Moniek Bloks's Blog, page 220

Maria Fortunata d’Este – The last princess of Conti

Maria was born on the 24th of November 1731 at the home of her family; the Ducal Palace of Modena in modern day Italy. She was the eighth child born to her parents and was later joined by two more siblings.

Maria’s mother was Charlotte Aglaé d’Orléans who was the granddaughter of both King Louis XIV of France and his brother Philippe I, Duke of Orléans and so was of high rank at the French court. Charlotte Aglaé was married to Francesco III d’Este against her will, she had wished to marry somebody else but her father was Regent of France at the time, and she had to do as he wished to create alliances for the family. The couple did not get on well with each other, despite having ten children together, and they both had extra-marital relationships. Even when Francesco became the ruling Duke, his wife Charlotte moved around between France and Modena. She was often involved in some scandal or other and fled back to Versailles where she was not often welcomed by her family. She found life in Modena very rigid and dull and spent her time there introducing new entertainments and patronising the arts. Due to her parent’s tumultuous relationship, Maria Fortunata saw little of them when she was growing up.

In the 1740s, Maria’s mother split from her father and was exiled to France. Despite her disgrace, she was able to arrange a very advantageous marriage for her eldest daughter Maria Teresa Felicitas to the Duc d’Penthièvre who was the wealthiest man in France. This meant that when it came time to arrange a marriage for Maria Fortunata, a good match could also be found.

It was arranged for Maria to marry her cousin Louis François Joseph de Bourbon. Maria and Louis’ mothers were sisters. Louis was part of the Conti cadet branch of the House of Bourbon; he was known as the Comte de La Marche from birth and was due to inherit the title of Prince of Conti upon his father’s death. While the title was honorary, it meant that Maria and her husband would rank amongst the Prince and Princesses of the blood, this ranking was the highest outside of the immediate royal family.

The wedding took place at first by proxy in Turin and then was celebrated in person on the 27th of February 1759 in Nangis-en-Brie in France. Maria’s father, by this point the Duke of Modena and Reggio, provided a dowry of a million livres for his daughter. Despite being set up for success, the couple did not get along and scarcely lived together. Louis preferred the company of his mistress, an Italian dancer known as Mademoiselle Coraline with whom he had two children. Maria and Louis, on the other hand, had no children together.

Despite the poor relationship between her and her husband, Maria was a key member of the French court during this period and was always present at important events, for example, she was a member of the tiny party gathered for a meal to celebrate the marriage of the future King Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette in 1770.

In 1776, Louis and Maria became the Prince and Princess of Conti after the death of Louis’ father. By this stage, the quiet, pious Maria began to keep herself busy with her own small circle of friends which included her nieces the future Duchess of Orléans and the Princess of Lamballe rather than keeping the company of the queen and her inner circle.

In 1777, Maria and Louis separated, they had lived apart for a while, but this is when things ended officially. Following this Maria lived a quiet life in her own properties until the Estates General met in 1789 and France was plunged into Revolution, throwing the lives of swathes of people including Maria into turmoil.

Whereas some members of her family had turned to support the revolutionaries, Maria Fortunata pledged her support to the royal family and even joined in with marches to show her support. It soon became clear that supporting the royal family had led to Maria’s life to being in danger, even at nearly sixty years old, she would not be safe from the ensuing reign of Terror. Maria decided to flee France into a life of exile under the name Comtesse de Triel to hide her identity. She fled first to Brussels and then to Sardinia in 1791 before going on to Switzerland where other émigrés had already fled.

In 1794, an ageing Maria allowed her great-niece Adélaïde d’Orléans to move in with her. The Princesses father had sympathised with the revolutionary effort and even changed his name from Duke of Orléans to Philippe Égalité but was still guillotined in the Terror. Adélaïde’s mother Louise was also in prison at this time, and so she relied on her great-aunt to keep her safe. The pair moved around to avoid Napoleon’s forces, spending time in Bavaria, Hungary and Barcelona. In 1801, Adélaïde was reunited with her mother, who was finally released from prison.

After over a decade of life on the run from place to place under exile, Maria Fortunata began to feel herself ageing and unable to continue living the same lifestyle. She made the decision to retire to a convent and chose the Convent of the Visitation in Venice where she lived from 1801 until 1803 when she died. The 71-year-old Princess died from pleurisy and was buried in the chapel of the convent.

In 1830, Maria’s great-nephew Louis, the son of her niece Louise Marie Adélaïde de Bourbon became King of the French and would reign as the last French King before the proclamation of the Second Republic in 1848.

The post Maria Fortunata d’Este – The last princess of Conti appeared first on History of Royal Women.

Queen Elizabeth II – The 60s and 70s (Part three)

Read part one here.

Read part two here.

After a six-year hiatus, Elizabeth wanted more children. She fell pregnant again in 1959 and gave birth to a second son named Andrew on 19 February 1960. Shortly before the birth, Elizabeth wanted to revisit the issue of the family’s name that had been irritating The Duke of Edinburgh. In 1952 it had been decided to use Windsor instead of her husband’s family name of Mountbatten. Elizabeth desperately wanted to please her husband and had set her heart on making the change for Philip’s sake. Eventually, it was decided that the grandchildren who lacked the designation of “Royal Highness” would adopt the surname “Mountbatten-Windsor.” It was apparently “a great load off her mind” when the issue was finally settled.

Barely a week after Andrew’s birth, Elizabeth’s sister Margaret announced her engagement to photographer Antony Armstrong-Jones. Elizabeth had wanted her sister to be happy – especially after the situation with Peter Townsend. Elizabeth provided for the couple and offered Antony an earldom, which he initially refused but later accepted. By October 1963, Elizabeth was once again pregnant – by then four months. Charles was already off to Gordonstoun while Anne was at boarding school at Benenden. On 10 March 1964, she gave birth to a third son named Edward. She remained out of the public eye until May but kept up her work behind the scenes.

Embed from Getty Images

By the middle of the 1960s, anti-monarchist feelings were on the rise and the family was accused of being out of touch and pompous. Elizabeth continued to keep track of the newspapers and held steadfast throughout all the social changes of the decade. She faced yet another of criticism when an avalanche of mud and debris came down on an elementary in Aberfan – killing 116 children and 28 adults. Elizabeth refused to visit the scene, saying “People will be looking after me, perhaps they will miss some poor child that might have been found under the wreckage.” To the public – who never heard her comments – she appeared cold. Finally, after the last bodies were recovered, Elizabeth and Philip visit the site. At the end of the decade, the family appeared in a film documenting their lives. Viewers were captivated.

Embed from Getty Images

On 1 July 1969, Charles was officially invested as Prince of Wales at Caernarvon Castle in Wales, and this too was televised. He later said, “By far the most moving and meaningful moment came when I put my hands between Mummy’s and swore to be her liege man of life and limb and to live and die against all manner of folks.” It was estimated that over 500 million people watched the ceremony. Both Charles and Anne were now being introduced to their royal duties.

At the age of 45 – in 1971 – Elizabeth caught the “ridiculous disease” of chicken pox and stayed out of the public eye. It was a rare moment of ill health for the robust Elizabeth. Once better, she stepped up her international travels and this third decade of her reign saw her make 15 commonwealth trips, including six long tours of Pacific countries. In May 1972, Elizabeth’s uncle The Duke of Windsor died in France. His widow, the Duchess of Windsor, was allowed to stay at Buckingham Palace as his body returned home to be buried at Frogmore. The following year, Anne announced her engagement to Mark Philips – an army captain. He was considered to be suitable enough, and they were married on 14 November at Westminster Abbey. In March the following year, Anne and Mark were victims of a kidnap attempt with Anne shouting, “Not bloody likely!” as she was ordered to leave the car. Her bodyguard was injured, but Anne and Mark were unharmed.

On 21 April 1976, Elizabeth celebrated her 50th birthday. The following year, she celebrated 25 years on the throne – her Silver Jubilee. During her Christmas message, she said, “Next year is a rather special one for me. The gift I would most value… is that reconciliation should be found wherever it is needed.” She spent the weekend quietly at Windsor – not wishing to celebrate the moment her father died. Four days later, she departed for the first of two overseas jubilee tours. On 15 November 1977, she became a grandmother for the first time when Anne gave birth to a son named Peter. He was born without a title. His sister Zara was born in 1981.

Embed from Getty Images

The 70s ended with the rise of Margaret Thatcher as Prime Minister but also a terrible tragedy for the family. On 27 August 1979, a fishing boat carrying six members of their family and a local boy was blown up by an IRA bomb. The Duke of Edinburgh’s uncle Louis Mountbatten, 1st Earl Mountbatten of Burma, Doreen Knatchbull, Dowager Lady Brabourne (the mother-in-law of Louis’ daughter Patricia), Nicholas Knatchbull (Patricia’s son) and Paul Maxwell (the local boy) were all killed. Patricia, her husband John and their other son Timothy were critically injured. Prince Charles later wrote of Louis, “Life will never be the same now that he has gone.” He found consolation with Camilla Parker-Bowles, who he had known for a long time and who was by now married and had two children.

Part four coming soon.

 

The post Queen Elizabeth II – The 60s and 70s (Part three) appeared first on History of Royal Women.

Krystyna Rokiczana – One king’s lover, another king’s spy

One of the most scandalous royal marriages in history was that of Casimir III of Poland, and his third wife, Krystyna (Christina) Rokiczana.  In fact, Casimir married her when he was still officially married to his second wife.  Also, Krystyna was a commoner.  These reasons caused this marriage to be a great scandal.

Krystyna, the Townswoman

There are few records that mention Krystyna before she met Casimir.  She is first mentioned in 1343, as the wife of Miklusz Rokiczan, a wealthy and influential councilman in Prague.  The year of her birth, parentage, and maiden name are not known.  Some later sources guessed that she was a daughter of a mayor of Prague.  Since she was married by 1343, it is estimated that she was born before 1329.  It is not known if Krystyna had any children by Miklusz.  In 1351, Miklusz’s adult son, also named Miklusz appears in the sources.  If Krystyna was his mother, she would have been over forty years old when she married Casimir in 1356.  This is possible but unlikely.  Probably Miklusz’s son was born from an unnamed first wife.  Krystyna was widowed around 1346 and inherited a large fortune from her husband.  She was even richer than some nobles.

At the court of the Emperor 

The Rokiczan family was not noble, but since the mid 13th century, they were one of the richest and most powerful families in Prague.  In 1336, Miklusz Rokiczan lent money to John of Luxembourg, King of Bohemia.  It seems that Miklusz was a trusted servant and adviser of John, and his son and successor, Charles.  Charles became King of Bohemia in 1346, and he was elected Holy Roman Emperor in 1355.  Due to Miklusz’s relationship with Charles, it is no surprise that his wife, Krystyna, found royal favour too.  She soon became a lady-in-waiting at Charles’ court.

Emperor Charles IV had a complicated relationship with his neighbouring ruler, Casimir III, King of Poland.  Over the years, alliances between them were made and broken.  When Casimir visited Prague in 1356, Charles himself quite possibly picked Krystyna to help in his intrigues against the Polish king.  Krystyna was apparently both beautiful and intelligent, and Charles quite possibly believed that she could charm Casimir onto his side for good.  Also, Charles would have known that Casimir had a liking for beautiful women.

Back in 1341, an agreement was made between the two monarchs.  This agreement concluded that Charles had control to pick a wife for Casimir.  He first planned on Casimir to marry his sister, Margaret.  However, she died before the wedding, so Charles and his father instead settled on Adelaide of Hesse.  By 1356, the childless marriage of Casimir and Adelaide had fallen apart, and Adelaide had been banished from court since 1355.

The Emperor’s plans for Krystyna worked.  When Casimir visited his court in Prague in May 1356, Krystyna caught his eye.  She possibly became the Polish king’s mistress soon afterwards.  Possibly at Charles’ suggestion, Casimir and Krystyna were quickly engaged, even though he was still officially married to Adelaide.  Soon afterwards, Casimir returned to Poland, taking Krystyna with him.

Queen in all but name 

It is believed that Casimir and Krystyna married in the fall of 1356.  According to chronicler Jan Dlugosz, Krystyna knew that Casimir was still legally married to Adelaide, but still wanted to be Casimir’s legal wife, and refused to live with him if she was not.  Dlugosz goes on to say that Casimir convinced her that the marriage to Adelaide was annulled and that a bishop could now marry them.  Casimir had an abbot dress in bishop robes and perform the ceremony.  Krystyna was tricked into believing that this man was the Bishop of Krakow.

Because of her lack of blue blood, Krystyna was never formally recognized as Queen of Poland.  She was never crowned, and if she and Casimir had any children, they could not inherit the crown of Poland.  Little is known about Krystyna’s activities during her marriage to Casimir.  However, one letter from her to the Emperor remains.  On 16 July 1357, Krystyna wrote to Charles expressing that he can trust her, and promising to influence Casimir.  She also promised to obey the Emperor and act in accordance with the interests of his family.  Krystyna referred to herself as Queen of Poland in this letter.

The End of an Illegal Marriage 

It is not known how long Casimir considered Krystyna to be his wife, but the relationship appears to have lasted for several years.  It appears to have ended by 1362, because at that time, Casimir was considering a new marriage.  It is even not known exactly what caused the relationship to end.  Possibly Casimir tired of Krystyna or found out about her correspondence with the Emperor.  There are also some colourful tales that speak of Krystyna’s fall from grace.

In 1357, Casimir had a small castle built for Krystyna in Lobzow, an area of Krakow.  This could have either been the king’s expression of love for Krystyna, or a place of seclusion, because of her correspondence with Charles.  One legend speaks of a peasant’s hut blocking the view of the royal castle of Wawel from Lobzow.  Krystyna, unable to bribe the hut’s inhabitants, burned it down.  The legend continues to say that when Casimir found out about this, he expelled Krystyna from Poland.

A more likely tale, recorded by Jan Dlugosz, says that Krystyna was suffering from scabies and had become bald.  When Casimir discovered this, he dismissed her.  Whatever the truth, the marriage of Casimir and Krystyna was short-lived and childless.  In 1362, Casimir was considering a new marriage, and in 1365, he married his fourth wife, Hedwig of Zagan.  Krystyna was still alive and apparently still living in Krakow in 1365, based on the pope’s investigation on behalf of Adelaide of Hesse, who was still fighting for her marital rights.  This is the last mention of Krystyna; she may have returned to Prague soon after.

Krystyna was a woman of non-noble birth, who managed to captivate a king.  Her story was no great love story, however.  She may have become Casimir’s mistress, but it does not mean that they were in love.  Casimir probably married her on the suggestion of the emperor, who Krystyna remained loyal to.  This scandalous romance did not end well either.  It is believed that during Casimir’s marriage to Krystyna, he had a favourite mistress- a Jewish woman named Esterka.

Krystyna was soon mostly forgotten by history, and her marriage is not seen as an accomplishment in climbing the social ladder.  It did not last long, and from all the money that she had, she could still not be crowned as a queen.  She seems to be one of the least known women of non-noble origin who married into royalty.  Krystyna’s story has been brought to attention lately in Poland; she is a character in the Polish television series Korona Krolow (Crown of Kings), which dramatizes the life and reign of Casimir III.  This show is not available in English, but hopefully it one day will be, so more will get to know the story of the townswoman who influenced two kings.1

The post Krystyna Rokiczana – One king’s lover, another king’s spy appeared first on History of Royal Women.

Stéphanie of Belgium – The would-be Empress of Austria (Part three)

Stéphanie awoke on 30 January 1889 to a gloomy winter day. She had a singing lesson as was usual, but she felt anxious. The lesson was interrupted by her chief lady-in-waiting, who privately gave her the bad news from Mayerling. Stéphanie immediately realised what happened and sobbed, “He is dead!” Not much later, she was summoned by the Emperor and Empress. They questioned her, but Stéphanie had no answers for them. It was the Empress who told her the full story. Rudolf had been found in the early hours of the morning with his brains blown out with the body of Mary Vetsera by his side. They also handed her the Crown Prince’s farewell letters which reads, “Dear Stéphanie, You are freed henceforward from the torment of my presence. Be happy, in your own way. Be good to the poor little girl who is the only thing I leave behind. Give my last greetings to all my acquaintances, especially to Bombelles, Spindler, Latour, Nowo, Gisela, Leopold, etc. etc. I face death calmly; death alone can save my good name. With warmest love, your affectionate Rudolf.”

(public domain)

Stéphanie was angry and indignant. She wrote, “True, death had relieved me from conjugal life which was full of anxieties, cares, and sorrows – but at what cost! My own future and that of the country, for which I had endured so much unfailing patience, seemed to have been shattered. Nothing remained but a burning wound in my heart. My hopes, the meaning of life, had been pitilessly destroyed. Long did it go on burning, this wound, like the bite of a venomous serpent. Nothing could close it, nothing could heal it; and I did not begin to feel relief until I found myself able, in all humility, to accept it as the will of God.”

Stéphanie’s despair was only alleviated somewhat by the arrival of her parents, and they remained for the funeral. Her young daughter was a great comfort to her. Stéphanie took her to Miramar, where she was joined by her mother and sisters. They spent four months there, and Stéphanie spent much time wondering how it had all come to this. The Empress and Emperor blamed Stéphanie for Rudolf’s death but she received a heartfelt letter from Queen Elizabeth of Romania, who wrote, “My dearest Stéphanie, My thoughts turn to your almost hourly in your solitude, and the words of your wonderful letter are chiselled deep into my heart. This letter of yours, in its devastating simplicity, made me shed warm tears, for it discloses the intensity of your suffering. Cease to torment yourself with thoughts whether you might have done this or that otherwise, and so averted the disaster – for nothing could have averted it. The poor man, for all his glorious heritage, bore the seeds of doom within him in the form of his disastrous qualities; to say nothing of the close kinship between his parents, which robbed him of the power that might have enabled him to fight the demon who destroyed him. I think that he saw himself, being a man of outstanding intelligence, saw the approach of destruction, and despairingly flung himself into the abyss, hastily seizing all life could give him before the night came. I remember some expressions used by him at Sinaia, which showed utter hopelessness, a lack of confidence in the future, but a determination to enjoy before it was too late. I was already most anxious and sad about him, while as for you, you seemed to me like a child, inexperienced and helpless, delivered over to your hard fate. Since then, alas, you have become a woman, have drained the chalice to the dregs and your life lies before you shattered to fragments. But you were vouchsafed great strength of will, as manifested in your handwriting and in your every word. You remain the widow of a notable man, the sustainer of his spark of genius, the protectress of his child, whom you must equip with your own strength of will and with great insight, though one can hardly suppose that she will have an easy life of it. For what princess has an easy life? Do not be bitter against those who now fail to understand you. They will do so in twenty years to come and will fancy that they always understood and loved you because you understand them and are kind to them and allow them to understand you as much as is good for them. You must understand and console like a saint, self-forgetful and pure. You cruel fate summons you to unheard-of deads, to tranquil joys which can no longer perturb you because they blossom in a heart from which other blooms have been plucked by suffering. Oh, child, child! How I wish I could clasp you to my heart and let you weep unrestrainedly so that the rigidity of despair should soften to a gentle melancholy. Still, you are perhaps better alone, fighting your own fight without aid, like a hero. I would fain send you rivers of love, and merely whisper: ‘I know, I know! I, too, have suffered more than anyone dreams!’ Your Elizabeth.”

Stéphanie was not allowed to accept Elizabeth’s invitation to join her at Pelesch. Stéphanie was assigned Laxenburg as dower-house, and she was granted the title of Crown Princess Dowager. She soon resumed her relationship with Count Artur Potocki and lived mainly at Laxenburg and Miramar. She had lost her position, which was perhaps what she resented the most, but she was still entirely financially dependent on the Emperor. Her daughter was used a pawn, and the Emperor refused to let Elisabeth out of the country, for example, to visit relatives in Belgium. Count Artur Potocki died of cancer in 1890 and Stéphanie wrote to her sister, “I have lost my best friend, a man I valued so highly and loved so much.” By 1900, she had done the unthinkable and had fallen in love with a Hungarian Count named Elemér Lónyay de Nagy-Lónya et Vásáros-Namény, and they married on 22 March 1900. The Emperor considered a further insult to Rudolf’s memory and was horrified. He stripped her of her titles of Crown Princess Dowager, and Archduchess of Austria and Stéphanie and her new husband withdrew from public life – choosing to live quietly at Schloss Oroszvár in Slovakia. Her daughter – now 16 years old – cut off her mother completely.

When the Emperor finally died in 1916, he was succeeded by his great-nephew Emperor Charles I, who was more friendly towards Stéphanie. In 1917, he raised Stéphanie’s husband to the rank of a hereditary prince, but the empire collapsed just one year later. The new Emperor was driven into exile, and Stéphanie lost her annual stipend and thus also her comfortable lifestyle. By 1921, she was so bereft of funds that she opened in a cinema in Budapest. She remained estranged from her daughter. In 1935, Stéphanie published her memoirs which were translated into English the following year. Her daughter Elisabeth managed to have it banned in Austria and Stéphanie then cut Elisabeth completely out of her will. Stéphanie and her husband were still in Slovakia when the Second World War broke out. They managed to remain there until the advance of the Soviet army forced them to flee in 1945. They found refuge in the Benedictine Abbey of Pannonhalma in Hungary where Stéphanie died on 23 August 1945. Her husband died the following year, and they are both buried in Pannonhalma.1

The post Stéphanie of Belgium – The would-be Empress of Austria (Part three) appeared first on History of Royal Women.

The Coronation of Queen Elizabeth II

On 2 June 1953, a new Queen was crowned at Westminster Abbey. For weeks, Elizabeth had studied every part of the three-hour service. She met the Archbishop of Canterbury several times who also gave her prayer to say. Every day, she practised her lines with sheets stitched to her shoulders to simulate the weight of the robes.

Embed from Getty Images

On the day itself, an estimated one million people poured into the streets of London to witness the pageantry go by. The parade began at 9 a.m and had 29 bands, 27 carriages and 13,000 soldiers. Elizabeth travelled to Westminster Abbey in the Gold State Coach pulled by eight grey horses. She wore a coronation gown of white satin with short sleeves and a heart-shaped neckline. It was adorned with symbols of Great Britain and the Commonwealth. The maids of honour were dressed in identical white satin dresses with pearl embroidery. When one of the Queen’s attendants asked if she was nervous, Elizabeth answered, “Of course I am, but I really do think Aureole will win.” She was referring to her horse running in the Derby four days later.

Embed from Getty Images

As the young Queen approached the high altar, the Boys Choir of Westminster School sang out, “Vivat Regine Elizabetha! Vivat! Vivat! Vivat!” Elizabeth sat in three different places during the ceremony. She stood by King Edward’s Chair as the Archbishop began the “recognition” and presented her to the 7,500 guests seated in the four sides of the Abbey. Each quadrant cried, “God save the Queen!” after which Elizabeth gave a slight neck bow and a slow hard curtsey. After swearing the coronation oath, the spiritual part of the ceremony took place. In front of the Chair of Estate, her maids of honour removed the crimson robe, her gloves, jewellery and diadem. She was helped into her Colobium Sindonis, a simple white linen dress that fitted over her gown. Four Knights of the Garter held a canopy of woven silk and gold over King Edward’s Chair as Elizabeth awaited her anointing – the only part that was not televised.

Embed from Getty Images

The Archbishop poured holy oil from a 22-karat gold ampulla in the form of an eagle into a silver-gilt anointing spoon. He made the sign of the cross on the palms of each of her hands, her forehead and upper chest. She was then invested with the coronation robes of stiff woven gold cloth. She was presented with her regalia, and a ruby and sapphire coronation ring was placed on the fourth finger of her right hand. Still seated in King Edward’s Chair, the Archbishop placed St. Edward’s Crown firmly on her head. Simultaneously, the robes peers and peeresses also placed their coronets onto their heads. The entire congregation shouted, “God save the Queen!”

Embed from Getty Images

She was still holding the sceptres as she ascended the platform to sit on her throne and to receive homage from her “princes and peers.” The first was the Archbishop, following by the Duke of Edinburgh who said, “I, Philip, do become your liege man of life and limb, and of earthly worship; and faith and truth I will bear unto you, to live and die, against all manner of folks. So help me God.” After the homage, the congregation celebrated Holy Communion and Elizabeth was finally fitted with a new robe and a lighter crown. Meanwhile, the Archbishop offered the Queen and her maids a sip from a flask of brandy as a pick-me-up before the processional. Elizabeth then walked – still holding the orb and sceptre – through the Nave of the Abbey to the Annex where she and her attendants had a luncheon of Coronation Chicken. Afterwards, she and Philip settled back into the Gold State Coach for a two-hour long progress through London – by then it had begun to rain. When she returned to Buckingham Palace, she was chilled from the drafty carriage. She was elated and said, “Oh that was marvellous. Nothing went wrong!” She was finally able to take off the crown, which Prince Charles attempted to put on his head before toppling over.

Canon John Andrew later said, “the real significance of the coronation for her was the anointing, not the crowning. She was consecrated, and that makes her Queen. It is the most solemn thing that has ever happened in her life. She cannot abdicate. She is there until death.”1

The post The Coronation of Queen Elizabeth II appeared first on History of Royal Women.

From Queen Victoria to the German Crown Princess – 2 June 1873

Princess Alice’s son Friedrich, who had haemophilia, died after falling from a window. He was not even three years old. 

Balmoral – 2 June 1873

And now comes the dreadful calamity at Darmstadt which will so deeply move you. How awful! How dreadful! Only God was very merciful in taking the little darling so painlessly and peacefully. But oh! The dreadful shock and recollection of it! I think it is merciful that no unhappy nurse or other person was to blame as that would have added to the misery. But I think little children, unless you are doing nothing and can be constantly watching them. I know how alarmed I always was about windows and fire. And I have always lived in dread of something happening to Alix’s1 children as she used to have and has all five children together in the room – even when the youngest could hardly walk – without any nurse – writing herself – and not hearing! It is so dangerous.2

 

 

 

The post From Queen Victoria to the German Crown Princess – 2 June 1873 appeared first on History of Royal Women.

Victoria, Portrait of a Queen by Richard Mullen & James Munson Book Review

The year 2019 marks the bicentenary of Queen Victoria, and although plenty of new books are being released for the occasion, there is also a steady stream of books being reprinted; like Victoria, Portrait of a Queen, which was first published in 2015.

Victoria was born on 24 May 1819 at Kensington Palace in London as the only child of Princess Victoria of Saxe-Coburg-Saalfeld and Prince Edward, Duke of Kent and Strathearn. When her uncle King William IV came to the throne in 1830, Victoria was his heiress presumptive. Victoria grew up at Kensington Palace, under the so-called Kensington System. Victoria’s accession on 20 June 1837 broke the personal union with the Kingdom of Hanover, which was under Salic law, preventing her from becoming Hanover’s Queen. Instead, her uncle became Ernest Augustus I of Hanover.

In her early reign, she was quite popular, though her reputation suffered when she believed the rumours of her mother’s lady-in-waiting Lady Flora Hastings’ pregnancy. Lady Flora died, and the autopsy revealed a large tumour on her liver that had distended into her abdomen, thus explaining her appearance. Her popularity was revived when she married her first cousin, Prince Albert of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha in 1840. They would go on to have nine children.

The majority of her reign was blighted by the death of her husband. He died in 1861, possibly of typhoid fever, though his long-term complaints could suggest something else. She dressed in mourning for the rest of her life and even had his clothes laid out every day. Her self-isolation caused her popularity to plummet. By 1872, this had recovered slightly as her son recovered from the same illness that had killed her husband. On 23 September 1896, Victoria surpassed her grandfather George III as the longest-reigning monarch in English, Scottish, and British history, though this record was broken by Queen Elizabeth II last year.

By Christmas 1900, Victoria was rendered lame by rheumatism in her legs, and she had cataracts. By January, she felt weak and unwell. She died on 22 January 1901 at the age of 81. She was succeeded by her eldest son, King Edward VII.

Victoria, Portrait of a Queen by Richard Mullen & James Munson tells Queen Victoria’s story, but I had trouble concentrating on the narrative. I’ve read plenty of biographies on Queen Victoria, but for some reason, I just found this rather boring. The story doesn’t bring Queen Victoria to life and seems to drone on and on. I received this as an e-book which also had two pages in one, making the text extremely small and difficult to read (my e-reader does have the option to zoom in, but it makes the whole thing very slow!). Overall, the book is well-researched and factual, but I just wish it had more life.

Victoria, Portrait of a Queen by Richard Mullen & James Munson was re-released in February 2019 and is available in both the UK and the US.

The post Victoria, Portrait of a Queen by Richard Mullen & James Munson Book Review appeared first on History of Royal Women.

Othilde of Saxony – An elusive Countess

Othilde or Othelindis is one of the more unknown Countesses of Holland. She was possibly the daughter of the Duke of Saxony or the daughter of a Bernard, Margrave of the Nordmark. It is quite possible that she was, at least, from Saxony as she returned there after she was widowed.

She married Dirk III, Count of Holland and they had two sons together – yet another Dirk and Floris. They had at least one daughter, and she was named Bertrade or Bertrada. Several other children are also possible, but their names are simply not left to us. Dirk ruled Holland from 993 until 1039, but like his wife, his life is mostly unknown. Upon his death in 1039, Dirk was buried in Egmond Abbey.

Othilde returned to Saxony after her husband’s death and probably died there on 31 March 1044. She probably spent her last years at Quedlinburg Abbey and found her final resting place there as well.

Unfortunately, Othilde is destined to remain an elusive figure to us.1

The post Othilde of Saxony – An elusive Countess appeared first on History of Royal Women.

Kunigunde of Poland – A royal bride who was left behind

Like her aunt and namesake, the second Kunigunde of Poland did not leave a mark on history.  In fact, she stayed at her father’s court until 11 years after her marriage.  She finally went to live with her husband in 1356 but died less than a year later.  She had very little time to play the role of a wife.

Kunigunde was most likely born between 1327 and 1333 as the second daughter of Casimir III of Poland and his first wife, Aldona-Anna of Lithuania.  Some sources say she was born in 1334 or 1335, but given the date of her marriage, an earlier year is more likely.  She was their second and youngest daughter, their first being Elizabeth.  When her father became king of Poland in 1333, Kunigunde was probably already born.

Casimir wanted to make an alliance with the Wittelsbach dynasty, one of the most powerful families in Europe at the time.  The head of the Wittelsbachs, Louis had been Holy Roman Emperor since 1328.  Kunigunde’s sister, Elizabeth had twice been promised to the Emperor’s son, also named Louis.  However, in 1343 Casimir decided to marry Elizabeth to a Pomeranian Duke instead.  On 1 January 1345, Casimir returned to the idea of a marriage alliance with the Emperor.  It was decided that by the end of the year, Kunigunde would be married to the Emperor’s son, Louis the Roman, to whom her sister had previously been promised.

At the time, the Luxembourg dynasty, who ruled Bohemia, were rivals of the Wittelsbachs.  They saw this marriage as a threat against them.  In July, the Luxembourg army invaded Poland and tried to prevent this marriage from happening.  Their efforts failed, and on 25 July 1345, Kunigunde was married to Louis in Cracow.  However, soon after the wedding, Louis returned to Germany, leaving Kunigunde behind in Poland.  The exact reason for this is not known.  One possibility could be a disagreement between Casimir and Louis’ relatives.  Another possibility could have been a misunderstanding between the new spouses.  It is also possible that Casimir wanted Kunigunde to remain in Poland for some time, possibly because of her youth, although she was of legal marriageable age.

Pope Clement VI was opposed to this marriage, and that October, he criticised Casimir for his marriage alliance with the excommunicated Emperor, and urged him to return to the Luxembourg side.  Although Casimir delayed his daughter’s departure to her husband, he continued favouring the Wittelsbach faction.  Kunigunde’s husband was a possible future Emperor, but that never happened.  It is possible that Casimir considered Louis to be his successor in Poland, even though there was also his older daughter, Elizabeth and her husband.  Emperor Louis died in 1347, and his rival, Charles of Luxembourg, King of Bohemia became the new German king.  Charles was made Holy Roman Emperor in 1355.

In 1351, Louis was made Margrave of Brandenburg.  In 1352, he returned to Poland to talk to Casimir about the dowry.  On Kunigunde’s wedding day, Casimir only paid half of the dowry, and it could have been this reason why she did not join her husband.  Casimir then paid Louis a small portion of the amount due to him, but he again left Kunigunde in Poland.  Louis again reminded Casimir of the unpaid dowry in 1354.  There was a deadline set for paying the remaining dues and bringing Kunigunde to Brandenburg by Easter 1355.  However, Casimir, who was caught up in his disintegrating second marriage to Adelaide of Hesse, delayed these requests yet again.

It was previously thought that Kunigunde never joined her husband and died in Poland.  However, a document from August 1356 speaks of Kunigunde living with her husband, so she is thought to have joined him sometime that summer.  Also in 1356, Louis was made the first Elector of Brandenburg.  Kunigunde was therefor the first Electress of Brandenburg.  She did not get to enjoy her marriage or new title for long, though.  Kunigunde died of unknown causes on 26 April 1357, aged not yet thirty, less than a year after her arrival in her husband’s country.  She was buried in the Franciscan monastery in Berlin.  Louis lost all hopes of becoming King of Poland on her death.  In 1360, Louis remarried to Ingeborg of Mecklenburg-Schwerin in 1360.  This marriage was also childless, and Louis died in 1365, predeceasing Casimir by five years.  Louis was buried next to Kunigunde.

Kunigunde led a rather unfortunate life, spending years separated from her husband, unaware of what would become of her.  It is not known if Kunigunde finally went to her husband willingly, or was brought to Brandenburg against her will.  We, therefore, do not know if she was happy when she was living at the Polish court after her marriage.  Besides her unfortunate marital situation, nothing else is known of Kunigunde, and she has been forgotten by history.  However, Kunigunde was brought to attention again recently, the story of her unusual marital situation was shown on the Polish television series, Korana Krolow (Crown of Kings), which dramatises Casimir’s reign.1

The post Kunigunde of Poland – A royal bride who was left behind appeared first on History of Royal Women.

Stéphanie of Belgium – The would-be Empress of Austria (Part two)

After the formal ceremony, Stéphanie and Rudolf changed into their travelling clothes. She said goodbye to her beloved Toni, her parents and her sister. They travelled to Laxenburg where they were to spend their honeymoon – the carriage ride was completely silent. They arrived in rooms that had not been done up, which made Stéphanie feel even more unwanted. She later described her wedding night in her memoirs, “What a night! What torments, what horror! I had not had the ghost of a notion what lay before me but had been led to the altar as an ignorant child. My illusions, my youthful dreams, were shattered. I thought I should die of my disillusionment.” She began to pray for the day they would depart for Hungary – which she knew from tales told by her mother.

The Hungarians received her with much love. The Belgian colours were displayed everywhere, and the Belgian national anthem sounded along the way. At the end of May, they finally entered the capital city. Stéphanie finally felt happy again. Upon being received in the Upper and Lower Houses, Stéphanie wore the Hungarian national dress with a gold-embroidered veil, and she had learned a Hungarian speech by heart. The exertions of the trips affected Stéphanie, and once back in Vienna, she was ordered to rest for 14 days. Her sister Louise was there to support her. Hardly had she recovered before she was taken to Prague for a visit. They were greeted by the Dowager Empress, Maria Anna of Sardinia, who lived there. The newlyweds spent the summer in Salzburg, which did Stéphanie much good.

Once back in Vienna, Stéphanie rarely saw her husband, and he often went shooting. Despite not being present much, he was a controlling man, and he often read the letters Stéphanie wrote to her parents before allowing them to be posted. He gave orders that no one was to come into her chambers while he was not there. Empress Elisabeth – who detested official functions – handed much of her responsibilities to Stéphanie, who begged her not to since she was still only 17 years old. The following October, Stéphanie also found herself pregnant. She wrote in her memoirs, “I had no rest, as I was obliged to appear at all ceremonies, now here, now there!” In November, she was taken on a visit to Transylvania where Rudolf had rented a castle from where he would go hunting.

Stéphanie and Rudolf (public domain)

The pregnancy improved the relationship between Stéphanie and Rudolf and Stéphanie was grateful for it. In early August, Stéphanie’s mother arrived in Austria as did her sister Louise. On 2 September 1883 – after a gruelling labour lasting 26 hours – Stéphanie gave birth to a daughter named Elizabeth. To Rudolf’s disappointment, the baby was not an heir to the throne and Stéphanie broke down in tears. Nevertheless, after the initial disappointment, Stéphanie thanked God for the treasure he had bestowed upon her. She was named Elizabeth for the sainted ancestress of the House of Arpad – and coincidentally also the name of the current Empress. When Stéphanie left her confinement, she found that she had grown taller – she was, after all, still a teenager. Rudolf wrote to a friend, “Stéphanie looks blooming as usual, as if nothing has happened. The little one is a stunner of seven pounds, perfectly well and strongly developed, with many hairs on her head, very much alive; she shouts terribly and drinks a great deal without the slightest difficulty.”

Their duties soon took them away from their young daughter. Stéphanie and Rudolf visited Constantinople and Bulgaria, followed by visits to Carinthia, Carniola, Tyrol, Albania, Greece and Montenegro. They returned to Belgium to celebrate Stéphanie’s father’s 50th birthday in 1885. The following year, both Rudolf and Stéphanie became ill. Stéphanie was in bed for weeks, and doctors diagnosed her with peritonitis. Both recovered, and wishes were renewed for Stéphanie to give birth to an heir. Stéphanie was allowed to take it easier that year in hopes of conceiving. However, the Crown Prince was often not with her, and his restlessness took him elsewhere. When she saw him again, she would him looking very unhealthy. Stéphanie began to believe he had moved away from her completely. By then, Rudolf had been infected with a venereal disease and he, in turn, had infected Stéphanie. It was most likely gonorrhoea and two gynaecologists came to examine her. She then learned that “the Crown Prince was responsible for my complaint.” The gonorrhoea had caused a pelvic inflammation and had destroyed her fallopian tubes. She would never again conceive a child. She was sent to several spas, and while she seemed to improve, he did not. The diagnosis had destroyed her purpose in life – to provide an heir for the Austrian throne. Rudolf began to depend on a dangerous mixture of drugs to alleviate the painful symptoms of gonorrhoea.

In the summer of 1887, sick of the many years of pretending not to notice her husband’s affairs, Stéphanie took a lover of her own. Unlike Rudolf, she was discrete with the 38-year-old Count Artur Potocki. His codename was Hamlet and she used her sister Louise as a go-between.

In October 1888, Stéphanie returned from a trip to Greece. She wrote in her memoirs, “But I was horrified as soon as I set eyes on the Crown Prince. His decay was so greatly advanced as to have become conspicuous. He was frightfully changed; his skin was flaccid; his eyes were restless; his expression had completely changed. It seemed as if his lineaments had lost the inner substantially, which can only come from strength of will as if a process of internal dissolution were going on. I was profoundly sorry for him, and wondered how the devastation would end.” Stéphanie wanted to confront her father-in-law about Rudolf, hoping to save him from disaster. However, the Emperor saw nothing wrong with his son and dismissed her concerns. On 26 January 1889, Stéphanie and Rudolf attended a big soirée, followed by a reception on the 27th. From the 28th there was to be a shoot at Mayerling. Rudolf promised her he would be back the next day for a family dinner. They would never see each other again. Rudolf excused himself from the family dinner the following day. Stéphanie told the family that he had come down with a cold.1

Part three coming soon.

The post Stéphanie of Belgium – The would-be Empress of Austria (Part two) appeared first on History of Royal Women.