Moniek Bloks's Blog, page 204

The Year of Queen Victoria – Maria Alexandrovna of Russia (Part one)

Grand Duchess Maria Alexandrovna was born on 17 October 1853 as the daughter of Emperor Alexander II of Russia and his first wife, Empress Maria Alexandrovna of Russia, who was known as Princess Marie of Hesse and by Rhine. At the time of her birth, her father was still the heir apparent. She was one of eight siblings, though her eldest sister Alexandra did not survive to adulthood. Maria herself almost did not survive to adulthood either as she nearly died of a throat disease at the age of 7.

Maria grew up in the Winter Palace in St Petersburg, Peterhof and the Catherine and Alexander Palaces. She had her own small house on the children’s island in the park of the Alexander Palace. Maria and her two younger brothers Sergei and Paul also often went along with their mother to Germany and the south of Europe. She was known to be quite a tomboy. Maria learned to speak Russian, English, German and French.

In 1868 – while visiting family – Maria met Alfred, Duke of Edinburgh, who was Queen Victoria’s second son who was visiting his sister Princess Alice. She was married to Prince Louis of Hesse, Maria’s first cousin. Their first meeting would be brief as Alfred’s naval career took him around the world the following two years. They met again at Heiligenberg in the summer of 1871. They soon learned that they had a lot in common and wished to marry. However, her parents were initially against the match. Maria’s father was very attached to her and suggested a waiting period of at least one year. Queen Victoria was also against the match as no British Prince had ever married a Romanov. Nevertheless, after a delay, negotiations resumed in January 1873, even though Maria was presented with several other suitors in the meantime. On 29 June 1873, her father wrote, “God give her happiness. After a tete-a-tete with Prince Alfred, she came to ask me to bless them. I did, but with a very heavy heart, I confess.”1

On 11 July 1873, Alfred officially asked for Maria’s hand in marriage, and she accepted his proposal. He sent a telegram to Queen Victoria, “Marie and I were engaged this morning. Cannot say how happy I am. Hope your blessing rests on us.”2 She later wrote to her eldest daughter, “Affie and Marie seem very happy, and I pray she may continue so, for she really seems a very sweet girl, who marries him entirely for his sake (!!) – I wonder – but never mind that. She has written me such a pretty letter in English, of which I will send you a copy another day. Difficulties there will be and delays and troubles, but if she is so amiable and dear, much will be got over.3

Alexander wasn’t about to just let his daughter go. He granted her the grand sum of £100,000 as a dowry, plus an annual allowance of £32,000. She also received some very fine jewellery, including items that had belonged to Catherine the Great. As a wedding present, he had a complete parure of diamonds and rubies made for her. He also made Alfred an honorary chief of a Russian Guards regiment and named a Russian battleship after him.  

On 4 January 1874, Alfred arrived in St Petersburg for the wedding as it was a custom for Russian Grand Duchesses to marry in Russia. On 23 January, the wedding was held at the Grand Chruch at the Winter Palace. Queen Victoria was represented by her son and daughter-in-law, the Prince and Princess of Wales. Her eldest daughter Victoria and her husband, the German Crown Prince, were also there. An Orthodox service was performed first, and Maria wore a coronet, a mantle of crimson velvet trimmed with ermine and a sprig of myrtle, which had been sent by Queen Victoria. In the Alexander Hall, the Dean of Westminster married Alfred and Maria according to the rites of the Church of England. Even though she was not there, Queen Victoria toasted the newlyweds while she wore the Order of St Catherine.

The wedding night was spent at the Alexander Palace, and they had a short honeymoon in Tsarkoe Selo. The moment Maria’s father had been dreading, had now come. The young couple went to live in England, even though he kept their honeymoon suite intact, hoping they would return. On 7 March 1874, Queen Victoria prepared to receive her new daughter-in-law. Two days later, she wrote to her eldest daughter, “And now about Marie. She is dear, and most pleasingly natural, unaffected and civil; very sensible and frank and unaffected not pretty (excepting fraîcheur) and not at all graceful. At first in her white bonnet, I thought her prettier than I expected, but without it – and since – I think her less pretty even than I expected. The chin is so short and runs into the throat, and the neck and waist are too long for the dear little child’s face though the bust is very pretty, and then she holds herself badly and walks badly. She is, however, quite at ease with me, and we get on very well – and she is very sensible. She is not a bit afraid of Affie, and I hope she will have the very best influence upon him.”4

Part two coming soon.

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Marie-Auguste of Anhalt – The Princess who adopted adults

Princess Marie-Auguste of Anhalt was born on 10 June 1898 as the daughter of the future Eduard, Duke of Anhalt and Princess Louise Charlotte of Saxe-Altenburg. She grew up mainly in Dessau with her three surviving siblings.

Marie-Auguste married Prince Joachim of Prussia, who was the youngest son of Emperor Wilhelm II of Germany, on 11 March 1916 in Berlin. He was described by his mother’s lady-in-waiting as not strong, “either mentally or morally.” His mother, Empress Augusta Victoria, had been instrumental in arranging the match. However, Joachim was involved in a scandal involving jewellery just before the wedding, and it was feared that the wedding would not go ahead. Nevertheless, they married at the Bellevue Palace in a Lutheran service with only a few guests. His father, the Emperor, was not present.

(public domain)

Their only son Prince Karl Franz of Prussia was born on 15 December 1916, but their marriage soon turned sour. There were rumours that he beat her and she had fled from their home. Their divorce did not happen until well after the First World War was over. By then, her father-in-law had abdicated his throne, and he was living in exile in the Netherlands. The deeply depressed Joachim took his own life just weeks after the divorce. He had shot himself in Villa Leignitz in Potsdam but had not died immediately. Attendants had found him and had taken him to the hospital where he died a few hours later. His ailing mother was told he had had an accident, but she probably realised the truth.

Joachim had been given custody of their young son, and the Emperor believed that the boy should now be given into the custody of his uncle Prince Eitel Friedrich. It wasn’t until a year later that the German courts ruled that the former Emperor had no say over the matter and Karl Franz was returned to Marie-Auguste.  During this year, the young Prince had spent a lot of time with his grandparents, and he was a comfort to the dying Augusta Victoria. She died at their exile in Doorn on 11 April 1921. Marie-Auguste – whose divorce had not been completely finalised at the time of Joachim’s death – sued her father-in-law for non-payment of the financial support for herself and her son as it had been provided in the marriage contract. The parties eventually agreed to negotiate further, but it is unclear if the matter was settled.

At the end of 1924, newspapers reported engagement between Marie-Auguste to Teddo Bienert, but the wedding never took place. She remarried on 27 September 1926 to Johannes-Michael Freiherr von Loën, who she had known from her childhood. They had no children together, and this marriage ended in divorce nine years later.

Marie-Auguste lived a quiet life and saw her son get married three times. His first wife was Princess Henriette of Schonaich-Carolath, the daughter of Emperor Wilhelm II’s second wife Hermine Reuss of Greiz. They married in 1940, and they had three sons together – of which two survived to adulthood. Prince Karl Franz married two more times; firstly to Luise Hartmann (ended in divorce) and secondly to Eva Maria Herrera with whom he had two daughters, Alexandra and Desiree.

Marie-Auguste is perhaps best known for what she did in later life. She adopted several adults in exchange for money after getting into financial difficulties. In 1980, she adopted Hans-Robert Lichtenberg who became known as Frédéric Prinz von Anhalt and who later married Zsa Zsa Gabor. He, in turn, also adopted adults in return for money. He later commented that he gave Marie-Auguste $4,000 every month. Marie-Auguste adopted around 35 adults during her lifetime.

Princess Marie Auguste of Anhalt died on 22 May 1983 at the age of 84.

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Queen Victoria in her Journal – 15 October 1839

Queen Victoria in her Journal – 15 October 1839

At about half-past 12 I sent for Albert; he came to the Closet where I was alone, and after a few minutes I said to him, that I thought he must be aware why I wished (him) to come here, and that it would make me too happy if he would consent to what I wished (to marry me); we embraced each other over and over again, and he was so kind, so affectionate; Oh! to feel I was, and am, loved by such an Angel as Albert was too great delight to describe! He is perfection; perfection in every way – in beauty – in everything! I told him I was quite unworthy of him and kissed his dear hand – he said he would be very happy (to share his life with her) and was kind and seemed so happy, that I really felt it was the happiest brightest moment in my life, which made up for all I had suffered and endured. Oh! How I adore and love, I cannot say!! How I will strive to make him feel as little as possible the great sacrifice he has made; I told him it was a great sacrifice, – which he wouldn’t allow… I feel the happiest of human beings.1

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Empress Taytu of Ethiopia – The founder of Addis Ababa

The future Empress Taytu of Ethiopia was born Taytu Betul Hayle Maryam as the daughter of Betul Haile Maryam and Yewibdar. The date of E.C. 1832 (1839-1840 in the Gregorian calendar) is engraved on her tomb as her date of birth, but it is probably not correct as marking birthdays is not an Ethiopian custom. Her family was descended from a daughter of Emperor Susneyos of Ethiopia – he had 25 sons and daughters. Taytu was the third born in a family of four children. This was remarkable in an age where child mortality was very high. Circumcision took place on children of both sexes, and for girls, this usually happened between day 15 and 80 of life. The baptism took place on the 80th day for girls, and Taytu’s baptismal name was Welette Mikael, which was an indication that she was baptised on the 12th day of any month as that day is always dedicated to St. Mikael. Shortly after the birth of her sister Desta, their father died in battle.

That same battle ended the reign of Ras Ali and led to the coronation of Emperor Tewodros. At that time, the family was the monastery of Debre Mewi in Gojam. Her brothers were old enough to fight, and in 1857, they became prisoners of Emperor Tewodros. Menilek, The Prince of Shewa was also a prisoner, and they became acquainted. When he asked if they had a sister, he was told that she was in a monastery. Taytu’s possible marriage to him was probably vetoed by her family as he was a prisoner and she was probably safer marrying one of Tewodros’s generals. We don’t know much about her education, but we know she could read and write Amharic, knew some Ge’ez (the recondite language of sacred texts), she wrote poetry and played chess.

As was traditional, Taytu’s childhood had ended abruptly at the age of 10 when preparations for marriage began. Her mother supervised her doing chores and girls were taught to resist her husband’s advances on the wedding night as it was meant to be a night of conquest. Sometimes it was physically impossible to consummate a marriage if the circumcision (ranging from the removal of just the labia minora to the cutting away of the clitoris and the removal of the labia minora) had left the girl awkwardly healed. Any infection following the circumcision might have left her infertile. Taytu’s first marriage was to an officer of Emperor Tewodros, and it ended badly. “He (Tewodros) gave them a cruel wedding present by putting her husband in chains a few days after the ceremony, and she was forced to follow the army on foot like a peasant, chained at the wrist, grinding grain and cooking for the soldiers”, wrote Pietro Antonelli – a diplomat. Taytu was married at least three more times before becoming Empress, to a soldier named Dejazmach Tekle Giyorgis and Janterar Udie – the governor of Yejju. In 1881-1882, she married Kenyazmach Zikargatchew, whose sister Bafena was a consort of Menilek (they divorced in 1882 before he became Emperor). However, her fourth husband was cruel to her, and he beat her. She left him, taking many servants and properties with her.

Embed from Getty Images

Taytu probably met Menilek, by then King of Shewa (a region in Ethiopia), in August 1882 but any thought of marriage was initially delayed when tried to have sex with Bafena who had gone to a convent to escape him. Taytu probably wanted to marry someone else, but Menilek bought off the man. They were married at Easter 1883, and Taytu’s first question to her husband was, “May I build a church dedicated to Our Lady?” He agreed. Shortly afterwards, he left on a military campaign, and Taytu quickly gained a reputation for her piety. She was also responsible for the founding of Addis Ababa or the “new flower” because of the mimosa trees. Two years later, it was the new capital.

In 1889, Emperor Yohannes IV of Ethiopia was killed in battle, and although he named his natural son as his heir, Menilek immediately proclaimed himself as Emperor. Menilek and Taytu had two separate coronations on 3 and 5 November respectively. Taytu was crowned as Itege (literally sister of the country but also meant as Queen of Queens), and as it became dark, 82 lamps were lit in a single moment.  Taytu also added “Light of Ethiopia” to her titles.

These years were one of famine for the people of Ethiopia, and from 1888 to 1892 over a third of the population died. The royal court was not short of food, but Taytu tried to set an example of austerity anyway. They also donated as much as they could, although there was apparently quite a bit of favouritism involved. Taytu also played favourite in the promotion of her brother and nephew, the son of her sister. In 1893, Menilek announced that Ethiopia would have his own coinage and the Treaty of Wuchale with Italy would be null and void as of 1 May 1894 (The Italians claimed that this made Ethiopia an Italian protectorate). The famine was on the wane, and Menilek was flexing his muscles. Then came war with Italy and on 11 October 1895, the royal family and the army left Addis Ababa. Taytu travelled with a household of about 100 women, including Princess Zewditu Menilek, her husband’s daughter by Weyziro Abechi.  Pietro Antonelli wrote, “Her Majesty… like all Ethiopian women, is very brave. She has a strong character – sometimes haughty – and is of an interesting appearance. Her features and colouring are like those of an Andalusian. Her look is commanding and at the same time, has finesse… In sum, she is a great lady, who perhaps in  another milieu would have been a Christina of Sweden or a Catherine the Great.” The ensuing battle of Amba Alage was a victory for him. During the battle of Adwa, Taytu was praised. “The goodness of Menilek made brave not only the men but even women and monks. At the battle of Adwa, Empress Taytu and the women with her deserve special praise, for the spent that day doing a task not usually that of women.”

(public domain)

They had won the war, and they were both in good health. When Menilek’s health began to deteriorate in 1906, Taytu became more politically involved. He had suffered a stroke, and his behaviour had become unpredictable. He suffered further strokes in 1907 and 1908. A fourth stroke left him temporarily partly paralysed and from then on Taytu began to monitor his visitors. She was with him constantly. However, her behaviour was criticised, and it was believed that she was taking advantage of her husband’s condition. By 1909, she was in control, but it did not last long. In the morning of 12 December 1913 Menilek died. Taytu left in the night with a small entourage to the hills above Addis Ababa.

Taytu spent her days praying and fasting. Lij Iyasu was designated as her husband’s successor, but he was never crowned. He was deposed in 1916, and Princess Zewditu was proclaimed Queen of Kings in a surprise move. She was to be Ethiopia’s only Empress regnant. Zewditu invited her stepmother to come live with her, but Taytu declined the offer. She asked to go to Gondar to live out her days, but this request was denied. Taytu followed her husband to the grave on 11 February 1918 after a short illness. The new Empress had a mausoleum built for her father and stepmother in Addis Ababa.1

 

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The Daughter of the Boar – Katherine Plantagenet

This is an article by Lauren Goodall.

On 29 February 1484, the earl of Huntingdon ‘set his signet’ on an indenture, promising to ‘take to wife Dame Katherine Plantagenet, daughter to our said sovereign lord’. This extant legal agreement is one of the only late-fifteenth-century documents to explicitly state that King Richard III, who ruled England between June 1483 and August 1485, had a daughter.

Unsurprisingly, very little is known about ‘Dame Katherine’; her birth and death dates cannot be found in any surviving Ricardian documents and, although she was recognised as the king’s bastard, her mother’s identity remains obscure. What the brief and infrequent references to Katherine which appear in the historical record do indicate is that her fortunes were inextricably linked with her father’s: she began life as a Duke’s bastard, lived her adolescence as a king’s daughter and went to the grave as a tyrant’s spawn.

In 1477, a woman named Katherine Haute was granted an annuity of £5 from the Duke of Gloucester’s East Anglian estates (Richard was created Duke of Gloucester in 1461). The establishment of this annual payment, along with Katherine’s connection to the Haute family, has led several historians to suggest that she was the mother of Richard’s illegitimate daughter. Katherine was married to James Haute whose mother, Joan, was a member of the infamous Woodville family. The Woodvilles had risen to prominence when Elizabeth Woodville, Joan’s niece (and James’ cousin), wed King Edward IV in a clandestine ceremony in 1464. It is therefore possible that, upon discovering he had fathered a child, Richard approached the queen (his sister-in-law) for help in arranging a marriage for the unwed mother. Elizabeth may then have quickly married Katherine off to her cousin while Richard established the £5 annuity to ensure his mistress and bastard daughter would be provided for. Of course, this is merely speculation based on circumstantial evidence; other scholars favour alternative candidates such as Alice Burgh (who received a £20 annuity from Richard in 1474) and Anne Harrington (who was at Hornby Castle in 1470 at the same time as the duke of Gloucester). Unfortunately, unless new evidence comes to light, it is likely that Katherine’s mother will remain anonymous to posterity.

A fact we can be more certain of is that once seated on the throne of England, Richard was able to arrange an advantageous marriage for his bastard daughter. In February 1484 William Herbert, Earl of Huntingdon, ‘promiseth and granteth’ to marry Katherine in return for ‘manors, lordships, lands and tenements… to the yearly value of 1000 marks’. It is likely that this was Herbert’s reward for his loyalty during the Duke of Buckingham’s rebellion; indeed, the Earl had already replaced Buckingham as Chief Justice of South Wales, and his betrothal to Katherine (or, more specifically, the promise of land that would more than double his annual income) would ensure his continued cooperation. A series of extant grants dating between March 1484 and March 1485 indicate that Katherine’s wedding had taken place within three months of her betrothal. The initial indenture had stipulated that the couple should be married before 29 September 1484 and had also laid out exactly when she and her husband would receive the ‘lordships, lands and tenements’ they were owed. Land worth 600 marks would be conveyed on them on the day of their wedding, but they would not receive the remaining lands until the death of Lord Thomas Stanley. In the meantime, Richard agreed to establish an annuity of 400 marks to make up the 1000-mark total he had promised. The annuity was granted on 3 March 1484 (only three days after the indenture was signed), the 400 marks were to be taken from the lordships of Newport, Brecknock and Hay.

By May, Katherine was being styled as the ‘wif’ of ‘William Erle of Huntingdon’, and the couple began receiving additional grants not mentioned in the indenture. The proceeds of various manors in Devon, Cornwall and Somerset were conveyed on ‘William Erle of Huntingdon and Kateryn his wif’ in the spring and, on 8 March 1485, a further grant for an annuity of £152 was made to Katherine and her husband. Richard’s generosity does not appear to have inspired much loyalty in his son-in-law. When the Earl of Richmond (the future Henry VII) landed in south Wales in August 1485 Herbert made no attempt to impede his progress into England and, two weeks later, when the battle raged on Bosworth Field, the Earl was nowhere to be seen. Despite his decision not to support Richard, William did not receive a formal pardon from the new King until 22 September 1485, and this delay may have had something to do with his marriage. Herbert is listed as one of the Earls in attendance at Elizabeth of York’s coronation on 25 November 1487 and, interestingly, he is described as a ‘widower’. It could be that, at some point between March 1485 and November 1487, Katherine had died (possibly during childbirth).

Alternatively, the repudiation of his marriage to Richard’s daughter may have been one of the conditions of Herbert’s pardon. Before his union with Katherine, the Earl had been married to Mary Woodville, but she had died in 1481. This means it is possible that Katherine was still alive at the time of Elizabeth’s coronation; indeed, had her husband repudiated their marriage, his status would be that of ‘widower’ because his only legally recognised spouse had died. Katherine’s grave may help shed further light on her status after her father’s death. The Countess was buried in the London church of St James Garlickhythe, which, along with its chantries and tombs, was destroyed in the Great Fire of 1666. Fortunately, a sixteenth-century herald named Thomas Benolt compiled a list of the people buried in the church before the fire and, interestingly, the manuscript contains a reference to ‘the countesse of huntyngdon ladie Herbert without a stone’. Benolt’s entry reveals that William Herbert neglected to provide his dead wife with a permanent monument and this, combined with the fact that, when the Earl died in 1491, he was buried alongside his first wife in Tintern Abbey, perhaps provides further evidence that he was made to repudiate his marriage to Katherine Plantagenet. However, it is also possible that this was not the case.

The fact that the Countess retained her title suggests that her marriage to Herbert continued to be legally recognised. Moreover, Worcester House in the parish of St James Garlickhythe was part of the Herbert inheritance. Katherine may, therefore, have been living in her husband’s London property when the sweating sickness swept through the city in 1485. She may have succumbed to the disease and been buried in the local church alongside a number of other nobles, including members of the Stanley family. Once again, this is merely speculation, the details of Katherine’s death, along with those of her birth, remain obscure. Given that she is not mentioned in the historical record after March 1485, she may have died before the Battle of Bosworth Field and been spared the news of her father’s death. Alternatively, Katherine may have lived for another year or two before contracting a fatal illness or dying in childbirth, having witnessed the downfall of the Yorkist dynasty.

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The Bonaparte Women: Elizabeth Patterson (Part three)

Read part one here.

Read part two here.

By 1824, Elizabeth returned to America to find her father did not want her in his house – he had moved a mistress in. She wanted nothing more than to return to Europe immediately but could not do so until the following year. This time, she would not return to America for nine years. In 1826, Jérôme, at last, showed in interested in his son and wanted to meet him. Elizabeth felt that she could not deny him that. He travelled to Italy where he was warmly welcomed by his stepmother Catherine.

The engagement between her son and Charlotte definitely wasn’t going to happen, and he had begun courting Susan May Williams without his mother’s knowledge. Elizabeth learned of the engagement on the day that the two were married. She reportedly told him, “You prefer to join the common herd, born to draw nutrition, propagate, and rot.” She wrote, “I had endeavoured to instil into him from the hour of his birth and connection ever to marry an American woman. I hated and loathed a residence in Baltimore so much that when I thought I was to spend my life there, I tried to screw my courage up to the point of committing suicide. My cowardice and only my cowardice prevent my exchanging Baltimore for the grave. I now repeat what I said in my last letter, that I would as soon have gone to Botany Bay as to have married any man in Baltimore.”

Elizabeth herself never remarried, but she did find love once more in the form of Prince Alexander Mikhailovich Gorchakov. She was 44 years old – he was 31. He wanted her to become his mistress, but Elizabeth refused him. She still guarded her honour carefully.

Elizabeth left Europe in 1834, and she found her father a feeble old man. She had also not seen her son since he left for America in 1825 to court Charlotte. He was a father himself now. In February 1835, her father died, and he did not leave her an equal share of his estate. He still condemned her conduct, even from the grave. She contested the will but was eventually forced to abandon her quest. By 1839, Elizabeth fled from her unhappy situation in America – back to Europe. However, she found no peace there. She returned to America and began spending her summers at Rockaway Beach and the winters in Baltimore.

In 1848, her son’s cousin Louis-Napoleon was elected France’s new president. Elizabeth did not want to return to France, but she did take the opportunity to travel to London. She returned to Baltimore in 1850 and watched the events in France carefully. In 1852, Louis-Napoleon declared the Second Empire and became Emperor Napoleon III. Elizabeth now focussed her ambitions on her grandson. He and his father went to Paris and received a warm welcome. On 24 June 1860, Jérôme Bonaparte died at the age of 76.

Elizabeth soon found herself caught up in the American civil war. She was weary of war and wrote, “I can tell you nothing of the politics of this unhappy country. I can only sigh over the fatality which impelled my blind fellow citizens to annihilate the prosperity of their once-promising greatness… by cutting the throats of each other.” Elizabeth outlived her only son as he died in 1870. Her grandson too took an American wife the following year – to Elizabeth’s disappointment. His new wife was a widow with three children and Elizabeth wrote to him that he made a marriage, “entirely beneath your position in the world & your name.” Although they eventually made peace, Elizabeth grew bitter in her final years.

Soon, she had outlived friends and foes alike. Shortly after Christmas 1878, she became bedridden. She died four months later on 4 April 1879. She had chosen not to be buried in the family plot. She wrote her own epitaph, “I have been alone in life, and I wish to be alone in death.” However, her family had the words, “after life’s fitful fever, she sleeps well,” written on her tombstone.1

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The Bonaparte Women: Elizabeth Patterson (Part two)

Read part one here.

Elizabeth was enthusiastically welcomed back in the Baltimore society, but her father had been left with her husband’s debts. He was – understandably – quite angry. Then the letters Jérôme had written, finally began to arrive. Elizabeth became optimistic once more, but as more letters came in, this waned somewhat. Jérôme began to blame her for their current situation. It became clear as well that Napoleon had arranged a new marriage for his brother. The new bride was Catharina of Württemberg. To avoid complications, Napoleon appealed to Pope Pius VII to annul his brother’s marriage. By October 1806, the marriage of Jérôme and Elizabeth was declared invalid. Jérôme could now be made a prince, and in 1807, he was made King of Westphalia. For Elizabeth, the annulment of her marriage was a huge blow.

Elizabeth and her three-year-old son now needed to rebuild their lives. She wanted to fight to have her son recognised as a full member of the French Imperial family. She often wrote to Napoleon, demanding recognition for him. She then began to worry that the Bonapartes might take her son away. Elizabeth finally began to receive a pension on which she could live comfortably, and she invested part of the money, making her even wealthier. She became an attractive marriage prospect once more, but as her marriage was technically still valid in Maryland, she did not seriously consider remarrying, for now at least. In 1812, Jérôme contacted her after a silence of three years. He urged her to be patient and promised that he would provide for her. Elizabeth ignored his empty promises and wanted to take charge. That same year, she filed for a divorce, and at the end of the year, their marriage was declared null and void. Jérôme could now no longer lay claim to her growing fortune. Just four months later, Napoleon was exiled for the first time.

Elizabeth made inquiries into whether it would be safe for her to travel to Europe, and in 1815, Elizabeth safely arrived in Liverpool without her son. She threw herself into the social life there, and she was often flooded with invitations. All the doors seemed open to her, but her father’s disapproval hung over her head. He wrote to her, “As for your letters, I am so ashamed of them that I do not dare show them to anybody.” He resorted to withdrawing his financial support. Her investments would not be enough to support her lifestyle, and she knew it. With a small windfall, she managed to travel to Paris because even if she had to leave Europe, she wanted to see Paris. She even received an invitation from the King, but she declined it. On 12 September 1817, Elizabeth finally faced the inevitable and sailed for New York.

She was soon planning her way back to Europe also because her now 14-year-old son needed a good education. She wanted to enrol him in a school in Geneva, and by May 1819, they were on their way to Europe, despite barely being able to afford it. Her son was denied a passport for France, and so they were forced to travel via The Netherlands and Germany to Switzerland. She sent her son to school and settled in a small apartment in Geneva where her son would spend the weekends with her. Her son was less than happy to be in Europe and wrote to his grandfather that he wanted to return to America as soon as possible.

Elizabeth was happy to find a pleasant social life in Geneva with many aristocratic friends from Paris now settled there. Napoleon’s family now lived in Italy, and when his mother Letizia and his sister Pauline learned that Elizabeth was in Geneva, they wanted to meet her. Elizabeth was reluctant to accept their invitation and wrote to Pauline that she did not wish to interrupt her son’s schooling. However, by 1821, she had changed her mind and set out for Rome with her son.

Letizia showered her grandson with gifts as did his aunt, Pauline. The family even suggested a marriage between her son and his cousin Charlotte. The offer delighted Elizabeth because it solidified his and by extent her place in the Bonaparte family. Realising that Jérôme would never provide for his son, Pauline and Letizia offered to provide him with whatever funds he needed. Her son returned to America, where his proposed bride lived with her father, but no news of an engagement arrived in Rome. When the family then began to turn on her, Elizabeth returned to Geneva. She began to divide her time between Geneva, Florence, Paris and the French coast. It was in Florence that she ran into her former husband by chance. They saw each other at a gallery at the Pitti Palace where Jérôme also was with Catherine. They didn’t speak, although Jérôme remarked, “Did you see? That was my American wife.”1

Part three coming soon.

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The Bonaparte Women: Elizabeth Patterson (Part one)

Elizabeth Spear Patterson was born on 6 February 1785 as the daughter of Dorcas Spear and William Patterson. Her parents’ marriage was unhappy, and even as her mother lay dying in 1814, her father brought his mistress to the house. Elizabeth was joined in the nursery by William, Robert, John, Joseph, Edward, Margaret, George, Caroline and Henry.

At the age of 10, Elizabeth was enrolled in Madame Lacomb’s school, where she learned French and enabled her to mingle with the French royalist refugees. She became close friends with Henrietta Pascault, the daughter of the Marquis de Poleon. Elizabeth carried little for the American society she had been born in. At the age of 17, Elizabeth was praised for her beauty and intelligence. In 1803, Elizabeth met Jérôme Bonaparte, a younger brother of Napoleon Bonaparte. Accounts of their first meeting vary and are all equally romantic. Elizabeth soon declared to her father, “I would rather be the wife of Jérôme Bonaparte for an hour than the wife of any other man for a lifetime.”

Her father was not impressed by her declaration, and he refused to give his blessing. Jérôme went to ask for Elizabeth’s hand in marriage in person, but once more, William refused. Jérôme then sent an emissary who also pleaded with William. He too was refused. Jérôme began to visit the Patterson household often, but by September Jérôme decided to leave Baltimore to give William more time to think. When Jérôme came back, he was done waiting and acquired a marriage license. When Elizabeth’s maternal family rallied for her cause, William realised he would not win and reluctantly agreed to the match, though he did see to it that a prenuptial agreement was made up. He still had his doubts.

Jérôme assured his father-in-law that he was 21 and a new law in France stated that no marriage was valid without parental consent if the groom was under 25. The wedding was supposed to take place in the United States, where no parental consent was required after the age of 21. Still, William feared that when the couple arrived in France, the Bonapartes would challenge the validity of the marriage. Elizabeth was also blissfully unaware of Jérôme’s womanising ways. Despite all of this, the wedding was rescheduled for Christmas Eve 1803. Jérôme wore a coat of purple satin, embroidered with gold while Elizabeth wore a simple muslin gown decorated with lace and pearls. But it turned out that Jérôme was still only 19 years old.

For now, the newlyweds were oblivious. The wedding was announced in newspapers in Boston, New York, Baltimore and Richmond. They decided to move to Washington, where they became quite the celebrities, not in the least because of Elizabeth’s daring way of dress. Elizabeth wore the latest French fashions, but in Washington, these were still considered scandalous. One man who attended a ball with Elizabeth later wrote a poem about her scandalous ways.

Well! What of Madame Bonaparte

Why she’s a little whore at heart

Her lustful looks her wanton air

Her limbs revealed her bosom bare

Shows her ill suited for the life

of a Columbian’s modest wife

When the news of Jérôme’s American wife reached Napoleon, he was not amused. It was pretty clear to him that the marriage was in no way valid, not in America and not in France. Jérôme learned of this in April but hoped that his brother would relent. He wanted to sail to France and introduce Elizabeth to his family, she would charm Napoleon, and everything would be okay. However, Elizabeth was not allowed to board any French ships, and the summer passed. Jérôme then decided to go separately, with him on a French ship and Elizabeth on an American one. However, Elizabeth’s ship was destroyed by a storm, and they would not try again for a while. By May 1804, Napoleon had declared himself Emperor, but Jérôme was not given any titles.

In March 1805, Elizabeth’s father chartered a ship to take Jérôme and Elizabeth to France, and by then Elizabeth was six months pregnant. On 2 April, they reached Lisbon, but they were not allowed to travel any further. Napoleon even wrote to them that he would pay off Elizabeth if she went away quietly. She retorted, “Tell your master I shall never relinquish a name he has made so famous… Tell him that Madame Bonaparte is ambitious and demands her rights as a member of the imperial family.” Jérôme was ordered to come to Napoleon, and he left Elizabeth behind. She would not see him again until several decades later.

Elizabeth travelled on to The Netherlands where she hoped Napoleon’s ban would not be valid. However, she realised she was not welcome when a warship fired a warning shot at them. They were eventually forced to go to England, but before she had even arrived, her husband had given in to his brother’s demands to let her go. Elizabeth disembarked at Dover on 19 May, and she travelled to Camberwell where she gave birth to a boy named for her husband on 7 July. Elizabeth had no idea what was going on with her husband as his letters had missed her, and she had no idea how to contact him. Jérôme wrote several letters to her, but none arrived. Elizabeth soon believed herself to be abandoned, and she made plans to return to Baltimore. Just as she was preparing to leave, several boxes containing dresses and gold pieces arrived from Jérôme. But still, no letter. On 14 November 1805, Elizabeth returned home with her infant son and her brother Robert.1

Part two coming soon.

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Bad Berleburg Cemetery – The Princely Family of Sayn-Wittgenstein-Berleburg

Bad Berleburg Cemetery houses the graves of the princely family of Sayn-Wittgenstein-Berleburg, who have made their home in the nearby Bad Berleburg Castle. The latest burial is that of Richard, 6th Prince of Sayn-Wittgenstein-Berleburg in 2017 and his grave remains unmarked for now.

Click to view slideshow.

The princely family lies in the corner of the cemetery and is separated from the regular cemetery by a fence. It actually took the help of several friendly inhabitants of the town to help us find it. Unfortunately, there is very little information on the family available. Richard, 6th Prince of Sayn-Wittgenstein-Berleburg was married to Princess Benedikte of Denmark, the sister of Queen Margrethe II of Denmark, and their son is now Gustav, 7th Prince of Sayn-Wittgenstein-Berleburg. Princess Benedikte, her son, his partner and Benedikte’s daughter Nathalie still live in Bad Berleburg Castle.

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Clara Ward – The Cash for Class Princess (Part two)

Read part one here.

Last time we heard the tale of how the young and beautiful American heiress Clara Ward became a European princess by marrying Prince Joseph of Caraman-Chimay. The couple had two children and spent six years together before Clara, who was famous for her rebellious streak, took off with a gypsy violinist called Rigó Jancsi. Today we will carry on with Clara’s tale.

When news broke about Clara and her lover eloping together, Prince Joseph secured a divorce easily due to Clara’s reputation. Clara refused to attend the divorce hearings and lost custody of her children, though she was obliged to pay child support to Joseph. Clara did not seem to care about all that she had lost and said: “I am done with it all; I wanted to be free”. She said of aristocratic society, “It does not want me, and I do not want it”. Of course, the press went wild for this story, a Princess leaving her husband for an illiterate, impoverished fiddler was just the scandal needed to sell papers. The press followed Clara and her lover Rigo all over, reporting on what they got up to and where they were; from visiting Rigo’s mother, to living for a time in Egpyt.

(public domain)

Clara loved all of the attention, and while living in Paris, she would smoke in the streets or ride around on a bike in her bloomers. She then even began to perform at the Moulin Rouge and other theatres to bring in some money. Clara would stand on stage wearing skin-tight body-stockings which caused an uproar. This was nothing new for Paris at the time, but people could not cope with the idea of a former Princess parading herself around half-naked on stage with her lover. One show was even cancelled when the audience were planning to throw rotten food at Clara. Clara caused such scandal around Europe that Kaiser Wilhelm II banned the sales of her pictures and people even went to prison for selling them but, of course, the public loved the scandal, and in Budapest, a famous cake was even named after Rigo Jancsi!

Clara married Rigó Jancsi in 1898 once the divorce from his first marriage came through and the pair spent their time travelling everywhere they could; Rigó would play his violin and Clara would perform on stage as they travelled. The couple was madly in love with each other, and Clara loved to spend all of her inherited money showering her new husband with expensive gifts. She bought him new violins and jewels, paid for all of their travel expenses which often involved building a new palace wherever they were living at the time. Clara also purchased some more unusual gifts for Rigó, including buying the whole mountain which his mother’s house sat on in Hungary and buying him a zoo filled with animals!

After a few years, Clara and Rigó’s relationship began to fray at the edges, and they were often spotted having blazing arguments in hotels. Clara’s mother Catherine had heard the reports of how much money Clara was wasting on silly things, and so she tried to bring her daughter into line. Catherine had Clara’s money transferred into her uncle’s name, and her uncle was then in charge of giving Clara a yearly allowance of around $2 million in modern money. A large amount of this sum had to be sent to Prince Joseph for the upkeep of her children. Unfortunately, the scheme did not stop Clara from spending money, and it just made her rack up huge debts which her uncle then had to help her clear.

By 1904, Clara and Rigó had divorced. Despite spending around $20 million on anything and everything that her husband wanted, it was not enough, and their marriage came to a bitter end after eight years as a couple. Before the papers had finished reporting the break-up of Rigó and Clara, Clara had found another love interest.

It is believed that Clara met Giuseppe Ricciardi on a train where he was working as a baggage handler or a waiter, but details on him are sparse. We do know that Giuseppe was very handsome and that the couple were married in 1904, but like the two marriages before, this one lasted just over six years and the pair were divorced in 1911. Ricciardi apparently sought a divorce because Clara was having a fling with the butler.

After her third divorce, Clara announced that she would get married again as she was unhappy when alone. She stuck to this and was married a final time to a man named Signor Cassalota. This marriage was kept out of the press, and even Clara’s family knew nothing about her fourth husband, so very little is known about him.

Clara’s relatives first heard of husband number four when he sent a telegram to them to inform them that Clara had died of pneumonia in Italy at the age of just 43. The couple had been married for five years by the time Clara passed away in 1916.

Clara’s will had been made when she was married to Giuseppe Ricciardi and was not updated during her fourth marriage. Clara’s estate was divided between her third husband, an American cousin and her two children after her death; her fourth husband was left with nothing as he was not named in the will.

A newspaper in Detroit wrote of Clara Ward: “She died an outcast, an old woman of 43 years, just when she should have been in her prime.”

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