Moniek Bloks's Blog, page 133

The Year of the Duchess of Windsor – Life with Earl Winfield Spencer Jr. (Part two)

Read part one here.

Wallis’s hope was in vain. She later wrote, “Life has since taught me that a change in material circumstances has little effect upon love that is securely established, but love that has been weakened and undermined is at the mercy of every incident and irrelevancy. Far from having the good effect I had hoped for, our move to Washington only made the wreckage complete.”1

One Sunday afternoon, Win locked Wallis into the bathroom of their apartment. For hours, she struggled to free herself until she was forced to give up. He eventually unlocked the door but did not open it, and Wallis was terrified to try and open the door. When she finally did so hours later, the apartment was dark, and Win was asleep in bed. Wallis spent the night on the couch and became determined to leave him. When Wallis later confided her plan to her mother, she was horrified and told Wallis, “Getting divorced would be the most terrible mistake you could make – one that you would never live down.”2 She warned Wallis that the family would probably not be willing to support her financially in the event of a divorce. Eventually, uncle Sol and aunt Bessie wore down her resolve, and she promised to give it another try with Win. Two weeks later, she hit her breaking point and asked her mother if she could move in with her. She agreed reluctantly.

In February 1922, Win was ordered to the far east as the commander of a gunboat. They were not officially divorced yet, though they were separated. Wallis and her mother lived in Washington, where she soon made new friends. Wallis later wrote, “I was often out quite late. Whatever the hour, my mother was always waiting for me, sitting up in bed, reading or sewing when I came in. She never failed to ask me where I had been, what I had done and with whom. I always told her.”3 Wallis felt suffocated living with her mother, but it was the only option for now.

She soon met a young diplomat attached to the embassy of Argentina – his name was Felipe Espil. Wallis quickly fell head over heels in love with him. He shaped the new Wallis – they read newspapers together, and she learned about fine food, wine and the art of conversation. They also attended diplomatic receptions together. However, Wallis’ mother continued to voice her disapproval, and Wallis soon moved in with Dorothy McNamee, whose husband was also stationed overseas. She was living off an allowance from Win by then. However, she failed to realise that Felipe would never marry her – they were too different. He was a Roman Catholic; she a Protestant. She had no money of her own, and above all – she was still married. A divorced Protestant wife would never work for him. Wallis grew jealous, and the following arguments led to Felipe ending the relationship. She was devastated.

In early 1924, Wallis accompanied her recently widowed cousin Corinne on a trip to Paris, and when they returned home, Wallis found a stack of letters from Win asking her to join him in China. And so, on 17 July 1924, Wallis boarded the USS Chaumont at Norfolk and set off for China.

The journey seemed to take forever, and Wallis suffered from a terrible cold throughout. It took six weeks for the ship to reach Manila, where Wallis boarded the Empress of Canada for the voyage to Hong Kong, where she arrived on 8 September. She found Win waiting for her at the dock. “He looked better than I had ever seen him since our first meeting in Pensacola – tanned, clear-eyed, and charming.”4 Having been a heavy drinker before, he now told her he had not had a drink since he had received word that she was coming. For the first few weeks, everything seemed to go well. Then he returned home completely drunk. She put him to bed, and they spoke little of the incident. In October, Win was despatched to Canton, which now lay in the heart of the beginnings of a civil war. Nevertheless, Wallis was desperate to save her marriage, and she followed him there a few days later.

This was when things truly went south. He accused her of having affairs with his fellow officers and began drinking heavily again. While Wallis wrote in her memoirs that she suffered a kidney infection at this time, a friend of hers later wrote that Win had beaten her to such an extent that she suffered from internal bleeding.5 In any case, Win accompanied her back to Hong Kong, where she received medical treatment. Once she had recovered, she made up her mind to seek a divorce. Win reportedly retaliated by dragging her along to brothels, where he made her watch and threatened to kill her.

Part three coming soon.

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Lady Louise Windsor at 18: Preparing for the future

On 8 November 2003, the Countess of Wessex, Sophie, was rushed to the Frimley Park Hospital from her home at Bagshot Park. She was just eight months pregnant, but a placental abruption made it necessary for her to have an emergency caesarean section. Lady Louise was born at 11.32 PM, though both mother and child suffered severe blood loss. Louise was transferred to a neonatal unit in St. George’s Hospital as a precaution. Her father, Prince Edward, the Earl of Wessex, was not present as he was on an official visit to Mauritius. The Countess of Wessex had previously suffered an ectopic pregnancy, which required her to be airlifted to hospital.

At the time of her parents’ wedding, it was announced that any children they may have were to be styled as children of an Earl. Any daughters would be a Lady, while the eldest son would be “Viscount Severn”, and any subsequent sons would be “The Honourable.”

However, according to the 1917 Letters Patent, any children of the monarch’s son, which Prince Edward is, are assigned princely status and the style of Royal Highness. So when Louise was born in 2003, she would actually be entitled to be called “Her Royal Highness Princess Louise of Wessex,” but per the earlier press release, she is referred to as “Lady Louise Windsor.” The 1917 Letters Patent are still in effect today, though it has been revised to include the children of the eldest son of the Prince of Wales (namely The Duke of Cambridge’s children, George, Charlotte and Louis). It could be argued that a press release is not sufficient to counter a Letters Patent, and therefore Louise is still legally entitled to call herself Princess Louise. In 2020, her mother confirmed this when she told the Sunday Times, “We try to bring them up with the understanding that they are very likely to have to work for a living. Hence we made the decision not to use HRH titles. They have them and can decide to use them from 18, but it’s highly unlikely.”1

The following evening, Prince Edward was able to be reunited with his wife, and he went to visit his newborn daughter as well. Sophie and Louise were not reunited until six days later. Sophie was discharged on 19 November, while Louise was allowed to go home four days later. On 27 November, her name was announced as Louise Alice Elizabeth Mary Mountbatten-Windsor, and she was styled as “Lady Louise Windsor.” Her christening took place on 24 April 2004, and she became the last royal baby to wear the christening gown first worn by Victoria, Princess Royal – Queen Victoria’s eldest child. A replica gown is now in use as the original has become too fragile to use. In 2007, her brother James, styled Viscount Severn, was born. Louise was born with esotropia, which was corrected with surgery.

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Louise began her schooling at St George’s School before moving to St Mary’s School Ascot in 2017, and she chose English, History, Politics and Drama as her A-level subjects. She has appeared at some official functions, and she was a bridesmaid at the wedding of her cousin Prince William and Catherine Middleton in 2011. She and James went on an official trip with their parents to South Africa in 2015. In 2018, she joined her mother at an engagement with UK Sail Training. In 2020, she participated in the Great British Beach Clean with her family at Southsea Beach.

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Louise learned to ride at a young age, and she has also taken up carriage driving. She reportedly inherited her grandfather’s driving ponies and carriage following his death in April 2021. She is also a member of Girlguiding.

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As Louise grows older, her future role will become more defined, though I do not expect her to take on full-time royal duties.

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The Year of the Duchess of Windsor – Life with Earl Winfield Spencer Jr. (Part one)

Read about Wallis’s early life here.

In December 1915, Wallis’s grandmother died, and she was surprised to learn that she had been left four thousand dollars in her will. However, the money would not be hers until her 21st birthday. During the mourning period for her grandmother, she was asked by her cousin Corinne to join her in Florida for a holiday. She left Baltimore in April 1916, and it was through Corinne’s husband that she would meet her future first husband – Earl Winfield Spencer Jr, known as Win. She wrote to her mother, “I have just met the world’s most fascinating aviator…”1

Wallis quickly fell deeply in love with Win. She later wrote, “By the end of the evening, I knew I was in love – in love at first sight, yes, but nonetheless completely, totally and helplessly. Undoubtedly my attraction to him was intensified by the glamour and novelty of flying. He and the other officers seemed to me, at that first meeting, to belong to another race of men – god-like creatures who had descended to earth from a strange and adventurous realm.”2 Wallis later developed a fear of flying, which she contributed to this time whenever she heard of awful accidents on Win’s base.

Win and Wallis continued to see each other often, and the 19-year-old Wallis was frustrated with the constraints around the dating ritual. Win proposed to her after just two months, and she did not say yes straight away. There were her mother and uncle Sol to consider. Her mother was naturally sceptical and told her all the downsides of becoming a navy wife. However, to Wallis, this seemed like the most appealing part. When Win came by for a visit to her family, he managed to charm them all. The wedding was set for 8 November 1916.

The wedding took place at Christ Church, where Wallis had been baptised many years before, at 6.30 in the evening. They were married by Wallis’ minister, the Reverend Edwin Barnes Niver. The bridesmaids wore orchid-coloured bouffant gowns of faille with wide girdles of french-blue velvet, and they carried yellow snapdragons. The ushers were all naval officers in their full-dress uniforms. Win’s best man was his brother Dumaresque, while Wallis’s matron of honour was Ellen Yuille, a good friend from school. Wallis herself wore a gown of white panne velvet with a court train and a pointed bodice of embroidered pearls. The petticoat was of heirloom lace. In addition, Wallis carried a bouquet of white orchids and lilies of the valley. She also a spray of orange blossoms arranged in a coronet fashion around a veil of tulle. She was given away by uncle Sol.

Wallis later wrote, “Suddenly I felt oddly remote from everything that was going on around me; that sense of detachment was still with me as I drew near Win. When I saw his face, I was reassured. He was calm and confident enough for both of us.”3 They were able to take a two-week honeymoon, and they spent it in Virginia and New York, seeing the sights. However, Wallis soon learned about Win’s major vice – drinking.

After their honeymoon, they returned to the Air Station at Pensacola, where they lived in a house on the base. Their first home was a simple bungalow with three bedrooms, although Wallis thought it was rather small. Wallis hired a cook and a maid and quickly settled into a routine. By May, they were on the move as Win received a promotion near Boston. Wallis entertained herself by seeing the sights and taking the historic streetcars. By October, Win was ordered to California, and they were on the move again. Once more, he was away for most of the day, and Wallis saw little of him. In January 1918, Win’s offices were moved to North Island, and now, as the wife of a commanding officer, she attended many official functions with him.

As the First World War came to an end without Win having been sent overseas, his drinking increased, bringing out all his bad traits. Wallis later wrote, “At parties, he would go out of his way to direct at me a running barrage of subtle innuendoes and veiled insults. Outsiders were not supposed to understand these clever thrusts, but I certainly did, and they made my evenings terribly uncomfortable.”4 Win had always enjoyed playing practical jokes; they now turned cruel. Wallis wrote, “One of his favourite diversions was to lock me up in a room while he went out – often for hours on end. Our life together became a succession of quarrels – bitter flurries over nothing really important but all the more difficult to compose in the immemorial fashion of lovers because the root cause was Win’s festering discontent with himself. The erosion of a marriage is a harrowing experience, and I shall not chronicle the details; they cannot be unusual.”5

Win had to wait a year and a half for a new assignment, which then took him to Riverside while Wallis stayed in Coronado. Their marriage was truly at a breaking point already. Wallis’s mother came to with her for a month, though she never mentioned the difficulties in their marriage. In November 1920, Win was ordered back to Pensacola while he awaited a more permanent post, so Wallis remained in Coronado. Finally, in May 1921, he was given a post in Washington. Wallis could only hope that this change of scenery would help.

Part two coming soon.

The post The Year of the Duchess of Windsor – Life with Earl Winfield Spencer Jr. (Part one) appeared first on History of Royal Women.

Wooden falcon emblem bought for £75 revealed to be Anne Boleyn’s

When it was auctioned for £75 in 2019, it was catalogued as an “antique carved wooden bird”, but it has now been identified as Anne Boleyn’s heraldic emblem.

The wooden royal falcon would have probably adorned Anne’s private apartments at Hampton Court Palace and was likely removed after King Henry VIII ordered her execution. It’s currently believed to be worth about £200,000. It is still in excellent condition with its original gilding and colour scheme.

The falcon is going back home soon and has been placed on a long-term loan to Hampton Court.

Tracy Borman, joint chief curator for Historic Royal Palaces, told The Guardian, “The irony is that Anne Boleyn is the most popular of the six wives, and she’s probably the one with the least surviving evidence … because she was obliterated by Henry. So that makes this really quite special, and obviously, I’m very excited about it. When I realised how this absolutely would have fitted with the decorative scheme, I had a shivers-down-the-spine moment.” She added that she believes that it was taken down and kept by one of Anne’s supporters. “It is a remarkable survivor. The really interesting thing is that somebody obviously wanted to save it for posterity. So it’s likely to have been a supporter of Anne.”

Paul Fitzsimmons, who owns the piece, of Marhamchurch Antiques in Buckfastleigh, specialises in furniture and art from the 15th to 17th centuries. He said, “I didn’t know immediately that it was the badge of Anne Boleyn, but I knew that it had some sort of royal connection because it had the crown and sceptre, and it was a royal bird.” He added, “It needs to go back to the institution from where it came … It was the property of Henry VIII, [who] ordered them to be made for his new wife, but equally ordered them to be removed. This could have been removed literally as Anne Boleyn was about to have her head cut off.”

For photos, see the original Guardian news article here.

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Review: The Forgotten Princesses of Thorn Exhibition

For many years, high-born women ruled the Imperial Abbey of Thorn. It was once part of the Holy Roman Empire, and it now lies in the southern Dutch province of Limburg, close to the Belgian border. The women of the abbey lived independent lives and were unmarried. Although most of the abbey has now been demolished, the abbey church has survived and can still be visited in the picturesque town of Thorn.

The Limburgs Museum in Venlo now has a grand exhibition about three Princesses who lived in Thorn Abbey – Polyxena of Hesse-Rheinfels-Rotenburg, who later became Queen of Sardinia as the wife of King Charles Emmanuel III of Sardinia, Gabriella of Salm-Salm, the daughter of Nikolaus Leopold, Fürst of Salm-Salm and Dorothea Francisca Agnes of Salm, and Maria Kunigunde of Saxony, the daughter of King Augustus III of Poland and Maria Josepha of Austria. Over 75% of the items on display have never been displayed in the Netherlands before.

The exhibition is accompanied by an audio tour, and I have a love-hate relationship with audio tours. I hate it when you are only able to follow the flow of an exhibition if you have an audio tour, and I find it very inconvenient of having to hold something up to my ear the entire time. Luckily, the story can still be followed even without the audio tour, sort of. The items on display are quite magnificent – from actual letters, huge portraits, a golden carriage and grand gowns; they certainly speak for themselves.

Click to view slideshow.

I was quite surprised by the size of the exhibition as it just keeps going and going. We learn about how Maria Kunigunde almost became Holy Roman Empress and how the women lived in the abbey. It’s a lovely look at a bygone age and one that has been overlooked for quite some time.

Click to view slideshow.

The exhibition is based on the book by the same name by Joost Welten, which was released in 2019. Unfortunately, there does not seem to be an English translation, though the museum did offer a German translation. Overall, I loved the exhibition. My only real negative would be the lighting. The entire exhibition is quite dark, with bright lights on the items. This made the text harder to read and caused me to be a bit disoriented at times. Nevertheless, you need to go see this exhibition if you can, if only for the fabulous portraits.

And when you’re done, travel a little bit further south to the town of Thorn to see the church. Down in the crypt, you’ll find the tomb of Christina of Salm-Salm, who lived in the abbey.

Photo by Moniek Bloks

Learn more about visiting the Limburgs Museum here.

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Empress Xiaowu – How an Emperor mourned the loss of his beloved consort

Empress Xiaowu’s love story with Emperor Wudi was very tragic. She was known to be one of the most beautiful women in the Han dynasty. She had a meteoric rise to become the Emperor’s favourite. Yet, she knew that the Emperor’s affections for her were fickle. When she fell ill and lost all her beauty, she knew that the Emperor would neglect her and no longer love her. Thus, she did all she could to keep the Emperor from seeing her face. When she died, the Emperor mourned her so much that he hired a magician to contact her spirit. He continued to grieve for her so profoundly that he made her his posthumous Empress. This is the tragic tale of an Emperor’s loss of his beloved consort.

Around 140 B.C.E., Empress Xiaowu was born in Zhongshan (modern-day Ding county) Hebei province.[1] Her first name is unknown. She came from a family of singers and dancers and was trained in these arts.[2] Her brother, Li Yannian, was an accomplished musician and poet. However, he committed a crime, and his punishment was castration and feeding the Emperor’s hounds for a certain amount of time.[3] Still, Li Yannian was well-liked by Emperor Wudi, and he often sang and danced for him.[4] It was on one of the occasions that he decided to sing a song about his sister that he had composed:

“There is a beautiful lady in the north

She is the most attractive in the world

The more you see her, the more you love her

She is so rarely found that you would give up

Everything for a glance at her.”[5]

This song so intrigued Emperor Wudi that he wanted to know the girl who inspired the song. Li Yannian told him that he was singing about his sister.[6] Curious about Li Yannian’s sister, he summoned her to court. Once she arrived, she began to dance for Emperor Wudi. Emperor Wudi was so entranced by her beauty that he fell in love with her at first sight.[7] He married her, and she became his fourth wife.[8]

Consort Li became Emperor Wudi’s favourite, and Li Yannian was promoted for bringing them together.[9] In 120 B.C.E., Emperor Wudi founded a music institution. He named Li Yanning in charge of the institution and promoted him to the official in charge of musical affairs. It was a status that was equal to the rank of a magistrate province.[10] Shortly after her brother’s promotion, Consort Li bore the Emperor a son named Liu Bo.[11]

However, Consort Li’s happiness with the Emperor was brief. After giving birth to Liu Bo, she fell ill and remained confined in her bed.[12] Emperor Wudi often visited her, but she hid her face under the covers. The reason why she had hidden from him was because she had lost her beauty.[13] She feared that if he looked at her, he would neglect her and find her repulsive. She also feared that the Emperor would stop her family from receiving the privileges that they were currently enjoying.[14] Still, the Emperor begged to look at her. He said that if she did, he would give her family high offices.[15] She refused and said, “It is up to Your Majesty to assign offices as you please. It does not depend on one glimpse of me.” [16] 

Emperor Wudi became angry, and he stopped his visits until he was allowed to look at her. Consort Li’s sisters begged her to let the Emperor see her face, but she again refused and said, “Then what hope would there be that he would ever think kindly of me again and remember to take pity on my brothers?” [17] After she said those words, Consort Li died.[18] 

The Emperor never saw her ruined face. Her dearest wish came true that he would always remember her remaining beautiful.[19] Heartbroken over her death, Emperor Wudi buried Consort Li with the honours bestowed to an Empress.[20] He promoted her brothers. Li Guangli was made the Ershi General and Marquis of Haixi, and Li Yannian was the Director of Imperial Music.[21]

Emperor Wu never stopped mourning the loss of his beloved consort.[22] He ordered her portrait to be painted and hung in his palace.[23] He missed her so much that he wanted to contact her from the dead.[24] He hired the magician, Shao Weng, to perform a ritual to summon her spirit.[25] During the ritual, a beauty that resembled Consort Li appeared before them.[26] However, the Emperor did not get a closer look at her or a chance to talk with her.[27] This made him long for her even more that he wrote a poem about that summoning event:

“Is it she?

Is it not?

I stand gazing from afar:

Timid steps, soft and slow,

How long she is in coming.”[28]

Emperor Wudi had the court set his poem to music and would frequently listen to it.[29] In 87 B.C.E., Emperor Wudi died. In his will, he asked for Consort Li to be posthumously made Empress Xiaowu (which meant Empress of the Pious Wu).[30] His request was granted, and she was made Emperor Wudi’s posthumous Empress. Empress Xiaowu’s son became the Prince of Chengyi.[31] Her grandson, Liu He, briefly became the Emperor of China. Empress Xiaowu hid her ravaged face from her love. Yet, frozen in death, she remained a glow in his memories.

Sources:

Lidong, S. (2015). Biographical Dictionary of Chinese Women: Antiquity Through Sui, 1600 B.C.E. – 618 C.E (L. X. H. Lee, Ed.; A. D. Stefanowska, Ed.; S. Wiles, Ed.). NY: Routledge.

McMahon, K. (2013). Women Shall Not Rule: Imperial Wives and Concubines in China from Han to Liao. New York: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, Inc.

Yunhun, L. (2015). Notable Women of China: Shang Dynasty to the Early Twentieth Century (B. B. Peterson, Ed.; T. Mingxia, Trans.). London: Routledge.

[1] Yunhun, p. 63

[2] Yunhun, p. 63

[3] Yunhun, p. 63

[4] Yunhun, p. 63

[5] Yunhun, p. 63

[6] Lidong, p. 154

[7] McMahon, p. 72

[8] Yunhun, p. 63

[9] Yunhun, pp. 63-64

[10] Yunhun, pp. 63-64

[11] Yunhun, p. 64

[12] McMahon, p. 72

[13] Yunhun, p. 64

[14] Yunhun, p. 64

[15] Lidong, p. 154

[16] Lidong, p. 154

[17] Lidong, p. 155

[18] Lidong, p. 155

[19] Yunhun, p. 64

[20] Lidong, p. 155

[21] Lidong, p. 155

[22] McMahon, p. 72

[23] Lidong, p. 155

[24] McMahon, p. 72

[25] Lidong, p. 155

[26] Lidong, p. 155

[27] Lidong, p. 155

[28] Lidong, p. 155

[29] Lidong, p. 155

[30] Lidong, p. 155

[31] Yunhun, p. 65

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Maria Josepha of Austria – Devotional fervour (Part two)

Read part one here.

After being made to renounce her claim to the Habsburg lands by her uncle Charles, Maria Joseph and Frederick Augustus were married on 20 August 1719. Nevertheless, with Charles’s daughters still in their infancy, there remained a distant possibility of succeeding to the Imperial Crown. The couple would go on to have 14 children together – of whom five sons and six daughters who lived to adulthood. Maria Josepha’s first child was a son named Frederick August, who lived for just two months. Her second son, Joseph August, died at the age of seven. Her third son, Frederick Christian, lived to adulthood and succeeded as Elector of Saxony but he had some kind of paralysis in his legs and in his left arm – something which caused Maria Josepha’s immense grief.

Her husband was elected King of Poland in 1733, and when she travelled to Krakow in January 1734 for the coronation, she left behind seven children in Dresden. Her second daughter Maria Margaret would die during her absence at the age of six. The election had not been quite unanimous, and the uncertainty meant that Maria Josepha and Frederick Augustus spent the next two years in Poland. Two daughters, Maria Christine and Maria Elisabeth, were born during this time. She tried to keep in touch with her children in Dresden, and this was done through letters. Over the year, she would spend more time apart from her children, but never again such a long period at once. The surviving letters show that she did not just wish to see formal letters from her children and tried to bond with them as best she could, being so far away. The children all had pet names, such as “Pepa” – who was her name-sake third daughter Maria Josepha, who became the mother of the ill-fated King Louis XVI of France.

In 1740, her uncle Charles died, and she briefly claimed the Austrian succession on behalf of her husband. However, after an agreement between her husband and her sister’s husband, she renounced her claim in their favour. Her sister’s husband, the Elector of Bavaria, managed to invade and was elected Holy Roman Emperor in 1742. He held the title for just three years until his death in 1745. His heir made peace with Maria Josepha’s cousin Maria Theresa, and Maria Theresa’s husband Francis was elected Holy Roman Emperor later that year.

Five of her children made brilliant matches: Maria Josepha became Dauphine of France, Maria Anna married the Elector of Bavaria, while Frederick Christian married the Elector’s sister Maria Antonia, Maria Amalia married Charles III, King of Spain and Albert married Maria Christina of Austria, a daughter of her cousin Maria Theresa. However, the alliances with Austria and Catholic Europe led to Prussia marching into Saxony – starting the Seven Years War in 1756. Saxony could not withstand such an attack, and the court was promptly overrun, and the King went into exile. He spent the whole of the war in Warsaw, and Maria Josepha never saw her husband again. Maria Josepha remained behind in Dresden with her son Frederick Christian and his wife, Maria Antonia. On the day of her husband’s departure with two of their sons, she wrote on a tiny scrap of paper, “I am very envious of the happiness of your brothers in being able to kiss the hands of your very dear Papa and to see you. You can judge the pain I feel at being from my dear King for God knows how long. Kiss his hands a hundred times a day for me, who wishes you all happiness and who sends you her maternal blessing.”1

She tried to help the war efforts as best she could, even writing notes in invisible ink while under guard by the King of Prussia. She would spend the last year of her life as a prisoner in her palace in Dresden. She died on 17 November 1757 of a stroke. She was buried in the Hofkirche in Dresden, a church that had been built upon her urging. Her husband managed to return to Saxony only in 1763, and by then, he was already seriously ill. He died on 5 October 1763 and was briefly succeeded as Elector of Saxony by their son Frederick Christian. He tragically died of smallpox after reigning for just three months. His young son would eventually become the first King of Saxony.

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Don’t compare the Princess Mako situation to Harry and Meghan – they are not similar

Since the former Princess Mako of Japan wed her college sweetheart, Kei Komuro, last week, endless comparisons have been made with the Duke and Duchess of Sussex as both couples have decided to settle in the United States.

However, their situations could not be more different. One was forced out of the Imperial Family by law, and the others chose to do so of their own volition. One couple was celebrated, and the other was mocked and protested against ahead of the wedding. One couple got to have a wedding in a reasonable time with all the royal splendour, while the other couple had to delay their nuptials for years and ended up getting married with zero royal fanfare.

Let’s take a closer look at how the two sad situations are different.

The Duke and Duchess of Sussex had a royal wedding at Windsor Castle live on television. They gained new titles upon their marriage, were senior working members of the Royal Family and lived on royal estates. Their two children, Archie and Lili, although not titled at the moment, will become Prince Archie and Princess Lili upon their grandfather, Prince Charles, ascending to the throne (as is currently stated in the Letters Patent giving the children in the male line (to a certain point) of the monarch the styles of HRH and prince/princess).

Over in Japan, things are very different. Imperial Household Law states: “In case a female of the Imperial Family marries a person other than the Emperor or the members of the Imperial Family, she shall lose the status of the Imperial Family member.”1

This means that, by law, Mako had to renounce her titles and give up her place in the Imperial Family. There was no option to continue as a working member of the Imperial Family or a member of the family at all. She cannot head her own branch of the family; her children cannot hold titles. Once she married Kei Komuro, she had to move out of the royal residence and into a flat in Tokyo with her husband as they were forbidden from living in the palace since she was no longer royal.

I am in no way diminishing the things that the Sussexes and Komuros have gone through. Both couples went through disturbing trials with the public and media. Meghan faced racism and classism in the U.K. that led her on a dark mental health path. Mako and Kei Komuro faced constant backlash because of his mother’s financial problems. His mother borrowed money and reportedly did not pay it back, but he was blamed for her sins. The attacks by the public and media led to Mako being diagnosed with complex post-traumatic stress disorder over the misinformation spread about in Japan.

The Sussexes chose to step back as working members of the Royal Family, but Mako was forced out of the Imperial Family by law. These couples should not be compared against one another.

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Maria Josepha of Austria – Devotional fervour (Part one)

Maria Josepha of Austria was born on 8 December 1699 as the eldest child of the future Joseph I, Holy Roman Emperor and Princess Wilhelmina Amalia of Brunswick-Lüneburg. A younger brother named Leopold Joseph was born the following year, but he died of hydrocephalus before his first birthday. A sister named Maria Amalia was born on 22 October 1701. Then her father’s licentious ways caught up with him, and he passed a venereal disease to his wife, which rendered her unable to have any more children.1 He had reportedly contracted the disease from the daughter of a court gardener, but Wilhelmine Amalie blamed herself for the infection.2 In 1705, her grandfather died, and her father was elected as Holy Roman Emperor.

Even before her grandfather’s death, worries existed about the succession, and the family began to plan for the possibility of female succession. Joseph and his younger brother Charles battled it out, with Joseph insisting that his daughters should take precedence over any of Charles’s daughters. At this time, Charles was not even married yet. They eventually signed the Mutual Pact of Succession, which made Maria Josepha the heiress in case Charles did not have any sons. However, Joseph enjoyed his freedom as Emperor a little too much. He managed a steady stream of mistresses with his favourite drinking and hunting pal, Count Johann Philip von Lamberg. His main mistress was Marianne Palffy, whom he paraded around in public and showered with gifts, despite protests by Wilhelmine Amalie.

In the spring of 1711, a smallpox epidemic struck the court in Vienna. On 7 April, Joseph felt a little ill, but he went hunting anyway. On 9 April, he awoke with a fever and a slight rash and the following day, the dreaded marks began to spread over his body. He was still only 32 years so there was hope he would be able to survive. Nevertheless, a few days later, his fever rose sharply, and by the evening, he became delirious. At half-past ten on the morning of 17 April 1711, Joseph died. His brother Charles was duly elected as the new Holy Roman Emperor.

The three Empresses – her grandmother Eleonore Magdalene, her mother Wilhelmine Amalie and Charles’s wife Elisabeth Christine –  had not officially been informed of the pact that had been signed but suspected that it existed. When they finally managed to get the document from Charles, he had announced his wish to change it in favour of his own (future) daughters. Though he eventually did have a son with his wife, the boy lived for just 7 months. The marriage also produced two surviving daughters – the future heiress Maria Theresa and Maria Anna. Eleonore Magdelene supported Wilhelmine Amalie for her daughters’ claim to the throne, but when presented with the new pact, Wilhelmina Amalie could do nothing but quietly object. She never publically contested the will of the head of the dynasty.

Meanwhile, Maria Josepha was growing into a young woman. She was brought up in the tradition of the pietas austriaca – the Habsburgs were especially known for their piety – and she was schooled by her mother in a range of pious and penitential practices. Her favourite saint was Francis Xavier, and all of her children received the names “Francis Xavier” or “Francisca Xaveria.” Maria Josepha’s confessor during the last 12 years of her life later wrote of her, “Her devotional fervour was unquenchable, so much so, that I often found it necessary to prevent her from all that excessive prayer, even though in spite of my restrictions she kept more devotions that many a religious person would voluntarily have undertaken in her convent.”3 He also wrote that she went to mass twice a day, though later as much as three or four times a day. Nevertheless, she was open to people of other religions. Her son Frederick Christian later wrote, “She said to me that, if I should ever take over the government, I should never do wrong to those who were not of our religion and should allow them complete freedom but that at the same time our sacred religion should be the principal point of view and the basis of all my actions.”4

Maria Josepha was being considered as a wife for Frederick Augustus, later Elector of Saxony and King of Poland, but she would not be allowed to marry a non-Catholic. Frederick Augustus converted to Catholicism in 1712 to become eligible for the throne of Poland, and this also opened up the possibility of the Habsburg match again.

Part two coming soon.

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Review: MAISON AMSTERDAM City, fashion, freedom – Queen Máxima’s wedding dress

I’ll be the first to admit that I know absolutely nothing about fashion and so going to a fashion exhibition is quite outside my comfort zone. However, the end of the MAISON AMSTERDAM exhibition at the New Church in Amsterdam had a very special surprise – Queen Máxima wedding’s dress. They had kept the whole thing rather under wraps and there were just a few eagle-eyed royalty fans who spotted the designer of the dress on the list of contributors.

The New Church in Amsterdam is perhaps best known as the church used for the inauguration (rather than a coronation!) of the Dutch monarch and seeing the rather unusual designs throughout this beautiful church was a little unsettling to me. However, it is a good use of the space and the church often plays host to various kinds of exhibitions. I won’t pretend to know anything about the other pieces on display but I liked the catwalk-type setup they had done. The more historical looking pieces were not replicas but did not have any (known) royal connections.

Click to view slideshow.

The highlight of the exhibition was, of course, Queen Máxima wedding’s dress. To my knowledge, it has been on display just two times before since her 2002 wedding to the then Prince of Orange and I had personally never seen it in real life before. It was only after the official opening that it became clear that the dress was even on display and I’m not sure why it was being kept hidden. Don’t you want people to come to your exhibition?

Click to view slideshow.

It was absolutely wonderful to see the dress in real life, even with the fake tiara and the awkward glass and lighting combination.

Overall, it’s a great exhibition if you’re interested in fashion, though perhaps not much of interest to you if you only come for the royal history.

The exhibition will run until 3 April 2022. More information on opening hours and ticket prices can be found here.

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