Merry Christmas to all!

The Wealth of Kings

Recently, I left a comment on a beautiful YouTube video of original footage of Tsar Nicholas and his family visiting a Cathedral. A reply to my comment read something to the effect of: and did the starving masses view this event as beautiful?

There is a huge myth around the wealth of kings, and more particular the royalties of the past couple of centuries and I think this myth was born out of a combination of the extravagances of certain members of royal and imperial families and envy. The majority of kings in the late 19th and early 20th centuries actually lived quite frugal and simple lives and though they lived in palaces they saw themselves as custodians of those places and, within them, their own rooms were often simply furnished and not very much different from those of non-royal custodians who inhabit stately homes and palaces today. No one objects to the modern custodians, but somehow blame is laid at the feet of kings and emperors for fulfilling their role to the best of their abilities.

It is very interesting to think – particularly when people speak of the wealth of kings as though this deprives everyone else of their fair share – that if all the wealth of a royal family were shared out among the people of the country, we would each end up being something like one penny better off. I would prefer to enjoy the beautiful stateliness of those who are born as guardians of ancient traditions and also have the wellbeing of their people at heart.

More interesting, though, is the extent to which those 19th/20th century royalties took a personal and active part in what is misleadingly called ‘charity work’ but was/is, in fact, a means of raising people to all they can be. Throughout the horrendous wars of the past century, princesses and queens personally assisted in surgical operations, tended the wounded and participated in the most horrendous procedures. The Tsarina of Russia, for example, spent many hours writing personal letters from wounded soldiers to their families after hours of working in operating theatres. I have yet to see a politician or dictator participating in such activities. This, however, was not confined to war time. There are countless examples of royalties, who had dedicated their lives to their people, carrying out all kinds of amazing work to raise people up and inspire them. In recent times, for example, when Diana, Princess of Wales, visited a local hospice, I was told by someone who was there on that day that the patients were so much happier and so delighted by the time she spent with each of them. There is a mystique of royalty and it is churlish to deny it when it does so much good.

On a personal level, too, the ‘good’ done by individual 19th century royalties is often overlooked. The Victorian Age is seen as very judgemental and yet it is fascinating that, when unmarried mothers or so-called ‘fallen women’ were being treated with such disdain by other members of society, the royalties were among the most understanding. Queen Victoria encouraged the Duchess of York to be seen in public with one such unfortunate cousin and her daughter, Princess Alice, like many others founded safe houses and spent time speaking with those who were seen as outcasts, in order to help them. Here is a very interesting article, too, about the children who were adopted by royal families:

Royalties Who Adopted Children

 I wonder, “Did Lenin or Stalin nurse the sick? Did Hitler take time to write letters to the families of his wounded soldiers? Would you rather that the figurehead of your nation was someone who really loved your country and its people, or really love himself? Would you like to do away with all the pageantry, the sense of unity we feel at jubilees or royal weddings, in order to gain one penny?

Funny, isn't it, that Stalin murdered his wife and Hitler killed his niece and politicians and bankers have created such a financial mess for so many people,  but people still believe that Nicholas II was a tyrant and somehow other royalties deprive their people of their true wealth?  

Emilie Todd Helm

Some may not realize that Abraham Lincoln had a beloved Confederate sister-in-law who paid cordial visits to the White House amidst the fury and bitterness of the Civil War. At the Tea at Trianon Forum, we have been discussing the moving story of Emilie Todd Helm (1836-1930),  half-sister of Mary Todd Lincoln and wife and later widow of Confederate general Benjamin Hardin Helm of Kentucky. Beautiful, vivacious, spirited, young enough to be the President's daughter, Emilie was the perfect Southern belle. She also left vivid diaries offering a rare glimpse of the intimate sphere of the Lincoln family. 

The Lincolns had long had a special fondness for her. Mary found in her sister someone in whom she could confide her torments. "She and Brother Lincoln pet me as if I were a child, and without words, try to comfort me," Emilie wrote. "Kiss me, Emilie, and tell me that you love me," Mrs. Lincoln told her half-sister one morning. "I seem to be the scape-goat for both North and South."[4] At that point, President Lincoln entered the room and said: "I hope you two are planning some mischief.' Mr. Lincoln told Emilie later that day: "Little Sister, I hope you can come up and spend the summer with us at the Soldiers' Home; you and Mary love each other - it is good for her to have you with her - I feel worried about Mary, her nerves have gone to pieces; she cannot hide from me that the strain she had been under has been too much for her mental as well as her physical health." Both Lincolns expressed separate concerns to Emilie about the other's mental and physical health.

President Lincoln was very solicitous of Emilie and defended her presence at the White House against political attacks. Emilie later recalled: "Mr. Lincoln in the intimate talks we had was very much affected over the misfortunes of our family; and of my husband he said, 'You know, Little Sister, I tried to have Ben come with me. I hope you do not feel any bitterness or that I am in any way to blame for all this sorrow.' I answered it was 'the fortune of war' and that while my husband loved him and had been deeply grateful to him for his generous offer to make him an officer in the Federal Army, he had to follow his conscience and that for weal or woe he felt he must side with his own people. Mr. Lincoln put his arms around me and we both wept."[5]

In the winter of 1863, while Emilie was visiting the White House, Mrs. Lincoln requested that she meet some visitors. Emilie later wrote:

I went most reluctantly. It is painful to see friends and I do not feel like meeting strangers. I cannot bear their inquiring look at my deep crepe. It was General [Daniel] Sickles again, calling with Senator Harris. General Sickles said, "I told Senator Harris that you were at the White House, just from the South and could probably give him some news of his old friend General John C. Breckinridge." I told Senator Harris that as I had not seen General Breckinridge for some time I could give him no news of the general's health. He then asked me several pointed questions about the South and as politely as I could I gave him non-committal answers. Senator Harris said to me in a voice of triumph, "Well, we have whipped the rebels at Chattanooga and I hear, madam, that the scoundrels ran like scared rabbits." "It was the example, senator Harris, that you set then at Bull Run and Manassas," I answered with a choking throat. I was very nervous and I could see that Sister Mary was annoyed. She tactfully tried to change the subject, whereupon Senator Harris turned to her abruptly and with an unsmiling face asked sternly: "Why isn't Robert in the Army? He is old enough to serve his country. He should have gone to the front some time ago."

Sister Mary's face turned white as death and I saw that she was making a desperate effort at self-control. She bit her lip, but answered quietly, 'Robert is making his preparations now to enter the Army, Senator Harris; he is not a shirker as you seem to imply, for he had been anxious to go for a long time. If fault there be, it is mine. I have insisted that he should stay in college a little longer as I think an educated man can serve his country with more intelligent purpose than an ignoramus." General [sic] Harris rose and said harshly and pointedly to Sister, "I have only one son and he is fighting for his country." Turning to me and making a low bow, "and, Madam, if I had twenty sons they should all be fighting the rebels." "And if I had twenty sons, General Harris," I replied, "they should all be opposing yours." I forgot where I was, I forgot that I was a guest of the President and Mrs. Lincoln at the White House. I was cold and trembling. I stumbled out of the room somehow, for I was blinded by tears and my heart was beating to suffocation. Before I reached the privacy of my room where unobserved I could give way to my grief, Sister Mary overtook me and put her arms around me. I felt somehow comforted to weep on her shoulder — her own tears were falling but she said no word of the occurrence and I understood that she was powerless to protect a guest at the White House from cruel rudeness.[18]

Emilie never remarried and dressed in mourning for the rest of her life. Although the strain of the war eventually took its toll and she became estranged from Abraham and Mary, she later developed a close and loving relationship with their eldest son Robert. A leading member of the United Daughters of the Confederacy, she also worked for reconciliation between North and South.

Prince Albert and Typhoid - A Myth?

From the first history books I ever read as a child, right through to those written today, it was repeatedly stated that Prince Albert died of typhoid, probably due to the dirty drains at Windsor. Though I have no proof, I seriously suspect that this is a myth. The prince, I believe, was suffering – and had been for a long time – from some more pernicious illness which, combined with his mental state, eventually led to his premature death.

The rest of this post has been temporarily removed due to an agreement re. the recent publication of my book "Queen Victoria's Granddaughters 1860-1918"

Lovely Elizabeth

The Empress Elizabeth Alexeievna painted by
Elisabeth Vigee Le Brun when she was still a
Grand Duchess.

One of the forgotten and elusive figures of the Romanov family was the Empress Elizabeth Alexeievna, consort of Tsar Alexander I. Little has been written about her in English, and sometimes she was only a curious note in books about the earlier Romanovs. This treatment of her might be a little understandable. She did not do anything "great" in history to warrant special attention or popularity. And yet she was married to a man who was hailed as "Napoleon's conqueror" and "the liberator of Europe". She exercised no political influence in Russia, and throughout her lifetime, she was a sad and solitary figure, neglected by her husband, and treated with indifference by his family. 

Judging from her portraits and the written descriptions of her by contemporaries, Elizabeth was an exceptionally beautiful woman. Beauty and charm are all the hallmarks of almost all Russian empresses, but popular opinion puts that she is the most beautiful of the last five empresses-consort of Russia. No wonder why many poets, writers and musicians throughout Elizabeth's lifetime dedicated their works to her, among them were Alexander Pushkin, Nikolai Karamzin, and Vasily Zhukovsky. Her angelic beauty, gentle disposition, and cultivated mind made her the star of the Russian court.

But when I look at that charming portrait of her by Elisabeth Vigee Le Brun wherein she was wearing a court dress and flowers on her hair, I can't help but think that her beauty, her remarkable qualities, her position as an empress, and her love for Russia, were all wasted by a lonely life that I believe she didn't deserve.

While she never truly won the heart of her husband and that of his family, she was well-loved by the Russian masses, the aristocracy, the courtiers, and even foreign visitors in Russia who were lucky to have the opportunity to meet and know her personally. She was indeed an “angel”, as described by Prince Czartoryski – the only man who had genuinely loved her in life and cherished her memory in death.

Happy Thanksgiving!

A very Happy Thanksgiving from England to all our American readers and contributors!

The Tea at Trianon Forum

I would like to draw the attention of our kind readers to the lovely Tea at Trianon Forum, recently started by Elena Maria Vidal, where we can continue our discussions of those lost in the myths of history. If you have not already visited the forum, please do so!

The "Sunny" Side of Alexandra!

It is said that a picture is worth a thousand words…..don’t you agree? Even though a photograph cannot completely convey the aspect of a person, their full personality and all their complexities, it does capture a true moment in the life of an individual. Recently, I came across this photo of Alexandra as a young child, and thought it would be nice to share. In her family, she was known as "Princess Sunshine" or "Sunny" - she certainly had a sense of humor and loved to laugh!

How many times has Tsarina Alexandra been described as “aloof”, “cold”, “haughty”, or “distant”? For that reason, I thought it would be a nice idea to post a photo that might show her in a different light.

Like all of us, Alexandra was a complex and sometimes contradictory human being. While it’s easy for us to judge her from our own perspectives and points of view, it’s impossible for any of us to have actually known her. For those that knew her well, she trusted them with a side of herself that she didn’t always show in public. While she could be a serious minded and introspective person, she was also described as a very warm, passionate and caring person. She took an active and daily role in her children’s lives and educations, and was known to even have the occasional pillow fight with them and be active with them during their times of high spirits.

Maria of Hohenzollern, the Romanian daughter of King Carol I

Maria of Romania together with her English nurse and minder (Diana Mandache collection)

Maria Hohenzollern, the only child of Carol I and Elizabeth of Romania, was born on 8 September 1870 and baptised in the Orthodox Greek rite, as are the majority of ethnic Romanians. She was meant to be the first scion born on the native soil of the new dynasty, in effect the first Romanian Hohenzollern. Sadly she died at the infant age of nearly 4, on 9 April 1874, a victim of scarlet fever, like so many children from the Victorian epoch. The funeral service took place at the Cotroceni Church within the grounds of the Cotroceni Royal Palace. The coffin was covered with white satin, criss-crossed with silver lace ornaments and was as large as one for an adult, because the infant princess' body was enclosed in several decreasing size caskets placed one inside another. After the religious service in the Romanian Orthodox rite, the cortege walked through the palace gardens to the burial place next to the palace church. Those gardens were the favorite playing grounds for the young princess, where only half a dozen days previously she played with her nurse. On the headstone were engraved the words of St. Luke viii.53: ""Weep not, for she is not dead, but sleepeth".

Just For Hallowe'en

This is not a new post (it is taken almost directly from my other blog), nor is it a myth of history, but it is a rather touching story for Hallowe'en.

Queen Victoria’s charming granddaughter, Princess Marie Louise of Schleswig-Holstein, in her most beautiful book, “My Memories of Six Reigns” – in which she comes across as such a delightful, interesting, lovely person of great humility and filled with admiration or understanding of almost everyone she met (including her husband who treated her so badly) – writes of some fascinating and interesting mystical/ghostly experiences. This one, however, is quite beautiful.

“On my return to England, after the dissolution of my marriage, I took a small house in South Kensington and this is what happened to me soon after I moved in. I was arranging my books and odds and ends in my sitting room when the door opened and in walked my eldest brother, Christian Victor. “Oh

Kicky, [the pet name we brothers and sisters always called him by], how nice to see you again.” He replied: “I just came to see that you were all right and happy.” He sat down in the chair next to the fire, and I then noticed he had his favourite dachshund on his knee. We talked a little, then he got up and told me I was not to follow him downstairs, that he was very happy and all was well with him. After he had gone and shut the door, I realised that he was in khaki but did not have his medal ribbons on. I then remembered that during the South African War, an order had been issued that officers were not to wear their ribbons so that the enemy would not be able to distinguish them from their men. Only then did I suddenly realise that this dearly beloved brother had died eighteen months previously and lay in his last resting place in South Africa.
My sister came to see me that same afternoon and I told her of what had taken place. She was sitting in the same chair as he had done and when she got up she remarked, “I know he has been here – I can feel it.”