The Life of Queen Maria José

As May draws to a close, I encourage everyone to read this excellent account from the Mad Monarchist. I especially like his suggestion that the horrors of the hideous First World War may have enhanced the young Belgian princess' love of beauty.

Ioanna of Bulgaria

Another tragic sister-in-law of Queen Maria José. She was more fortunate than Astrid and Mafalda, though.

The Last King of Italy

For readers who know Italian, here is a fascinating website on King Umberto II (1904-1983), the husband of Princess Marie-José of Belgium (1906-2001).

Queen Elena of Italy, mother-in-law of Princess Marie-José

Here is an article about the generous and charitable Montenegrin princess who became the mother of the last King of Italy, Umberto II, and, therefore, the mother-in-law of Marie-José of Belgium.

A fascinating biography of Queen Elena by Luciano Regolo may be found, in limited preview, here.

Grandmother of the Kings

Here is a lovely post on a revered ancestress of the Belgian royal family, Maria Amalia of Naples, the "Queen of the French." As readers may recall, I have discussed her quite a bit in the past. Like her Belgian descendants, she had to make the best of political circumstances which often left much to be desired. Like her Belgian descendants, too, she was placed in the awkward position of being a Catholic monarch in a secular state. 

The Trousseau of the May Queen

Here is an article about a lavish display of the dresses of Queen Marie-José of Italy, the daughter of King Albert I and Queen Elisabeth of Belgium.  The exhibition was held in November-December 2009 at the Mona Bismarck Foundation Paris Cultural Center.

Tomorrow is the tenth anniversary of the Queen's death, on January 27, 2001. May she rest in peace.

The Belgian Tiara

A magnificent gift from the court of Leopold II to Pope Pius IX. To quote the Exiled Belgian Royalist:

By tradition Belgium has always been a Catholic country but in those days (1860-1870) religious faith in Belgium was especially strong and the Belgians were, overall, not happy with the Italian liberal-nationalists invading the States of the Church, effectively to depose Pope Pius IX from his position as the local king in Rome. Hundreds of Belgians bravely volunteered for service with the Papal Zouaves, the army of the Pope named after the flamboyant style of their uniforms, grey and red, the style taken from Algerian fashion that was introduced by the French army during their North African service. The first papal military commander and the Belgian Minister of War for the Pope were veterans of service in North Africa and this probably explains why the general dressed his soldiers in Algerian style uniforms. However, as you read in the previous post, the assignment the Pope gave to Bishop Xavier de Merode was really an impossible one (everyone must have known that) and ultimately unsuccessful.

When it was over and the Pope lost his political authority he secluded himself inside the walls of the Vatican in protest. Many Catholic powers tried to show the Pope that they still respected his authority even while political circumstances forced them to come to terms with the new Kingdom of Italy. One of these was the court of King Leopold II of the Belgians. The Ladies of the Royal Court raised funds for the design of a very unique and magnificent papal tiara for Pius IX. This was a way many countries showed support for the authority of the pope, by sending him a new crown. The “Ladies of the Royal Court of the King of the Belgians” (then Leopold II) presented the crown to the Pope on June 18, 1871. The crown, often known as the “Belgian Tiara” was not like any other. It was designed by Jean-Baptiste Bethune of Ghent with a unique shape for the three jewel-encrusted crowns and the tiers decorated with the words, “CHRISTI VICARIO - IN TERRA - REGUM”.

A Royal Ruby

A stunning Savoy heirloom which graced the first and last Queens of Italy, Margherita and Maria José.

Marie-José, Princess of Belgium, Queen of Italy

A magnificent tribute to the daughter of Albert and Elisabeth.

Situating Charlotte: Reading Politics in Portraits of Belgian Princess Charlotte, Vicereine of Lombardy-Venetia, Empress of Mexico

By a stroke of luck, I just found this PhD dissertation, by Linda MacNayr of Queen's University, on the artistic portrayals of Empress Carlota. I have only had a chance to glance through it briefly, but it looks fascinating. The illustrations are beautiful. You can download the thesis in PDF format HERE. 

"The Saintly Queen"

Here are the funerary statues, by Antonin Mercié, of King Louis-Philippe and Queen Marie-Amélie at the Chapelle Royale de Dreux. (Photographs courtesy of "Real politik"). I think the likenesses are masterful; in particular, the artist wonderfully captures Marie-Amélie's expression, conveying her goodness, wisdom, sorrow and nobility. I am reminded of a passage in C. C. Dyson's bittersweet account of her last years in exile at Claremont House:

Her demeanour was a lesson in itself. Dignity that was not without grace, supreme distinction, perfect affability, kindness, an instinctive tone of authority all declared the true Queen. A word from her to a child had more effect than severe punishments or reprimands. Her religion was a loveable religion. An old general of the Algerian wars was influenced by her to resume the practice of religious observance, and came to the Communion table in the Claremont Chapel with tears in his eyes. When her grandchildren grew older she set aside an hour a day to spend with them, and they never forgot her sayings and the advice then given to them. 

Those who saw her pray or receive the Sacraments, or heard her speak on some solemn subject, were deeply impressed, and used to call her "the saintly Queen." (C. C. Dyson, The Life of Marie-Amélie, Last Queen of the French: 1782-1866, 1910, pp. 294-295)

The Royal Family of Naples

Here is a painting, dated 1783, by Angelica Kauffman, of King Ferdinand IV and Queen Maria Carolina of Naples, and six of their many, many children. Their heir, the future King Francis I, stands second from the left, beside his father. The baby princess Maria Amalia, mother of Belgium's first queen, Louise-Marie, sits in the cradle on the knees of her big sister Luisa. Note the Arcadian landscape and informal poses, representing a break with past portrayals of the Bourbons.

Here is a family medallion, dating from 1802/1803, depicting Queen Maria Carolina with her daughters Maria Christina, Maria Amalia and Maria Antonia and her son Leopoldo. (Photograph courtesy of Wolfgang Wögerer). 

Mafalda of Savoy, Marie-José's Tragic Sister-in-Law

Here is the first of five installments of a grim, but deeply moving Italian documentary on the tragic fate of the lovely Mafalda of Savoy, Princess of Hesse. The 42-year-old mother of four met a grisly death at the Nazi concentration camp of Buchenwald at the end of August, 1944. The program retraces the story of her last days, drawing on the testimony of biographers and relatives of the princess, most notably her second son, Heinrich of Hesse and her niece, Maria Gabriella of Savoy, a distinguished historian of the Italian royal house.

Cheerful, cultured, brave and kind-hearted, Mafalda was the second of the four daughters of King Victor Emmanuel III of Italy and his Queen, Elena of Montenegro. She inherited her mother's piety, charity and love of music and the arts. She was also the favorite sister-in-law of Italy's last queen, Marie-José of Belgium, consort of Umberto II. In their youth, the Savoy princesses were considered potential brides for Marie-José's brothers, Princes Leopold and Charles of Belgium, but nothing came of these ideas. Instead, in 1925, Mafalda married Prince Philip, Landgrave of Hesse. (His father, Prince Frederick Charles, had been briefly elected King of Finland in 1918).

Unfortunately, Philip of Hesse would later become a fervent Nazi, attaining high rank in Hitler's regime. With his Italian connections, he acted as an intermediary between Hitler and Mussolini. Nonetheless, he supposedly also aided Jewish friends to escape to the Netherlands. Furthermore, during the Second World War, according to his own testimony, he conspired for peace, with his brother-in-law, Umberto of Savoy. He would eventually fall from Hitler's favor. Mafalda, for her part, too frank and open-hearted for her own good, never hid her antipathy for Hitler. The feeling was mutual; Hitler deeply mistrusted the princess, suspecting her of working against the war effort. He called her "the blackest carrion in the Italian royal house."

Her doom, however, was sealed by her father's separate peace with the Allies, which so enraged Hitler. It was also sealed by her own innocence and generosity. Braving the dangers of travel in wartime, she had insisted on leaving her Italian relatives, with whom she was staying, to comfort her sister Giovanna, Queen of Bulgaria, who had recently lost her husband, King Boris III. (Rumors have flourished that he had been poisoned at Hitler's orders, but this has never been proven). On her journey home, after Boris' funeral, she heard the news, from the Queen of Romania, of Italy's armistice with the Allies of September 8, 1943. (Her father had not, apparently, warned Mafalda of the imminence of the armistice, prior to her departure for Sofia. It is speculated that he was afraid to betray a secret of state, or that he still hoped his daughter would return in time to flee to safety with the rest of the family). Yet, again, forgetful of herself, despite the perils of arriving in Italy, an easy prey for Nazi vengeance on the Savoys, she insisted on proceeding to Rome to attend to her children, then in Vatican custody. (The rest of the royal house, meanwhile, had fled the capital). In Rome, the princess fell into the cruel, cynical trap set by the Nazi high command. Lured to the German embassy, under the pretext of an urgent appeal from her husband, she was arrested and forcibly deported to Berlin for interrogation. Some weeks later, she was transferred to Buchenwald.

Despite the horror of her surroundings, Mafalda behaved with great courage and charity, sharing her food with other prisoners and becoming a source of sad consolation for her fellow sufferers, especially the Italians. Horribly wounded in an air-raid, and treated with neglect and brutality by the camp's medical staff, she died, after several days of agony. Her final words, to two compatriots, had been this touching message: "I am dying, remember me not as a princess, but as an Italian sister."

A Little Nostalgia...

Here is an interview with the exiled Queen of Italy, Marie-José, at her home in Merlingue, Switzerland. Among other reminiscences, she recalls her first meeting with her husband-to-be, the future King Umberto II. The encounter took place during the First World War, while the 11-year-old Belgian princess was studying at the Poggio Imperiale near Florence. One winter day, she was taken on an outing with the Italian royal family.

The romantic young Marie-José, accustomed to the fair complexions of her family, was captivated by the black hair, the beautiful black eyes of Umberto and his sisters. She was also charmed by their engaging personalities. She was impressed, too, by the grave remarks of 13-year-old Umberto. At the Piazza San Marco in Venice, he warned Marie-José against feeding the pigeons white bread, a precious commodity amidst wartime scarcity.

In the interview, Marie-José also discusses her parents' efforts to prepare her for her future role. With her father, King Albert I, she studied, in depth, the history of Italy and the Savoys. A true daughter of Albert and Elisabeth, known for their concern with social problems, her ideal of queenship was to aid the less fortunate. At the age of eight, she wrote that, if she became Queen of Italy, she wanted to have the names of all the country's poor, in order to be able to give something to each one.

In future posts, I would like to discuss Marie-José's marriage and political role in greater detail. Sadly, in both cases, despite her best efforts, she was frustrated and disappointed. Neither her dreams of an ideal love match, nor her hopes of a great, enlightened, fruitful reign came true. Yet, I am impressed by the fact that she never comes across as a bitter or gloomy figure. Despite many tragedies, she never lost her kindness, her sense of humor, or her joie de vivre. Even here, in this brief clip, these qualities appear clearly.

Fall of the House of Savoy

The disgraceful tale of Prince Vittorio Emanuele. I feel so sorry for his mother, the lovely and dignified Queen Marie-José. It seems that marrying into the Savoys was a disaster for her on all accounts. 

May Tragedy

It is sadly ironic that May, the month of flowers, garlands and Our Lady, has historically been a month of sorrow for the Belgian royal family. The weeks to come will mark the 70th anniversary of Hitler's invasion of Belgium and the tragic "Eighteen Days' Campaign." Despite the heroism of the Belgian king and people, this campaign spelled the end for Leopold III and cast a long shadow on the history of the Belgian monarchy. Here are some related posts:

~King Leopold's Broadcast to the USA, October 27, 1939
~Leopold's Orders of the Day, May 10 and May 28, 1940
~Leopold's Letter to George VI of the United Kingdom, May 25, 1940
~The Belgians' Last Stand, May 25-28, 1940
~King Leopold III and Pope Pius XII: Correspondence on the Belgian Capitulation
~A Privileged Witness: Admiral Keyes on the Belgian Campaign and Capitulation

May-June, 2010 will also mark the 64th anniversary of the brief and tragic reign of Leopold's sister, Marie-José, as Italy's last Queen Consort. Upon ascending the throne, amidst postwar turmoil and political controversy, she prepared a magnificent address to the women of Italy. Here is an excerpt:

To the women of every region of Italy, I wish to join the expression of my passion as an Italian woman, and of my wish that the sacrifices, the wounds of your anguished hearts, the hardships of your lives and of those of your children, may be the guarantee and the pledge of a better future for our Italy. To you, Italian women, symbol of goodness and kindness, there remains a most noble part in the work of moral reconstruction, of pacification of spirits, in the salvation of Christian civilization. 

Sadly, despite these admirable sentiments, she, like her brother, was doomed to slander, dethronement and exile.

St. Alphonsus Liguori and Marie-Amélie

As revealed in her Journal (see HERE and HERE), Marie-Amélie, Queen of the French, was a woman of profound Catholic faith. With such a pious mother, it is not surprising that her daughter Louise became known as the "Holy Queen" of Belgium. At the court of Naples, religious principles and spiritual fervor were instilled in Marie-Amélie from an early age. Her mother, Maria Carolina of Austria (typically for the Habsburgs) was an ardent Catholic and took pains to raise her children in the same tradition. One of Marie-Amélie's most cherished youthful memories was the visit of St. Alphonsus Liguori to the royal palace. At the Queen's request, the holy and valiant founder of the Redemptorist Congregation had come to bless her family. The little princess Amalia had hitherto been fragile, and later attributed to the saint's blessing the good health she enjoyed for the rest of her long life.

(Image:  Bottom feature of the right stained glass window in the north transept of Carlow Cathedral, Ireland, showing St Alphonsus kneeling before the Most Holy Sacrament. Created by Franz Mayer & Co. in the 19th century. Photo by Andreas Borchert).

Amélie and Henriette

I was fascinated to read the account of Marie-Amélie of Naples (1782-1866), Queen of the French from 1830-1848, by her great-granddaughter, Princess Henriette of Belgium (1870-1948), Duchesse de Vendôme. In two moving and thought-provoking volumes, La jeunesse de Marie-Amélie reine des Français, d'après son journal: (1800-1814) (1935), and Le journal de Marie-Amélie, Duchesse d'Orléans:1814-1822 (1938), Henriette piously and tenderly traces the life of her illustrious forebear, ending eight years before her rise to the throne.

To tell the story, Henriette draws primarily on Amélie's diaries, translated into French from the original Italian and quoted amply throughout the text, supplemented by Henriette's historical commentary and oral family tradition. The first volume describes Amélie's youth as a Neapolitan princess maturing amidst the tragic and tumultuous era of the French Revolution and the Napoleonic Wars, her marriage to Louis-Philippe, Duc d'Orléans, and her early years as a wife and mother in Sicily. In 1814, the fall of Napoleon makes possible the return of the exiled Bourbons to France. The second volume discusses Amélie's life under the Bourbon Restoration (1814-1830), during the reign of Louis XVIII.

I was deeply impressed and touched, both by Amélie and by Henriette. Both appear to have been very noble, refined souls, of profound faith and ardent charity, all too often afflicted by suffering and tragedy. I had very much wanted to write a fuller review of Henriette's account, but it is quite subtle and complex, and there are too many aspects to cover in a single post. Instead, over the next week or so, I will be doing a series of posts on different themes in the work and sharing some of my favorite passages. Meanwhile, I leave you with these lovely portraits of Amélie and Henriette, and Henriette's beautiful dedication of her first volume. It brought tears to my eyes:

Dedié

tendrement et douloureusement

 à la mémoire de mon bien-aimé Frère,

ALBERT Ier, ROI DES BELGES

 qui m'a encouragée à publier ces pages.

Il a poussé jusqu'au sublime

 l'esprit du devoir

que notre arrière-Grand'Mère légua

 à sa descendance.

Dedicated

 tenderly and sorrowfully

 to the memory of my beloved Brother,

ALBERT I, KING OF THE BELGIANS

who encouraged me to publish these pages.

 He elevated to the sublime

 the spirit of duty

 that our great-Grandmother bequeathed

to her descendants.

(*I have since discovered a third volume, continuing the story to 1830, and dealing with Amélie's life during the reign of Charles X)

The Perfume of Violets

(Some rights reserved)

In 1938, Princess Marie-José, daughter of King Albert I and Queen Elisabeth of Belgium, paid a remarkable visit to the famed Italian mystic and stigmatist, Padre Pio of Pietrelcina. The circumstances were sad and poignant. The 32-year-old princess, by then unhappily married for eight years to Prince Umberto of Savoy, heir to the Italian throne, had recently lost her much-loved father, King Albert, and sister-in-law, Queen Astrid, in tragic and troubling circumstances. In her grief, Queen Elisabeth had seemed, for many months, to have lost all will to live, refusing food and comfort and isolating herself from the world. It is easy to imagine the anxiety her emotional state must have caused her daughter and the rest of her family. Indeed, Marie-José and her mother-in-law, Queen Elena of Italy, had been at great pains to help Elisabeth recover, inviting her to visit them in Italy and trying to assist her, little by little, to take an interest in life again. In addition to all these personal sorrows, Marie-José had tormenting political worries. With the passing of the years, she had become more and more disturbed by Mussolini's regime. Worst of all, Europe was on the brink of World War II.

So, by visiting Padre Pio, was Marie-José, at a time of anguish, seeking religious consolation? Many years later, she told her biographer, Luciano Regolo: "It may be that my state of mind influenced my decision to make Padre Pio's acquaintance. But today, now that the years have made me strong in the face of all types of suffering, I like to believe that my motive was curiosity" (p. 171). The fame of the saintly and mysterious friar, whom striking testimonies credited with the ability to heal the sick, read souls, predict the future and even bilocate, had spread far and wide. At the Quirinal Palace in Rome, Padre Pio was a topic of earnest discussion among Queen Elena's ladies-in-waiting, many of whom were devoted to him. In Brussels, the mystic's reputation had reached the ears of Queen Elisabeth, always drawn to the mysterious and the inexplicable. She wrote to her daughter: "I would like to know something more of the friar they say bears the wounds of Christ and can foresee the future" (Regolo, p. 171). Amidst all this interest, acting on a sudden impulse, Marie-José decided to meet him.

Accompanied by her niece, 11-year-old Princess Josephine-Charlotte of Belgium, and a friend, Marie-José set out for the church of Santa Maria delle Grazie in San Giovanni Rotondo, where the priest was living. "We got into the car early. For the entire journey, we spoke of nothing but the hereafter, premonitions, and other paranormal phenomena," Marie-José recalled (Regolo, p. 171). When the royal party arrived at Santa Maria delle Grazie, the priest was busy hearing confessions. (By the way, I have heard he could be quite tough on his penitents). Informed of the Princess' visit, Padre Pio responded: "Yes, I'll see her. But first let me finish." Even so august a guest as the Crown Princess of Italy had to wait for her turn. Observing the long line of young men, rosaries in hand, standing before the confessional, she thought: "If this man can succeed in calling back so many boys, he must be a special person" (Regolo, p. 171).

Suddenly, Marie-José noticed a persistent perfume of violets mingled with incense. At the time, she was unaware of the fact that, according to many testimonies, the perfume of flowers and incense was a mark of Padre Pio's spiritual presence. Assuming there must be violets nearby, she looked around, but no flowers met her eyes. "Josephine, do you smell that perfume of violets?" she asked, turning to her niece. "Aunt, what are you saying? Are you crazy? There are no violets here!" Nor did the Princess' friend notice anything unusual. A little later, Marie-José asked a friar, who had come to meet the royal party, if he noticed the perfume. His reply that it was a grace of Our Lord rather perplexed the Princess, always somewhat skeptical of apparently supernatural phenomena.She later explained: "...I have never been particularly religious. My religiosity is of a kind I like to define as 'practical,' excluding all forms of escape from reality. Nonetheless, even today, I cannot find any rational explanation for this extraordinary fact" (Regolo, p. 172).

At last, Padre Pio emerged from the confessional. Marie-José remembered him as a man of great serenity, sweetness, simplicity and humility. His face, she recalled, was pale and marked by fatigue, but his eyes were luminous, radiating joy. He invited Marie-José and her companions into his cell, where he led them in prayer. A heart-to-heart conversation followed. "We spoke for a long time, above all, about my father and my sister-in-law, Astrid. 'They are close to the Lord,' he said, as if he could see them. I did not believe in his gifts as a seer, but his words still filled me with a sense of well-being. The serenity of that man could not leave you indifferent" (Regolo, pp. 172-173). The Princess confided to him her fears regarding the fascist dictatorship, but later forgot his exact reply. Nonetheless, the priest's unusually forceful parting words, as Marie-José kissed him farewell, remained forever engraved in her memory: "There will be war. Be ready, as everything will end soon. Very soon!" (Regolo, p. 173).

For the rest of her life, Marie-José would puzzle over the meaning of this mysterious prophecy. Initially, she thought it must have referred to World War II, and, since, far from "ending soon," the war dragged on for five years, she concluded Padre Pio had been seriously mistaken. Subsequently, she wondered if his words might actually have referred to the fall of the House of Savoy in 1946, astonishingly rapid given that it had, at the end of the 1930's, seemed one of Europe's most secure dynasties. In the end, Marie-José decided the mystic's words could only remain mysterious...Likewise, she could not say whether or not Padre Pio had been a saint; miracles, beatifications and canonizations, she emphasized, were the competence of the Church alone to determine.

She remained cautious of supernatural phenomena, explaining her point of view: "Often, the need to witness otherworldly prodigies...causes people to lose sight of the primary duty of a believer, which, in my opinion, is to aid his neighbor, with all possible means, on this earth." Nonetheless, she insisted: "[Padre Pio is] a personage who merits respect, for having dedicated a large part of his time to the needy, with humility and discretion. Two gifts which are truly rare" (Regolo, p. 173). This respect, moreover, was reciprocal. To the writer Luigi Tucci, many years after meeting the Princess, Padre Pio said: "Marie-José of Savoy is a great lady, a true lady of the spirit ('una vera signora dello spirito') and merits, for that reason, all respect."

The story of Marie-José's visit to Padre Pio has always struck me as a very interesting episode, shedding a rare light on her approach to religion and spirituality.

Reference:

Regolo, Luciano. La regina incompresa: tutto il racconto della vita di Maria Jose di Savoia. Third edition. 2002.

Engagement of Umberto & Marie-José

On October 24, 1929 (ominously enough, the infamous "Black Thursday," the first day of the Wall Street Crash) the engagement of Princess Marie-José of Belgium and Prince Umberto of Savoy was officially announced. During the celebrations in Brussels, as Umberto was laying a wreath at the tomb of the Unknown Soldier, Ferdinando de Rosa, a young Italian, attempted to assassinate the Prince (it was supposed to be a symbolic act to protest the Italian monarchy's compliance with Mussolini). Fortunately, he failed and was arrested. It was all over so quickly that Umberto and Marie-José did not even notice what had happened. Later, when people praised the Prince for his calm and courage, the Princess misunderstood and was deeply hurt: "Do you really need calm and courage to marry me?"