Helene
Helene Wasserbauer was my maternal great grandmother.
Born in 1889 she meet the emperor, survived two devastating wars, but first of all she was my "Urli".
I was deeply impressed by the stories she told me about her own childhood.
So what do I remember!?
A.lively, white haired old lady running around with us in the garden teaching us songs and games. My mother being very formal and polite to her, saying Küss die Hand.
When Helene became older, their relationship seemed to relax and maybe closer than it was before.
As a child I imaged her to be made of cast iron.
She created an aura of respect around herself, was always impeccably dressed and coiffed. If she wore jewelery, it was real gold, diamonds and pearls.
Sometimes to the great delight of us children she shared a bit of.mischief with us when her daughter and granddaughter were not watching. When my mother told her that she did not want her great grandchildren to say Küss die Hand, she taught us to curtsey instead. So I practiced curtseys. Her brown eyes were lively and sparkling even when her body failed.
She was wise enough to leave this world at her own accord and her own plan. I guess God did not dare to have meddle with her.
Little Helene was born into a large family of eight children, six daughters and two sons. The father left the family, and Helenes mother struggled on her own to raise the children not a easy task in 19th century Vienna.
Helene was one of the older girls. All clothes they had were to be brushed and cleaned and hung up on a chair before going to bed. Obviously no child had more possessions than those fit on a chair. The girls were sent to the park, but before they were allowed to play they had to knit their stockings, they were marked and a certain length had to be knitted before they were allowed to be free. Helene still felt resentful after decades that the boys were allowed to roam freely instead.
Helen'es mother was a devout catholic, strict and quick with punishment. Life was hard, money short, so after leaving the Bürgerschule Helene and her sisters were sent off to work.
Helene told me that as a child she saw the emperor Francis Joseph driving by in a horse carriage. All passers by bowed and curtseyed and waved.
Helenes youngest brother was designed to become a priest but died of consumption with 18 years. Helene and her sisters became totally estranged with their older brother, as the girls took care of their mother in her old age and the brother did not help them.
The sisters were always close but they shut out the brother from their lives entirely. So to this day there are some people called Wasserbauer who are our relatives but there is no contact....
I do not know what jobs Helene had but what I do know she worked as a shop assistant at a jewelery at the Graben.
The girls had set their mind to escape poverty, with good reason.
So when Helene had the chance to do so, she grabbed it and married a man several years her senior, a christened jew named Felix Malowan. What mattered was that he owned a mill and was well off. I can only imagine that Felix also got what he wanted - a young pretty and lively girl who was going to be a good wife.
I was too young to ask Helene about this time of her life.
Studying photos from this time, she looked formidable and content.
She was dressed fashionably, had a social life, took holidays, which according to the photos must have been fun, and enjoyed herself. She was an excellent cook and I am sure she liked to rule the household.
In 1914 she gave birth to ER only child, my grandmother Camilla Rudolfine. Helene was not the protective motherly type, and the relationship between Helene and Rudi, how she preferred to be called, was not the best.
Rudi was a spoilt little girl, and lonely, with a love for dogs.
She remembered many of the pretty dresses she used to wear as a child, the coach she was driven in and the workers respectfully greeting her. She adored her father, hated her aunt Camilla after whom she had been named and felt distant toward her mother
But soon, Rudis world was going to change....
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