Visualizzazione post con etichetta Mayerling. Mostra tutti i post
Visualizzazione post con etichetta Mayerling. 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


venerdì 14 aprile 2023

MARIA ENRICHETTA. DA VIENNA A BRUXELLES UN’ASBURGO REGINA DEI BELGI di Daniela Lasagnini


Ebbene sì, dalla fine del mese sarà in vendita il mio ultimo libro, scritto nei mesi della scorsa estate e dell'autunno, una biografia storica di un personaggio la cui conoscenza coltivo da anni con passione: 300 pagine circa e più di 30 immagini d'epoca per raccontare la vita di una donna straordinaria.


MARIA ENRICHETTA.
DA VIENNA A BRUXELLES UN’ASBURGO REGINA DEI BELGI


Essendo scritto in italiano, ho pensato di iniziare questo post rivolgendomi innanzitutto agli Amici di ~ My little old world ~ che possono essere interessati a leggerlo.
Il libro, disponibile a partire dal 30 aprile, si può già acquistare sul sito della Casa editrice: www.mgspress.com.

COSI' MI PIACE PRESENTARVELO:

Protagonista degli accadimenti più salienti e drammatici che hanno caratterizzato la vita della dinastia asburgica nel secolo XIX – dalla tragedia di Mayerling, allo straziante epilogo della vita di Massimiliano giustiziato a Queretaro, alla disarmante follia cui approdò la povera Carlotta – l’arciduchessa Maria Enrichetta d’Asburgo-Lorena, figlia dell’ultimo conte-palatino d’Ungheria, è stata dimenticata dalla storia ufficiale. Nata il 23 agosto 1836 a Buda, destinata a diventare imperatrice quale sposa promessa del cugino Francesco Giuseppe, siederà, invece, sul trono del Belgio di cui diventerà la seconda regina. Donna vigorosa e temeraria, d’intelligenza vivace e brillante, d’animo nobile e dai modi gentili e spontanei, conquistò il suo popolo per la forza d’animo grazie alla quale fronteggiò tutte le prove con cui il destino l’indusse a confrontarsi diventando un emblema di virtù.
Costretta a sposare il duca di Brabante, un giovinetto che neppure conosceva e che verrà incoronato re con il nome di Leopoldo II nel 1865, sarà vittima della sua indifferenza e dei suoi vizi: dalla sua incontenibile e plateale infedeltà alla sua mitomania che lo condurrà a far edificare monumenti dalle proporzioni faraoniche e a conquistare una parte ancora inesplorata del continente africano dove farà commettere un eccidio per brama di denaro. Come avrà affrontato questa nobile sovrana una vita coniugale così difficile, resa ancor più opprimente dai numerosi lutti che la colpirono da vicino, alcuni dei quali avvenuti in contrasto con le leggi che governano la Natura, e dai tormenti che le procureranno le figlie maggiori, diventate adulte e accasate?
Maria Enrichetta viene principalmente ricordata come la madre della principessa Stefania, che verrà diseredata e rinnegata dal padre perché decisa a rifarsi una vita dopo la morte del principe ereditario Rodolfo, perso a Mayerling dopo otto anni di matrimonio, gli ultimi dei quali vissuti in preda a profonda angoscia. Ma ella ebbe altri tre figli: Luisa, la primogenita, ricordata per la sua vita indecorosa e dissoluta, Clementina, figlia cadetta, e Leopoldo, unico erede maschio che si spense all'età di soli 10 anni - alla morte di Leopoldo II la successione al trono passò ad un altro ramo della famiglia. Questo libro, che rappresenta la prima biografia di Maria Enrichetta d’Asburgo scritta e pubblicata in Italia, fa luce su tutti questi "chiaroscuri" e la accompagna fino al suo ritiro a vita privata sulle Ardenne belghe, nel luogo che aveva imparato ad amare e che era diventato la sua “Ungheria in Belgio”: il piccolo paese di Spa, incontaminato e genuino come la sua gente. 


Nella speranza che gli affezionati Followers di My little old world 
trovino interessante ed avvincente questa lettura,
auguro a tutti Voi una splendida giornata di primavera.
A presto 






NEWS FROM MGS PRESS - MARIE HENRIETTE. FROM VIENNA TO BRUSSELS A HABSURG QUEEN OF THE BELGIANS by Daniela Lasagnini


Yes, my latest book, written during the months of the last Summer and Autumn, will be on sale from the end of April. It's a historical biography of a woman whose knowledge I have been cultivating with passion for years: 300 pages and more than 30 original vintage images to tell the life of an extraordinary character.


IMAGE OF THE COVER: 
MARIE HENRIETTE. FROM VIENNA TO BRUSSELS A HABBURG QUEEN OF THE BELGIANS


Being written in Italian, I thought to start this post of mine by first addressing my words to the Friends of ~ My little old world ~ who may be interested in reading it, that's why the text in English follows that in Italian.
The book, which will be available starting from April 30, can be already purchased on the website of the publishing house: www.mgspress.com.

ALTHOUGH THERE'S NO ENGLISH VERSION OF IT, AT LEAST AT THE MOMENT, THUS IS HOW I LIKE TO "INTRODUCE" IT TO YOU:

Protagonist of the most salient and dramatic events that characterized the life of the Habsburg dynasty in the 19th century - from the tragedy of Mayerling, to the heartbreaking epilogue of the life of Maximilian executed in Queretaro, to the disarming madness which poor Carlotta landed to - the Archduchess Marie Henriette von Habsburg-Lorraine, daughter of the last count-palatine of Hungary, has been forgotten by official History. She was born on August 23, 1836 in Buda, destined to become empress as the promised bride of her cousin Franz Joseph, she will instead sit on the throne of Belgium of which she will become the second queen. A vigorous and fearless woman, with a lively and brilliant intelligence, a noble soul and kind and spontaneous manners, she conquered her people for the fortitude thanks to which she faced all the trials which fate led her to confront herself with, becoming an emblem of virtue.
Forced to marry the Duke of Brabant, a young man she didn't even know and who will be crowned king with the name of Leopold II in 1865, she will be the victim of his indifference and his vices: from his irrepressible and blatant infidelity to his mythomania that will lead him to make built monuments of pharaonic proportions and to conquer a still unexplored part of the African continent where he will commit a massacre out of lust for money. How did this noble sovereign deal with such a difficult married life, made even more oppressive by the numerous deaths that affected her closely, some of which occurred in contrast with the laws that govern Nature, and by the torments that they will cause her her eldest daughters, once became adults and married?
Marie Henriette is mainly remembered as the mother of Princess Stefanie, who will be disinherited and disowned by her father because she was determined to start a new life after the death of Crown Prince Rudolf, lost in Mayerling after eight years of marriage, the last of which lived in the throes of deep anguish. But she had three other children: Luisa, the eldest daughter, remembered for her indecorous and dissolute life, Clementina, cadet daughter, and Leopold, the only male heir who passed away at the age of only 10 - at the death of Leopold II the succession to the throne passed to another branch of the family. This book, which represents the first biography of Marie Henriette von Habsburg written and published in Italy, sheds light on all these "shades" and accompanies her until her retirement to private life in the Belgian Ardennes, in the place she had learned to love and which had become her “Hungary in Belgium”: the small country of Spa, uncontaminated and genuine like its people.


In the hope that the affectionate Followers of ~ My little old world 
will find this reading interesting and capturing,
I'm wishing You all a lovely Spring day.
See you soon 



Dany



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domenica 24 dicembre 2017

December 24th, 1888: the last Christmas Empress Elisabeth of Austria spent surrounded by her family.


Dad spoke so laconically tonight that I could almost have grieved, I did not know he just pretended he did not care so much. Mom was sad. Rudolph now watched her, now me and was very friendly. The little Elisabeth [N.d.A. Erzsi, daughter of Rudolph and Stefanie] had a lot of fun with her gifts and played with her things ...

From the Diary of Marie Valerie of Hapsburg, December 24th, 1888




Born on December 24th (1837), the Christmas Eve, in Munich, in the august ducal palace of the family that overlooked (and still faces) on the Ludwigstraße, owned by her father and thus called Herzog Max Palais, Elisabeth Amalie Eugenie, born Archiduchess in Bavaria, saw in the feast of the Nativity, so much felt among the Germanic people that hold all the oldest and meaningful traditions, something transcendent, and was in fact considered a harbinger of fortune to be born the same night in which the Savior was born, just as it was to born with a small, first, tiny little tooth in the mouth and above all to born on Sunday, which meant having the privilege of living throughout life halfway between the world of the living people and the one of souls.



You can imagine the joy that brought, amongst the cold walls of the building, which often echoed the silvery shouts of children, to celebrate a double feast in 'the bosom' of a family so numerous and so often governed by happiness.


Joseph Karl Stieler, The Children of Max Joseph in Bayern


And the festivities continued every year even after the girl became empress, wife of Emperor Franz Joseph I of Hapsburg, and mother, of Sophie (Laxenburg, 5 March 1855 - Budapest, 29 May 1857), Giselle (Laxenburg, 12 July 1856 - Munich, July 27, 1932), Rudolph, Crown Prince (Vienna, 21 August 1858 - Mayerling, 30 January 1889), and finally Marie Valerie (Budapest, 22 April 1868 - Wallsee-Sindelburg, 6 September 1924).
Every year even the Hapsburgs, as the Wittelsbach did before, gathered themselves around their richly decorated Christmas tree to celebrate this double 'birth', even if they couldn't indulge in emotional moments, at least as they wanted and as could happen to other bourgeois or aristocratic families, as the court protocol always required the presence of a large servitude.

But a special meaning had that Christmas Eve of 1888 ... for each of them ...

On the evening of that Eve, as always Giselle was absent since she got married with Prince Leopold of Bavaria in 1873 (she had left her family of origin to get married at the young age of seventeen and did not feel strongly the bond with it); Marie Valerie was about to announce her engagement with Archduke Franz Salvator of Austria -Tuscany, for which she was at the height of joy, while in Rudolph it was stirring, making alive more than ever, the inner conflict that will trigger the tragedy of Mayerling, which will happen only a little more than a month later: he had always suffered from the lack of love of his mother, so similar to him, so loved by him, by the arms of which he had been prematurely torn, since, as a future emperor, it must have been reserved for him a particular, unique education that had nothing to do with affection and that would have to strengthen him and make him a man already at an early age ... in reality the methods 'suited to barracks' adopted by him whom the Archduchess Sophie had chosen as his educator, Count Leopold Gondrecourt, former superior general of the Austrian army, who knew nothing about children, will make his physical health more frail, the psychological one weak and vulnerable  ... yes, the Archduchess Sophie was the one who took care of the education of her grandchildren, tearing them from the empress's breast, considered too young and in any case of little experience ... especially to follow the training of a future emperor!

She boasted of having made of her Franzi a perfect emperor, but the temperament of Franz Joseph and that of Rudolph were completely different, already in origin ... and maybe Franz Joseph had really become a perfect emperor, indeed, to use a term forced, but that makes the idea - please give it to me - too perfect to be able to find the time to devote himself to affections ... he had become a perfect emperor, who, as never before, gave so much to his subjects, but what he had earned as a dedication to the sense of duty, he had lost in sensitivity to his family.



An elderly Archduchess Sophie portrayed in 1866 by Ludwig Angerer



But let's come back to that fateful Eve, for which Rudolph had prepared for his mother a very special surprise: thanks to a friend he had managed to buy eleven autograph letters from the poet Heinrich Heine, whom the empress considered her teacher and guide in poetry , and could not wait to make this gift to his beloved mother, almost looking for yet another confirmation of his long-awaited love, but the empress was sad that evening, was about to permanently lose her beloved daughter, Marie Valerie, the only one whom she had the opportunity to grow following her maternal instinct for the first time, without the mediation of educators (when Marie Valerie was born, in 1868, the Archduchess Sophie was already sick and infirm, relegated to her bed, and died, watched over by her daughter-in-law, four years later, on May 28th, 1872) ... when he gave her his precious gift, she deigned it with little consideration, at least not of what he, anxious, expected, and placed it under the big tree that stood on a table in the majestic room where the table with all the presents was set ... the empress was very generous and paid no attention on expenses especially on the occasion of the festivities, but that evening was sad Elisabeth, although at the same time she felt a certain joy, because her beloved daughter conveyed her happiness to her.

After dinner with Rudolph and his wife Stefanie, who from Laxemburg, their official residence, had in the meantime transferred to spend the winter in a wing of the vast Palace of the Hofburg in Vienna, seat of the imperial power, the couple retired to their rooms and Maria Valeria remained alone with her parents, realizing she had given the news of her future engagement to her sister-in-law, without having yet told her brother ... it was necessary to go and call him.

And given Rudolph showed himself to be very cordial towards his brother-in-law, his mother embraced him, and said, "I love you so much." Rudolph was so moved by that comment of his beautiful, beloved mother who barely managed to stifle his sobs. He only asked: "No, really? It was a long time since it was not like that". Rodolfo probably did not feel disappointed that his mother did not give importance to his present. Instead it made him deeply happy that she finally expressed her feelings. But even these beloved emotions for him came too late. He was struggling to see a way out of his situation. 1

Then, like every evening, Marie Valerie remained alone with her mother:

Then Mother and I said the evening prayer as usual and shortly after 7 and 1/2 I hugged her crying, and as a conclusion of my peaceful life as a free girl, I begged her to forgive me for all my shortcomings to her, if there were any. In her immense goodness, she said that she would have preferred there were more to forgive, because it would be easier for her to give me away ... 2

That was the last Christmas that the imperial family spent together in the Hofburg, celebrating it ... Elizabeth did not know it, but before losing her daughter she will lose, forever, Rudolph, who will die in causes that are still not completely clear, and perhaps will be forever shrouded in mystery, in his hunting lodge in Mayerling, on the following January 30th ... it was the last time that mother and son had the opportunity to meet themselves, the next time Elizabeth will cry him already lifeless



The emperor and empress at the deathbed of Rudolph; Mayerling, scene of the drama with Crown Prince Rudolph of Austria by Theodore Georges Jansoone Breitwieser



and since then never wanted anyone to wish her "Happy Birthday", "Happy Holidays" and "Happy New Year", she no longer wanted to see Christmas decorations around her, lights and decorations and since then she will wear mourning for the rest of her days ; and feeling less and less the warmth of the festivities, with the flowing of time she will seldom more and more in Vienna, especially during the Christmas season, giving rise, the death of Rudolph, to a continuous, aimless, incessant, anguished wandering (often for Christmas  Elizabeth will be in the company of her sister Marie Sophie in Paris), a never ending wandering all the Europe long, that will eventually lead her to meet her death on September 10th, just 10 years after that Christmas marked by fate.



And now let's leave aside the voice of History and let's think of the Good Wishes, 
those for our Christmas ... may it be for you all prodigal of Joy and Serenity 
and that the New Year may realize all your wishes, 
I wish it to you from the bottom of my heart!









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;

Sigrid Maria Größing, Rodolfo d'Asburgo. Libero pensatore, rubacuori, psicopatico, MGS PRESS, Trieste, 2006;

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

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

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;

John T.Salvendy, Ribelle Reale. Ritratto psicologico di Rodolfo d'Asburgo, Mursia, Milano, 1995.




CITAZIONI:

1 - Sigrid Maria Größing, Rodolfo d'Asburgo. Libero pensatore, rubacuori, psicopatico, MGS PRESS, Trieste, 2006, pag. 226;

2 - 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, pag. 144.








24 dicembre 1888, l'ultima Vigilia di Natale che l'Imperatrice Elisabetta d'Austria trascorse circondata dalla sua famiglia.





Papà ha parlato in modo così laconico di stasera, che avrei quasi potuto affliggermi, non sapevo che fa solo finta che non gli importi moltissimo. La mamma era triste. Rodolfo osservava ora lei, ora me ed era molto cordiale. La piccola Elisabetta [ N.d.A. Erzsi, figlia di Rodolfo e Stefania] si divertiva molto con i regali e giocava con le sue cose ... 


Dal Diario di Maria Valeria d'Asburgo, 24 dicembre 1888






- immagine 1 - Una stampa del tempo di autore sconosciuto



Nata il 24 di dicembre (del 1837), la vigilia del Natale, a Monaco di Baviera, nell'augusto palazzo ducale della famiglia che si affacciava (e si affaccia tutt'ora) sulla Ludwigstraße, di proprietà del padre e chiamato appunto Herzog Max Palais, Elisabetta Amalia Eugenia, nata Arciduchessa in Baviera, vedeva nella festa della Natività, così tanto sentita presso il popolo germanico che ne vanta tutte le più antiche tradizioni, un qualcosa di trascendente, ed era in effetti ritenuto presagio di fortuna nascere la stessa notte in cui è nato il Salvatore, così come lo era il nascere con in bocca già un piccolo, primo, minuscolo dentino e soprattutto nascere di domenica, che significava avere il privilegio di vivere per tutta la vita a metà tra il mondo dei vivi e quello delle anime.



Potete immaginare la gioia che recava tra le fredde mura del palazzo, che spesso riecheggiavano grida argentine di fanciulli, il festeggiare una doppia festa in seno ad una famiglia così numerosa e così spesso governata dall'allegria.



- immagine 2 - Joseph Karl Stieler, The Children of Max Joseph in Bayern



Ed i festeggiamenti continuarono ogni anno anche dopo che la fanciulla divenne imperatrice, moglie dell'Imperatore Francesco Giuseppe I d'Asburgo, e madre, di Sofia (Laxenburg, 5 marzo 1855 – Budapest, 29 maggio 1857), Gisella (Laxenburg, 12 luglio 1856 – Monaco di Baviera, 27 luglio 1932), Rodolfo, Principe Ereditario (Vienna, 21 agosto 1858 – Mayerling, 30 gennaio 1889), ed infine di Maria Valeria (Budapest, 22 aprile 1868 – Wallsee-Sindelburg, 6 settembre 1924).
Ogni anno anche gli Asburgo, così come facevano prima i Wittelsbach, si riunivano attorno al loro albero di Natale, riccamente decorato, per festeggiare questa doppia 'nascita', anche se non potevano lasciarsi andare all'entusiasmo degli slanci affettivi, come poteva accadere ad altre famiglie borghesi o aristocratiche, in quanto il protocollo di corte imponeva sempre la presenza di una nutrita servitù. 

Ma un significato particolare ebbe la vigilia di Natale del 1888 ... per ciascuno dei presenti ...


La sera di quella Vigilia come sempre, da che si era maritata con il Principe Leopoldo di Baviera nel 1873, Gisella era assente (ella aveva lasciato la famiglia di origine per sposarsi alla giovane età di diciassette anni e non avvertiva forte il legame con essa); Maria Valeria stava per annunciare il suo fidanzamento con l'Arciduca Francesco Salvatore d'Asburgo -Toscana, per cui era all'apice della gioia, mentre in Rodolfo si stava agitando, facendosi vivo più che mai, il conflitto interiore che scatenerà la tragedia di Mayerling, che accadrà solo poco più di un mese dopo: egli, da sempre, aveva sofferto della carenza dell'amore della madre, a lui così tanto simile, da lui così tanto amata, dalle braccia della quale era stato precocemente strappato, poiché, in qualità di futuro imperatore, doveva essergli riservata un'educazione particolare, unica, che nulla avesse a che fare con l'affetto e che lo avrebbe dovuto irrobustire e fare di lui un uomo già in tenera età ... in realtà i metodi da caserma adottati da colui che l'Arciduchessa Sofia aveva scelto come suo educatore, il Conte Leopold Gondrecourt, ex maggiore generale dell'esercito austriaco, che nulla conoscenza annoverava dell'infanzia, renderanno la sua salute fisica più gracile, quella psicologica labile e vulnerabile ... sì, l'Arciduchessa Sofia era colei che si occupava dell'educazione dei nipoti, strappandoli al seno dell'imperatrice, ritenuta troppo giovane e comunque di scarsa esperienza ... soprattutto per seguire la formazione di un futuro regnante !



Lei si vantava di aver fatto del suo Franzi un perfetto imperatore, ma il temperamento di Francesco Giuseppe e quello di Rodolfo erano completamente diversi, già in origine ... e forse Francesco Giuseppe era davvero divenuto un perfetto imperatore, anzi, per usare un termine forzato, ma che rende l'idea - vi prego concedetemelo - troppo perfetto da poter trovare il tempo da dedicare agli affetti... era divenuto un perfetto imperatore, che tanto, come nessuno mai, diede ai suoi sudditi, ma ciò che aveva guadagnato in qualità di dedizione al senso del dovere lo aveva perso in sensibilità verso la sua famiglia.



- immagine 3 - Un'anziana Arciduchessa Sofia ritratta dal fotografo di corte Ludwig Angerer nel 1866



Ma torniamo a quella fatidica sera della Vigilia, per cui Rodolfo aveva preparato per la madre una sorpresa del tutto speciale: grazie ad un amico era riuscito ad acquistare undici lettere autografe del poeta Heinrich Heine, che l'imperatrice considerava suo maestro e guida nel poetare, e non vedeva l'ora di farne dono all'amata madre, quasi cercando un'ennesima, ultima, conferma del suo tanto agognato amore, ma l'imperatrice era triste quella sera, stava per perdere definitivamente la sua figlia prediletta, Maria Valeria, la sola che ebbe la possibilità di crescere seguendo per la prima volta il suo istinto materno, senza la mediazione di educatori (quando nacque la piccola, nel 1868, l'Arciduchessa Sofia era già malata ed inferma, relegata al letto, e spirerà, vegliata dalla nuora, quattro anni dopo, il 28 maggio del 1872) ... quando questi le porse il suo prezioso dono, ella lo degnò di scarsa considerazione, perlomeno non di quella che lui, ansioso, si attendeva, e lo pose sotto il grande albero che troneggiava su di un tavola della maestosa stanza in cui era allestito il tavolo con tutti i doni .... l'imperatrice era molto generosa e non badava a spese soprattutto in occasione delle feste, ma quella sera era triste Elisabetta, anche se al contempo provava una certa letizia, perché la sua adorata le trasmetteva la sua felicità.


Dopo la cena consumata con Rodolfo e la sua consorte Stefania, i quali da Laxemburg, loro residenza ufficiale, si erano nel frattempo trasferiti per trascorrere l'inverno in un'ala del vastissimo Palazzo della Hofburg in Vienna, sede del potere imperiale, la coppia arciducale si ritirò nelle proprie stanze e Maria Valeria rimase sola con i genitori, accorgendosi di aver aver dato la notizia del suo futuro fidanzamento alla cognata, senza averlo ancora detto al fratello ... bisognava andare a chiamarlo.


E siccome Rodolfo si mostrò molto cordiale anche nei confronti del futuro cognato, sua madre lo abbracciò, e disse: "Ti voglio tanto bene". 
Rodolfo era così commosso per quel commento della sua bella, amata mamma che riuscì a malapena a soffocare i singhiozzi. Chiese solo: "No, davvero? Era tanto tempo che non era più così". 
Probabilmente Rodolfo non avvertì come una delusione il fatto che la madre non avesse dato importanza al regalo. lo rese invece profondamente felice che lei finalmente gli esprimesse dei sentimenti. Ma anche queste emozioni per lui giungevano troppo tardi. 
Stentava a vedere una via d'uscita alla propria situazione. 1

Quindi come ogni sera Maria Valeria rimase sola con la madre: 

Poi la mamma ed io abbiamo detto come sempre la preghiera della sera e poco dopo le 7 e 1/2 l'ho abbracciata piangendo, e come conclusione della mia serena vita di ragazza libera, l'ho pregata di volermi perdonare tutte le mia mancanze nei miei confronti, qualora ve ne siano state. Nella sua immensa bontà lei ha detto che avrebbe preferito ci fosse di più da perdonare, perché le sarebbe più facile darmi via ... 2


Fu quello l'ultimo Natale che la famiglia imperiale trascorse insieme, nella Hofburg, festeggiandolo ... Elisabetta non lo sapeva, ma prima di perdere la figlia perderà, per sempre, Rodolfo, che morirà in cause ancora non del tutto chiare, e forse per sempre avvolte dal mistero, nel suo casino di caccia a Mayerling, il 30 di gennaio successivo ... 
fu quella l'ultima volta in cui madre e figlio ebbero l'occasione di incontrarsi, la volta successiva Elisabetta lo piangerà già privo di vita



- immagine 4 - The emperor and empress at the deathbed of Rudolph; Mayerling, scena del dramma che coinvolse il Principe Ereditario Rodolfo d'Asburgo di Theodore Georges Jansoone Breitwieser



e da allora mai più volle che nessuno le augurasse "Buon Compleanno", "Buone Feste" e "Buon Anno", non volle più vedere decorazioni natalizie intorno a sé, luci ed addobbi e da allora vestirà il lutto per il resto dei suoi giorni; ed avvertendo sempre meno il calore delle festività, con il trascorrere del tempo sarà sempre più di rado a Vienna, soprattutto durante il periodo delle feste natalizie, dando inizio la morte di Rodolfo ad un peregrinare continuo, senza meta, incessante, angoscioso (spesso per le feste di Natale Elisabetta si troverà in compagnia della sorella Maria a Parigi), un girovagare perituro per l'Europa che la condurrà infine ad incontrare la morte il 10 settembre di 10 anni dopo quel Natale segnato dal destino. 



Ed ora lasciamo da parte la voce della Storia e passiamo agli Auguri, 
quelli per il nostro Natale ... che sia per tutti prodigo di Gioia e di Serenità 
e che il Nuovo Anno possa realizzare tutti i vostri desideri, 
ve lo auguro dal profondo del cuore !










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;

Sigrid Maria Größing, Rodolfo d'Asburgo. Libero pensatore, rubacuori, psicopatico, MGS PRESS, Trieste, 2006;

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

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

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; 

John T.Salvendy, Ribelle Reale. Ritratto psicologico di Rodolfo d'Asburgo, Mursia, Milano, 1995.




CITAZIONI:

1 - Sigrid Maria Größing, Rodolfo d'Asburgo. Libero pensatore, rubacuori, psicopatico, MGS PRESS, Trieste, 2006, pag. 226;

2 - 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, pag. 144.






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