anni '60 del XIX secolo si trovava in subbuglio perché rifiutava l'annessione al resto del Regno d'Italia - dovette spesso fare da protagonista anche in politica, divenendo per la popolazione locale una sorta di eroina.


Fu però l'imperatrice a trovarle un marito quando decise che fosse sopraggiunto il momento, per lei, di trovarsi un compagno se voleva continuare a seguirla e a viverle accanto, voleva che diventasse una delle sue PALASTDAMEN, ossia una dama di compagnia coniugata, per poterla avere sempre vicina e continuare a potersi confidare con lei, ed allora quale miglior partito se non un nobile ed aristocratico ungherese, l'unione con il quale avrebbe altresì rafforzato il flebile legame tra Austria ed Ungheria, di cui la coppia imperiale vestiva anche la corona, legame che Sisi aveva voluto con tutta sé stessa e con lo stesso ardore cercava di tenere vivo, anche se la storia precedente giocava a suo svantaggio ?
La scelta cadde sul casato dei Larisch, che Marie ancora non conosceva, mentre, a 17 anni, aveva già provato le proprie simpatie ... i viaggi compiuti al fianco dell'imperatrice non mancarono certo di farle conoscere molte persone, più o meno aristocratiche, per le quali provare attrazione ... dal Count Heine ad Elemér Batthyány 


(qui l'attrazione era reciproca e fino all'ultimo Marie credette di aver trovato in lui l'anima gemella, ma era la futura suocera che non voleva che suo figlio sposasse la nipote del Kaiser per motivi che datavano il periodo in cui l'Ungheria era in conflitto con l'Impero Austriaco) ... persino il Capitano Bay Middleton, compagno di caccia in Inghilterra ed affiatato amico dell'imperatrice, godeva delle simpatie della povera Marie che si dovette rassegnare ad un matrimonio di pura convenienza nel quale si trovò letteralmente catapultata.

Purtroppo quella con George von Larisch-Moennig, Barone di Ellgoth e Karwin del 1877 non fu un'unione felice, come poterlo pretendere, George era decisamente poco fedele e non di certo fatto per matrimonio (tanto che Marie si sposerà nuovamente, questa volta con una persona da lei scelta per amore).


Marie con il primo marito George von Larisch



Sappiamo che, ritenuta responsabile degli incontri tenuti scrupolosamente celati tra Marie Vetsera ed il Principe Ereditario Rudolph, che si conclusero drammaticamente il 30 gennaio 1889 con la tragedia di Mayerling, la stessa zia che tanto l'aveva amata, da allora altrettanto profondamente la ripudierà per giungere ad allontanarla, anche se con estremo dolore, non solo da sé, la vorrà lontano da Vienna e non vorrà mai più vederla, motivo per cui Marie si recherà in America per cominciare una nuova vita, ma questa è un'altra storia ...
Ma pensate che scherzo del destino, proprio la zia che le aveva insegnato l'importanza di mantenere un segreto le farà provare il sapore tanto amaro che il farlo a volte comporta !


"Sai, Marie", zia Sissy si sfogò pensierosa "avresti dovuto sposare Bay. Ah, allora vi avrei potuto avere sempre con me entrambi, miei adorati". 4 



Vi raggiunga il mio più sentito ringraziamento, carissimi lettori ed amici,
ed augurandovi ogni bene vi do appuntamento

a presto 💕










BIBLIOGRAFIA:

Maria Valeria d'Asburgo, La prediletta - Il diario della figlia di Sissi, a cura di Martha e Horst Schad, traduzione di Flavia Floradini, MGS PRESS, 2001;

Conte Egon Cesar Corti, L'imperatrice Elisabetta, Mondadori, Milano, 1937;

Brigitte Hamann, Elisabeth. Kaiserin wieder Willen, Amalthea Verlag, Wien, München, 1982;

Brigitte Hamann, (a cura di), ELISABETH Bilder einer Kaiserin, Amalthea Verlag, 1998;

Marie Louise, Countess Larisch von Wallersee-Wittelsbach with Paul Maerker Branden and Elsa Brander, HER MAJESTY Elisabeth of Austria-Hungary, The Beautiful, Tragic Empress of Europe's Most Brilliant Court, DOUBLEDAY, DORAN & COMPANY Inc. GARDEN CITY, NEW YORK, 1934;

Gabriele Praschl – Bichler, L'Imperatrice Elisabetta, Longanesi & C., Milano, 1997;

Gabriele Praschl-Bichler, Josef Cachée, "...von dem müden Haupte nehm' die Krone ich herab": Kaiserin Elisabeth Privat, Amalthea Signum Verlag, Wien, 1981; 




CITAZIONI:

1 e 2 - Marie Louise, Countess Larisch von Wallersee-Wittelsbach with Paul Maerker Branden and Elsa Brander, HER MAJESTY Elisabeth of Austria-Hungary, The Beautiful, Tragic Empress of Europe's Most Brilliant Court, DOUBLEDAY, DORAN & COMPANY Inc. GARDEN CITY, NEW YORK, 1934, pag.8;

3 - Marie Louise, Countess Larisch von Wallersee-Wittelsbach with Paul Maerker Branden and Elsa Brander, op.cit., pag.59;

4 - Ibidem, pag.127.









Remember, Marie, silence is golden.

Empress Elisabeth of Austria Hungary





- picture 1 - Marie Louise von Wallersee as a girl




That of the Duke Max Joseph in Bavaria and Princess Ludovika of Bavaria was not only a numerous offspring (they had ten children, but only eight survived, the second born, Wilhelm Karl, did not survive even for a month, the seventh born, Maximilian, was born died), but also very united, all the children, once grown and accosted, kept alive and strong the bond that joined them .... the princess had been a truly exemplary mother, perhaps giving the best to her children while accumulating continued disappointments as a result of the libertine life that her husband led and forced her to accept.
Above all Sisi, that was Elisabeth Amalie Eugenie, even though she became Empress and resident in Vienna, didn't miss an opportunity to meet her brothers and sisters in Bavaria, and often also in other parts of Europe ... Marie Sophie Amalie, for example, former Queen of Naples and the Two Sicilies, once lost the kingdom and exiled to Paris, will often be her companion in her unceasing peregrination ... and just of these two enchanting protagonists of the History of the XIXth century I like to talk to you today, about them and their connection with their niece Marie Louise von Wallersee.

She was born from a relationship that linked Ludwig Wilhelm, the first son of the Duke in Bavaria and his consort, with a woman who had nothing to do with the aristocracy, Auguste Henriette Mendel,




- picture 2 - Auguste Henriette Mendel




but whom he loved deeply and whom his family, for obvious reasons, didn't want to accept; when confronted with the 'fact', the Wittelsbachs forced him to marry the woman who was about to become the mother of his child; thus he would have to resign himself to renunce of the rights connected the birthright and to consent to a morganatic marriage, that is not able to convey by way of inheritance any noble title to the offspring; the King of Bavaria Maximilian II will arrange to get her a noble title apted to her new social position and Auguste Henriette Mendel became Henriette Baroness von Wallersee, but Henriette, as she was called in the family, will be never seen lovingly.




- picture 3 - Henriette Baroness von Wallersee with Ludwig Wilhelm just married



The Empress of Austria, not only a model of grace but also so good-hearted, looking first of all to the goodness of the others, had for her since ever a profound esteem and sympathy, and her first daughter, Marie Louise, became her favorite niece.
Several are the photographs depicting Marie Louise with Marie Valerie, the last favorite daughter of the imperial couple, for which she became a kind of sister (Gisela was not only already married but mother and living in Germany):




- picture 4 - Marie Valerie with Marie Louise




It was easy to find Marie in Vienna at Court or together with the Empress in Hungary, at the Royal Palace of Gödöllo, or even in England, riding side by side with her for shooting parties that animated the English Spring and Autumn; Marie loved her Aunt who was so prodigal with her, who gave her Her dresses and jewels and who had transmitted her Her love for horses and daring rides:




- picture 5 - Marie Loiuse with one of her beloved thoroughbred




The first time I remember riding horseback with the Empress was a little girl. My blonde hair flew wildly as I cantered with my adored aunt through the Prater, Vienna's Central Park. People stopped, lifted their hats or bowed deeply. Their eyes followed me and my fluttering mane. When we returned to the Hofburg - the imperial palace - that day, Aunt Sissy issued the order that I was to wear my hair à l'impératrice in future. I have never changed my style of hairdress to this very day. 1 pag 8

Her 'Tante Kaiserin' (Aunt Empress) was for her an extraordinary, disruptive beauty, and whenever she was in her company she didn't fail to fascinate her




- picture 6 - Aunt Sissy




In my eyes Aunt Sissy seemed to possess the beauty of a fairy queen, especially when she was in good humor. At times her lovely brown eyes flashed gay mischief and then, again, angry disapproval. She had en enchanting smile, and her voice was soft and melodious. I was completely fascinated by her, and my happiness knew no bounds whenever I was told that I would meet "Aunt Empress." 2 pag.8

But in her memories, she confesses that despite her admiration and affection for the Empress, her heart belonged to her other Aunt, Marie Sophie, more like her as for temperament, who, though she lived more in the shadows, she was for her a like second mother, as she tells us:

No sooner had their latest scheme fallen through than tante Tante Königin - Aunt Maria - erstwhile Queen of Naples and the Two Sicilies, invited me to visit her in Paris for a few weeks. I was overjoyed. I knew that she had a very tender spot for me, perhaps because I looked very much like her. Always she called me "little girl", even in later years when I had children of my own. Her voice, whenever she spoke to me, seemed to take on a special note that never failed to touch me deeply. As a child, I instinctively felt Tante Königin's attachment for me. Of all my crowned and uncrowned aunts, I felt the most strongly drawn to Aunt Maria, even more so than to Aunt Sissy. I loved Aunt Maria as dearly as I loved my mother. For me she was restfulness personified. Contrary to her sister Elisabeth, who was much more vivacious, sarcastic and witty, Queen Maria was invariably even-tempered. Her dark, soulful eyes never failed to make a deep impression upon me, especially after I heard the story responsible of their sorrowful expression. Not only had Queen Maria been forced to enact the part of Heroine of Gaëta during the harrowing days when her husband lost his throne to the newly united Italy; destiny decreed, also, that she play a leading rôle in a love tragedy. While the first part of the drama had been written in the pages of history, the secon part has remained untold until now. 3 pag. 59




- picture 7 - Aunt Maria



Marie Sophie, born on October 4th,1841 at the Possenhofen Castle, got married by proxy in 1859 with Francesco, Duke of Calabria and the apparent heir to the throne of the Kingdom of Naples and of the Two Sicilies, son of King Ferdinand II of Bourbon, lived a very unhappy conjugal life: when she arrived in Naples, she enjoyed the sympathy of the whole Court, but her husband often avoided any kind of contact with her and even from the early years of her life in the south of Italy, animated by the discontent of the people, which, with the approach of the late 1860s, was in rebellion because refused to be annexed to the rest of the Kingdom of Italy - she often had to act as a protagonist in politics, becoming a kind of heroin for the local population.




- picture 8 - Aunt Maria dressed with the traditional costumes of Southern Italy 



But it was the Empress to find her a husband when She decided that the time had come for her to find a companion if she wanted to continue to follow Her and living next to Her: She wanted her to become one of her PALASTDAMEN, a married lady-in-waiting, to be able to be always close to Her and to continue to be Her confidant, and then what better groom than a noble and aristocratic Hungarian, the union with whom would also have strengthen the weak link that there was between Austria and Hungary, of which the imperial couple also dressed the crown, bond that Sisi loved and with deep ardor was trying to keep alive, even though the previous story was at her disadvantage?
The choice fell on the Larisches's house, which Marie still did not know, while at 17 she had already felt her own sympathies ... travellingside by side with the Empress she had more than one chanche to know more or less aristocratic people for whom to experience attraction ... from Count Heine to Elemér Batthyány




- picture 9 - Elemér Batthyány



(in this case the attraction was mutual and to the point that Marie herself believed she had found her twin soul, but it was her future mother - in - law who did not want his son to marry the Kaiser's niece for reasons dating back to the period when Hungary was in conflict with the Austrian Empire ... even Captain Bay Middleton, hunting companion and a close friend of the Empress, enjoyed the sympathy of the poor Marie who had to accept a marriage of pure convenience in which she found herself literally catapulted.

Unfortunately, the one with George von Larisch-Moennig, Baron of Ellgoth and Karwin of 1877 was not a happy union, he wasn't definitely faithful and certainly not a man suited for marriage (that's why Marie will marry once again, this time with a man she will chose for love).




- picture 10 - Marie Louise together with her firts George von Larisch




We know that, being considered responsible for the meetings held scrupulously hidden between Marie Vetsera and the heir to the throne Prince Rudolph, which ended dramatically on January 30, 1889 with Mayerling's tragedy which saw the assasination of them both, the same aunt who loved her so, will then equally profoundly repudiate her to the point to order her to get away, even if with extreme pain: the Empress will want her to leave Vienna and will never want to see her again, thus Marie will travel to America to start a new life, but this is another story...
But think ... what a joke of fate, just the aunt who had taught her the importance of keeping a secret will make her taste how bitter sometimes doing so it is !



"You know, Marie" Aunt Sissy confided thoughtfully " you should have married Bay. Ah, then I could have had you two beloved ones with me always. 4 pag.127


May my most thankful embrace reach you, dear readers and friends,
and wishing you all my best, I do hope to meet you

very soon 💕












BIBLIOGRAPHIC SOURCES:

Maria Valeria d'Asburgo, La prediletta - Il diario della figlia di Sissi, a cura di Martha e Horst Schad, traduzione di Flavia Floradini, MGS PRESS, 2001;

Conte Egon Cesar Corti, L'imperatrice Elisabetta, Mondadori, Milano, 1937;

Brigitte Hamann, Elisabeth. Kaiserin wieder Willen, Amalthea Verlag, Wien, München, 1982;

Brigitte Hamann, (a cura di), ELISABETH Bilder einer Kaiserin, Amalthea Verlag, 1998;

Marie Louise, Countess Larisch von Wallersee-Wittelsbach with Paul Maerker Branden and Elsa Brander, HER MAJESTY Elisabeth of Austria-Hungary, The Beautiful, Tragic Empress of Europe's Most Brilliant Court, DOUBLEDAY, DORAN & COMPANY Inc. GARDEN CITY, NEW YORK, 1934;

Gabriele Praschl – Bichler, L'Imperatrice Elisabetta, Longanesi & C., Milano, 1997;

Gabriele Praschl-Bichler, Josef Cachée, "...von dem müden Haupte nehm' die Krone ich herab": Kaiserin Elisabeth Privat, Amalthea Signum Verlag, Wien, 1981. 




QUOTATIONS:

1 e 2 - Marie Louise, Countess Larisch von Wallersee-Wittelsbach with Paul Maerker Branden and Elsa Brander, HER MAJESTY Elisabeth of Austria-Hungary, The Beautiful, Tragic Empress of Europe's Most Brilliant Court, DOUBLEDAY, DORAN & COMPANY Inc. GARDEN CITY, NEW YORK, 1934, p.8;

3 - Marie Louise, Countess Larisch von Wallersee-Wittelsbach with Paul Maerker Branden and Elsa Brander, op.cit., p.59;

4 - Ibidem, p.127.





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sabato 30 gennaio 2016

'Dear Mother, please forgive me, I could not resist love': Marie Vetsera's farewell and love letters hidden in Austrian bank vault for 90 years.


Liebe Mutter, verzeih mir was ich gethan.- 
Ich könnte der Liebe nicht wiederstehen.




CARA MADRE PERDONAMI PER CIO' CHE HO FATTO -
NON HO POTUTO RESISTERE ALL'AMORE



Furono le prime luci dell'alba del del 30 gennaio 1889, come sicuramente ben sapete, a svelare tragicamente i corpi senza vita di Rudolph d'Asburgo e della sua giovanissima amante, la Baronessa Marie "Mary" Vetsera presso la stanza del casino di caccia di proprietà del Principe Ereditario situato presso Mayerling, poco distante da Vienna; 




non voglio fare qui approfondimenti storici sull'evento, che già credo di aver chiarito, per quanto mi è stato possibile, lo scorso anno ( 30 gennaio 1889: Mayerling, il tragico destino degli Asburgo. ), ma voglio piuttosto rendervi edotti circa un episodio occorso la scorsa estate, nella caldo della capitale Austriaca, durante il mese di agosto: si tratta di una clamorosa scoperta circa la storia d'amore forse più celebre al mondo, sicuramente quella  che più di ogni altra ha ispirato films, romanzi, balletti ed opere teatrali. 
Era il 1926 quando presso il caveau di una banca di Vienna  'Una persona sconosciuta depositò una cartella in pelle rilegata contenente numerosi documenti personali, lettere e fotografie della famiglia Vetsera, comprese le lettere d'addio di Marie Vetsera.' questo è quanto afferma la Biblioteca Nazionale Austriaca (ÖNB) che le ha prese in consegna; le sue lettere, indirizzate alla madre, la baronessa Helene, al fratello Feri e alla sorella Hanna, sono state scoperte 126 anni dopo la sua morte da alcuni impiegati della banca, incaricati dall'archivista Sylvia Linc di sgombrare questo vano che li ha segretamente custoditi per ben 90 anni.

E' senza dubbio questo un ritrovamento sensazionale, per gli storici e per gli uomini di scienza, se si pensa che fino ad ora si sapeva che l'unico documento superstite relativo al tragico evento di Mayerling era la lettera che il Principe Ereditario Rudolph scrisse alla moglie Stephanie del Belgio e che quelle scritte da Marie erano state distrutte dopo la scomparsa della madre.



Cara madre -
Perdonarmi per quello che ho fatto. -
non ho potuto resistere all'amore. si legge sui fogli vergati dalla giovane baronessa - D'accordo con lui, voglio essere sepolta a lui accanto nel cimitero di Alland. - *
Sono più felice nella morte piuttosto che in vita.

Purtroppo le ultime volontà di Marie non vennero rispettate, poiché ella riposa presso il cimitero di Heiligenkreuz, 




mentre le spoglie del Principe Rudolph sono state deposte dove riposano tutti gli Asburgo presso la Cripta dei Cappuccini ( Kapuzinergruft ) a Vienna ( oggi si trovano accanto a quelle del padre ).

Tornando ai documenti storici che costituiscono il nostro argomento di interesse primario, essi, conservati all'interno di una busta chiusa sigillata recante le insegne della corona del principe, saranno esposti al pubblico presso la Biblioteca Nazionale Austriaca durante tutto questo anno come parte delle celebrazioni relative al centenario della morte dell'Imperatore Francesco Giuseppe (1916 - 2016).

Voglio, infine, per concludere, porgere un dono a chi ama questa parte della storia del secolo XIX° e questi personaggi ... si tratta di una fotografia, l'ultima, scattata da un anonimo, al Principe Ereditario mentre stava compiendo una passeggiata sul suo cocchio nel parco del Prater, proprio due giorni prima della sua morte ... 



Die Letzen Fahrt - L'ultima passeggiata



Anche se di solito guidava il cocchio da solo, Rudolph era sempre accompagnato da un cocchiere di corte; qui sono seduti fianco a fianco entrambi con le gambe protette da una coperta ed il principe ereditario cerca distrazione compiendo un giro nel Prater; sua cognata, Louise v. Coburg, sorella di Stephanie, che per caso si trovava lì, da poco lo aveva visto, e, non sentendosi egli nella sua forma migliore - era in odore di ciò che stava per accadergli - la cosa accrebbe il suo nervosismo.



Vi lascio con la mestizia nel cuore che sempre questo episodio mi comunica perché non si può morire per fede ai propri ideali e perché non si vuole rovesciare dal trono imperiale il proprio padre, trascinando in questa tragedia anche l'innocente, innamorata Mary che si trovava dove non avrebbe dovuto essere quella notte ...


Come sempre vi ringrazio, miei cari, carissimi amici, con il cuore colmo di affetto, 

a presto ♥










Fonti:

Daily Mail

The Local at - Austria's news in English




Note:

* Alland è un piccolo, ridente paesino nei pressi di Mayerling.














Dear Mother, please forgive me,
 I could not resist love





- picture 1 - The young Mary Vetsera ( she died when she wasn't still eighteen !)




It was the dawn of the January the 30th, 1889, as surely you know, which tragically unveiled the lifeless bodies of Rudolph of Hapsburg and of his young lover Baroness Marie "Mary" Vetsera in the bedroom of the hunting lodge owned by the Crown Prince located at Mayerling, not far from Vienna; 





- picture 2 - Mayerling, where the tragedy happened




I don't want to do historical insights about the event here, which I think I have already made clear, as far as I was able, last year (January 30th, 1889: Mayerling, the tragic fate of the Habsburgs.), but rather I want you to be informed about an episode which occurred last summer, in the heat of the Austrian capital, during the month of August: it is a sensational discovery about the love story that is, perhaps, the most famous in the world, certainly the one that more than any other has inspired films, novels, theatrical plays and ballets. 
It was 1926 when at a bank vault in Vienna 'An unknown person deposited a leather bound folder containing several personal documents, letters and family photographs from the Vetsera family , including Marie Vetsera's farewell letter.', this is what the Austrian National Library (ÖNB), which took them over,  asserts;  her letters, addressed to her mother, Baroness Helene, her brother Feri and sister Hanna, were discovered 126 years after her death, by the clerks of the bank entrusted by the archivist Sylvia Linc with clearing this room, that has kept them secretly for almost 90 years.

This is with no doubt a sensational find, for historians and men of science, if you consider that until now it was known that the only surviving document relating to the tragedy of Mayerling was a letter that the Crown Prince Rudolph wrote to his wife, Stephanie of Belgium, and that those written by Marie had been destroyed after her mother's death.




- picture 3 - The farewell letter Mary addressed to her mother




Dear mother -
Forgive me for what I did.-
I could not resist  love, we read in the papers penned by the young Baroness -
Agree with him, I want to be buried next to him in the cemetery of Alland.- *
I am happier in death than in life.

Unfortunately the last wishes of Marie were not respected, as her rests were buried at the cemetery of Heiligenkreuz,




- picture 4 - Mary's grave at Heiligenkreutz




while the remains of Prince Rudolf were laid where in the Capuchin Crypt (Kapuzinergruft) in Vienna where lie the remains of all the Habsburgs (after his father's death they're lying next to them).
Returning to the historical documents that is the topic of our primary interest, Which were kept closed inside a sealing envelope bearing the insignia of the Crown Prince, they'll be on public display at the Austrian National Library throughout this year as part of the celebrations related the centenary of the death of the Emperor Franz Joseph (1916 - 2016).
I want, finally, present a gift to those who love this part of the history of the XIXth century and these characters ... it's a photograph, the last, which was taken from an anonymous, while the Crown Prince was doing a ride on his chariot in the Prater park, just two days before his death ...




- picture 5 - Die letzen Fahrt - The last ride - 

Although he usually drove the chariot alone, Rudolph was always accompanied by a coachman court; here they're sitting side by side with both legs protected by a blanket and the crown prince seeks distraction circling it in the Prater; her sister in law, Louise v.Coburg, Stephanie's sister, who happened to be there, had just seen him, and, for he didn't feel on top form - was in the odor of what was going to happen - it increased his nervousness.



I'm  leaving you with a little bit of sadness in my heart that always  this episode makes me feel, because you cannot die for faith to your ideals and  because you do not want to overthrow from the imperial throne your own father, dragging in this tragedy even the innocent, so in love with him,  Mary, who was where she hadn't to be that night ...

As usual I thank you , my dear, dearest friends, with all my love,

see you soon ♥ 












Sources:

DailyMail

The Local at - Austria's news in English




Notes:


* Alland is a small, lovely village near Mayerling.







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