Moniek Bloks's Blog, page 106

The Year of Empress Elisabeth – Sisi & her mother (Part two)

Read part one here.

By May 1834, Ludovika’s worried mother wrote to her daughter Amelie that Ludovika had become apathetic. One month earlier, she had given birth to her first daughter – named Helene. She had been one of a pair of twins, but Ludovika had miscarried the other twin earlier. Her husband had been busy building a palace in Munich – the Herzog Max Palais – and he also purchased Possenhofen Castle on Lake Starnberg. Ludovika fell in love with Possenhofen at first sight – it reminded her of her childhood home. However, their relationship began to deteriorate from that point. Maximilian began to have affairs, and Ludovika’s sister Sophie reported to their mother that Maximilian had shown “features of an incredible tyranny.”

Nevertheless, Ludovika continued to bear her husband children. On 24 December 1837, Ludovika gave birth to her second daughter – named Elisabeth but perhaps better known in history as Sisi. She was born with a tooth which was considered to be good luck. Her husband was deep in planning a trip to the middle east – a trip he would undertake without Ludovika. He came home just after their tenth wedding anniversary, and Ludovika soon found herself pregnant again. On 9 August 1839, Ludovika gave birth to a third – but second surviving – son at Possenhofen. He was named Karl Theodor. On 4 October 1841, she gave birth to another daughter – named Marie Sophie. Shortly after the birth, it became apparent that Ludovika’s mother, Caroline, was dying. Ludovika and her children travelled to Munich as soon as she was able and she was so shocked by her mother’s appearance that she herself fell ill. On 13 November 1841, Caroline died surrounded by her family. Once again, Ludovika’s husband was nowhere to be found when she needed him.

In 1843, Ludovika found herself pregnant once more. On 30 September 1843, Ludovika gave birth to a daughter named Mathilde Ludovika. Ludovika’s eighth pregnancy ended in the stillbirth of a son on 8 December 1845. On 22 February 1847, she gave birth to her ninth child – a daughter named Sophie Charlotte. Her tenth and final pregnancy ended on 7 December 1849 with the birth of a healthy son named Maximilian Emanuel. Ludovika was now 41 years old, and she had spent the better part of her married life in continuous pregnancies. It was a miracle that she had survived.

The children had grown up in nature, free from the restrictions of court life. Elisabeth loved horseriding, swimming, fishing and mounting climbing. Their playmates were children of the local peasants, and they spoke the Bavarian dialect. Nevertheless, they would have to marry within their social circles. Ludovika began making enquiries at the Saxon court for Elisabeth, but she wasn’t successful. Elisabeth stood in the shadow of her elder sister Helene, who was considered to be more beautiful and better educated. However, a letter from their aunt Sophie, the mother of Emperor Franz Joseph I of Austria, would change everything. Her son was in need of a bride, and marriages between cousins were not uncommon. The letter invited Ludovika, Helene and her younger sister Elisabeth to Bad Ischl to celebrate the Emperor’s birthday. Although there does not appear to have been a plan to marry off Helene specifically, perhaps Helene expected otherwise – she was, after all, the elder sister.

On 16 August 1853, Ludovika and her daughters arrived in Bad Ischl, but the visit was off to a bad start with their luggage missing, and they were still dressed in black mourning clothes. Nevertheless, the women were invited to tea by Sophie, and it was at this tea that they would also meet the Emperor. It was love at first sight for the Emperor, but his chosen bride was Helene’s younger sister. The following evening at the ball, Helene was dressed in a white silk gown, which complemented her complexion a lot more than the black mourning clothes. The Emperor danced the cotillion with Elisabeth and presented her with his nosegay.

On the Emperor’s actual birthday the following day, he had asked his mother to enquire if Elisabeth “would have him.”1 Sophie then informed Ludovika, who “moved, pressed my hand, for in her great humility, she had always doubted whether the Emperor would truly consider one of her daughters.”2 Elisabeth reportedly burst into tears upon being told and vowed to do everything she could to make the Emperor happy. She said, “I love the Emperor so much! If only he were not the Emperor!”3 Ludovika later calmly commented, “One does not send the Emperor of Austria packing.”4

Ludovika reported Elisabeth’s acceptance to Sophie and later wrote, “It is such a prodigious joy, and yet such a weighty and important situation that I am very moved in every respect. She is so young, so inexperienced, but I hope that forbearance will be shown to such extreme youth!”5 Ludovika continued to be worried and said “with how much trepidation she looked on the hard task facing her daughter Elisabeth since she was ascending the throne literally straight from the nursery. She also harboured concern because of the severe judgments of the ladies of the Viennese aristocracy.”6

Elisabeth herself looked back at this time with the words, “Marriage is an absurd arrangement. One is sold as a fifteen-year-old child and makes a vow one does not understand and then regrets for thirty years or more, and which one can never undo again.”7 Nevertheless, the wedding preparations went on as planned. Elisabeth would receive a crash course in protocol, and the wedding was set for the following April. Ludovika’s worries remained, and she wanted to postpone the wedding until June. The Belgian envoy reported, “In order to spare her daughter the exertions arising from the festivities, the mother is said to want to postpone the wedding until June. If the ceremony were to take place at an advanced season and the major part of the nobility had already departed Vienna, it would be possible to win some dispensation from the events connected with the wedding.”8 Her wish was not granted.9

Part three coming soon.

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The inquest into the death of Diana, Princess of Wales

The tragic accident that cost the lives of Diana, Princess of Wales, Dodi Al Fayed and their driver Henri Paul took place on 31 August 1997. Diana was just 36 years old at the time of her death.

The day before – 30 August 1997 – Dodi and Diana had boarded a private jet from Sardinia to Paris, where they had planned to stay one night before returning to London the next day. They arrived in Paris in the afternoon and were met by Henri Paul, who was the acting head of security at the Ritz hotel. Diana and Dodi first visited Villa Windsor, which was now owned by Dodi’s father, before heading to the Ritz. They later left the hotel to go to Dodi’s apartment in Paris and went out the back exit of the hotel. They returned to the hotel later that evening, followed by several photographers. They attempted to have dinner in the restaurant but later decided to eat in their suite instead.

Shortly before midnight, Henri Paul spoke to Dodi and Diana in the suite as they planned to return to Dodi’s apartment. An apparent decoy plan was made to escape the photographers. The couple had been using two cars that day, which would be leaving from the front of the hotel with the bodyguards. Henri Paul was to drive Dodi and Diana in an unmarked vehicle, which would depart from the back of the hotel. After concern that there were no bodyguards with Diana and Dodi, one bodyguard was allowed to travel with them.

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Just after midnight, Diana took her seat on the rear passenger side while Dodi sat on the rear driver’s side. The bodyguard, Trevor Rees-Jones, was in the (right) front passenger seat. They crossed the Place de la Concorde, along the Cours la Reine and Cours Albert 1er and into the Place de l’Alma underpass, where the car collided with the 13th central pillar. Dodi and Henri Paul died at the scene. Diana and the bodyguard were seriously injured and were taken to the Pitié-Salpêtrière Hospital. While the bodyguard survived, Diana died around 4 in the morning, following emergency surgery. None of the occupants was wearing seatbelts.1

Embed from Getty ImagesQuite quickly, rumours arose that Diana’s death was not simply an accident, and in 2004, an inquest was opened by Michael Burgess, the coroner of the Queen’s Household, who stated,” ‘I am aware that there is speculation that these deaths were not the result of a sad, but relatively straight forward, road traffic accident in Paris. I have asked the Metropolitan Police  Commissioner to make inquiries. The results of these inquiries will help me to decide whether such matters will fall within the scope of the investigation carried out at the inquests.’ 2 The purpose of the inquest was to assess if there was any credible evidence that supported the allegation of conspiracy to murder. It also examined the question of whether Diana and Dodi were about to announce an engagement and her pregnancy.Embed from Getty ImagesThe report concluded that neither an engagement nor a pregnancy could be proven.3 On the point of a possible pregnancy, the report states, “The evidence: pathological, scientific, medical and anecdotal showed that the Princess of Wales was not pregnant.” 4 On the concerns for her personal safety, the report also examined where Diana expressed concerns relating to a possible car accident. A supposed note left to her butler where she speaks of an “accident in my car” was most likely written in October 1995 and also most likely taken out of context. Friends and family did not have knowledge of this note until it was published in 2003 and did not know why she would write it. Around this time, Diana told two friends that her brakes had been tampered with, but the report found no evidence of this.5 It found “no supporting evidence to show there were any grounds for these concerns, even though they were clearly expressed and apparently genuinely held at the time by the Princess of Wales.” 6 It added that “although the Princess of Wales clearly expressed concerns over her safety, there was no evidence of any event that may have substantiated those concerns.” 7Embed from Getty ImagesThe report dealt with the presence of the paparazzi at the scene and their alleged involvement in a conspiracy to murder, knowingly or otherwise. It concluded that “there is no evidence that others took advantage of the situation created by the paparazzi. Neither is there evidence that any of the paparazzi, independently or in collusion with others, undertook actions in order to create an environment that allowed others to put into operation a plan to murder the Princess of Wales and Dodi Al Fayed.” 8 The report also states that it was normal procedure to order an autopsy of the driver. Testing of the vitreous humour showed an alcohol reading of 1,73 g/l, which is three times the legal limit in France.9 Examination of the seat belt showed that none of the occupants was wearing them at the time of the crash and that they were in working order before the crash. The evidence suggests that one of them was jammed because the internal mechanism had become displaced following the crash.10The brakes were also in working order.11

Following the report, a 2008 British inquest saw a jury deliver a verdict of an “unlawful killing” by the driver and the pursuing paparazzi.12

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The Year of Empress Elisabeth – Sisi & her mother (Part one)

Princess Ludovika of Bavaria was born on 30 August 1808 in the Munich Residenz as the daughter of King Maximilian I Joseph of Bavaria and his second wife, Caroline of Baden. She was the half-sister of King Ludwig I of Bavaria. Her birth was complicated, and it had already not been an easy pregnancy for Caroline. She had also been most troubled by the death of her sister Marie in childbirth just three months earlier.

Ludovika was baptised the following day with the names Ludovika Wilhelmine with her aunt Wilhelmine standing as godmother. Ludovika had five half-siblings (of which four survived to adulthood) from her father’s first marriage and seven siblings (of which four daughters and Ludovika herself survived to adulthood) from his marriage to her mother. The five daughters received lessons in literature, geography and history from Friedrich Thiersch. However, romantic tales from literature were strictly forbidden. All the Princesses were good students, and Thiersch was pleased with them. They were raised bilingual and spoke both German and French. Especially for Ludovika, her parents also hired a naturalist who taught her and her sisters all about botany. The central figure in the girls’ lives was Charlotte von Roggenbach – who was their governess. Schloss Nymphenburg and its idyllic park were the perfect places to grow up, and Ludovika was known to have been especially fond of the park.

Her happy childhood came to an abrupt end in 1821 with the death of her 10-year-old sister Maximiliane, nicknamed Ni in the family. She returned home from the theatre in the dead of winter and caught a cold that quickly became worse. Her mother devoted all her time to nursing her sick daughter. On 4 February 1821, Maximiliane died in her mother’s arms. She had always been her mother’s favourite, and Caroline was devastated.

The first of Ludovika’s (full) sisters to marry was Amalie. On 21 November 1822, Amalie married the future King John of Saxony. For Ludovika, it was the second painful goodbye in a short period of time. One year later, Amalie’s twin sister Elisabeth married the future Frederick William IV of Prussia. Yet another year later, Ludovika’s sister Sophie married Archduke Franz Karl of Austria. Now only Maria Anna and Ludovika remained unmarried. Ludovika had attended Sophie’s wedding in the Augustine Church in Vienna, and she had fallen in love with the future King Miguel I of Portugal, who was not even in town for the wedding but was actually in exile. Ludovika was by then 16 years old, and Miguel was 22. Miguel, too, was charmed by Ludovika, and he even asked her father for her hand in marriage. However, he was refused – not in the least because of the reason for his exile, the rebellion against his father. Her father probably also already had another match in mind – Duke Maximilian Joseph in Bavaria, his grandnephew who had previously been promised to Maximiliane. For Ludovika – who would see her three elder sisters become Queen – it was not a particularly good match.

On 13 October 1825, Ludovika’s father died quite suddenly in his sleep at the age of 69. His successor was Ludovika’s elder half-brother, who now became King Ludwig I. The shock of his sudden death left Ludovika reeling and also delayed her marriage. Ludwig promptly had his stepmother and unmarried half-sisters moved to Würzburg. Caroline was devastated when he also tried to remove court preacher Schmidt from her service and angrily wrote to him, “Schmidt is mine, and he will remain mine.” The breach in the family bond was never healed.

Caroline took her two unmarried daughters with her to Vienna, where they stayed for several months. Miguel was also still there, and he and Ludovika often met each other. However, they were forced to say goodbye when Caroline decided to go back to Munich and renovate Schloss Biederstein, which had been left to her. They were not there for long when Ludovika’s aunt Frederica, the exiled Queen of Sweden, in Karlsruhe, became ill. It soon became apparent that Frederica was not going to recover. She wanted to go to the Côte d’Azur and travelled there via Switzerland to consult with doctors. Caroline and her two daughters followed. She never made it to the Côte d’Azur and died in Lausanne on 25 September 1826. Frederica’s two daughters, Amalia and Cecilie – who also happened to be friends with Ludovika – were devastated, and Caroline quickly took her two nieces under her wing. At the end of the year, Caroline and her two daughters were back in Würzburg, and Ludovika found the time to write to Duke Maximilian about how incredibly cold it was there.

In February 1828, marriage negotiations were finally concluded, and Ludovika’s wedding was set for 9 September 1828. Ludovika would later say, “Neither of us wanted to get married.” Yet, they did and keeping Ludovika close by was a comfort for Caroline. The wedding took place in the St Quirinus Church on the bank of the Tegernsee. Just a few days after the wedding, a letter arrived from the newly proclaimed King Miguel of Portugal, asking for Ludovika’s hand in marriage. Caroline was forced to tell him her daughter was already married, but she did not inform her daughter of the letter. She could have been a Queen like her sisters.

Her new husband Maximilian was often away, and Ludovika wrote in her diary that she spent her first wedding anniversary alone and in tears “from the morning until the evening.” It wasn’t until the end of 1830 that Ludovika found herself pregnant for the first time. In the Cotta Palace in Munich, Ludovika gave birth to her first child on 21 June 1831 – her son was named Ludwig Wilhelm. Her labour lasted over ten hours. A cholera outbreak would force the family south to Italy, taking their newborn son with them. Ludovika loved Rome and spent a lot of time visiting the sights of the city. Their time in Italy would bring the couple closer together. By the time they returned north, Ludovika was pregnant again. On 24 December 1832, Ludovika gave birth to a second son – named Wilhelm Karl. Tragically, he would die just weeks later, on 13 February 1833, of whooping cough. Following the death of her son, Ludovika often had periods of depression and melancholy.1

Part two coming soon.

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The Notre Dame Cathedral in Luxembourg – A final resting place for the Grand Ducal family

The Notre Dame Cathedral in Luxembourg is perhaps best known as being the final resting place of members of the Luxembourg Grand Ducal family. Luxembourg became a Grand Duchy in 1815 and was subsequently ruled by the Kings of the Netherlands until the death of King William III of the Netherlands in 1890. As all three of William’s sons had predeceased him, he was succeeded by his daughter Wilhelmina as Queen of the Netherlands. However, Luxembourg still barred women from the succession and William was succeeded by Adolphe, Duke of Nassau, as Grand Duke of Luxembourg. The Dutch Kings and Queens were traditionally buried in the Nieuwe Kerk in Delft, and so it wasn’t until then that a separate burial place was necessary.

Adolphe and his second wife Adelheid-Marie were both buried at the Schlosskirche of Schloss Weilburg. Adolphe’s first wife, Grand Duchess Elizabeth Mikhailovna of Russia, who died before he became Grand Duke, was buried in a Russian Orthodox church dedicated to her memory. Adolphe’s son William IV was buried at Schloss Weilburg as well, but his wife Infanta Marie Anne of Portugal was buried in the Notre Dame Cathedral after being returned from her exile in the United States. Their daughter, Marie-Adélaïde, who had become Luxembourg’s first Grand Duchess in her own right but had been forced to abdicate, was buried here as well. They were later joined in the crypt by Marie-Adélaïde’s younger sister and successor Charlotte, and her husband, Felix. Charlotte’s successor Jean and his wife Joséphine Charlotte were buried here too, just as Charlotte’s second son Charles. Jean was the latest addition to the crypt as he died in 2019 after having abdicated in 2000.

They are buried there together with, or close to, John of Bohemia, King of Bohemia and Count of Luxembourg, who died in 1346 and was moved to the Cathedral in 1945.

Click to view slideshow.

The Notre Dame Cathedral is free to visit, and the crypt is open to the public. Read more here.

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Princess Anne’s children do not have titles – Here’s why

An often heard argument against the children of the Duke and Duchess of Sussex having a right to a (courtesy) title is that the children of Princess Anne don’t have a title either, and they are doing just fine. While that may be the case, there’s also a straightforward reason as to why they don’t have titles. They aren’t entitled to one.

The 1917 Letters Patent state, “It is declared by the Letters Patent that the children of any Sovereign of the United Kingdom and the children of the sons of any such Sovereign and the eldest living son of the eldest son of the Prince of Wales shall have and at all times hold and enjoy the style, title or attribute of Royal Highness with their titular dignity of Prince or Princess prefixed to their respective Christian names or with their other titles of honour.” This was amended to include all the children of the eldest son of the Prince of Wales (i.e. The Duke of Cambridge’s children, George, Charlotte and Louis), mainly because if George had been born a girl, she would have been “Lady” rather than “Princess,” while changes to make the succession gender neutral were already underway.1

The 1917 Letters Patent clearly limits the right to the style of HRH and the title of Prince(ss) to a (limited) male line of the sovereign. It might be superfluous to say so, but Princess Anne is a woman, and therefore her children do not fall under the 1917 Letters Patent.

If they had wanted to prevent the Queen’s eldest grandchildren from being born without titles, the solution here would have been to offer Princess Anne’s (future) husband, Mark Phillips, a peerage. The children of a Duke are entitled to be styled as Lord or Lady, with the eldest son and heir often using his father’s subsidiary title by courtesy.2 The children of an Earl are entitled to be styled as Lady or The Honourable, with the eldest son and heir often using his father’s subsidiary title by courtesy.3

However, Mark Phillips himself revealed in their pre-wedding interview that he had not been offered a peerage and that he would not have accepted one if he had been offered one. (From 3:57) Thus, Princess Anne’s children were destined to be born without titles, and they will remain so unless they are granted one or if they marry someone with a title.

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Royal Jewels – The Greville Tiara

Like the Greville Bow Brooch, the Greville tiara came from the collection of Dame Margaret Greville, the wife of the Hon. Ronald Greville. Margaret and her husband had had no children, and she bequeathed all her jewellery to Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother upon her death in 1942.

The tiara was created in 1921 by Lucien Hertz, who was a designer for Boucheron. The diamonds for the tiara came from another tiara that had been made for Margaret in 1901. The new tiara was created in a honeycomb design.

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Queen Elizabeth, later the Queen Mother, wore the piece for the 1947 State Visit to South Africa, in what was perhaps the tiara’s first public outing since the inheritance. The tiara was altered in 1953 by Cartier, who added height by rearranging the brilliants at the top into clusters and adding brilliants from a brooch that had been unset in 1949.

Queen Elizabeth wore the tiara often, and in 2002, it was inherited by her daughter Queen Elizabeth II. She has since loaned the piece to the Duchess of Cornwall, who wears it often.1

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Meet the future Queen of Jordan: Rajwa Al Saif

The Royal Hashemite Court has announced the engagement of Crown Prince Al Hussein bin Abdullah II to Ms. Rajwa Khaled bin Musaed bin Saif bin Abdulaziz Al Saif.

Crown Prince Hussein is the eldest son of King Abdullah II of Jordan and Queen Rania. He was officially named Crown Prince in 2009 and is thus expected to succeed his father one day. The engagement between him and Rajwa Al Saif took place on 17 August. Rajwa was born in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, on 28 April 1994 to Mr Khaled bin Musaed bin Saif bin Abdulaziz Al Saif and Mrs. Azza bint Nayef Abdulaziz Ahmad Al Sudairi. She has three elder siblings; Faisal, Nayef and Dana.

Click to view slideshow.

Rajwa completed her secondary education in Riyadh before pursuing a B.A. in Architecture from the Syracuse University School of Architecture in New York. She also has a professional designation degree in Visual Communications from the Fashion Institute of Design and Merchandising in Los Angeles. She is currently employed at Designlab Experience design studio in Riyadh.

Her family are descendants of the Subai tribe, who were the sheikhs of Attar in Sudair, Najd. No wedding date has been set yet.1

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The Year of Empress Elisabeth – Infanta Maria Theresa of Portugal, First Lady of the Austrian Court (Part two)

Read part one here.

Her eldest stepson Franz Ferdinand had become the heir to the throne following the suicide of Crown Prince Rudolf. However, he was in love with Countess Sophie Chotek, who was considered to be highly unsuitable. Sophie had been a lady-in-waiting to Archduchess Isabella (born of Croÿ), the wife of Archduke Friedrich, Duke of Teschen. When Franz Ferdinand began visiting her house, she had assumed he had come to court one of her many daughters, but when he turned out to be courting Sophie, Isabella turned to trickery to still arouse his interest in her daughters. Nevertheless, the romance had been kept under wraps for several years by then. When Franz Ferdinand could not be diverted from Sophie, things changed, and the Countess was turned out of the house. On 23 April 1899, Sophie tended her resignation, and she eventually ended up with her sister in Dresden. A furious Isabella reported the situation to the Emperor.

Franz Ferdinand came clean to his uncle about his feelings for Sophie and how he intended to marry her. Franz Joseph was stunned and replied that such a marriage was impossible as the Choteks were not equal to the Habsburgs. Furthermore, if they were to marry, it would be morganatic, and any children would be barred from the succession. Franz Ferdinand was told to take a year to carefully considered the consequences. Maria Theresa had sided with her stepson when she learned of the romance, as did both of his half-sisters. She personally went to plead with Franz Joseph twice, but although he heard her out, he refused to allow the wedding. Another supporter came from an unexpected corner, Crown Prince Rudolf’s widow Stéphanie, who was fighting for permission for her own morganatic marriage. Maria Theresa reportedly even wrote to the Pope extolling Sophie’s virtues, and the Pope decided to urge the Emperor to allow the marriage to take place.

When it turned out that Franz Ferdinand could not be persuaded otherwise, Franz Joseph yielded. He would agree to the marriage but under strict terms. He could marry Sophie in a morganatic marriage while swearing that he would never elevate her status or grant succession rights to future children. Franz Ferdinand reluctantly agreed to the terms. Maria Theresa now gladly offered her summer home at Reichstadt for the wedding. Conveniently, Princess Josephine of Baden had died in June, and while the Austrian court had barely recognised her during her lifetime, it now went into mourning, which happened to end the day after the wedding was supposed to take place. This ensured that no member of the family could attend the celebrations.

The only ones to risk it were Maria Theresa and his two half-sisters. During the family dinner, Maria Theresa proposed the toast to the bride and groom. She also presented Sophie with a jewellery box that had belonged to Franz Ferdinand’s mother. As the bride dressed for the wedding, Maria Theresa placed the tiara, which had belonged to Franz Ferdinand’s mother as well, on Sophie’s head. During the ceremony, Franz Ferdinand escorted his stepmother and half-sisters, while Sophie was escorted by a cousin of hers. A newspaper wrote that the ceremony was devoid of “court ceremony, with no pomp, no show of luxury.”1 Upon her marriage, Sophie was raised to the ranks of princely hereditary nobility with the name Hohenberg and the style of “Fuerstliche Gnaden” (similar to “Your Grace”). During their honeymoon, Franz Ferdinand wrote a touching letter to his stepmother to thank her for all that she had done. Nine years later, when her youngest stepson Archduke Ferdinand Karl wanted to marry Bertha Czuber, it was once again Maria Theresa who pleaded with the Emperor. Although this time, the Archduke would be forced to renounce his titles before being allowed a morganatic marriage.

Meanwhile, her own daughters were of an age to marry as well. Her eldest daughter Maria Annunciata had been set to marry Duke Siegfried August in Bavaria, but she had suddenly broken off the engagement and had asked for permission to become a nun. The Emperor appointed her as Abbess of the Order of Noble Ladies of the Hradschin in Prague but refused his permission to allow her to become a nun. Her youngest daughter Elisabeth Amalie married Prince Aloys of Liechtenstein in 1903, and the Emperor pointedly attended the wedding to make it known that he considered it to be an equal marriage.2 Their eldest son would be named Franz Joseph, and he would eventually become the reigning prince of Liechtenstein.

Franz Ferdinand and his wife Sophie would end up having three surviving children together, but their fairytale wasn’t to last. On 28 June 1914, they were both assassinated in Sarajevo – an event that kickstarted the First World War. Once more, Maria Theresa proved her loyalty to her stepson – she reportedly immediately hurried to their home to inform the three young orphans of what had happened. When separate funeral plans were drawn up, Maria Theresa objected, and eventually, the Emperor agreed that the two should have a shared funeral service. She also declared that if he did not grant the children a yearly income equal to that of Austrian Archdukes, she would resign her own allowance in their favour. Her wishes were taken into consideration, and their futures were now assured.3 The three children stayed at the Belvedere with Maria Theresa as their parents were laid to rest. Unfortunately, they were not permitted to attend the service. Franz Ferdinand and Sophie were eventually buried together in the crypt at Artstetten. During the First World War, Maria Theresa worked as a nurse.

Maria Theresa would live to see the succession of her step-grandson Charles, who became Emperor Charles I upon the death of Franz Joseph I. He had married her niece Zita (the daughter of her younger sister Maria Antónia in 1911 and Maria Theresa had played quite the matchmaker. Tragically, Charles and Zita would be the last Emperor and Empress of Austria as the Empire fell apart in 1918. Maria Theresa accompanied the family to Madeira, where Charles became seriously ill. Maria Theresa and Zita tried to nurse him through the worst of it, but it was no use – he died on 1 April 1922 at the age of just 34.

Maria Theresa eventually returned to Austria, where she lived with her eldest daughter. She died in Vienna in 1944 at the age of 88. She received a state funeral and was interred in the Imperial Crypt.

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The Year of Empress Elisabeth – Infanta Maria Theresa of Portugal, First Lady of the Austrian Court (Part one)

Maria Theresa of Portugal was born on 24 August 1855 as the third child and second daughter of the former King Miguel I of Portugal and his wife Adelaide of Löwenstein-Wertheim-Rosenberg. Her father had seized the throne from his niece, Queen Maria II of Portugal, before being dethroned himself in 1834. He was exiled for the rest of his life, which also meant that all his children were born outside of Portugal, although allegedly, they were all born over a container filled with Portuguese earth.1

Miguel first lived in Rome and London, but after marrying Adelaide, the newlyweds settled in Germany. He settled down into the life of a quiet country gentleman and died in the hunting field at the age of 64 in 1866. Maria Theresa was one month shy of her 18th birthday when she became the third wife of the 39-year-old Archduke Karl Ludwig of Austria, the younger brother of Emperor Franz Joseph I of Austria. He had been married and widowed twice before. His first wife was Princess Margaretha of Saxony, and his second wife was Princess Maria Annunciata of Bourbon-Two Sicilies. Tragically both women had died very young, and the twice-widowed Archduke was left with four young children from his second marriage.

Karl Ludwig went to Bad Ischl on 20 July 1873 to receive his father’s blessing for his upcoming marriage before travelling on to Heubach Castle, the seat of the House of Löwenstein, where Maria Theresa was living at the time. The wedding took place on 23 July at Heubach Castle Church, and the ceremony was performed by Bishop Ketteier. After the service, the wedding party returned to the castle, where a dinner was held. That very same day, the newlyweds departed for Bad Ischl and arrived there on 25 July to meet with Karl Ludwig’s father. Then, they travelled on to Vienna, where a ceremonial reception took place at Schönbrunn on 7 August. This is probably when Maria Theresa first met her sister-in-law, Empress Elisabeth. Unfortunately, Maria Theresa’s formidable mother-in-law Archduchess Sophie had died the previous year, so we have no record of what Sophie thought of her son’s new bride.

Maria Theresa’s eldest stepson Franz Ferdinand had been just seven years old when his mother died. She lived in fear of infecting her children with tuberculosis and forbade them to touch her. Maria Theresa’s arrival had a significant impact on the family life. Where her predecessor had been frail, Maria Theresa was robust and lively. However, rumours soon arose that Karl Ludwig was anything but a loving husband to her. He was reportedly a sympathetic husband to his first two wives but “allegedly went from sympathetic husband to stern martinet, tormenting his wife and generally making her life miserable.”2 Countess Marie Larisch wrote in her memoirs, “She was a lovely woman, fifteen years younger than her husband, whose chief recreations were riding, shooting, and ill-treating her.”3

Nevertheless, Maria Theresa became devoted to her stepchildren and never differentiated between them and the two daughters she would eventually have with her husband. Franz Ferdinand called her “Mama”, and she called him “Franzi.”4 On 13 July 1876, Maria Theresa gave birth to her first daughter, who she duly named Maria Annunciata. A second daughter named Elisabeth Amalie was born on 7 July 1878. For her second daughter, Empress Elisabeth was asked to be godmother. However, at the christening, she was represented by someone else, though the Emperor did reportedly attend.

Despite her husband’s rumoured brutalities, Maria Theresa gained considerable influence in court circles, not in the least because its leading female figure – Empress Elisabeth – was continuously on the run. She reportedly because the only member of the Imperial Family who could hold her own with Franz Joseph, and he was obliged to “reckon with her opinions and judgements.”5 Perhaps her arrival so soon after the death of Archduchess Sophie had helped fill the void left by her. Marie Therese often took the place as First Lady of the Court in the absence of the Empress and did so until she was widowed in 1896 when etiquette required her to withdraw into retirement.

Karl Ludwig died on 19 May 1896 at the age of 62. Just a few days before his death, Franz Joseph wrote, “My brother Karl is not well, I am sorry to say. The illness is already lasting so long, and the fever just will not end, so that I am worried and fear a bad outcome.”6 Karl Ludwig had asked his brother to be moved to Schönbrunn with Maria Theresa and his daughter Margrethe four days before his death. During his illness, Maria Theresa had not left his side, and she cared for him until the end. He had died of typhoid after drinking polluted water from the river Jordan during travels with his family in Palestine.

Despite being forced into retirement by her husband’s death, Maria Theresa remained one of the driving forces of the Austrian Court. So when rumours arose that she was to marry the master of her household, no one dared to say a thing against her. In any case, the reports turned out to be false. Maria Theresa would spend the winter months living in Vienna and the summer months at the castle of Reichstadt in Bohemia. It was at this castle that a very controversial wedding would take place.

Part two coming soon.

The post The Year of Empress Elisabeth – Infanta Maria Theresa of Portugal, First Lady of the Austrian Court (Part one) appeared first on History of Royal Women.

The Year of Empress Elisabeth – Sisi & Rudolf (Part three)

Read part two here.

In October 1888, Stéphanie returned from a trip to Greece. She wrote in her memoirs, “But I was horrified as soon as I set eyes on the Crown Prince. His decay was so greatly advanced as to have become conspicuous. He was frightfully changed; his skin was flaccid; his eyes were restless; his expression had completely changed. It seemed as if his lineaments had lost the inner substantially, which can only come from strength of will, as if a process of internal dissolution were going on. I was profoundly sorry for him and wondered how the devastation would end.”1 Stéphanie wanted to confront her father-in-law about Rudolf, hoping to save him from disaster. However, the Emperor saw nothing wrong with his son and dismissed her concerns.

At Christmas 1888, Marie Valerie became engaged to Archduke Franz Salvator from the Tuscan branch of the family. Empress Elisabeth sided with her daughter against the concerns of Emperor Franz Joseph and Rudolf, who considered the archduke to be too insignificant. The relationship between brother and sister became even more strained during this period, and a hysterical Elisabeth damaged the relationship with Rudolf even more. She now considered him the enemy, and their sole topic of conversation became Marie Valerie’s future. By then, Rudolf had more serious things on his mind, and he was already considering suicide. Elisabeth interpreted his seriousness as hostility towards Marie Valerie. Marie Valerie later described his supposed hostility, “He was not at all unfriendly, and so I felt encouraged for the first time in my life to throw my arms about his neck… Poor brother, so he does have a warm heart in need of love, for he embraced me and kissed me with the full fervour of true brotherly affection – again and again, he drew me to his heart, and one could feel that he was pleased at my showing him the love that for so long had been almost stifled by fear and timidity. Mama begged him always to be good to me, to us, once we are dependent on him, and he solemnly swore it, simply and warmly. At that, she made the sign of the cross on his forehead and said God would bless him for it and bring him good luck – she assured him of her love, and he fervently kissed her hand, deeply moved. I thanked him and enfolded him and Mama in a single embrace while I said almost instinctively: ‘We should be this way always!'”2 As Rudolf’s mental state deteriorated, he began to speak often of his imminent death, although it wasn’t taken seriously.

On 26 January 1889, Stéphanie and Rudolf attended a big soirée, followed by a reception on the 27th. From the 28th, there was to be a shoot at Mayerling. Rudolf promised her he would be back the next day for a family dinner. They would never see each other again. Rudolf excused himself from the family dinner the following day. Stéphanie told the family that he had come down with a cold. The family was thus wholly unprepared for the tragedy that happened on 30 January 1889. Sometime in the early hours of the 30th, Rudolf and his mistress, the 17-year-old Baroness Mary Vetsera, died in an apparent murder-suicide pact.

Elisabeth was the first one in the family to be told the news of her son’s death. It was Joseph Hoyos, Rudolf’s hunting companion, who broke the news to her, but he said to her that Mary had given Rudolf poison before taking the poison herself. Elisabeth was reportedly quite composed when she went to her husband to tell him the news. She took Katharina Schratt, Franz Joseph’s mistress, with her because she knew that Katharina would be able to comfort him.

Elisabeth then went on to inform her youngest daughter, Marie Valerie, who immediately assumed that he had taken his own life. Elisabeth resisted this and said, “No, no, I will not believe that, it is so likely, so certain that the girl poisoned him.”3 The next to be told was Rudolf’s widow Stephanie, who described the scene in her memoirs, “The Emperor sat at the centre of the room, the Empress, dressed in dark clothes, her face white and rigid, was with him. In my bewildered, shaken state, I believed that I was being looked at like an unfaithful wife. A crossfire of questions, some of which I could not answer, some of which I was not permitted to answer, descended on me.”4

The following day Elisabeth and Franz Joseph learned from their personal physician what had really happened to their son. Both Rudolf and Mary had been shot in the head, with Mary stretched out on the bed with a rose between her hands and Rudolf next to her with a fallen revolver on the ground. Elisabeth commented, “Great Jehova is terrible as He marches onward sowing destruction like the storm.”5

As Rudolf was laid out in state in the Hofburg, Mary Vetsera received a hasty burial. Elisabeth finally lost her composure that night at dinner and began to sob. His widow Stephanie and their five-year-old daughter Elisabeth were also present, and Stephanie would receive most of the blame. Elisabeth later said, “If one comes to know this woman properly, one must excuse Rudolf for looking elsewhere for distraction and a narcotic to ease the emptiness of the heart in his own home. It is certain: things would have been otherwise had he had a different wife, one who understood him.”6

He left several goodbye letters, and the longest of them was to his mother, Elisabeth, but the full letter has not survived. It was destroyed by Ida Ferenczy after Elisabeth’s death on her instructions. We know that Rudolf wrote that he was “not worthy of writing to his father” and that Mary was “a pure angel, who accompanies him into the hereafter.” He also wished “to be buried next to her in Heiligenkreuz.”7 This wish was not honoured as Rudolf is buried with his parents in the Imperial Crypt in Vienna. With an affidavit from the doctor that Rudolf was mentally unstable at the time of his death, a church funeral could be held for him.

Although Elisabeth had been quite composed in the days following her son’s death, she soon fell apart. The German ambassador reported that Elisabeth “abandons herself to incessant brooding, reproaches herself, and attributes to the inherited Wittelsbach blood the mental confusion of her poor son.”8 It was also another reason for Elisabeth to be criticized by the court circle. One Countess de Jonghe wrote, “This time, the first lady of the land bears the principal blame. If she had thought less of herself and more of her obligations, this recent catastrophe would not have occurred.”9

Just a few days after Rudolf’s internment, Elisabeth tried to make contact with his spirit down in the crypt to learn the reason for his suicide, and she continued to try and reach his spirit unsuccessfully. She later told Marie Valerie, “Rudolf’s bullet killed my faith.”10 Her attempts to reach him caused even more gossip in Vienna but she was desperate the learn the reasons for his suicide. Marie Valerie wrote, “Mama will probably never again be as she was at one time; she envies Rudolf his death, and day and night longes for her own.”11 By the end of the mourning period for Rudolf, Elisabeth had given away all her light-coloured gowns and other items to Gisela and Marie Valerie. She wore only plain mourning attire and did not wear colour again for the rest of her life.

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