There’s a certain day where the tequila runs like a river, the limes are fresh, and the salt rains down like a February snowmageddon. If you happen upon downtown Garland, expect to see bounce houses and colorful sidewalk markets, in non-Covid times, at least. Restaurant Dos Banderas does it up big, complete with Mariachi bands and flamenco dancers. Elsewhere, walk into any chain restaurant and prepare to be greeted by artificially green margaritas, specials on tacos, and a sombrero wearing hostess welcoming you in with a “Happy Cinco de Mayo.” It’s Mexican Independence Day, right? Umm, no. In fact, May 5th doesn’t even get a nod in Mexico, unless you wind up doing the limbo at an all-inclusive resort in Playa wearing a green, white, and red lei. What’s so important about Cinco de Mayo? Turns out, it’s a real messy situation that’s a little bit Austrian, a little bit French, with ample nobility laden family histrionics. But first, meet Max.
Princess Sophia of Bavaria, from the House of Wittelsbach, was the daughter of the King, Maximilian I Joseph. Sophia’s mother was his second wife, though this isn’t the Max we’re discussing. Darn those royals and their ever-repetitious names. Whether it was the competition for the King’s affections - Sophia was a twin and had additional sisters from Queen 1 - or just the manifestation of her upbringing, she was known to be quite the pistol. Based on info from a 70s British miniseries, a ballet, and a French made for TV movie, Sophia would grow up to be revered by all and feared by many, especially her daughters-in-law who she treated with intense malice. After all, they’re never good enough for our sons, right? Haley & Laurali, if you’re reading this, I will gladly kiss your feet any day. Thank you for sticking with my bozos. Anyway, life wasn’t always rosy for Sophia. Out of 8 pregnancies, she would have only four surviving adult sons. There were two miscarriages, an only daughter who died at the age of 5, and a stillborn son. Her youngest, Ludwig, never married, with no record of any grand career notes. Third son, Karl, thrice married, was both the father of Archduke Franz Ferdinand – his assassination sparked WWI, and the grandfather of Charles I, Austria’s last emperor. Sophia’s eldest son, Franz, became Emperor of Austria after the death of his father, Archduke Franz Karl (THESE NAMES). And, then, there was Max, Maximilian I of Mexico (now I’ve got your attention) the petulant, spoiled, entitled, 2nd born son known to reduce his aja (nanny) and tutors to tears with his intense mocking and neverending pranks. Max would fly into a royal rages over the never proven but oft whispered rumor that he was actually the product of an affair between Sophia and Napoleon II. But wait, how did old Max get from Austria to Mexico, and how does this impact next week’s margarita specials?
Maximilian I was wicked smart, known to hold court with his understanding of art. He was a skilled botanist. He displayed such intelligence & comradery with his peers in the Imperial Austrian Navy that he was made lieutenant at 18 and commander in chief of the Minerva, an expedition ship, by his 22nd birthday. Austria was not known as a sea power. Max, literally and figuratively, put them on the map. Max credited his view of the world outside of his boyhood Austrian palace for his developing progressive and liberal views. His newfound political voice landed him a role as viceroy of the Kingdom of Lombardy-Venetia in 1857, an area that encompassed everything from present day Milan to Venice. Soon after his appointment, he married his second cousin Charlotte. They lived in Milan until his now emperor brother tired of Max’s liberal policies and dismissed him to Trieste, where he did little things like build Charlotte a castle and buy her a monastery as a vacation home. She liked the gardens there, plus, remember, botanist. It was then that Max was approached by members of Mexican nobility to become emperor of Mexico due to his father’s lineage, the Habsburgs, and their history of rule in Spain. In other words, Max was the highest-ranking son of an emperor not expected to inherit a throne. Max dreamed of exploring rain forests in search of new plants and big adventures. So, in 1864, he signed his rights to the Austrian crown away, got blessings from the Pope and Queen Victoria, and landed, unwelcomed and unceremoniously, in Veracruz. Later, Charlotte would choose a former Aztec palace in Mexico City as their home. Yet, it seemed like the Mexican nobility forgot to tell President Juarez that Max was coming. Between Max’s infrastructure plans – basically building new roads to and from his palace – and his attempts to colonize Mexico with ex-Confederates post-Civil War, coupled with his decree that meant thousands of Juarez’s supporters would be killed, Max wasn’t winning any good neighbor awards. He was urged to flee Mexico by Napoleon III (not the Napoleon rumored to have sired him – keep your Naps straight) but refused to abandon his followers, suffering death by firing squad on June 19, 1867. And, how does this relate to Cinco de Mayo, and why isn’t it a huge deal in Mexico, too?
May 5th commemorates a battle WIN for Mexico, the Battle of Puebla in 1862. See, Mexico won! Right? Yes, they did win that battle, but France still took control. They still forced President Juarez into hiding. They still conspired with Austria, who provided them with a figurehead, old Max, to represent French rule in Mexico. So, when you drink that margarita next week, and get caught up in tequila induced shouts of Viva la Mexico, think of Charlotte, who had the worst mother-in-law ever and kept getting her castles repossessed. Alas, Lorde was right. We will never be royals.
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