#austria 1809

[josefavomjaaga]

(Yes! A post about paintings that does not mention Soult … ooops.)

One impression I have got so far on reading up more on the medical service is that Dominique Larrey was an excellent self-promoter. (And no, that does not much endear him to me. But that's me.) In particular, he seems to have been very aware of the importance of (official, propagandistic) art in Napoleon’s Empire, and was keen on figuring in it. He was close friends with painter Anne-Louis Girodet, who after Larrey’s return from Egypt did a portrait of him:

After the battle of Eylau in 1807, when it became clear that the court would commission a painting of the battle, Larrey wrote to Girodet, who he believed would receive that job, in order to tell him that he wanted to be in that painting "in his function of chirurgien-inspecteur général". And just to be on the safe side, he added:

The advantage of being painted by you, my friend, will increase the satisfaction of my heart if I am fortunate enough to occupy a small corner of your canvas. If, against my expectations, you do not wish to treat this subject, please ask Monsieur Gros to grant me this satisfaction. It is a truth that he will place in his painting if he finds it worthy of being there.

Gros in the end did receive the commission – and added the guy to the painting who had actually been in charge of the surgeons during that campaign: Percy.

And then there’s the matter of Lannes’ death. Larrey on June 14 1809 writes a long letter to his wife (after, as he says, having been struck by deep melancholy ever since Lannes had died), and it ends with – yet another idea for how he could figure in a painting:

I wish someone had the idea of painting the moving scene in which the Emperor embraced his worthy friend carried on a stretcher, shortly after having undergone my operation. This is where I could appear with honour, if such a painting were ever done.

While trying to tell myself that a military surgeon who saw people dying every day must have felt very differently about the matter, I still can’t help but find this remark tasteless to the extreme. If he had said something about wanting to be remembered next to his friend or something, I would understand. But no. He wants to be in an official painting with Napoleon, and Lannes’ death is just a nice opportunity for that.

There is even a second letter regarding this matter. When Denon (on Larrey’s suggestion?) really commissioned a painting, the surgeon Ribes in Paris demanded some more details on the event. Larrey complied with this demand on 18 July 1809, adding:

At the request of M. Denon, military painter, who wants to depict the death of Lannes, Larrey sends this information to his friend, but expresses the formal wish that he not be named [as being involved in the matter]; he nevertheless takes the opportunity to ask to appear in this painting.

I do not know if there ever was an "official" painting done in the end. Part of me hopes no.

[josefavomjaaga]

At the very bottom of the map there’s Kaiserebersdorf, where Lannes had died a couple of weeks before. 😥

With no context other than she "cut it out of a magazine and it took it to the copy store to enlarge it", my husband's grandma gave me this Battle of Wagram map in varying sizes. Unfortunately it is a little blurry in all of them.

[auguste-marmonts-only-fan]

Hello hello

So, I have been thinking....there is pretty much NO information about the Iliriyan provinces online....it is extremely hard to come by

That lead me to compile as many pictures as I could with the resources I had on hand, before I start some pictures might be bad quality becouse I took them on my phone with bad lighting...sorry 😅

A monument built in 1808 to honor Marmont, Trogir- Croatia

It's whole purpose was just to look pretty

The Napoleon monument in Makraska

It has nothing to do with Napoleon, it was built to honor Marmont

Border stone for the Iliriyan provinces, Zagreb-Croatia

It marked the border between the french and austrian sides

Map of the Iliriyan provinces

Orange marks the provinces,light green the ottoman empire,dark green Austria,light orange Croatia and the brown is Hungary (Ugarska/Vugarska)

Pages of the Kraglski dalmatin/Royal dalmatian

Aka the first ever croatian news paper in both italian and croatian, which was print by the french

A law signed by Marmont preventing the arrival of Russian boats in iliran docks

French wear house in Slunj, Croatia

Clerks seal, around 1809 from the city of Karlovac in Croatia

Ilirian coat of arms,1809

Next post will be the uniforms!

Check reblogs

[whencyclopedia]

Battle of Wagram

The Battle of Wagram (5-6 July 1809) was one of the largest and bloodiest battles of the Napoleonic Wars (1803-1815). It resulted in a pyrrhic victory for French Emperor Napoleon I (r. 1804-1814; 1815) whose army crossed the Danube River to defeat Archduke Charles' Austrian army. Wagram ultimately allowed Napoleon to win the War of the Fifth Coalition (1809).

Background

Ever since its defeat at the Battle of Austerlitz (2 December 1805), the Austrian Empire itched to exact revenge upon Napoleon and recover its status as a major power in Central Europe. In the three years that followed the battle, Austria bided its time as its army was modernized by Archduke Charles, brother of the emperor and commander-in-chief of the Austrian forces. Charles' reforms included a system of mass conscription through the Landwehr militia and a reorganization of the army into nine line and two reserve corps, copying the corps d'armee system that had contributed to Napoleon's success.

By early 1809, hundreds of thousands of French soldiers were off in Iberia fighting the Peninsular War (1807-1814) against Spain and Portugal. This greatly reduced France's military presence in Germany, an opportunity that Austrian Emperor Francis I was keen to take advantage of. Francis ordered his brother to prepare for war, and on 10 April 1809, Archduke Charles sparked the War of the Fifth Coalition when he invaded France's ally of Bavaria with 200,000 men. Napoleon was prepared; having noticed the build-up of Austrian forces, the French emperor had raised a new Army of Germany that consisted mainly of French conscripts and allied German soldiers from the Confederation of the Rhine. Since Archduke Charles' invasion got off to a slow start, Napoleon was able to launch a rapid counteroffensive. In the ensuing Landshut campaign, Napoleon's Army of Germany won a string of battles and forced Archduke Charles back across the Danube. Charles' retreat left the road to Vienna wide open, and Napoleon occupied the Austrian capital on 13 May.

Emperor Francis had evacuated Vienna before the French occupation, and Archduke Charles had rallied his forces and was currently sitting on the opposite bank of the Danube. Since all the major bridges across the river had been destroyed, Napoleon needed to build his own. He chose the floodplain of Lobau Island, south of Vienna, as the ideal location for his river crossing. By midday on 20 May, the pontoon bridge was completed, and the first elements of the French army crossed over to occupy the towns of Aspern and Essling. By the next morning, Napoleon had gotten 25,000 troops across the river, but efforts to get the rest of his army across were frustrated by the Austrians, who floated flaming barges down the river to punch holes in the French bridge.

At 1 p.m. on 21 May, Archduke Charles ordered an attack. The French were surprised by the sudden Austrian assault, and brutal fighting erupted around Aspern and Essling that lasted well into the night, at which point the French retained control of both towns. The battle resumed on the morning of 22 May; while the Austrian wings were embroiled in the struggle for the towns, French Marshal Jean Lannes led a charge against the vulnerable Austrian center. His attack came close to success but was stopped by the personal intervention of Archduke Charles, who led a spirited counterattack. As the day wore on, the French were pushed out of Essling, and the bridge was repeatedly damaged, preventing Napoleon from getting the rest of his army across. At 3 p.m., the French emperor decided to cut his losses and ordered a withdrawal to Lobau. The Battle of Aspern-Essling marked Napoleon's first major defeat in a decade and had cost him between 20-23,000 casualties including the irreplaceable Marshal Lannes, who was mortally wounded. The Austrians also suffered around 23,000 casualties but achieved victory, having denied the river crossing to Napoleon.

Continue reading...

[saax2]

Venezia

Anna Passini (the artist's wife), Palazzo Priuli, Venezia, 1866 ca. | Ludwig Passini (1832-1903, Austria)

One night in Venice, 1922 | Dean Cornwell (1892-1960, USA)

Venice in gold green blue shades | Dan Schlesinger (USA)

Il Ponte dei Sospiri, Venezia, 1870 | Gustave Doré (1832-1883, France) 

Venice by moonlight, 1870 ca. | Sophus Jacobsen (1833-1912, Norway)

Scena di strada a Venezia (Street scene in Venice), 1882 (National Gallery of Art, Washington) | John Singer Sargent (1856-1925, USA)

Mareggiata, Chioggia, 1890's | Mosè Bianchi (1840-1904, Italia)

Il Molo al tramonto (The pier at sunset), Venezia, 1864 (Ca' Pesaro, Venezia) | Ippolito Caffi (1809-1866, Italia) 

Festa del Redentore (Fireworks in Venice, the Feast of the Redeemer) | Vincenzo Abbati (1803-1866, Italia)

View of Venice, 1894 | Frits Thaulow (1847-1906, Norway)

Canal Grande, Venezia, 1874-75 (Shelburne Museum, Vermont, USA) | Édouard Manet (1832-1883, France)

Santa Maria dei Miracoli, Venice | Ken Howard (1932, England)

Canal Grande, Venezia, 1907 | Umberto Boccioni (1882-1916, Italia)

Calle di notte | Duilio Corompai (1875-1952, Italia)

Vetro di Murano, in 'Negozio Olivetti', piazza San Marco, Venezia, 2024 | Tony Craigg (1964, England)

[palecleverdoll]

Women of Imperial Russia: Ages at First Marriage

I have only included women whose birth dates and dates of marriage are known within at least 1-2 years, therefore, this is not a comprehensive list. This data set ends with the Revolution of 1917.

Eudoxia Lopukhina, wife of Peter I; age 20 when she married Peter in 1689 CE

Catherine I of Russia, wife of Peter I; age 18 when she married Johan Cruse in 1702 CE

Anna of Russia, daughter of Ivan V; age 17 when she married Frederick William Duke of Courland and Semigallia in 1710 CE

Anna Petrovna, daughter of Peter I; age 17 when she married Charles Frederick I, Duke of Holstein-Gottorp, in 1725 CE

Catherine II, wife of Peter III; age 16 when she married Peter in 1745 CE

Natalia Alexeievna, wife of Paul I; age 17 when she married Paul in 1773 CE

Maria Feodorovna, wife of Paul I; age 17 when she married Paul in 1776 CE

Elizabeth Alexeivna, wife of Alexander I; age 14 when she married Alexander in 1793 CE

Anna Feodorovna, wife of Konstantin Pavlovich; age 15 when she married Konstantin in 1796 CE

Alexandra Pavlovna, daughter of Paul I; age 16 when she married Archduke Joseph of Austria in 1799 CE

Elena Pavlovna, daughter of Paul I; age 15 when she married Frederick Louis, Duke of Mecklenburg-Schwerin in 1799 CE

Maria Pavlovna, daughter of Paul I; age 18 when she married Charles Frederick, Grand Duke of Saxe-Weimar-Eisenach in 1804 CE

Catherine Pavlovna, daughter of Paul I; age 21 when she married Duke George of Oldenburg in 1809 CE

Anna Pavlovna, daughter of Paul I; age 21 when she married William II of the Netherlands in 1816 CE

Alexandra Feodorovna, wife of Nicholas I; age 19 when she married Nicholas in 1817 CE

Joanna Grudzinska, wife of Konstantin Pavlovich; age 29 when she married Konstantin in 1820 CE

Elena Pavlovna, wife of Mikhail Pavlovich; age 17 when she married Mikhail in 1824 CE

Maria Nikolaevna, daughter of Nicholas I; age 20 when she married Maximilian de Beauharnais, Duke of Leuchtenberg, in 1839 CE

Maria Alexandrovna, wife of Alexander II; age 17 when she married Alexander in 1841 CE

Elizaveta Mikhailovna, daughter of Mikhail Pavlovich; age 17 when she married Adolphe, Grand Duke of Luxembourg, in 1844 CE

Alexandra Nikolaevna, daughter of Nicholas I; age 19 when she married Prince Frederick-William of Hesse-Kassel, in 1844 CE

Olga Nikolaevna, daughter of Nicholas I; age 24 when she married Charles I of Wurttemberg, in 1846 CE

Alexandra Iosifovna, wife of Konstantin Nikolaevich; age 18 when she married Konstantin in 1848 CE

Catherine Mikhailovna, daughter of Mikhail Pavlovich; age 24 when she married Duke Georg August of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, in 1851 CE

Alexandra Petrovna, wife of Nicholas Nikolaevich the Elder; age 18 when she married Nicholas in 1856 CE

Olga Feodorovna, wife of Michael Nikolaevich; age 18 when she married Michael in 1857 CE

Maria Feodorovna, wife of Alexander III; age 19 when she married Alexander III in 1866 CE

Olga Konstantinovna, daughter of Konstantin Nikolaevich; age 16 when she married George I of Greece in 1867 CE

Vera Konstantinovna, daughter of Konstantin Nikolaevich; age 20 when she married Duke Eugen of Wurttemberg in 1874 CE

Maria Pavlovna, wife of Vladimir Alexandrovich; age 20 when she married Vladimir in 1874 CE

Maria Alexandrovna, daughter of Alexander II; age 19 when she married Alfred, Duke of Edinburgh, in 1874 CE

Anastasia Mikhailovna, daughter of Michael Nikolaevich; age 19 when she married Friedrich Franz III, Duke of Mecklenburg-Schwerin in 1879 CE

Nadezhada Alexandrovna Dreyer, wife of Nicholas Konstantinovich; age 21 when she married Nicholas in 1882 CE

Elizabeth Feodorovna, wife of Sergei Alexandrovich; age 20 when she married Sergei in 1884 CE

Olga Valerianovna Paley, wife of Paul Alexandrovich; age 19 when she married Erich von Pistolhkors in 1884 CE

Elizabeth Mavrikievna, wife of Konstantin Konstantinovich; age 19 when she married Konstantin in 1885 CE

Anastasia of Montenegro, wife of Nicholas Nikolaevich the Younger; age 21 when she married George Maximilianovich, Duke of Leuchtenberg in 1889 CE

Milica of Montenegro, wife of Peter Nikolaevich; age 23 when she married Peter in 1889 CE

Alexandra of Greece and Denmark, wife of Paul Alexandrovich; age 19 when she married Paul in 1889 CE

Sophie Nikolaievna, wife of Michael Mikhailovich; age 23 when she married Michael in 1891 CE

Victoria Feodorovna, wife of Kirill Vladimirovich; age 18 when she married Ernest Louis, Grand Duke of Hesse, in 1894 CE

Xenia Alexandrovna, wife of Alexander Mikhailovich; age 19 when she married Alexander in 1894 CE

Alexandra Feodorovna, wife of Nicholas II; age 22 when she married Nicholas in 1894 CE

Olga Alexandrovna, daughter of Alexander II; age 18 when she married Count George-Nicholas von Merenberg in 1985 CE

Maria of Greece and Denmark, wife of George Mikhailovich; age 24 when she married George in 1900 CE

Alexandra von Zarnekau, wife of George Alexandrovich; age 16 when she married George in 1900 CE

Catherine Alexandrovna, daughter of Alexander II; age 23 when she married Alexander Baryatinksy in 1901 CE

Olga Alexandrovna, daughter of Alexander III; age 19 when she married Duke Peter Alexandrovich of Oldenburg

Elena Vladimirovna, daughter of Vladimir Alexandrovich; age 20 when she married Prince Nicholas of Greece and Denmark in 1902 CE

Natalia Brasova, wife of Michael Alexandrovich; age 22 when she married Sergei Mamontov in 1902 CE

Elisabetta di Sasso Ruffo, wife of Andrei Alexandrovich; age 31 when she married Alexander Alexandrovitch Frederici in 1907 CE

Maria Pavlovna, daughter of Paul Alexandrovich; age 18 when she married Prince Wilhelm of Sweden in 1908 CE

Helen of Serbia, wife of Ioann Konstantinovich; age 27 when she married Ioann in 1911 CE

Tatiana Konstantinovna, daughter of Konstantin Konstantinovich; age 21 when she married Konstantine Bagration of Mukhrani, in 1911 CE

Irina Alexandrovna, daughter of Alexander Mikhailovich; age 19 when she married Felix Felixovich Yusupov in 1914 CE

Nadejda Mikhailovna, daughter of Michael Mikhailovna; age 20 when she married George Mountbatten in 1916 CE

Antonina Rafailovna Nesterovkaya, wife of Gabriel Konstantinovich; age 27 when she married Gabriel in 1917 CE

Nadejda Petrovna, wife of Nicholas Orlov; age 19 when she married Nicholas in 1917 CE

Anastasia Mikhailovna, daughter of Michael Mikhailovna; age 25 when she married Sir Harold Wernher in 1917 CE

59 women; average age at first marriage was 20 years old. The oldest bride was 31 at her first marriage; the youngest was 14.

[historicalbookimages]

🌵 Fragmenta botanica, figuris coloratis illustrata. Viennae, Austriae: Typis Mathiae Andreae Schmidt, typogr. Universit., 1809.

[sollannaart]

The Galician campaign of 1809

Today let me tell you a little bit about the Galician campaign of the Austro-Polish war of 1809, which proved to be a great success for the Duchy of Warsaw.

After the battle of Raszyn there happened the series of small battles, which prevented Austrians from crossing the Vistula, thus leaving the initiative on the right bank of the river firmly with the Poles. So, the Polish forces under Poniatowski’s command moved along Vistula to the South-East, to the lands Austria seized during the latest partition of Poland.

On the 14th of May the Polish Army entered Lublin:

Konstanty Gorski, "Prince Józef Poniatowski enters conquered Lublin in 1809, showered with flowers by ladies"

As Kajetan Koźmian recalls in his memoirs, Poniatowski and his men were greeted with "joy and elation", and in the evening "... the city and the citizens gave a great ball <...> in the house in Korce. Prince Józef honored them with his presence starting the ball."

The next city on the way of the Polish Army was Sandomierz, and after a short siege it was taken on the 18th of May.

Siege of Sandomierz in 1809.

Michał Stachowicz, a scene from the battles in Galicia ("The Capture of Zamość")

Then there was Zamość, where the Polish trooped entered on the 20th of May.

Siege of 1809, M. Adamczewski Entry of Prince Poniatowski to Zamość (postcard)

On the 27th of May the Polish advanced forces even reached the city of Lwów, but prince Józef wasn’t among them.

Meanwhile the Austrians under command Archduke Ferdinand realized the precariousness of their position in the center of Poland, and on the 1st of June left Warsaw for the south.

Poniatowski, for his part, decided not to engage with the Austrian, focusing instead on "liberating” as much Galician land as possible.

Prince Józef Poniatowski seeks information from local peasants in Galicia in 1809, a photo of Stanisław Bagieński's painting

On the 3rd June there appeared the third participant of the events - Russian forces crossed the Austrian border to Galicia as well. And though formally they were acting as Napoleon’s ally, as was prescribed in the Tilsit Treaty, their real goal was to prevent the Poles from taking too much of the Austrian-held territories.

So, to outwit the Russians prince Józef was taking Galician cities not in the name of the Duchy of Warsaw, but in the one of emperor of the Frenchmen. Like the proclamations were being made in the name of Napoleon, the eagles on the coats-of-arms replacing the Austrian ones were not Polish and French etc.

Lancers lead Austrian prisoners of war near Kraków in 1809, in front of Prince Józef Poniatowski, a photo of Stanisław Bagieński's painting

Then, in the outer theater of war on the 6th of July the French defeated the Austrians at the Battle of Wagram. And according Franco-Austrian truce signed five days later the land division was to take place along the line where the troops were at the time of receiving news of the truce, not at the time its signing.

The Austrian army leaves Wawel, a postcard based on the painting of Wojciech Kossak

And so began the race between Russians and Poles, to advance to as farther as possible.

In the middle of July both armies reached Kraków.

PRINCE JOSEPH'S ENTRY TO KRAKOW. A drawing by Jan Feliks Piwarski.

And there the clash of the interest took place.

Poniatowski approached the city from the side of St. Florian's Gate, but it turned out that the Austrians, wanting more comfortable terms of capitulation, had already let Russian troops into Kraków.

The Russians, namely the Cossacks of General Sievers, wanted to deny Poniatowski passage. But Prince Józef, as Dezydery Chłapowski recalls in his memoirs, "draw his broadsword and with together his staff galloped into the gate through the Cossacks". The Polish infantry followed its commander "in a double step <...> so that the Cossacks were pressed against the walls of the gate." Seeing this, Mariampol's hussar regiment, which was stationed at that time in the market square, make a decision to put up resistance and due to this, the whole Polish army was able to enter the city.

Michał Stachowicz, The entry of Prince Józef Poniatowski into Krakow on July 15, 1809

Then, as Ambroży Grabowski recalled, when prince Józef’s troops reached the market square, “in front of the church of St. Wojciech, the magistrate went out to meet the prince, to give him the keys of the city”.

Józef Poniatowski in the Cathedral after Kraków was taken from the Austrians, an image by Stanisław Tondos and Wojciech Kossak

Most probably prince Józef visited the Wawel cathedral during his sojourn in Kraków that time. (In a small voice: little did he know that in 8 years he’ll be buried there...)

And after exactly a month since the Polish troops entered Kraków, there was a ball arranged in the Cloth-hall, the image depicting it I have already posted here.

[empirearchives]

Giuseppe Donizetti — served Napoleon on Elba and accompanied him during the Hundred Days

Portrait of Giuseppe Donizetti later in life

Giuseppe Donizetti was born into poverty in 1788, in the Northern Italian city of Bergamo. The eldest of his siblings, he worked from a young age, training as a tailor’s apprentice. His true talent was in music, which was spotted early on in his life.

Giuseppe was conscripted in 1808 at the age of 20. He served the Napoleonic Kingdom of Italy in the Seventh Italian Regiment. He fought against Austria in the War of the 5th Coalition in 1809. He spent the years of 1811, 1812 and 1813 in Spain.

In 1811, he was became ill en route to Spain and was hospitalized at Castelnaudary in France. 43 years later in 1854, he wrote about it to the court of the Ottoman Empire:

“Constantinople, November 22, 1854. Mémoire to His Highness Achmed-Fethy Pasha. Finding myself in a comfortable position thanks to the beneficences of Our August and Glorious Sovereign, I cede to the Hospital of Castelnaudary (Aude), in which I was ill in 1811, the portion coming to me of the legacy left by the Emperor Napoleon I to the Battalion of the Island of Elba. The papers establishing my right to participate in the credit opened up by the Decree of August 5, 1854, issued at Biarritz by His Imperial Majesty the Emperor Napoleon III, I have been obliged to send to France at the time when I was honored with a brevet as Chevalier of the Legion of Honor. Your Highness's Very humble Servant, Joseph Donizetti.”

Location and photograph of Castelnaudary

After the dissolution of the Kingdom of Italy and the First French Empire, he enlisted in the French military and was stationed on the island of Elba as a military flutist. It was on Elba, in the town of Portoferraio, where he was married in 1815.

That same year, he accompanied Napoleon during the Hundred Days, traveling with him on the same ship from Elba to Antibes, France. He likely fought at the battle of Waterloo.

Landing of Napoleon I in Antibes in 1815

After Napoleon:

The Austrians took control of Northern Italy after the fall of Napoleon. According to the historian Emre Aracı, Giuseppe was “a greal admirer of Napoleon and the French […] Giuseppe strongly opposed his country’s domination by the Austrians. Evidence shows that he secretly took part in the Carbonari resistance and even appeared at court trials.”

Giuseppe Donizetti became a composer, and had a full career as Instructor General of the Imperial Ottoman Music. He even composed the first National Anthem of the Ottoman Empire, the Mecidiye Marşı. His main legacy is introducing Western marching music to the military of the Ottoman Empire.

He was employed by the Ottoman government on 17 September 1828 for an annual salary of 8,000 francs. This was considered a very high salary by his family. Giuseppe’s trouble with the Austrian authorities after the fall of Napoleon may have been a motivator for him to leave Italy. He moved to Constantinople at the age of 39 and spent the rest of his life there.

Giuseppe’s patron was Sultan Mahmud II, who ruled from 1808 to 1839, and Sultan Abdulmejid I, who ruled from 1839 to 1861.

According to the historian Emre Aracı:

“The Donizettis were so well-liked in the Ottoman capital that when fire broke out near their house Ahmet Fethi Pasha, the sultan's brother-in-law, ordered all the houses surrounding the maestro's home to be razed to the ground in order to prevent the flames reaching the building.”

Sultan Mahmud II

His brother, Gaetano, called him his fratello turco— Turkish brother, writing to his friend that “He loves Constantinople, to which he owes everything.”

Giuseppe even encouraged his brother to move to Constantinople, but Gaetano declined. “I do not want to play the fool like my brother, the Bey, who, after having earned more than I perhaps, stays there in ancient Byzantium to scratch his belly between the plague and the stake,” wrote Gaetano.

Giuseppe moved to Constantinople two years after the creation of the Imperial Musical School (Muzıka-i Hümâyûn), which was an Ottoman institution which trained its students in Western style of music. He was specifically recruited as an expert to help lead this effort.

Giuseppe’s younger brother, Gaetano. By Francesco Coghetti, 1837

Gaetano Donizetti, though younger than Giuseppe, became the much more successful and internationally well-known brother, producing nearly 70 operas in his life. Gaetano is considered one of the most successful opera composers in history. Because of this, Giuseppe is widely known as Gaetano Donizetti’s brother. The historian Emre Aracı pointed out that this has actually been good for Giuseppe’s reputation because it has enabled him to be remembered when many other composers have been forgotten.

Both brothers were awarded the Ottoman Order of Nișan-i Iftihar. When Gaetano received the award at the Ottoman Embassy in Paris, he proudly said: “Napoleon belongs to two centuries, I to two religions.”

Burial:

Giuseppe died in 1856, and is buried in the vaults of St. Esprit Cathedral, on the European side of Constantinople, in the district called Pera (now called Beyoğlu). According to Emre Aracı, the district “was once the home of a thriving Christian community”. The Church was built in 1846, 10 years before Giuseppe died.

Interior of St. Esprit Cathedral

Giuseppe and his brother Gaetano are two great success stories and examples of people from impoverished backgrounds who go on to live prosperous and interesting lives.

Sources:

Herbert Weinstock, Donizetti and the World of Opera in Italy, Paris and Vienna in the First Half of the Nineteenth Century, 1963

Emre Aracı, Giuseppe Donizetti at the Ottoman Court: A Levantine Life, The Musical Times, Vol. 143, No. 1880 (Autumn, 2002), pp. 49-56

Emre Aracı, Giuseppe Donizetti Pasha and the Polyphonic Court Music of the Ottoman Empire, The Court Historian, Volume 7, 2 December 2002

Özgecan Karadağli, Western Performing Arts in the Late Ottoman Empire: Accommodation and Formation, 2020

[itsagrimm]

Hinterland

König X she/her OC

After a battle, König struggles with getting to safety, wondering how he got here and if he will ever make it home.

This taps into where König comes from and why König is part of the military.

CN: angst, mentions of injury and blood, mentions of death, mentions of nausea & vomit, warzone descriptions, sexual assault, queerphobia and transphobia, this whole thing is steeped in patriarchal themes and violence, violence against women* in warzones, themes of sexual assault and extreme stress situations, hunger and starvation, mentions of rape, bullying, failing in school due to untreated neurodiversity, bad parenting, teen romance and teen romance emotions, untreated mental health issues, i guess i am giving König both Autism and ADHD, getting dead named, mentions of needles and medical procedures, medical inaccuracies (I have researched too much for this already don't expect me to correctly describe a medical facility too)

has kind of a happy end, kind of not.

5,8 k words

beta read by @musigrusi thank you so much 💕

Notes for cultural context:

The name Hannes is a German boys name.

Amalia is named after the Prussian princess Anna Amalie who was known to be an independent woman, a musician and generally well educated. She stayed unmarried her whole life and was a close confidant to her brother king Friedrich II. Her baroque organ is still in use in the church “Zur Frohen Botschaft” in Karlshorst, Berlin. Should you have the chance, check it out, it's beautiful and they play free concerts regularly. Also, Since Prussia under Friedrich II waged war against Austria, the name Amalia low-key mark her as foreign in Austria.

The Perseiden are a yearly meteoric shower visible in the summer months.

The sweat never stopped being a nuisance, dripping into his eyes and down his back. König grimaced under his hood, trying to ignore the thirst in his throat and heat under his armor, and dragged on.

Every time he left a battle, he forgot how punishing physical discomfort was and how harshly it gnawed at his body no matter how much he trained.

Every time he told himself it was the last time that he would go out to kill and get killed in a thousand little ways.

Every time he forgot and returned anyway.

Might have overdone it this time.

He looked down.

The bandage on his leg started to bleed through. And he still had a long way back to base.

It had been his usual employment with his usual rates, enough to buy a house or run a little shop back home. Maybe a bookstore or café where they could sell overpriced coffee to the tourists and have a well curated book selection for the locals.

She would like that.

König banished his thoughts and concentrated on the here and now as he limped on. He was out in the open. Any sniper, hell, anyone with a decent aim and a rock could turn into a problem for him now. He was an easy target and in need of cover, rest, and a pick-up.

Quickly, he scanned his environment. It was a stony valley he had seen a thousand times. No water or settlements in sight. Patches of dried-out greenery littered the barren landscape here and there. Further up, he spotted a couple of boulders ideal for cover from anyone passing through the valley.

It would do.

He moved carefully not to hurt his leg even more and climbed up the stones with practiced ease before sitting down and turning on the radio to call for help.

Static.

No answer.

He tried again.

Static.

-

Hannah was always the tallest girl in class, sitting at the back of the room while the teacher babbled on about history and war and peace and war and peace again. She looked outside. Spring had started and the nearby trees turned greener by the day, calling to her to-

“Hannah! Die Tafel ist vorne, nicht draußen im Wald!”

She turned back. Her teacher shook her head disapprovingly at Hannah for the interruption, before continuing with the wars. To show her eagerness and to appease her teacher, Hannah grabbed one of her pens and tried taking notes.

1809.

Napoleon had made it here and laid siege to Vienna like the Osman’s before him. At least they had bought the coffee to Austria. Napoleon on the other hand got Hannah only  into a particularly boring history class. Little cups of coffee started to litter the side of her history notes. A small graphite-coloured Napoleon trying to grab a cup with his tiny hands half-finished as the teacher slammed down the ruler onto Hannah’s papers and interrupted her art.

“Hannah! Aufpassen!”

-

König woke up from the cold. The sweat had soaked his shirt and even his heavy armor and layers of tech wear couldn’t keep him warm in the early hours of the day. He looked up into the sky to get some clue where he was only to see clouds hiding any chance of him navigating this way. He needed help.

If he couldn’t get someone to pick him up, he was massively fucked.

Click.

Static.

He spoke into the Radio. No answer.

Click.

Static.

Click.

Static.

Click.

Would someone even tell her where he had died?

He shivered and started to rub his body to get himself warm again.

-

“Na, Lange, wie ist das Wetter da oben?”

Hannah rolled her eyes.

“Halt’s Maul.”, she dismissed and kept walking as the boys and girls snickered and giggled behind her in the hallway of the school. Her long stride took her quickly out of earshot from them.

“Sorry, are you alright?”

She stopped in her tracks.

A girl Hannah hadn’t seen before, eyed her with shy concern.

“I saw how the others treat you. I didn’t understand. I speak only ein bisschen Deutsch.”, she smiled shyly, “But they looked mean. So, I thought I’ll ask.”

“It’s okay. I am fine.”, Hannah quickly dismissed, hating her own clumsy accent and her shaky voice. She sounded exactly like her father when he tried to explain some lost hikers the way back to the town, overwhelmed and nervous.

They stared at each other, Hannah feeling the awkward silence creeping up her neck as the pretty girl fluttered her lashes at her expectantly.

“Thanks for asking.”, Hannah added in an attempt to break the uncomfortable quiet between them.

“It was nothing. What’s your name?”

“Hannah. I’m in class 10-b. What is yours?”

“Amalia. I’m in 10-a.”

“Nice to meet you, Amalia.”

Another weird pause in which Amalia waited for Hannah to say something.

Oh Gott.

“Would you like to have lunch together, Hannah? It’s lunchbreak and I don’t know where the cafeteria is yet.”

Hannah smiled.

Showing the new girl around. And she was nice.

“Sure.”

-

The pebbles under his feet made his walk harder and König kept stumbling while he pushed himself further down the valley and into what must be north towards the US base. Back home he had a map with a pin for every base he had visited. There were a lot of pins over their sofa in that map, and sometimes she teased him about pins possibly falling down into the cushions of their sofa and pricking them into the ass.

He smiled at the thought of her little delightful ass.

Sometimes she lamented different things - like him going to add more pins.

Might not make it back and add a pin this time.

-

Amalia was from the US. Her father had worked for the military in Ramstein where her mother was from. They had lived in a couple of places around the world, always on the move following her father’s station until her mother had enough and they ended up in Austria because of some distant relative and a job. It was like that sometimes.

Hannah did not care about the whys and ifs.

She only cared about Amalia being here now.

“I am so envious!” Amalia called out as they walked through the town from school, “you always lived in a beautiful place like this.”

Hannah snorted.

“You think it’s pretty? It’s mostly just boring. Nothing ever changes.”

Amalia took Hannah’s hand and pressed it with unbroken excitement.

“You are just feeling like nothing changes but I bet, there have been plenty of changes.”

Hannah looked down at Amalia’s hand in hers. It felt good.

“This town is a few centuries old”, she said, “The house my family lives in has been in the family for over 200 years now. And even back then we were known as the tallest from around here, so it’s built higher.”

“That’s so cool.”

“That’s so repetitive. It’s like living my ancestors’ lives without ever breaking away from their paths. The furthest I ever got was Munich for a school trip. Even my name is from a great-grandmother and a family tradition. You on the other hand-“

“I have been to military bases”, Amalia protested and interlaced her fingers with Hannah’s while dragging her onwards, “Honestly, they are all the same wherever you go. I’d rather be here instead of looking at ugly barracks, guns, and buff dudes with tattoos and too much testosterone.”

Hannah grinned.

“Are buff dudes not your liking?”, she teased.

Amalia giggled.

“Some are okay to look at.”

-

After a day of walking, he made it to a settlement. Waiting for the twilight to give him cover he rested behind some boulders and observed the handful of buildings. It was a simple farmhouse surrounded by with a few sheds, huts and a well. He heard voices speaking a language he did not understand, an older man was sitting in front of the house resting and looking after a little kid playing on the ground. The elder spoke tenderly to the child and the child answered sweetly, sometimes with laughter and sometimes with the unmistakable higher pitch of a curious question. A woman worked the farm, running around and finishing the days business. She looked tired, thin, and worn out.

No Fighters. No younger men.

Briefly, very briefly, König considered leaving. Disrupting this family’s warzone lifes with more warzone stench, made him uneasy.

Killing during a battle was simple. This was not.

But he needed bandages, food, and water.

His battered body and mind made the decision for him. Hunger brings out the worst out of men. Hunger and the hope of getting back home. He reached for his rifle.

-

The halls in Amalia’s house were littered with pictures of her family. Smiling children, dutiful wives, stern looking men in uniform. Was this how family is supposed to be? Hannah didn’t know, barely daring to call her own home a family.

Amalia was easy to recognize in several of the pictures, she had that shy pretty smile with the excited glint in her eyes since she was a child.

“Who is that?”, Hannah asked, pointing at one of the men in uniform.

“Oh, that’s my cousin. He is a marine.”

Hannah nodded. Marine sounded important. Militaristic. Far away from little town Austria.

-

After the family retreated into the farmhouse König crept closer. With his rifle ready he sneaked to the well for water, quickly refilling his canteen and quenching his thirst as silently as possible before moving past the little shed with some hens and through a simple garden, with plants fighting to stay alive in the midday heat, before reaching the door. A little bell was next to the door. He reached for it and stilled.

He was a soldier. He knew he was a terrifying sight with his hood and his height and most importantly - his rifle. Should he really do this?

Before he could decide, the door opened, and the woman cried out in fear and surprise.

Trained instinct took over and he aimed his rifle, moving himself into the house and pushing the woman back while checking the room for targets.

It was a kitchen. The old man was sitting at the table leaning before the child to shield it while staring up at this giant intruder with the hood and the rifle, staring up at König in fear. The child whimpered and the woman talked and cried as she got up from where König had pushed her.

“Quiet!”, he roared, and they all stilled.

Another check for enemies, he did not expect to find but the practice was too ingrain in him not to.

“Quiet”, he repeated breathlessly.

-

Schnipp. Schnapp. Ab.

Mother had disapproved of Hannah cutting her hair, sending her to her room without dinner while her father just shook his head disapprovingly.

“Du siehst aus wie ein Junge. Furchtbar.“

Hannah just stood up from the family table and left, thinking to herself that looking like a boy was not the worst thing she could be.

Climbing up the stairs in the old farmhouse, skipping the one that creaked loud like an old pine tree during a heavy storm, she thought about mothers’ words.

Cutting off her hair had been an unexplainable need. It was so quick. She barely registered how it cut free from the weight of those blond plaits of hair. Carefully, she reached up and touched her head, her fingers gliding easily through her soft short strands now. Like a boys.

-

“Quiet.”, he repeated in his normal speaking voice, his eyes darting around the room and trying to see the woman, the elder and the toddler at the same time while gripped his rifle to keep his hands from shaking.

“Do you understand me? Verstehen Sie mich? Me comprenez-vous?”, he tried thinking of any other way to communicate, he wasn’t even sure in which country he was right now. Every warzone looked the same after a while.

“Yes.”

It was the woman.

“Yes, I speak American. I speak English”, she continued, “Leave son alone. Leave father alone. Please.”

Nausea swept through him, and he felt the sour taste of vomit rise in his throat. The sound of the woman begging him hit him harder than a kick in the stomach.

“Please, please!”, she continued leaning towards him, “You want me! Take me! Leave son alone! Leave father alone!”

“No!”, he tried to calm her and himself, “I don’t want to harm you. Or your family. No danger. No harm. See!”

He lowered the rifle while lifting one of his hands to show his intends.

“See!”

She started tearing at her dress. “Take me! Leave son alone! Leave father alone!”

König stilled, mortified at the sight of the woman in undress and begging for him to not harm her family.

He swayed back.

“No! Don’t!”, König tried to stop her from undressing further, fighting his own battle training to keep focus on everyone in the room while avoiding seeing the woman’s bare body.

I shouldn’t be here. I should be home.

It was too much. The disgust in his stomach flared up sharply, and he hated himself for coming to this house, this country, this continent – for disrupting a family’s dinner and terrifying a woman so much that she was willing to offer herself to a random soldier just to save her family.

He tore off his glove and lifted his hand.

“NO! Don’t worry! See-“, he wiggled with his fingers in a macabre comedic way to show the ring he wore, “I am not going to rape you. I am not going to kill your family. I just need help to get home. To my wife.”

-

Hannah had climbed out of the window again. It became a habit of leaving late at night to stroll through the forest before navigating her way to Amalia’s house. And it was better than feeling locked up in her childhood bedroom again.

With practised ease Hannah climbed over the fence and checked for light in Amalia’s window before throwing a pebble against it.

“It’s late!”, Hannah whispered as silently as possible while also trying to be as audible as possible for Amalia.

“Yeah, and you are marauding around. Shouldn’t you at least try to sleep before school?”, Amalia shot back from upstairs.

Hannah shrugged.

“I will be a farmer no matter if I pay attention in school or not. Why are you up this time?”

Amalia giggled.

“Studying. I want to go to university. I need good marks. And my German is still shit.”

“Oh.”

Amalia would leave one day, for a different life. Away from the pretty town in the countryside that was so stuck in time.

“Hey.”

Amalia sounded different, nervous.

“Hannah, uh…”, She leaned down closer, “Can I kiss you?”

The words struck Hannah like lightning. In Hannah’s mind it felt like an impossibility for her to kiss a girl, to kiss Amalia with her nice smile and her kind teases and her soft hand holding Hannah’s and the way words rolled off her lips and-

“Yes.”

Who cares about possibilities.

-

König stumbled outside and puked right next to the entrance, retching what felt like his guts onto the stony ground.

He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be here at all. No soldier should.

After his stomach was empty, he heaved heavily for air before standing up again and wiping his mouth with the gloved hand.

Scheiße.

“Man?”

He turned around. It was the woman, peaking fearfully through the door at him, holding her dress together with her hands.

“Sorry”, König gesticulated at the puddle of puke.

“Ok.”, she just replied flatly as if anything was ok.

He cleared his throat.

“I am sorry.”, König repeated,” I just need a new bandage, some direction and maybe some food. I will leave right after.”

“Ok.”

She repeated and closed the door, leaving him to wait outside.

He couldn’t blame her. To calm himself he started checking his rifle out of habit, while monitoring the dark garden and surrounding valley.

Could he trust her? Was she just getting her weapon to shoot him out of fear? Or rat him out to whoever was in charge in this area?

It’s not like he had a choice. The wound on his leg throbbed, he was lost and out of rations.

Nervously he drummed against the rifle, eyeing every shadow with suspicion.

After a few minutes the door opened again, and the woman stepped outside. She had a jacket on now, a couple of acidic smelling rags in her arms as well as some kind of bread. With as much distance as possible she passed the things he had asked for to König and he took them with a nod.

“Thank you.”, he mumbled.

“Directions. Yes?”, she asked coldly, ignoring his words.

“Yes.”

“You go there.”, she waved into the direction König had assumed the next US military base.

He nodded again.

She looked at him, before turning around and stepping to the door.

“Leave.”

He heard the door getting looked and a chair dragged in front of it after she closed it behind her.#

-

“Zieh dich an, Hannah! So kannst du nicht zur Feier.”, the mother ordered.

Hannah just looked at her and the dress she was holding.

“Nein.”

“Hannah!”

It was Sunday. A cousin was getting married. With the church and the whole family and flower girls and a white dress.

But not with Hannah in a dress.

“Wenn du dich nicht fertig machst, kannst du auch nicht mitkommen.”

“Okay.”

It was a clear calculation: no dress, no piece of the wedding cake, no Hannah in the family pictures.

She could live with that. If she had to wear a dress, she wouldn’t go.

Silently she got up and left her parents to go to her bedroom - her mother still staring at her disapprovingly and her father mildly uninterested in his wife’s attempts to raise his daughter.

It was sunny outside, beautiful. She didn’t even wait for her parents to leave before climbing out of the window and sneaking away.

The forest was humming with life as Hannah walked through it before making her way to Amalia’s house.

Amalia was sitting in the summer sun in the garden and studying. As always.

“You know, we have a gate in the fence if you feel like not showing off how tall you are, Hannah.”, Amalia greeted with a smile.

“I’m not showing off. It’s my natural grace to jump fences like a gazelle”, Hannah shot back, before kissing Amalia and taking a seat at the table on the garden veranda.

“More like a giraffe with your long legs”, Amalia scoffed.

“Either way, do you want to go for a hike today? It’s nice in the forest.”

“You should become a ranger like my uncle or a soldier like my marine-cousin with your never ending need to be in the forest and on the move. You would be the queen of the mountains! The most feral one out there”, Amalia stated and shook her head, “I can’t! I need to study.”

Hannah chuckled while getting up again, “Alright, have fun studying.”

“Wait!”, Amalia called.

Hannah turned back while Amalia reached over the table to kiss her.

“Be safe out there.”

-

The bread felt like the best thing König had eaten in weeks. With his stomach emptied and the sour taste of acid on his tongue it felt like a piece of heaven in his mouth. He knew it would only keep him satisfied for a short time. But it would give him strength to get himself to the base.

Next, he looked at his injury. Hidden between two boulders a click away from the house he sat down and took out his emergency light. Turning it on the lowest setting he quickly checked his wound. It was deep and due to the lack of fresh bandages and only his minimal first aid so far, slightly infected. Grimacing from the pain he started putting the rags onto the open flesh. It wasn’t ideal but the acid would keep the bacteria at bay while the rags protected the wound from dirt getting into it.

At least he hoped so.

Tired, so, so tired he reached for the radio and turned it on.

Click.

Static.

“Hello?”

No answer but static silence.

Click.

-

They were laying on the grass staring into the summer night, holding hands, and watching as the Perseids flared up and gifted them one shooting star after another.

“Hannah.”

“Hm?”

“I’m cold.”

Wordlessly Hannah moved closer and embraced Amalia with her taller, bigger frame, steeled from working her father’s farm, rubbing her sides to warm her up.

She giggled and kissed Hannah, “Thanks.”

The grass they lay on was green and starting to get wet from the morning dew as the milky way glanced beautiful and disinterested down at them.

Soon they would have to leave, part. With Amalia returning home and walking to the front door of her family’s neat little house. And Hannah climbing back up through the window of the old farmhouse.

Hannah sighed, nervously making a fist, and relaxing again to calm her nerves.

“Can I be your girlfriend?”, Amalia asked into the silence before Hannah had even started to search for the right words.

“Yes! I-“

Hannah paused, not sure why.

“Hannah, love, what is it? Did I say something wrong?”

Amalia sat up and looked down in concern to Hannah.

“No, I-“, Hannah closed her eyes and took a deep breath before continuing, “Can you stop calling me Hannah?”

Amalia paused. “Okay. How else am I supposed to call you?”

The other girl let her shoulders sink and dropped her head. “I don’t know. I keep getting told I am a boy-ish. That a Hannah would be different than who I am. And I know it’s mean. But I don’t think they are wrong.”

Amalia’s fingers were cold as she reached out and touched the other one’s shoulder, rubbing little soothing circles before scooting closer and turning it into a full embrace.

“If Hannah does not work for you, let’s try out other names, okay?”

Nodd.

“I am not very creative and maybe I don’t understand you correctly. How do you feel about ‘Hannes’?”

Nodd. A choked sob came out of Hannes as he leaned into the embrace, feeling many things as tears rolled down his cheeks.

“Let’s try it out then, Hannes.”, Amalia whispered and hummed, slowly rocking him in her arms until his sobs stopped.

He stayed anyway, her arms around him feeling like the strongest thing in the world holding him under the stars covered summer sky until he felt Amalia shiver.

“You are getting cold. I am sorry for keeping you here.”

“Don’t be. I have a boyfriend who will give me his jacket and rubs my arms to warm me up now, you know.”

A surprised laughter escaped him as he took off his jacket for her.

“Yes, you have.”

-

The sun rose mercilessly into the sky over König, turning his world from shivering darkness into blazing clarity about his situation. Weakly, he lifted his head, took a few sips from his canteen, and summoned his strength to grab the radio.

Click.

Static, the eternal static that never bothered to answer him.

He asked anyway: “Hello, anybody out there?”

Static.

He was about to turn it off again as finally, after days of dragging himself through the dust and stone, an answer.

“This is Claris Airfield speaking. Claris Airfield speaking. Please identify yourself.”

-

Another night, another sneaking out of the window, another walk through the forest.

For the first time in a long while Hannes walked the familiar paths with light feet.

It felt right, the road felt right, he felt right as he hiked the short road down the mountain to Amalia’s house.

The window to her room was open and Hannes climbed up to her room with practised ease, knocking at the glass to alert her to his presence.

“Hannes!”, she greeted him from her bed while putting down one the current of many books she read.

Peeking into her room he smiled and asked, “Can I come in? I couldn’t sleep and I missed you.”

She nodded and waved him inside, making space for him on the bed.

He sat down next to her and pointed at the book.

“What are you reading tonight?”

“A guid handbook for kids from military families about studying. My father insisted on me reading it.”

“Why? I am sure the Universities in Vienna, Graz or Salzburg will be more than happy to have you. Munich or Brünn are not too far away either. There is no need to go back to the US for University.”, Hannes shifted closer to Amalia, putting an arm around her.

She leaned against him, fumbling nervously with the book.

“My Dad…”, she started carefully, “He wants me to study back home in the US. He became strange since the divorce with mum.”

“How so?”

“He…”, she paused, “He became strict, mean. He has many rules and expectations, more than ever. When I mentioned that I had a boyfriend he started questioning me.”

“Isn’t that what dads do?”

“I don’t know. Oh, I don’t know, Hannes. It was strange. I wanted him to stop so I agreed to take a look at universities away from here.”

She pressed into his side, taking his other free hand and interlacing her fingers with his.

”Hannes, I don’t want to leave. But I might have too. Dad … he is the one who can finance my schooling, mum can’t.”

He closed his eyes, thinking about how he felt when Amalia was gone, how he had felt before he had even met her. The solution was as clear and simple as the night sky. If she had to go, he would follow.

“I will always find a way to you, should you want me to, Amalia. Don’t worry.”

-

The Heli circled over the valley. König tried to get up but felt too weak from the loss of blood after hours of working the radio and slowly bleeding out. A medic had made his way up to him, telling König he got lucky while he worked on his leg. Another medic argued with the pilot of the helicopter how to best move König up.

“Yo, big guy!”, he shouted over the noise from the heli above them, “You need to get up and secure yourself. We lost our stretcher during that last shitshow of a  battle.”

Oida.

König groaned and worked himself into a standing position, half leaning against the stone and half getting dragged up by the medic at his side.

“Oh wow, you really are big. What did they feed you as a kid?”

Luft und Liebe.

He kept his mouth shut and concentrated on the ropes before him while the silent medic at his side helped him secure himself as his colleague babbled on.

“For real, the ladies must love you back home.”

“Oh, shut up”, his helper snapped. Must be new, “You think our guy wants to hear you point out something he has heard a thousand times before while bleeding like a pig?”

“I’m just making small talk.”

“Good luck small-talking with a German.”

“I am Austrian.”, König grunted, surprised by his own lucidity and insistence.

The medics stared at him.

“Isn’t that the same as German?”, the blabbermouth asked.

König groaned, unsure if from pain or annoyance.

-

Amalia had left for the US, just days ago but it like years to him. It was getting cold outside, winter creeping up over the mountains and with it snow, and wind, and darkness.

The familiar forest paths were bare and lonely to wander on. Hannes kept walking there to keep the habit, to not forget the feeling of just strolling down the forest and then seeing Amalia.

His Amalia.

She had given him her phone, saying she would just tell her parents she lost hers so that they could stay in contact. They had talked yesterday. Her voice was a bare whisper as she quietly told him of her journey, describing him all the things he hadn’t seen while trying to not alert her father.

He hadn’t approved. Of course, Amalia’s father hadn’t approved of Hannes. He was just some guy from the middle of nowhere Austria. Amalia had cried after that, telling Hannes only bits of what her father had said about Hannes, apologizing repeatedly and leaving out the most horrendous parts.

Still, he knew.

Hannes had grown up in a little town with his classmates’ pointing fingers at him for his unusual height for a girl, with neighbours raising their eyebrows at the sight of him roaming the forest and fields with town skirts and unkept hair, with his parents becoming bitter and uninterested in him for not behaving like they wanted a daughter to behave.

Of course, Hannes knew that her father called him Hannah and a girl, disapproving of their relationship no matter what Amalia said.

He used to be angry and hurt about it, but the feeling ebbed since what felt like about the same eons since Amalia left.

Now he had better things to do than fighting for the approval of people he only cared little about and who would never change their ways no matter what he did or who he would become.

Fickt euch alle, he thought to himself as he walked down the creaking stairs into the kitchen.

He needed to get out of this town, fast.

And he had to find a way back to Amalia. Hannes knew of a way, thinking of all those men in uniform back in Amalia’s house, her cousins, her uncles, her father - thinking of the power and dignity - and most importantly money - they got for traveling to far away places, wearing uniforms and carring guns. It was nearly funny that the man who disapproved so clearly of Hannes, showed him the easiest way back to his daughter.

“Mama”, he asked while stepping into the room, “Ich brauche deine Hilfe. Kannst du das unterschreiben?”

The mother turned around from the stove, moving what she had worked on to the side, before sitting down at the kitchen table.

“Was ist das?”, she asked, “Wieder schlechte Noten in der Schule?”

He shook his head. No, this wasn’t about school.

“Ich will gehen, Mama. Weg von hier. Ich muss.”

She starred at him, blinking a few times before smiling softly like all parents do when gently but firmly hurting their children with words.

“Hannah.”

He shivered, hating every syllable, and passing his mother a pen instead. He needed her signature to leave. Nothing else.

“Hannah, du kannst nicht weg. Wer soll sonst den Hof machen?”

“Wenn ich bleibe, bin ich lebendig begraben. Gib mir eine Chance zu leben. Lass mich gehen.”

She starred at him, tears coming to her eyes as she reached over the table for the son, she did not know she had.

“Mama! Bitte.”, Hannes said to break the painful silence and pushing aside all those emotions raising their heads like snakes inside him, passing her the enlist document for the Bundesheer instead. He needed this to be done or he might break under his mothers sad gaze.

She starred at him, shaken, and breaking before him, finally putting down the pen to sign his freedom.

-

König woke up laying on one of the field beds most lazarettos used. His head felt painfully heavy and like it was about to drop through the bed onto the floor. He groaned.

“Konik”, a medic greeted him, walking closer.

He groaned again, not sure if from the oh too familiar mix of pain and annoyance about having his callname so massively butchered or just the pain.

“Konik, glad to have you back. How are you feeling?”

“Scheiße.”, he mumbled, deciding to not argue with someone yielding needles which could aleviate his pains.

The Medic chuckled and started fumbling with an IV bag currently slowly dripping into his body via a catheter in his arm, “I’m adjusting your pain medication. You are a big fella and need a bit more than usual. But don’t worry, we will have you back up in no time.”

He grunted an acknowledgment, too tired to talk much more.

“Ah Mr. Konig-“, the medic called as the medication started to take him out again, “I was told you are getting a nice ride home after this. A littl’ vacation waiting for you so better get well soon and don’t let those at home wait longer than necessary.”

Home, he was getting home.

Finally.

-

Vienna main station was as unpleasant as every station, a busy place where people ran around to get to their train or forcefully stood still until it was their time to catch the right connection.

Better than Frankfurt am Main or Berlin. Fürchterlich. Ugh.

Vienna generally had a different pace, better suited for Königs still recovering leg.

Venerable and pleasant.

He had learned to love that once he left Austria for the first time. Leisurely, he strolled out of the building, careful to not knock somebody over with his duffel back, and got on the right tram home.

Outside of the rolling tram the houses stared down at him through the window with familiar fronts. König wondered when exactly he had become so accustomed to the sights: A castle here, a Gemeindebau there, cafés and parks he had visited - after all, he had not grown up in Vienna, barely stayed here for longer than a few months at a time, and only moved to the city after getting married - continuing to leave when the need to move became too unbearable to be quenched with runs in the Prater or when running into someone back from the old town and getting called 'Hannah' again.

Vienna had become a sanctuary so fast.

So normal, he could only stand it for short times.

Stepping out of the tram at his stop he decided to make a quick detour for some flowers before finally making the way to the apartment.

Not looking at the names on the bell signs of the house he pressed ‘Kaiser’, their shared family name for years now.

With a quick buzz the entrance to the hallway opened and he stepped into the pretty tilted hall and up the flight of stairs.

He made it half the way up before she bolted down and into his arms, nearly knocking him over and down the stairs again, hadn't he sacrificed the now crushed flowers and grabbed the railing.

“Hannes!”, Amalia cried out as she pressed herself into him, “You're back.”

He embraced her tightly, enjoying the feeling of her in his arms.

“Yes, Amalia, I’m back.”

For now.

-

something something protect transkids, warzones are full of people CoD conveniently hardly engages with, women* are the first targets in war, neurodiversity has little to no space in our ableist societies unless it can be exploited, the military is shit and preys on those in need, patriarchy needs to go, going to war means not returning as the same person you left as, did i miss something or do you feel like i could have improved some points feel free to send me a message something something criticism is essential to improve

[archivist-crow]

On this day:

THE BAFFLING BENJAMIN BATHURST

On November 25, 1809, Benjamin Bathurst, secret British envoy to the royal court of Austria, traveling incognito as a wealthy merchant, went out into the street where his coach was being prepared to leave, walked around the front of the horses, and vanished into oblivion, never to be seen again. The incident took place as the obsessed Napoleon Bonaparte was conquering Europe with military force. Bathurst, immersed in diplomatic espionage, was gathering allies to oppose the self-crowned French emperor.

Anxiety had Bathurst carrying two pistols, his valet and secretary armed, and more guns stashed in his carriage in case of attack. Upon arriving in Perleberg, he went to the local garrison and pleaded for armed guards before entering the White Swan Inn for something to eat. The envoy was noticeable in his sable overcoat with its violet velvet lining and large diamond stickpin. A woman guest at the inn later commented that he was extremely nervous and unable to drink his tea without the cup shaking and tea spilling.

Lanterns provided only dim street lighting as Bathurst left the building. The hostler was finishing up with the horses, and the valet was loading baggage at the rear of the coach. The secretary was standing in the inn doorway, and soldiers were stationed at each end of the street. Bathurst was observed to have walked around the head of the horses, and that was the last anyone ever saw of him. The valet and secretary saw only each other as they circled the carriage. The secretary swore Bathurst did not return to the inn, and the soldiers had let no one pass. All of Perleberg was immediately searched, but no trace of the envoy was ever found.

Text from: Almanac of the Infamous, the Incredible, and the Ignored by Juanita Rose Violins, published by Weiser Books, 2009

[josefavomjaaga]

“I’ve read elsewhere that Fouché and Josephine were initially friends/allies, so I’m wondering when and why exactly their relationship started to go south [...]”

I’ve read that, too, and I’ve wondered the same. I could imagine it was when Josephine started to invite all those émigrés to come back. Fouché clearly was on the “left” of the political spectrum during the Consulate, Josephine (and her family) on the right. (I’ve read that she always remained a royalist at heart, even as an empress 😁.) All those returning émigrés had a bone to pick with the revolutionaries of old, of which Fouché was a rather prominent one. So maybe there were no intrigues necessary at all? Though I guess Fouché and Murat felt in a similar way about those émigrés (Thiard once mentions something to that effect, I believe), so they may have been allies in trying to stem in the flow?

“I’d rather read more details about this kind of stuff than more tedious play-by-plays of the battles by military historians any day”.

I would like to second that. And to third and fourth, too 😋.

But actually I wanted to add some brief snippets from Austrian books that, as I mentioned above, seem to hint at unrest or even conspiracies against Napoleon within the army during the campaign of 1809, and that mention Eugène (who, just for context, still was on his march from Italy at the time of Aspern-Essling). These things may point in a similar direction as Hortense’s story:

From Carl-Wilhelm Böttiger: “Die Weltgeschichte in Biographien”, Volume 7, 1843

[…] Soon after this battle [Aspern-Essling] it was also when Napoleon sank into that wondrous 36-hour sleep at Kaiser-Ebersdorf, and some already had the idea of proclaiming Eugen as emperor and delivering Napoleon dead or alive to the English in Fiume. It is known that several officers were shot around that time on the Schmelz [then a parade and drill ground] near Schönbrunn.

Napoleon sleeping - or being in a coma - for almost 36, sometimes only 24, sometimes even 48 hours, after Aspern-Essling is an Austrian legend that seems to have been already well-established in 1843, guessing from the casual way it is mentioned above. The fun part is that in the published correspondance there happens to actually be a marked lacune after the battle of Aspern-Essling… Mysteries… 😁

Franz-Anton Lubojatzky: “Der letzte deutsche Kaiser und seine Zeitgenossen” from 1860 has a longer account of the same desperation in the French army after Aspern-Essling:

The victor of the century was overcome, under the curses of his own soldiers, who now recognised him as a mere mortal, fleeing in a barge across the Danube to his headquarters at Kaiser-Ebersdorf. The human nature in him imperiously demanded its rights, a thirty-hour sleep bound him, who had given the command not to wake him.

Crushed by the fate of being defeated, facing the prospect of becoming prisoners by a second such defeat like the one just experienced at Aspern and Essling, his grand officers held secret meetings, and the plan was put forward, if Napoleon perished or was captured, to place his stepson, Viceroy Eugene de Beauharnais, at the head of the army in order to conclude a general peace and to lead the army back to France.

Many an accursal against the helplessly sleeping emperor flew from the lips of these enraged men, who longed for the happiness of living in the bosom of tranquillity and their families and of peacefully enjoying the fruits of their efforts.

He also repeats the idea of handing over Napoleon to the Brits in Fiume, which makes me believe his account is based on the one above.

At the root of all this may be a particular productive and not necessarily reliable author named Joseph Freiherr von Hormayr, who had helped organize the Tyrolean uprising during the same war and from that time on engaged in publishing lots of propaganda writings. In a book »Lebensbilder aus dem Befreiungskriege« from 1841, he gives a rather confused account of the anti-Napoleon conspiracies (for example, he claims that when the French army chased the British troops of Sir John Moore to La Coruna, some men had agreed to capture Napoleon, “who in his impatience showed up every other moment among the sentries” and to deliver him to the Brits for money – a somewhat difficult plan, considering that Napoleon was miles away from that corps and preparing his departure for France at the time - so whoever showed up at the sentries clearly was an impostor 😋). He even lists some names of people involved: a colonel Meriage, from Andréossy’s entourage, and his confidant Guesniard, the latter among those shot on the Schmelz. The only name I could verify was colonel Jacques Joseph Oudet, who was said to have ties to the Philadelphes conspiracy and who was killed at Wagram - “certainly not by an Austrian bullet”, as Hormayr says.

Hello! I was wondering if you’ve ever come across anything regarding Eugène’s relationship with Fouché? I was just browsing Hortense’s memoirs and she off-handedly mentions that Fouché disliked Eugène. It’s the first time I’ve seen either mentioned in regard to the other so now I’m curious. Here’s the excerpt; the “attempt” in question was when Friedrich Staps tried to murder Napoleon in 1809:

“The generals and other officers, shocked that such an attempt should have been made and alarmed at the idea of what might have happened, had considered seriously the situation arising from the absence of any direct heir to the imperial throne. They debated who might have been chosen as the Emperor’s successor had the attempt succeeded, and unanimously voted for the Viceroy. Public opinion throughout France indorsed the verdict. Rumors of this reached the Emperor and displeased him. They revived all his ideas concerning a divorce and later caused him to say to me during one of our conversations: “It became a necessity; public opinion demanded it.” I believe also that Fouché, with his skill for intrigue and dislike for my brother, took advantage of the episode to bring the matter of a divorce again to the Emperor’s attention. He perhaps even mentioned that my mother and I were deliberately engaged in promoting Eugène’s popularity.”

Hi, and thank you for the Ask! 💖

Of the top of my head, I could not point my finger to any particular interaction between the two, neither negative nor positive. Once Eugène was in Milan, while Fouché stayed in Paris, there was barely a chance for them to be at odds with each other, at least directly. And before that, Eugène simply had not had a high enough rank (officially) to be of much importance.

That Eugène was not fond of Fouché, especially after Fouché had tried to talk Josephine into a divorce in 1807, that I will believe. Josephine wrote to Eugène in detail about it. When Fouché in 1813/4 went on his mission to Italy, he not only saw Murat but also Eugène, and in his memoirs he (or whoever wrote in his name) claims that only after Fouché had explained it to him did Eugène understand that his future, too, was in jeopardy should Napoleon fall (which, I believe, is somewhat contradicted by Eugène's own correspondence with Auguste and their constant worries about the future of their children). 

And then, during the second Restauration, Fouché, on the run and kicked out of France, asked Eugène for protection and an asylum in Bavaria. Which Eugène politely but very firmly declined. And that's rather unusual, for him.

As to the events Hortense relates in her memoirs, being the malicious person that I am I always read that a little differently 😊:

First of all, I assume it to be blown somewhat out of proportion, with Hortense trying to give Eugène more importance than he truly had. Though, in fairness, there are Austrian sources that point in the same direction, so something may really have gone on in the army (Napoleon's main base of support!). That there was a huge portion of dissatisfied men and officers ever since the Polish campaign, that much at least seems to be clear (the "Roi Nicolas" affair in Portugal, with several high-ranking officers either conspiring with the enemy or at least revolting against Soult, happens almost at the same time). It's possible that they (or some of them) picked Eugène as a rallying figure, as somebody who might bring some calm and restraint for the future.

And secondly, I always understood this to mean that Josephine and Hortense of course really had intrigued on Eugène's behalf and tried to win public support for the idea of Eugène as Napoleon's successor. Fouché had reported to Napoleon about it - as was his job! -, Napoleon had not taken it well (as was to be expected), and now Fouché was an enemy of Eugène's in the eyes of Josephine and Hortense 😁. (Napoleon did react badly to all signs of Eugène gaining a reputation of his own at this time, there's also Eugène's panicked reaction about a book someone had written about his campaign and that he had not managed to seize in time before it reached Paris. And as to Hortense and Josephine pushing Eugène into the limelight, there is another incident during the Russian campaign, when an account of the Battle of Malojaroslavetz praising Eugène and the Army of Italy to the sky "accidentally" found its way into a French newspaper...)

So, from the little evidence we have, I'd argue Fouché was rather Josephine's enemy, and only in extension that of Eugène (Eugène being designated as Napoleon's successor would of course have resolved the question of a divorce forever). If he acted in opposition to Eugène, it surely was in accordance with Napoleon's plans (which may or may not have coincided with Fouché's own). 

As usual, I wish I had a better answer. But I'll pay attention from now on, maybe I come across some more actual interaction between the two in the future. Thanks again for the Ask!

[vapaus-ystavyys-tasaarvo]

Continuation of the timeline of French history for Les Mis Letters: 1807-1815

Okay I'll be honest, I really do not care about most of the First Empire era, so apologies if I’m just straight up skipping half of the years and making this look really dumb.

Long story short: Napoleon tried to take over the world, managed to conquer like half of Europe, pissed everyone off, then eventually around 1811 or so the French finally started getting tired of the conscription and the endless wars (which had been going since 1792), and... idk, a lot of important stuff happened, but I don’t care. Somebody else can fill these in if they want.

1807

1808

1809

1810

1811

1812: France invades Russia which goes well at first but they get stalled just long enough that winter happens and then it's not so great anymore

1813: France not doing so hot anymore but Napoleon refuses to negotiate

1814: France very much not doing so hot anymore, Paris is occupied by Austria and Prussia and Napoleon finally abdicates, Louis XVIII ascends to the throne, Napoleon exiled to Elba, the Charter of 1814, the congress of Vienna begins

1815: Napoleon escapes from Elba and returns to France on 1 March , reaches Paris on 20 March, reclaiming his throne as Louis XVIII flees, beginning the Hundred Days, the shortlived Charter of 1815, congress of Vienna ends, battle of Waterloo and the end of the Hundred Days, return of Louis XVIII (and the Charter of 1814), Napoleon exiled to Saint-Helena

All of this (except the Saint-Helena bit; he’s still being held in England at this point, I think) happens before The Fall (the next book in Les Mis). So this is where we are now: Napoleon got defeated and the Bourbon royal family came back, then Napoleon came back for a bit and the Bourbons left again, then Napoleon got defeated for real this time in Waterloo and the Bourbons came back again. So now we have the Bourbons and the Second White Terror and France is currently occupied by the allies:

ID: a map of France in 1815-1818, showing the zones of occupation by the various allied forces, notably with Britain holding Normandy, Prussia and Russia most of the rest of the north, and Austria most of the east, including the southeast. Image from Wikipedia.

(If you want to know more about this particular period btw, The Siècle Podcast is a great resource. I mean 1814 onwards specifically.)

[hzaidan]

01 Painting, The Art of War, Leander Russ' The Turks Storm the Lion's Bastion, with Footnotes

Leander Russ, 1809-1864The Turks Storm the Lion’s Bastion, c. 1837Oil on canvas207 x 285 cms | 81 1/4 x 112 insKunsthistorisches Museum, Wien | Austria The Battle of Kahlenberg on September 12, 1683 ended the Second Turkish Siege of Vienna . A German – Polish relief army under the leadership of the Polish King John III. Sobieski defeated the Ottoman army . The defeat marked the beginning of the…

[cloudcountry]

JXKNFSD HELP I’M READING THE THREAD ABOUT THE IKEVAMP OCS AND CACKLING

Beethoven at Mozart: *treats him with respect* Yes sir, thank you for all your work.

Beethoven at Napoleon: Oh, you arch-ass! You double-barrelled ass! (And yes, this is an actual, genuine quote from the real Beethoven-)

Let me tell you, when it comes to insults, Beethoven does NOT hold back. He comes out SWINGING-

When Napoleon declared himself the Emperor of France, Beethoven was outraged, saying, “So he is no more than a common mortal! Now he, too, will tread underfoot all the rights of man [and] indulge only his ambition; now he will think himself superior to all men [and] become a tyrant!”

Oh, and one more thing about Beethoven and Napoleon! Apparently, Beethoven’s younger brother, Nikolaus Johann van Beethoven, was involved with him. His brother wished to be called Johann instead of Nikolaus, which Ludwig didn’t like; he hated his father, who was an alcoholic and pushed responsibility of taking care of the family on him when he was only 16. In 1808, Johann opened a medical pharmacy in Linz, Upper Austria. When Napoleon invaded Austria in 1809 and established a base camp in Linz for wounded soldiers, Johann actually supported the French by giving them medical supplies. Helping the enemy made him a hated citizen in his hometown, but because of his support, the French gave him money and this made him rich.

When Johann bought an estate in Gneixendorf in 1819, he signed a letter to Ludwig “From your brother Johann, landowner.” Ludwig signed his reply, “From your brother Ludwig, brain owner.”

Some personal impressions about Johann were actually written down in other sources! Gerhard von Breuning said that Johann “bore no resemblance whatever to his brother Ludwig.” Another person, Count Moritz Lichnowsky said of Johann during a conversation with Ludwig, “Everyone makes a fool of him; we call him simply 'The Chevalier'. — Everybody says his only merit is that he bears your name."

And of course, I am back at it again with quotes,, all of these are from Beethoven- 🚶 I love quotes from historical figures, and I am going to pester you with them. This is a threat 🫵 /lh 

Beethoven: “Anyone who tells a lie has not pure heart, and cannot make good soup.”

Beethoven, speaking to royalty: “What you are, you are by accident of birth; what I am, I am by myself. There are and will be a thousand princes; there is only one Beethoven.”

Beethoven: “Even in poverty I lived like a king for I tell you that nobility is the thing that makes a king.”

Beethoven: “I like honesty and sincerity, and I maintain that an artist should not be shabbily treated.”

Beethoven: “I shall seize fate by the throat; it shall certainly never wholly overcome me.”

Beethoven: “How glad I am to be able to roam in the wood and thicket, among trees and flowers and rocks ... in the country, every tree seems to speak to me, saying, ‘Holy! Holy’, in the woods, there is enchantment which expresses all things.”

An extract from a letter from Beethoven: “The true artist is not proud, he unfortunately sees that art has no limits; he feels darkly how far he is from the goal; and though he may be admired by others, he is sad not to have reached that point to which his better genius only appears as a distant, guiding sun. I would, perhaps, rather come to you and your people, than to many rich folk who display inward poverty.”

Beethoven: “The world is a king, and like a king, desires flattery in return for favor; but true art is selfish and perverse — it will not submit to the mold of flattery.”

Beethoven: “It is my wish that you may have at better and freer life than I have had. Recommend virtue to your children; it alone, not money, can make them happy. I speak from experience; this was what upheld me in time of misery.”

Beethoven: “I have always reckoned myself among the greatest admirers of Mozart, and shall do so till the day of my death.”

Beethoven considered Mozart to be one of the musical immortals. When an admirer wrote to the young up-and-coming composer and even compared him to the greats, Beethoven replied, "do not rob Handel, Haydn, and Mozart of their laurel wreaths; they have earned theirs, but I am not yet entitled to one."

Also!! I'm so sorry for such a long post!! There was a lot I wanted to say 🤧 

Jackdaw Anon 🐦

i feel bad because youre always writing essays in my inbox that i loev reading sm but i can only response with WOWIE and OMG TAHTS SO COOL :C i hope it doesnt bother you ^^

but all that aside, WOW beethoven sounds like a grumpy old man. but liek, the best version of a grumpy old man.

ITS SO NICE THAT HE ADMIRED MOZART SO MUCH :(((

“The true artist is not proud, he unfortunately sees that art has no limits; he feels darkly how far he is from the goal; and though he may be admired by others, he is sad not to have reached that point to which his better genius only appears as a distant, guiding sun. I would, perhaps, rather come to you and your people, than to many rich folk who display inward poverty.”

this hits different when you write fanfic and you feel like your work will never be as pretty and eloquent as other writers wow. beethoven was so real for that omg

ITS OKAY YOUR RAMBLES CAN BE LONG THATS FINE!!! i just have trouble writing long responses so i wont write in euqal length ^^; I PROMISE ILL READ EVERYTHING THOUGH

[barbucomedie]

Grenadiers Uniform of the Austrian Empire dated to 1809 on display at the Heeresgeschichtliches Museum in Vienna, Austria

Photographs taken by myself 2022