Moniek Bloks's Blog, page 161

The Duchess of York’s Spy Aunt

It is unclear if Anne, the future Duchess of York, even knew her aunt well but Susan Hyde, the sister of her father Edward Hyde, the future 1st Earl of Clarendon, has been relegated to less than a footnote in history.

The date of her birth is not known, but she was baptised on 22 July 1607. Her parents were Henry Hyde MP and Mary Langford, and it appears that she remained unmarried. Susan, though now almost forgotten, was part of the Royalist secret organisation called The Sealed Knot operating in England during the Commonwealth and she was eventually unmasked. The Sealed Knot was the only group personally sanctioned by Charles Stuart (the future King Charles II in exile) and was likely founded in February 1654. It probably consisted of six leaders and a secretary. Susan operated in it and was one of the agents in direct contact with the King (who used the code name Fran Edwards). Other code names include Mrs Kate (for Queen Henrietta Maria) and Cousin Blithe (for the Prince of Orange).

The Sealed Knot was to have three objectives; it was to have the power to control any royalist plot (while the royalists themselves were dreadfully divided and scattered), it had to stop “absurd and desperate attempts to overthrow Oliver Cromwell (the Lord Protector) and prevent “impossible undertakings.”1 Susan’s brother Edward was Charles’ chief advisor, and it was now his own sister Susan who would arrange the Sealed Knot’s communications between France and England.

Female spies managed to remain under the radar for a number of reasons, and their letters were often thought to be of a domestic nature and thus of little importance. On 16 July 1655, Charles wrote to Susan, “to say all of kindnesse from vs to little John” and ends with “god be thanked both he and all your freinds heare and at home are very well”, signing it “Fran Edwards.”2 Such letters were often code for something else.

However, Edward probably underestimated Cromwell’s own agents, who even before the founding of the Sealed Knot were intercepting Susan’s correspondence. The earliest letter that can be traced back to Susan is dated 14 June 1653 from S.H. (Susan) to Monsieur D’Esmond at Paris (Edward). Susan later began sending letters via an apothecary called Anthony Hinton of the Old Bailey, who also acted as a postmaster. There are some surviving letters that give clues as to Susan’s whereabouts during this time. For a while, she lived “over against Baynard’s Castle”, before she moved to Hart Hall in Oxford.

Susan’s last letter to Charles Stuart dates from 13 September 1656, and she wrote that the apothecary would be travelling and this would prevent her from receiving letters. She also wrote of her belief in a leak in the organisation writing, “I muste desire your cautione, being so much concerned in your trade, that if you fayle, I breacke.”3 It was this very letter that the apothecary was carrying when he was apprehended two days later.

Susan’s own fate only became clear in a letter written by John Cosin to her brother Edward on 1 December 1656. He wrote, “A very melancholy Account of the cruel vsage of one Mrs Hyde, a Relation of the Chancellour’s who had been seized upon suspicion of illicit correspondence; & tho nothing was found upon her, yet they used her so ill, & terrified her so much that she lost her senses, & expired in a few days in that condition.”4 The apothecary had given her up.

Susan had been arrested by three officers who took her to Marlborough without allowing her food or sleep and then made her stand in silence before a council for two hours. She was then brought to a house in Westminster where she and her maid were kept in “secure custody.” When her keeper learned that she had asked for a pen and paper, he “breake into her lodgings with company about him, & finding her in her bed, he asked for the paper that she had written, & being answered that there was not any written, he forced her to rise, & at that dead time of night would haue carryed her to Lambeth prison, pretending that she meant to make an Escape, & that he was in danger to be hanged for her, then he called for muskets & pistols & so frighted her that he was faine to let her goe into bed again, for she fell into such a trembling that she was not able to speak, or stirre or stop further in the meane time they tare away all her clothes, & threatned to have her away in the morning.”5

Susan apparently went insane shortly after and “sometimes she would cry, that her keepers intended to kill her, & to teare her in pieces.”6 She was escorted to Lambeth Palace, where she died a week later on 23 September 1656 (The new style date would be 3 October). Of her last hours, John Cosin wrote, “My daughter to whom she had sent her man, was not sufferd to enter into her chamber: Mr Thriscroste prevayled to have a Minister ^of her acquaintance to^ attend her, & to pray by her, but she know him not, & yet she prayed with him, and without him, all the time of her trouble. Of other matters she spake not a word, but that she said once she had nothing but innocencie & God to preserve her from the rage of her rude keepers. 6 houres before she dyed she lay very quietly, & fainted away without praying. She disposed of nothing that she had; & my daughter tells me, that what was left is kept very close, though she believes it was not much. Mrs Chaffin got her burryed, but the mayd knows not how. And thus I haue related you all that my daughter (who is very sad at it) was able to write; but I will number your sister among them that haue the glory of the Martyrs.”

Even though she had been essential to her brother for four years, he makes no mention of her in his autobiography. Susan’s body was “conveyed away by stealth”7 and was thus not listed on the Lambeth Church Burial Registers.8

The post The Duchess of York’s Spy Aunt appeared first on History of Royal Women.

Marie Mancini – Dust and Ashes (Part four)

Read part three here.

Fearing for her life, Marie and her sister Hortense left Rome with only a few possessions, so they did not arouse suspicions. Marie took a small sum of money, some diamonds from her husband whom she still loved despite their terrible problems, and she took the pearls which King Louis XIV had given to her.

Marie and Hortense travelled to France together dressed in men’s clothing which was hidden under their gowns, but they eventually parted ways as Hortense moved on and lived under the protection of the Duke of Savoy. Marie’s husband Lorenzo and King Louis XIV had been allies for a long time, and when Marie landed in France, she knew she had to speak to the King before her husband did. Lorenzo had spies and emissaries looking everywhere to capture Marie and send her back to Rome as an Italian woman needed her husband’s permission to travel in those days. Louis received word from Lorenzo first and heard his version of events before Marie could explain that she had only left because she feared for her life.

King Louis XIV wrote back to Marie and sent her a large sum of money, but he said she could only remain in France if she settled in a convent and was to stay away from Paris. Marie was crushed at this news yet remained in France for some time, moving from convent to convent, creeping closer to Paris. At this time Marie maintained correspondence with her husband, and in some letters, the pair seem to be on good terms. Lorenzo occasionally sent money to Marie to live off as his reputation would be shattered if he allowed his wife to live in poverty overseas. Marie also wrote home for news of her three sons and told them how much she missed and loved them, pleading for Lorenzo to allow them to visit her. Lorenzo’s power and wealth meant that wherever she moved to, Marie was followed and soon she gave up on trying to reach the King and moved to Lyon to stay with her brother Philippe. When she realised Philippe also wanted her to reconcile with her husband, Marie wrote to Hortense to arrange protection from the Duke of Savoy, which was granted and agreed to by King Louis XIV.

Hortense Mancini (public domain)

After a happy period in Turin, Marie was persuaded by a con man to travel to Spanish Flanders; she travelled through Frankfurt and Cologne on her way. Upon arriving in Flanders, Marie realised she was not to find the independence she sought and was taken to a fortress where she was imprisoned by allies of Lorenzo, and only letters from her husband could reach her. Writing to Hortense, Marie said, “I was obliged to obey him for fear that violence would be done to me.” Marie’s life continued this way until she moved on to Madrid which her husband had agreed to, here she was again essentially a prisoner living with a relative of her husband with no chance of leaving the house.

Marie and her husband met each other again in 1679 when Lorenzo took the role of Viceroy of Aragon and moved close to Marie with their sons and his mistress. Things seemed to go well for a while, but Lorenzo could never allow Marie the freedom she wished for, and she was moved from place to place mostly under lock and key. On one occasion, a broken, unrecognisable Marie stabbed one of her guards when he broke into her room, and she was put in prison in a cold medieval fortress called The Alcazar. After this, Lorenzo was inundated with letters from friends and relatives begging him to have Marie released as she was unwell. Hortense wrote that Marie had already “suffered too many misfortunes”, while Olympia begged “do not reduce her to despair” going on to say if Marie were to die in prison that Lorenzo would never console himself.

After a few months, Marie was released but only to another convent where she had to stay and miss her son Filippo’s wedding. Her loving son made sure to visit his mother the following day with his new bride, which brought much happiness to Marie. As time went on, Lorenzo returned to Rome, and as his power lessened, Marie moved to a much nicer convent where she was free to come and go. She spent years delaying taking her vows to become a nun which she had promised to Lorenzo.

Lorenzo and Marie’s cat and mouse game finally came to an end in 1688 when Lorenzo died after sending heartfelt letters to Marie to reconcile. Marie mourned the loss of her husband greatly, which came as a shock to everyone after how they had conducted themselves. After Lorenzo’s death, Marie returned to Rome for a short while to spend time with her sons and her life-long friend Ortensia who had been her husband’s mistress. She eventually returned to Spain and lived happily for a while but then spent the following ten years travelling around Europe after being banished from Spain for spying. Marie, it seemed, was never far from trouble and strange situations, and soon after this, she lost a huge amount of her fortune to a man who pretended to be a long lost relative.

Marie-Anne Mancini (public domain)

Marie made a final trip to Italy where she settled in Pisa before her death. She had just suffered the loss of her younger sister Marie-Anne and also her son Filippo and was distraught. Aged seventy-five Marie died after spending the days prior arranging her will with a monk, she suffered a stroke at the priory and died there. In amongst the few possessions in Marie’s will were the pearls given to her half a century earlier by King Louis XIV, her true love, the will dictated that the pearls should remain in the family and never be sold.

Marie left behind her some astrological works which she published herself as well as the memoirs she was forced to write to counteract a false and slanderous memoir which had circulated in France. Hortense too wrote a memoir, she lived out her days in Savoy and then in England as mistress of King Charles II. These extraordinary sisters were the first women in France to have their own memoirs printed and left behind a wealth of information on women’s lives and rights in the period.

Marie’s final wish to her son Carlo was that her body was not brought back to Rome, a nod to her winning her freedom, at last. She was buried in a simple grave in Pisa. Marie’s tombstone says nothing other than, Marie Mancini Colonna, dust and ashes.1

The post Marie Mancini – Dust and Ashes (Part four) appeared first on History of Royal Women.

Marie Mancini – Princess Colonna (Part three)

Read part two here.

Marie Mancini and King Louis XIV were still deeply in love with each other despite Marie being sent away from the French court by her uncle Cardinal Mazarin and Louis being due to marry another woman. All the Cardinal could do now was be direct with the King, and he wrote long letters to Louis pressing the importance of his marriage to Maria Theresa of Spain in order to maintain peace between their countries. In one letter Mazarin wrote it would cause “your ruin if you go on to give way to your passion for her.” He even began to question Marie’s intentions calling her ambitious and foolish to tarnish her reputation to the King. Still, the letters and gifts continued and one day during her exile, Marie found a puppy awaiting her wearing a collar saying “I belong to Marie” on the collar; clearly a display of the King’s feelings as well as a gift.

Mazarin and Louis’ mother became more focused than ever on breaking the young lovers up. While Louis’ mother believed he would still marry the Infanta, and it was common for Kings to keep mistresses, they both believed he was suffering from some kind of sickness due to how obsessed he was with Marie. They wrote letters to each other where they planned his wedding and talked of needing to “tend his cure.” They wanted a stop to all of this by the time the Infanta arrived.

Anne of Austria (public domain)

In August 1659, the court was heading to Saint-Jean-de-Luz to finalise Louis’ marriage negotiations. On this journey, Louis’ mother Anne of Austria allowed her son to do something rather strange; she allowed him to stop en-route to spend a day with Marie. The whole saga had ruined the relationship between Louis and his mother, and she seemed to feel bad for him and directed most of her anger at Mazarin for ever bringing the Mancini girls to Paris in the first place. Marie and Louis spent the day together talking, and Louis apologised to Marie for “all that he had made her suffer.” Here it seems Louis had come to terms with the fact he had to marry the Infanta, he declared his undying love to Marie but told her he had to marry someone else.

Once back in Paris, Queen Anne convinced her son to spend time with some other women in public in hopes that the news would get back to Marie and finally crush her feelings for the King. The Cardinal took this idea too far and encouraged Marie’s sister Olympia to flirt with him and lavish attention on him. Of course, this news made it back to Marie, who was devastated.

It finally dawned on Marie that things needed to come to an end between her and Louis and she pleaded with her uncle to save her reputation “to keep people from mocking me” and so she asked Mazarin to arrange “a marriage for me, quickly.” Within a month, Mazarin was writing letters of praise to Marie for her change in attitude. It is clear from reading their correspondence and Marie’s memoirs that she knew this was what she had to do to keep her uncle happy and not what she truly wanted. In one letter to Cardinal Mazarin, Marie wrote “it causes me no small pain to keep from writing him (the King). What gives me strength to do it is my duty and my wish to satisfy Your Eminence.”

On 9 June 1660, Louis married his cousin Maria Theresa of Spain and finalised peace with Spain. On the journey back to Paris, Louis left his entourage behind and made a solitary pilgrimage to the fortress where he had last seen Marie. Marie was back in Paris by this time, but the King wanted to see the place once more and to remember their time together. The Cardinal was now planning Marie’s marriage, and he dismissed the idea of a French husband upon hearing that Louis still had feelings for Marie and so Mazarin planned to send his niece back to Italy to be married, far away from the French King.

Lorenzo Colonna (public domain)

As he lay dying, Cardinal Mazarin narrowed down suitors for Marie and her sister Hortense. Marie was married to Lorenzo Onofrio Colonna in April 1661 and became Princess Colonna. Her husband was from one of Rome’s most noble families. When it came to the consummation of their marriage, Lorenzo was shocked to find that Marie was a virgin, her young love with Louis had indeed been something more than his usual flings. Louis continued to write to Marie and asked her husband how she was doing from time to time, and in the end, the young lovers settled into their own marriages.

For a time Marie was happy with Lorenzo, they had three sons together, and they became well-respected patrons of the arts. The couple were part of a great noble family in Rome and often held parties and public celebrations where Lorenzo would parade his beloved wife before the crowds. As the years went by, however, the couple drifted apart, Lorenzo took mistresses, and Marie refused to sleep with her husband for fear of having to go through childbirth again.

In 1672, Hortense Mancini had left her husband and moved into the Colonna residence with Marie. Hortense’s arrival in her French fashions with her fashionable friends brought back memories of the fun of French court and the sisters were soon causing scandal throughout Rome, hosting parties and swimming in the Tiber with numerous French visitors. Lorenzo, at this stage, began to believe Marie was having an affair with the Chevalier de Lorraine and he became possessive and violent. Things became so bad that Marie believed her husband would kill her and the sisters fled from Rome.1

Part four coming soon.

The post Marie Mancini – Princess Colonna (Part three) appeared first on History of Royal Women.

Marie Mancini – The love of King Louis XIV (Part two)

Read part one here.

The travelling and the hectic nature of court life did not agree with fourteen-year-old Marie, and she began to feel unwell and looked “a pitiful state” after a few weeks at the French court. It was decided that Marie and young Hortense should return to a convent for a while for their education and to help Marie to recover. Marie wrote that the Cardinal said, “it would fatten me up a bit.” Marie and Hortense spent the following eighteen months living at the Convent of the Visitation.

Marie returned to court aged seventeen with colour in her cheeks and an education in the arts and literature behind her which enabled her to keep up in conversation with all of the fashionable people at court. Since living back with her mother, Marie complained that she had to stay home doing nothing while her sisters Olympia and Hortense enjoyed the splendours of court and that her mother watched over her too closely. Marie remembered this period of her life in her memoirs, writing that she often argued with her mother over her mistreatment. One day Girolama told her brother the Cardinal that she could no longer live with Marie and he should return her to a convent. Marie remembered that her uncle “reprimanded me in such acid tones and cutting terms”, but she stated that whereas any other girl would be sick with remorse, she was not!

It turned out that the reason Girolama was more irritable than before and took things out on Marie was because she was ill and getting worse by the day. The young King began visiting Girolama out of courtesy each day, and there he noticed Marie and over the weeks the pair began chatting and joking during these visits. Sadly Girolama’s condition worsened, and she died. While Marie was saddened by her mother’s passing, she wrote in her memoir “too much severity often serves only to strip (children) of affection, since love and fear are almost always incompatible.” The loss of her mother was soon followed by the loss of her beloved sister Laure-Victoire, who died in childbirth.

After suffering such grief, Marie and her sisters began to slowly move on and enjoy life at court. Marie loved having nobody telling her what to do, and she felt like a completely new person after gaining more freedom. At this stage, Marie and the King continued to grow closer, and she spent a lot of time with King Louis and his brother Philippe. Marie felt at ease with the king, and he allowed her to speak freely to him and set aside formality.

King Louis XIV (public domain)

In 1658, Louis became gravely ill after coming down with a fever. Courtiers rushed around panicking in case the king should die, but Marie saw Louis as a person and saw beyond his office, and she wept and prayed ceaselessly over the news. When Louis recovered, he was told of Marie’s outpouring of affection and was touched by it.

When the King and his retinue travelled from place to place, Marie started to join them. On one such trip to Fontainebleau when out riding, Marie began to feel that the King had taken a liking to her, but it was only when the court gossip began circulating that she allowed herself to believe it. The King soon started sending lovely gifts to Marie, was caring and protective over her and treated differently to how he treated others. The romance was threatened when marriage negotiations began for the King and Marguerite of Savoy, but once the match was called off, King Louis and Marie spent more and more time together, taking long walks and hosting parties where they danced all night long only with each other.

Marie inspired an interest in poetry and literature in Louis which had not been seen before, and the young King who was known to be shy, began to come out of his shell and be more sociable. His cousin La Grande Mademoiselle commented that the King was in “much better humour after he fell in love with Mademoiselle Mancini…he chatted with everyone.” Cardinal Mazarin and Louis’ mother Anne of Austria were pleased about this change in the King’s demeanour, but when talk began of Louis wishing to marry Marie, their attitudes quickly changed! A brief romance with Marie was one thing, but she was sadly not of the correct rank to marry a King. The cardinal and the King’s mother set themselves to the task of finalising marriage plans for the King and a new match, the Infanta Maria Theresa of Spain; they were truly concerned that Louis and Marie would marry in secret. Louis wished he could marry Marie, and when the Queen of Sweden visited and told him to marry for love, it seemed for a moment that Marie could become Queen of France.

In June 1659, the young lovers’ dream was shattered as Marie was sent away from court by her uncle to La Rochelle for a period of exile disguised as a holiday. The heartbroken Louis was only allowed minutes to say goodbye to his true love, which he had to do in front of everybody as Marie and her sisters boarded their carriage. The King presented Marie with a gift of pearls and was visibly sobbing as she left. Marie turned to the King and uttered a line which was used time and time again in poetry and operas of the future “Sire, I am leaving, and you weep, and yet you are King.”

As soon as Marie was out of sight, the Cardinal devoted himself to finalising marriage plans for Louis. Marie was kept busy in La Rochelle with walks on the seafront, parties and fireworks, and it seemed she may have forgotten her love for the King. Marie and the King had been forbidden to write to each other, but when Marie started spending a lot of time with quartermaster Colbert de Terron it was discovered that he had been providing her with a stream of love letters from the King! After this, Marie sank into full melancholy and moved herself into a grim fortress overlooking the sea and did little other than write letters to Louis. Cardinal Mazarin tried everything to stop this; he had the girls’ governess spy on her and intercepted her letters and those of her sisters before they got back to court. However, Louis was spending time in Chantilly and was sending letters by courier to Marie who were out of reach of the Cardinal and his allies. Marie clearly still had hope for their relationship as she began to see an astrologer in the hope of finding out her fate.1

Part three coming soon.

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Marie Mancini – A niece of Cardinal Mazarin (Part one)

Anna Maria Mancini was born into an aristocratic family to parents Girolama Mazzarani and Baron Lorenzo Mancini and was the fourth of their ten children. Some of the girls, along with two of their cousins grew up to be known as the Mazarinettes and rose to fame and prosperity under the guidance of their uncle Cardinal Mazarin, the chief minister of France.

When Anna Maria, known as Marie, was born in 1639 it is said that her father, who was an astrologer, went outside to read the planets and predicted that Marie would bring trouble for the family in the future. Marie herself reflected on this in later life when she penned her memoirs and noted that her mother always preferred her sisters and was adamant on Marie being sent off to a convent to keep out of trouble when she was old enough.

Cardinal Mazarin (public domain)

Marie and her siblings started their lives living with their parents in Rome, where they had a comfortable upbringing. The Mancini siblings were well educated, and Marie would spend her time devouring books in her father’s study; she grew up to be well-read, funny and sharp-witted as well as classically beautiful. Had the children’s father lived for longer than he did, the Mancini girls would have probably married into other Roman noble families, and we would have heard little of their lives. However, in 1650 Lorenzo passed away, which changed their fate. Marie’s mother Girolama, a widow with a flock of young children, was invited to France by her brother Cardinal Mazarin who held great power and influence as the King’s closest advisor. With no heirs of his own, Cardinal Mazarin wished to orchestrate beneficial marriages and positions for his nieces and nephews in order to create links to the great families of France and leave behind a legacy.

The family did not all leave at once, first of all, the eldest girl Laure-Victoire was sent over and was soon married to the Duke of Vendôme, a grandson of King Henry IV of France. After the older nieces and nephews were settled in France, the Cardinal sent for his sisters Girolama and Laura and the rest of their children. It was then in 1653 that Marie left Rome and made her way to France with her younger sister Hortense, brother Philippe, their two cousins Laura and Anne Marie, their aunt and their mother. The group boarded a beautiful boat and were dressed in fine clothes which would have looked rather out of place at the shipping docks of Civitavecchia where locals usually saw nothing but trade and fishing boats. In her memoirs, Marie wrote that they were treated like queens on this journey which led them to Marseille.

Marie was very excited upon reaching France, as the children had spent years reading letters and hearing tales of all of the festivities and things to enjoy at the French court. On top of this, Marie knew she was very lucky to be there at all, she had spent the previous two years being educated in a convent, and due to her mother believing she would bring bad luck on the family, she was almost left behind! Marie pleaded to be allowed to travel with the rest of the family and told her mother that if she was inspired by “pious impulses” that there were convents everywhere!

Marie and the rest of the family did not reach the French court straight away after reaching France; after their week-long journey by sea, they spent eight months in the south of France where they stayed with Marie’s recently married sister Laure-Victoire who had been tasked by their uncle to teach the others the ways of the French court. Over the months, the family perfected their French language, became accustomed to French dress and came to understand just how powerful their uncle Cardinal Mazarin really was. Wherever they went, they were greeted with pomp and parties, and consuls sent extravagant gifts to welcome them all to France. The family were visited by a stream of important guests during their stay in the south of France and Marie remembers in her memoirs that her aunt was appalled at the French custom of greeting guests with a kiss on the lips, aunt Laura refused to take part in this custom for a while “which was a subject of hilarity for many people.”

By the time the family left for Paris, the Mancini and Martinozzi siblings were prepared for life at the French court and reached the incredible Mazarin Palace in 1654. It was not long before the family visited the young King Louis XIV and his mother Queen Anne (born of Austria). The court was filled with gossip about the family; after all Cardinal Mazarin had great authority and had already married his niece Laure-Victoire to the Duke of Vendôme and now here were a whole bunch of his nieces ready to be set up with grand marriage matches or raised in France until they were old enough.

Rumours of the matchmaking did not go down well with a lot of the older noble families at court; many of whom were still shaken up by the Fronde rebellions, these families did not enjoy watching Mazarin marry off his lower-ranking nieces to the most eligible men in France. Of course, Mazarin was so close to the King and so devoted to him and his mother that he was untouchable at this stage and used his vast wealth to provide huge dowries to entice men to marry his nieces that would usually be way out of their league.

The next match was between Anne-Marie Martinozzi and Armand de Bourbon, Prince of Conti. This hugely important marriage came about due to the Prince of Conti having taken part in the Fronde – a civil war. The Prince of Conti had sided with the rebels and was imprisoned. After his release, it was later agreed that the Prince of Conti would marry one of Mazarin’s nieces which was a sign of irrefutable defeat. For the Prince of Conti this was humiliating, but for Anne-Marie, Marie’s cousin, this meant she became a princess of the blood and was extremely high-up at the French court. With their cousin now a princess and in the King’s inner circle, the nieces of Cardinal Mazarin were thrown into the limelight.1

Part two coming soon.

The post Marie Mancini – A niece of Cardinal Mazarin (Part one) appeared first on History of Royal Women.

The Year of Queen Wilhelmina – The death of Wilhelmina

By 1947, Queen Wilhelmina was physically worn out and suffering from a heart condition which made it necessary for Princess Juliana to act as regent twice. Though her daughter tried to convince her to hold off her abdication until her golden jubilee, Wilhelmina dreaded celebrating another jubilee. In her memoirs, Wilhelmina wrote, “It was only after the period of transition following the liberation that I felt justified in seriously considering the question of abdication. An incentive was provided by my daily duties, which were more numerous than before the war and left my spirit little or no time for relaxation, which did not help my fitness at moments when special demands were made of me.”1 Queen Wilhelmina abdicated in favour of her only child Juliana on 4 September 1948 and reverted to the title of Princess Wilhelmina.

After her abdication, Princess Wilhelmina spent a lot of time on religion, and she felt relieved to no longer have the burden of government on her shoulders. She remained in daily contact with her daughter but rarely appeared in public. She retreated to the Loo Palace, where she would eventually inhabit just a few small rooms in the staff quarters. She took up painting again and often went out riding on the Veluwe. She also liked to ride her bicycle, and her bicycle always stood ready and waiting for at the back entrance of the Palace. She also set about writing her memoirs, which were also translated in English. Tragically, she also burned a lot of correspondence, like letters from her mother. She wrote, “It was very necessary to burn a lot.”2 Wilhelmina also took up travelling – visiting Switzerland, the United Kingdom and Norway in 1951, France in 1953, and Norway again in 1953, 1954 and 1955.

She spent her 80th birthday in 1960 in private at the Loo Palace, though over 400 telegrams were delivered to congratulate her on her birthday. In the autumn of 1962, she began having issues with her heart again and wrote to her first cousin Princess Alice, Countess of Athlone “Since a few weeks I am struggling hard against my old complaint.”3 But Wilhelmina was not afraid.

Wilhelmina remained conscious throughout her final days. She died just before 1 A.M. on 28 November 1962. A press release stated, “In the last few weeks signs appeared of a heart disease that had to be considered as being very serious in view of her age. Notwithstanding a slight improvement, her illness took a turn for the worse yesterday. The gradual deterioration of her general state of health, which was already bad, was speeded [sic] up.”4

Queen Juliana announced her mother’s death with the words, “It has pleased God to call my dear mother to him. She expired peacefully today. I am convinced that the Dutch people will share the great gratitude with me and mine that we feel has been given to us by this life.”5

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Isabella of Aragon – A lost legacy (Part two)

Read part one here.

Tragedy struck on 13 July 1491 when Afonso was crushed underneath his stumbling horse. Isabella and her mother-in-law Eleanor rushed to be by his side, but Afonso never regained consciousness. He died three hours after the accident. Isabella was so grief-stricken that she cut off her hair and wore a veil that covered her face. She dressed in mourning clothes that she refused to change for forty days to chasten her body. She stopped eating almost completely and became frighteningly thin. This caused her to become quite ill, and she began to spend her days in a dark room with a single candle, reading only religious texts. She attended mass on a daily basis, receiving communion over and over again, and she began to believe she had displeased God in some way. Eventually, she became convinced that Afonso had died because Portugal had allowed “heresy to fester.”1

Her parents-in-law became concerned with her wellbeing and had her bed moved into their room, so they could keep an eye on her. Queen Isabella wrote to her daughter, full of concern and the contents of those letters were later described, “There is no one who, unless they had a heart of stone, could hear it without shedding many tears.”2 Queen Isabella asked her daughter to return home, and she came back devoutly religious and continued to starve herself. She also claimed that she would never marry again. For now, Queen Isabella allowed her daughter to become her companion but letting her remain unmarried was probably never in the cards.

In 1495, Prince Afonso’s father died, and he was succeeded by his cousin Manuel, the very same man who had accompanied Isabella to Portugal for her wedding. Manuel had grown attached to Isabella during their time together and wanted to marry her. However, Queen Isabella offered her younger daughter Maria instead. Manuel refused, saying it would Isabella, or he would look further. Isabella’s parents asked her to finally renounce her mourning and to marry Manuel. However, Isabella insisted that she would never again “know another man.”3 The issue temporarily rested while the family focussed their attention on John and Joanna’s marriages.

In August 1496, Joanna left Castile to be married to Philip the Handsome, Duke of Burgundy and the wedding took place on 20 October 1496. A few months after their wedding, Philip’s sister Margaret was sent to Castile to marry John. Their wedding took place on 3 April 1497 and Margaret was an instant hit at court. John adored his new wife to the concern of his doctors that he was exhausting himself in the bedchamber. Meanwhile, Queen Isabella continued to negotiate with Manuel for him to accept Maria, but he still refused, wishing only for Isabella. Eventually, Isabella agreed to the match, though she asked for as little festivities as possible. She also requested that Manuel would expel all the Castilian conversos (those who had fled from Castile to Portugal due to the Inquisition) and he agreed, and he also agreed to expel Jews and Muslims. As her second wedding approached, it became clear that John was very ill. Manuel kept the news from her so that she would not delay the wedding and they were married on 30 September 1497.

John accepted his fate readily, asking only that his parents take care of Margaret, who was pregnant. He died on 4 October 1497 – still only 19 years old. Upon receiving the news, Queen Isabella said, “God gave him to me, and He has taken him away.”4 The pregnant Margaret also fell ill, and Queen Isabella rushed to nurse her back to health. Nevertheless, the child she was carrying was born prematurely and died. This now left Isabella as the heir to the throne.

By the time Manuel and Isabella returned to Castile to be sworn in as heirs to Castile, she was pregnant. This was a relief for the Aragonese, who would have preferred a man to inherit. If Isabella had a son, he would inherit everything. While at Zaragoza to discuss this matter, Isabella went into labour and gave birth to a son on 23 August 1498. However, she was still very malnourished from all the fasting she had done, and she died within an hour of giving birth. A historian at court wrote to the Archbishop of Braga, “The mother [Queen Isabella] was large, while the daughter [Isabella] was so consumed by her thinness that she did not have the strength to resist the birth… Scarcely had the child emerged from her uterus than the mother’s spirit was extinguished… Despite this, let’s fix it so that this tragic tale ends with a (more) musical refrain. There is compensation for so much misfortune, an important lightener to such a deep pain: she gave birth to a son.”5

Isabella dying in childbirth as portrayed in Isabel (2012) (Screenshot/Fair Use)

Isabella asked to be buried dressed as a nun and to be interred at the Convent of Santa Isabel in Toledo. Queen Isabella held her daughter in her arms as she died.6 Isabella had reportedly foreseen her death in childbirth and “she made sure that the final communion was well prepared and continually made priests come to her so that she could confess. And if, by mistake, she made some error she would plead, weeping on her knees, to be given absolution.”7

Her son was named Miguel de la Paz, and he was granted Aragonese succession rights on top of the rights he had in Castile and Portugal. He was a sickly child and Manuel left him in the care of Queen Isabella while he returned to Portugal. On 19 July 1500, Queen Isabella held her young grandson as he too died. Isabella’s legacy had been extinguished.

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Isabella of Aragon – A lost legacy (Part one)

The future Queen Isabella I of Castile had made a daring choice by marrying the future King Ferdinand II of Aragon against the wishes of her half-brother King Henry IV of Castile and even proudly displayed the bloodstained sheets to the waiting officials after the wedding night. Isabella and her half-brother had a volatile relationship – with her taking the place as heiress presumptive over that over his daughter Joanna, who was believed to have been fathered by another man. Henry tried to marry her off several times, but in the end, Isabella made her own choice – and Henry was not amused.

Within months, Isabella was pregnant with her first child, and the opposing sides waited impatiently. A chronicler wrote, “It was awaited with extraordinary impatience… as importance was attached to the birth of a male child.”1 On 2 October 1470, the wait came to an end when Isabella gave birth to a daughter – also named Isabella. It had been a long and difficult labour, and Isabella had asked for a silk veil to be placed over her face to that the witnesses could not see her pain.2

A chronicler wrote, “I have been informed by the ladies who serve her in her chamber that, neither when in pain through illness nor during the pains of childbirth… did they ever see her complain, and that, rather, she suffered them with marvellous fortitude.”3 The birth of a girl was politically disappointing. Still, there is no evidence that Isabella was personally disappointed by the birth of a daughter.

As her mother fought for her throne, little Isabella was in the care of a governess and a wetnurse. She would remain in the nursery alone for quite some time. Her mother lost a baby in 1475, and it wasn’t until 1478 that her brother John was born. Her mother had succeeded as Queen of Castile on 11 December 1474, though the struggle with Joanna would continue for several more years. Young Isabella spent much of her childhood on campaign as the struggle continued. At the age of seven, she had once been left behind for her safety, only for the citizens of the town to rise up, leaving her trapped in a tower for several days until her mother came to her rescue. The following year, she was traded as a hostage to the Portuguese to ensure her parents would abide by the terms of the Treaty of Alcáçovas. She was sent to Portugal, and it was intended that she would marry King Afonso V’s grandson, also named Afonso, who was five years younger than her. She remained in Portugal for three years before returning home.

Isabella of Aragon (public domain)

Between her mother’s accession and the birth of her brother, young Isabella was heir to the throne and she was presented as such to the waiting crowds the day after Henry’s death. It is unclear why her mother appeared to have had trouble conceiving, but she had consulted physicians, prayed at sanctuaries, starved herself and engaged in self-mortification.

On 30 June 1478, John was born to great rejoicing – it was widely interpreted as a sign from God of his approval. For young Isabella, it meant that she was being displaced in the line of succession. Four more daughters followed: Joanna in 1479, Maria (and her stillborn twin) in 1482 and lastly Catherine in 1485. As Isabella and her siblings grew up, their mother monitored their education and began training them to rule. Her mother was known to have been an affectionate but stern mother, and she was devoutly religious. She expected nothing less from her offspring. Her mother was quite politically savvy, and public image was quite important. The splendour of the family’s clothing was soon the talk of Europe with young Isabella appearing at an event in cloth of gold with a train of green velvet and a cap of “a net in gold and black, garnished with pearls and precious stones.”4

Despite having returned from Portugal, her marriage to Afonso remained on the cards and several other marriages were also in the works. John and Joanna would marry siblings Margaret and Philip, the children of Maximilian I, Holy Roman Emperor and the late Mary, Duchess of Burgundy in her own right. Catherine was betrothed to Arthur, Prince of Wales while Queen Isabella was eyeing the future King James IV of Scotland for Maria.

At the age of 20, Isabella’s marriage to the 15-year-old Afonso finally took place. The two had gotten to know each other well in the three years that Isabella had spent in Portugal. Isabella was accompanied to Portugal by her Portuguese cousin Manuel, who would also play an important part in her life, though she did not know it yet. Isabella was enthusiastically received by the Portuguese people, and it “truly seemed the earth trembled.”5 The wedding took place on 25 November 1490 in Évora with many celebrations planned for the following weeks. It appeared that both parties were happy to be married.

Part two coming soon.

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The Year of Queen Wilhelmina – The loss of Luxembourg

The Grand Duchy of Luxembourg had been a province of the Kingdom of the Netherlands since its foundation in 1815 before becoming independent but remaining in personal union with the Kingdom following the Treaty of London of 1839. It consisted of the territory of the duchy of Luxembourg, which had been a state of the Holy Roman Empire. Subsequently, the monarchs of the Netherlands were also Grand Dukes of Luxembourg.

The succession in Luxembourg was dictated by the Nassau family pact of 1793 and although King William III had attempted to change it to secure Luxembourg for Wilhelmina, it was Emma who convinced him not to do it. The Nassau family pact stipulated that Luxembourg would go from the Ottonian branch to the Walramian branch of the Nassau family if the Ottonian branch died out in the male line – which it did with King William III’s death in 1890. The head of the Walramian branch of the family was Adolphe, Duke of Nassau – whose lands had been annexed by Prussia in 1866. Adolphe also happened to be Queen Emma’s uncle – being her mother’s elder half-brother. Emma convinced William that it would not be chivalrous towards their less fortunate family to change the pact now.1

On 23 November 1890, upon the death of King William III, his daughter Wilhelmina succeeded him as Queen of the Netherlands while Adolphe became Grand Duke of Luxembourg.

In any case, Adolphe’s son William did not have any sons of his own and he named his elder daughter Marie-Adélaïde as heiress presumptive in 1907. This too had been arranged for in the Nassau family pact in the case both lines died out without male heirs and thus fulfilled this clause. The current Grand Duke of Luxembourg is the grandson of Marie-Adélaïde’s sister Charlotte, who succeeded her in 1919.

Luxembourg introduced absolute primogeniture – where the elder child succeeds regardless of gender –  in 2011.

 

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The Year of Queen Wilhelmina – Becoming Queen

Princess Wilhelmina has last seen her father on 25 September 1890.

She wrote in her memoirs, “Although during the last few months his suffering was such that I could no longer visit him, this period left a deep mark on my life. The atmosphere at The Loo was dominated by his illness. Everything became strained. When his illness was at its worst Mother spent all her time at his bedside, and I hardly saw her. How much it means to a child when her Mother disappears out of her life, and for such a long time! The last night she did not come to bed at all – I had been sleeping in her room for some time – and that night I felt that something terrible was happening upstairs in Father’s room. People tried to hide it from me, but yet I knew what that terrible thing was.”1

On 20 November, Wilhelmina’s mother Emma left behind her dying husband to swear the oath of regency in her husband’s name in The Hague. She told the States-General, “In these serious days, where the King’s condition fills us all with sadness, I will act as regent of the Kingdom. The King, my beloved and honoured consort, has given me the highest example of royal duty and working in the interested of the Country and the People, which has always set the House of Orange apart. I consider it my duty to follow his example. May God ease the suffering of our King and take the Netherlands under His holy wing.”2

When Emma returned to the Loo Palace later that day, his condition had deteriorated considerably. He had grown restless, and his kidneys were failing. The following night, he suddenly stood up and threw off the covers. His feet were swollen so he could not walk, and his servant told him to get back into bed, upon which the King asked, “Who gives the orders here, you or me?” They were his last words.

William fell back to sleep and only occasionally awoke during the following two days, unable to recognise anyone. He died on 23 November 1890, at 5.45 in the morning. His funeral took place on 4 December – the date was specifically chosen by Emma so that the Dutch people could still celebrate St. Nicholas’ eve. On 8 December, Emma once again took the oath of the regency – this time in her daughter’s name. The 10-year-old Princess Wilhelmina had become the Netherlands’ first Queen regnant.

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