A Gentle Queen

From History and Other Thoughts comes this charming description of the first Queen of the Belgians, Louise d'Orléans, by her husband, Leopold I.  The King was writing to his niece, Queen Victoria, who became close friends with Louise. 

She is extremely gentle and amiable, her actions are always guided by principles. She is at all times ready and disposed to sacrifice her comfort and inclinations to see others happy. She values goodness, merit, and virtue much more than beauty, riches, and amusements. With all this she is highly informed and very clever; she speaks and writes English, German and Italian; she speaks English very well indeed. In short, my dear Love, you see that I may well recommend her as an example for all young ladies, being Princesses or not. 

Now to her appearance. She is about Feodore's [Victoria's half-sister's] height, her hair very fair, light blue eyes, of a very gentle, intelligent and kind expression. A Bourbon nose and small mouth. The figure is much like Feodore's but rather less stout. She rides very well, which she proved to my great alarm the other day, by keeping her seat though a horse of mine ran away with her full speed for at least half a mile. What she does particularly well is dancing. Music unfortunately she is not very fond of, though she plays on the harp; I believe there is some idleness in the case. There exists already great confidence and affection between us; she is desirous of doing everything that can contribute to my happiness, and I study whatever can make her happy and contented.(Read entire post)

Four Generations of the Belgian Royal Family

A dynastic portrait showing young, intense Princess Elisabeth of Belgium, the future Nurse-Queen of the Great War, with her sons, Prince Leopold, future Leopold III, and Prince Charles, the future Regent. Behind Elisabeth, from left to right, are her in-laws and patriarchs of the Belgian royal family, Leopold I, Leopold II, and her own husband, Prince Albert, future Albert I. The portrait commemorates the 75th anniversary of Belgian independence in 1905, and suggests that the new kingdom is entering the new century with confidence, pride and high hopes for the future. 

Of course, not all the figures appearing in the picture actually met in real life. Leopold I, the founder of the Belgian branch of the Saxe-Coburgs, died in 1865, ten years before Albert's birth and eleven years before Elisabeth's. Leopold II only overlapped briefly with his great-nephews, Leopold and Charles. In L'éducation d'un prince (1984), a collection of interviews with Leopold III, he describes only a few childhood memories of meeting the very controversial Leopold II, on holiday at the seaside in Ostende. The sensitive, rather fragile-looking little boy had a recollection of his stern, bearded great-uncle pinching him on the cheeks and telling him to eat heartily and get strong! Leopold III also remembered that his parents never spoke of the scandals in their uncle's personal life that gave rise to so much gossip in Belgium and beyond. 

Portrait of a Princess

Christina Croft shares a description by King Leopold I of the Belgians of his late first wife, Princess Charlotte Augusta of Wales.

 “...My gift is Charlotte’s portrait. The face is extremely like, and the likest that exists; the hair is a little too fair, it had become darker. I take this opportunity to repeat that Charlotte was a noble-minded and highly gifted creature. She was nervous as all the family have been: she could be violent but but then she was full of repentance for it, and her disposition highly-generous and susceptible of great devotion..."

The Death of Sir Richard Croft

Gio writes of the tragic suicide of the obstetrician who attended the ill-fated Princess Charlotte of Wales, the first wife of the future King Leopold I of the Belgians.

The Times added: "At the conclusion of the evidence, the Coroner and Jury retired to take a view of the body of the deceased, which lay in an upper apartment, and was in a dreadful condition, the head being blown to pieces, and the deceased’s bed and bed-clothes being covered with blood; each hand grasped a pistol, which had been loaded with a slug and small shot; the contents entered at the temples. On a chair by the side of the bedstead on which the deceased lay were several of Shakespeare’s plays. The room was very small, and it appeared as if the deceased had been reading. 

One of the play-books lay inside the fender, and was entitled "Love’s Labour Lost."One of the jury took up the book and noticed to his brother jury-men that one of the characters used the following expressions in the page which lay open on the hearth: "Good God! where’s the Princess?" (Read entire post)

Celebrating Belgium

A postcard commemorating the 75th anniversary of Belgian independence in 1905, incidentally also the year the future Queen Astrid was born. The coats of arms of Belgium and her then nine provinces are displayed, along with a picture of the monument to Leopold I at Laeken, the Belgian flag and the national motto, "union makes for strength."

A Lost Princess

Gio reviews a new biography of the tragic first wife of Leopold I.

Charlotte was the daughter of the dissolute Prince Regent, who eventually became George IV, and his coarse wife Caroline of Brunswick. Their marriage was a disaster from the start. They separated almost immediately and did everything they could to make each other and, as a result their daughter, miserable. Despite this, Charlotte turned out well, and was very much loved by the people who hoped she would restore the image of the monarchy and the royal family.

Sadly, their hopes were too soon destroyed. Everyone rejoiced when Charlotte married her Prince. The couple cared deeply for each other and did everything together. But after a year and a half of marriage, Charlotte died after giving birth to a stillborn son. Leopold was distraught and even though he would go on to become King of the Belgians, and remarry, he never forgot his first wife. Had she lived, his niece Queen Victoria, would probably never have been born. Although George IV had several siblings, none of them had legitimate children, and, until this tragedy occurred, hadn't really shown any inclination to get married.

Chambers' biography reads more like a novel than a biography. It flows easily, is entertaining and is light without being shallow. However, it isn't in-depth. While we get to know Charlotte quite well, especially thanks to her correspondence which is amply cited in the book, we're not told much about Leopold. His life after Charlotte's death is summed up in just a few short pages, which is something that really disappointed me as I have a bit of a crush on Leopold and would have loved to know more about him. (Read entire post)

Here is an article discussing amniotic fluid embolism, the rare obstetric emergency that may well have caused Charlotte's death.  

The Duchess of Kent

Some portraits of the controversial mother and namesake of Queen Victoria, also a sister of Leopold, first King of the Belgians. 

Belgium and Leo XIII

In Leo XIII: A Light from Heaven (1961), Brother William J. Kiefer, S.M. discusses the time that Joachim Pecci, future Pope Leo XIII, spent as papal nuncio to Brussels. There he found Church and State in great ferment, and became the target of many calumnies, from both secular and ecclesiastical enemies. Nonetheless, he was able to do a great deal of good, particularly in the field of Catholic education. He won the regard not only of the devout Catholic queen, Louise d'Orléans, but also of her husband, Leopold I, a Protestant Freemason. In turn, Pecci developed a special, life-long attachment to Belgium. His social teachings as Pope must surely have influenced the Christian humanism of figures such as Albert I and Leopold III.

His mission nearly came to a tragic end before it had properly begun. On his way to Brussels, he went by way of Mechlin to visit Cardinal Sterckx, the archbishop. While crossing a canal bridge near Vilvorde the horses took fright and were about to plunge into the water when a priest of the neighborhood courageously seized them by the reins. Pecci refused to ride any further, but left the coach and walked all the way to the capital, where the king joked pleasantly with him about his accident and his coming into Brussels on foot.

The division among the religious and political parties of Belgium with their perpetual intrigues, rendered the post of nuncio to Belgium extremely delicate and difficult...Parties of all sorts, some anti-Catholic, came into being. The country became a hotbed of secret societies conspiring against the monarchical institutions of Europe.

The task was almost insurmountably difficult for any nuncio coming to Brussels, as can be gathered from a long letter Lambruschini wrote as a private instruction for Pecci in which he refers to the complete separation of Church and State. The Pope had already condemned the novelties and systems of Lamennais. Archbishop Pecci was to see that teachers were no longer under the influence of this man, whose errors had caused the bishops of Belgium to create the University of Louvain. At the time of the new nuncio's appointment, the bishops had a bill before the government asking for recognition of the university as a legally incorporated body. Pecci was instructed to see that the bill was withdrawn as the time was not propitious for it. There were constant conflicts between various parties, Church and state, prelates and laity. The parties were struggling for power, and this caused heated opinions and policies, even in other countries of Europe...

How the nuncio felt the weight of his responsibility in these circumstances is described in a letter he wrote to his brother Charles: "You will pardon me, dear brother, for devoting myself entirely to Belgium where the Lord's will has called me to fill an exalted office. Its duties and concerns are extremely delicate and difficult, as you may easily understand without my mentioning them. I ask you always to remember me in your prayers, so that the Lord may assist me with His holy grace. May the appeal of your heart ascend to God from the slopes of Mount Capreo, to win happiness for me and for Belgium." He prayed as if he expected everything from God; he acted as if success depended entirely on his own efforts.

Nationality and the Belgian Monarchy

Michael Palo thoughtfully reviews Belgium and the Monarchy: from National Independence to National Disintegration, an adapted English translation of Herman van Goethem's book  De monarchie en ‘het einde van België’: Een communautaire geschiedenis van Leopold I tot Albert II. I must admit, however, that I did not like the reviewer's vaguely ominous comments about the intentions of Leopold III. While discussing his Political Testament, Palo claims that the King "had done nothing less than outline an authoritarian future for his country." This suggests that the Political Testament was a call to change the Belgian Constitution radically along authoritarian lines, which it was not. In fact, in the same document, Leopold noted that his role, as a constitutional monarch, did not allow him to take sides with one political doctrine or program or another. Rather, he said, it was for the Belgian people, freely consulted, to decide upon any possible changes to the political structure of the kingdom.

The Youth of Leopold I

A description of his childhood and education, from the days of his marriage to Princess Charlotte. His love of nature, political idealism and religious fervor were inherited by many members of the Belgian royal house, such as Kings Albert I, Leopold III and Baudouin. However, they were as ardently Catholic  as he had been Protestant.

The chief merit of the education of this prince belongs to the privy-counsellor Hohnbaum. This gentleman was in 1799 appointed teacher to Leopold and his two brothers, and consequently had the former, who was then between eight and nine years old, constantly about him. He soon discovered the capacity and good qualities of his pupil; at the same time he could not but perceive, that the prince was rather delicate. The tutor therefore directed his first cares to the means of strengthening his constitution: he accustomed him to gymnastic exercises, proceeding from the easiest to the most severe; not a moment was left unemployed; and this system proved so successful, that the prince was enabled, at a subsequent period, to support, without difficulty, all the hardships and dangers of war.

During his childhood the prince had no play-fellows; his two brothers were both too much older than himself, the one being his senior by seven, and the other by upwards of five years. It was, therefore, impossible to prevent them from sometimes exercising the right of the stronger upon their younger brother, when he mixed in their youthful sports; and this treatment was so far from according with Leopold's notions of right and justice, that he chose rather to seek diversion by himself. Till he was turned of nine years two squirrels were his chief amusement: he not only regularly fed and attended to them, but had the curiosity to see what natural history had to say concerning his little favourites. The accidental present of a pair of pigeons next led him to make himself acquainted with the peculiarities of the different varieties of birds of that family.

These innocent attachments were supplanted by a fondness for flowers, which he indulged in a garden that he rented, and which led him into the extensive field of botany. His passion for this science was, however, first excited so early as in his fifth year, by the contemplation of the prints in the natural history for children, published by the Industrie Comptoir at Weimar, which has produced so many other useful works for the instruction of the youthful mind. By his intimate acquaintance with botany, combined with his noble character and pleasing manners, he very strongly recommended himself to the Empress Josephine during his first visit to Paris. A connoisseur herself, and possessing a collection of plants unrivalled upon the Continent, she particularly distinguished Prince Leopold, and presented him with various rare articles out of her garden. The love of what is grand and beautiful in nature next led him to landscape-painting, in which he is a very great proficient, and for his skill in this art he is indebted to himself alone; for though his master, Rauschert, was celebrated in Germany, and England also, as a practical artist, yet he was deficient in theoretical knowledge, and died before the prince had made any great progress. With these pleasing pursuits he combined the study of music, which he learned with the same ease and celerity as every thing else to which he addicted himself.

The history of Saxony inspired Prince Leopold with a love of history in general: from the history of his ancestors, which made a deep impression upon his mind, he proceeded to that of the states connected with the history of the Saxons; and therefore studied at an early period of life the history of England, and conceived a decided predilection for the constitution, manners, and literature of this country. In the history of Germany he was particularly struck with Schiller's History of the Thirty Years War. The noble and chivalrous spirit of the heroes described in that work animated his bosom; but the deeds of that champion of religious and political independence, Gustavus Adolphus, excited his highest enthusiasm. In the contemplation of the life of this prince his heart and imagination found a rich treat, and he often wished to be in the place of Gustavus Adolphus, that he might protect the rest of the Continent from the despotism of Napoleon.  

The young prince was often quite absorbed in these speculations, and when he fancied himself contending as Gustavus Adolphus for the liberties of Germany, he would sometimes affectionately call his faithful tutor Hohnbaum, his good Oxenstierna. From this time the prince began to read military works and to study mathematics, as necessary for his future destination. Though he at first found some difficulty in this science, yet he soon overcame and made himself complete master of it. The languages he learned as he had occasion for them: here again he was infinitely less indebted to formal instruction than to his own assiduity. He learned Latin at an early age; in his native language and French he has acquired extraordinary perfection; of Russian he made himself master so far as was necessary for him as a Russian general; English he learned later, but studied it with a diligence and perseverance that soon overcame all the difficulties of that language. As the prince learned from early youth to be economical of his time, he was also habituated to be frugal of his money: his tutor encouraged him to keep an account of his receipts and expences; he soon took upon himself the management of his money, and kept his accounts in the most regular manner. The poor never failed to share his bounty, and though he never contracted debts, he was far from penurious.

A letter from the Rev. Mr. Hoflender, dated Coburg, May 13, 1816, says:—"From 1797 to 1811 I was one of his tutors, and for near fourteen years I gave him instruction on every subject. In the first year I taught him biblical history, Christian morality, religion, and the history of Christianity. On the 12th of September, 1805, the prince was confirmed according to the custom of the Lutheran church, and partook for the first time of the Holy Communion. What I said on this occasion before a numerous assembly, in my discourse previous to the confirmation, on the moral and religious character of the prince, could not but tend to his commendation, as he always manifested the most serious attention to my instructions, and was not only thoroughly acquainted with the truths of our holy religion, but his heart was deeply penetrated by them."

Louis-Philippe of Belgium

A lovely, detailed post about Belgium's first crown prince. After his death, his mother, the devout Queen Louise-Marie, wrote to her father's secretary:

"The certainty of the happiness of my poor child has robbed my tears of all bitterness. He is now a little angel who watches over us from heaven on high, and I could not pity him for having avoided all the pains and worries inseparable from this life, sad even for the happiest". 

Mother of Kings

A famous allegory of the young Countess Augusta Reuss-Ebersdorf (1757-1831), mother of King Leopold I, and grandmother of Queen Victoria, as Artemisia. The portrait was painted in 1775 by Johann Heinrich Tischbein the Elder. Augusta, who later married Duke Francis of Saxe-Coburg-Saalfeld, and bore him ten children, was considered one of the most beautiful women of her time, and her good looks seem to have been inherited by her Belgian descendants. Determined and ambitious, through her children's strategic marriages, she overcame the ruinous debts of her husband's family to become the ancestress of many European royal lines.

Portrait of Princess Juliane

This is a painting by the great Elisabeth Vigée-Lebrun of Princess Juliane of Saxe-Coburg-Saalfeld (1781-1860), an older sister of King Leopold I of the Belgians. The portrait was destroyed by bombs during the Second World War. As a young girl of fourteen, Juliane married Grand Duke Constantine of Russia, a brother of Tsars Alexander I and Nicholas I, converting to Orthodoxy and changing her name to Anna Feodorovna. The marriage was deeply unhappy, however, and soon fell apart. Anna subsequently had several lovers and illegitimate children.

Black and Gold

In contrast to the charming Dalton miniature of Queen Louise-Marie, we have this rather grim portrait of her husband, King Leopold I. I like the contrast between the black and the gold. The portrait also aptly conveys Leopold's melancholy in later life, as described by Charlotte Brontë in her novel, Villette, inspired by her experiences in Belgium:

Well do I recall that King—a man of fifty, a little bowed, a little gray ; there was no face in all that assembly which resembled his. I had never read, never been told anything of his nature or his habits : and at first the strong hieroglyphics graven as with iron stylet on his brow, round his eyes, beside his mouth, puzzled and baffled instinct. Ere long, however, if I did not know, at least I felt, the meaning of those characters written without hand. There sat a silent sufferer—a nervous, melancholy man...

Some might say it was the foreign crown pressing the King's brows which bent them to that peculiar and painful fold; some might quote the effects of early bereavement. Something there might be of both these, but these as embittered by that darkest foe of humanity—constitutional melancholy.

Princess Charlotte's Wedding Dress

The bridal gown of the first wife of the future King Leopold I of the Belgians.

A Queen Mourns a Queen

At  Lost in the Myths of History, Christina Croft shares a touching message of condolence, addressed by Queen Victoria to her uncle, King Leopold I of the Belgians, upon the death of his consort, Queen Louise-Marie.

How beautiful it must be to see that your whole country weeps and mourns with you. For the country and for your children you must try to bear up and feel that in doing so, you are doing all SHE wished. If only we could be of use to you! If I could do anything for poor, little Charlotte. whom our blessed Louise talked of so often to me.(Read full letter)

The Belgian Revolution

Tomorrow, of course, will be Belgium's National Day, commemorating the swearing-in of the first King of the Belgians, Prince Leopold of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, 180 years ago. (Sadly, barring an overnight miracle, it will be Belgium's second National Day in a row without a government!) I can warmly recommend reading the New Advent article on the early modern history of Belgium. Here is an excerpt describing the Belgian Revolution of 1830, the fruit of a curious alliance between Catholic and Liberal opponents of King William I of the Netherlands, which gave rise to the new Kingdom of Belgium:

Soon after the victory of the Allied Powers, who became masters of Belgium, they established there a provisional government under the Duke of Beaufort (11 June, 1814). The new governing powers promptly proclaimed to the Belgians that, in conformity with the intentions of the Allied Powers, "they would maintain inviolable the spiritual and the civil authority in their respective spheres, as determined by the canonical laws of the Church and by the old constitutional laws of the country". These declarations roused hopes which, however, were destined to be disappointed; for by the secret treaty of Chaumont (1 March, 1814), confirmed by Article 6 of the Treaty of Paris (30 May, 1814), it had even then been decided that Holland should receive an addition of territory, and that this addition should be Belgium. The secret Treaty of London (23 June, 1814) furthermore provided that the union of the two countries was to be internal and thorough, so that they "would form one and the same State governed by the constitution already established in Holland, which would be modified by mutual consent to accord with new conditions". The new State took the name of the Kingdom of the Netherlands, and was placed under the sovereignty of William I of Orange-Nassau.

The object of the Powers in creating the Kingdom of the Netherlands was to give France on her northern frontier a neighbour strong enough to serve as a barrier against her, and with this aim in view they disposed of the Belgian provinces without consulting them. The State resulting form this union seemed to offer numerous guarantees of prosperity from the standpoint of economics. Unfortunately, however, the two peoples, after being separated for more than two centuries, had conflicting temperaments; the Dutch were Calvinists, the Belgians Catholics, and the former, although greatly in the minority, 2,000,000 as against 3,500,000 Belgians, expected to rule the Belgians and to treat them as subjects. These differences could have been lessened by a sovereign who would take the duty on himself; they were, however, aggravated by the policy adopted by William I. Arbitrary, narrow-minded, obstinate, and moreover an intolerant Calvinist, he surrounded himself almost exclusively with Dutchmen, who were totally ignorant of Catholic matters and of the Belgian character. In addition, he was imbued with the principles of "enlightened despotism" which made him regard his absolutism as the form of government best suited to the needs of his kingdom, and thus he was unequal to his tasks from the very outset. While still Prince of Fulda, he had persecuted his Catholic subjects until the Diet was forced to check him. As King of the Netherlands, he showed that he had learned nothing by experience, and imagined that he could effect the fusion of the two peoples by transforming Belgium into Holland as far as possible.

Defending the Saxe-Coburgs: Part III

(Continued from Part I and Part II)

Ever since Paul Reynaud's tragic, unjust indictment of the King, on May 28, 1940, an endless series of personal attacks have been launched at Leopold III. In the aftermath of Reynaud's venomous broadcast, accusing the King of betraying the Allies, the man who had been hailed by the world as a hero only a few weeks earlier began to be vilified as a coward, a traitor and a libertine. There were rumors, for instance, that he had a Nazi mistress planted on him by the Gestapo. During the Nazi occupation, lewd pamphlets circulated through Belgium, sometimes with the connivance of the German authorities. Other, more clever troublemakers produced damaging forgeries in the name of intimates of the King, such as his secretary, Count Robert Capelle. After the liberation of the country, during the controversy over the King's wartime conduct, the tradition of personal attacks continued. According to authors such as Roger Keyes and Jean Cleeremans, a special agency was even set up in London to spread scandalous stories about Leopold. Every effort was made to portray the King and his second wife, Princess Lilian, as a decadent, self-indulgent and morally enervated pair, as the Belgian equivalents of the Duke and Duchess of Windsor, if not worse.

The royal couple, for example, were accused of "honeymooning" in Austria at the home of a "notorious Nazi". The legend has persisted to this day, appearing in many publications and flaring up all over online forums. In an interview, transcribed in Le Soir, on September 3, 1998, upon the publication of his biography of Princess Lilian, Evrard Raskin insidiously asked why Lord Keyes, in his defense of the King, had "willfully ignored" this episode. The question seems highly disingenuous, since far from "willfully ignoring" the charge, Keyes actually answers it at great length. In Échec au Roi (1986), he demonstrates, in detail, that the King had to travel to Vienna to see a specialist for a delicate jaw operation. His new bride accompanied him on the trip, but it was no fun to travel with the Gestapo on their trail. In addition, Lilian had to care for a husband unable to eat normally for some time following the procedure. It does not seem to have been a very idyllic "honeymoon". Keyes also disputes the claim that the King's host was a "notorious Nazi"; on the contrary, he says, the man in question actually had Allied connections. The journey through hostile territory, moreover, gave Leopold something of an opportunity to reconnoitre. Are these conflicting versions of events merely a case of Keyes' word versus Raskin's? I think not. It's significant that Raskin resorted to pretending that Keyes had ignored the alleged pleasure trip, rather than offering counter-evidence to try to refute Keyes' account. To me, this suggests that Raskin lacked counter-evidence to provide. Besides, is it likely that the same King who took such pains to maintain his passive resistance to the occupying power, evading all efforts to lure him into collaboration, would compromise himself so carelessly by blithely vacationing in Hitler's homeland, by fraternizing with a pillar of Hitler's régime?

By far the most infamous and implausible accusation, though, is the claim that King Leopold, during his visit to Berchtesgaden in November, 1940, to press for the release of Belgian prisoners of war, and for better treatment of the Belgian civilian population, consorted with call-girls, obligingly placed at his disposal by the Gestapo! This allegation, supposedly emanating from an interrogation of a Gestapo official, has been repeated by authors such as Evrard Raskin and Paul Beliën. I would rather not mention such a vile claim, let alone dignify it with a response, but it is important to see how low Leopold's enemies have been willing to stoop. Keyes describes how Leopold's opponents, presumably using the hope of more lenient treatment as leverage, tried to provoke damning "testimonies" against the King from captive Germans, who were themselves compromised by collaboration with the Nazi régime. General Alexander von Falkenhausen, the military governor of Belgium during the occupation, for his part, related that he had been pressured, in prison, to bear false witness against Leopold III. The version of events which, he claimed, some supposed Belgian officials had attempted to cajole him into confirming, like the story of the escorts at Berchtesgaden, cast Leopold in a ridiculously hedonistic light: the King was supposed to have celebrated his own imminent deportation to Germany, in June, 1944, by drinking a bottle of champagne in the General's company. If the Gestapo official in question did, indeed, tell such a disgusting tale, I suspect that similar pressure was behind it. In any case, in his memoirs, written long after the fact, in perfect liberty, Herr Schmidt, Hitler's interpreter, noted the Belgian monarch's stiff, reserved, dignified manner, his adroit skill in avoiding compromising himself, during his visit to the German chancellor. He also indicated that the King specifically, and rather disdainfully, refused the Führer's offer of personal favors...

Unfortunately, the attacks did not come to an end with Leopold's abdication in 1951. As I have mentioned before, in the decades to come, many rumors of conjugal discord and infidelity would swirl around Leopold and Lilian. In 1962, despite the laws protecting the personal lives of private citizens, including the former King of the Belgians at this point in his career, a particularly vulgar and virulent press campaign, combined with the tacit acquiescence of the public authorities, would oblige Leopold to submit a stern protest to the Belga news agency.  Like many other couples, Leopold and Lilian may well have had moments of marital friction. Yet, Michel Verwilghen notes, the lurid tales tended to emanate from the political class. This milieu had much to justify: the rejection of a monarch who had previously been cleared of all charges of treason by a commission of inquiry consisting of eminent jurists, and who had been restored to his royal prerogatives by the majority vote of his people. To compensate for the absence of solid, irrefutable accusations of political misconduct, would charges of personal misconduct not be very helpful? Furthermore, from the beginning of his career, Leopold had been known as an idealist. Even before ascending the throne, for instance, he had irritated colonial interest groups by insisting on responsible rule of the Congo. During the early years of his reign, he had alienated many party politicians by condemning their selfishness; these tensions would later be complicated by his wartime differences with his ministers and allies. "Le monde politique ne pardonna pas au Roi son souci du bien commun et sa grande moralité politique"*. To discredit, as a moral leader, a man who was a reproach to many, would smears not be highly useful? In Leopold's regard, too, the political world and the press did not have much of a record of truthfulness. For example, Prime Ministers Gaston and Mark Eyskens, aided by journalists, promoted the extravagant, absurd, false, but incredibly persistent rumors that Leopold and Lilian had "pillaged" Laeken during their move to Argenteuil. In such a treacherous environment, are we to believe rumors of extramarital affairs?

What of the supposed love children attributed to the King? In A Throne in Brussels (2005) Paul Beliën claims that Count Michel Didisheim, a distinguished Belgian civil servant, is an illegitimate son of Leopold III, fathered during his marriage to the beautiful and beloved Queen Astrid, no less. The claim is based only on the fact that Didisheim "resembles" the late King. In a weaselly footnote, Beliën admits that Didisheim's supposed royal paternity has never been proven. Nevertheless, he says, he has it on the authority of "sources in Brussels" which he considers reliable. The rumor also figures in De Kroon Ontbloot (2008), a sensationalist book by Noël Vaessen, a disgraced former aide to Prince Laurent, the youngest son of King Albert II and Queen Paola. On October 16, 2008, after the appearance of both books, Michel Didisheim issued a press release, published in La Libre Belgique, denying that he was the son of Leopold III. Nevertheless, the claim has recently been reiterated by Leo van Audenhaege.

For several reasons, I find the story highly implausible. First, Leopold adored Astrid. In Vännen min (1985), the Queen's closest companion, Anna Sparre, emphasizes that the King was a completely devoted husband. (And Anna was not one to over-romanticize the past. In fact, she can be quite critical, at times, in her recollections of her friendship with Astrid. For instance, she portrays Astrid's mother-in-law, Queen Elisabeth, rather derisively, something I found to be out of place). Second, Michel Didisheim's mother, Claire Maigret de Priches, seems to have been a lady of high character. An Allied agent during the Second World War, she was deported to Ravensbrück concentration camp, to be starved and tormented by Nazi doctors, who injected typhus into her blood to develop serum. According to a fellow inmate, she bore these terrible experiences with great courage and kindness. I doubt that such a heroine would have been a woman of easy virtue. Third, Michel seems to have been the eldest legal child of Baron René Didisheim and Claire Maigret de Priches, born barely more than nine months after their marriage. Are we to believe that Claire had a tryst with the then Duke of Brabant, around the same time as her wedding night? It's a bit grotesque...And the fact that Michel Didisheim, a littérateur with a keen interest in European royalty, wrote a novel about Valerie Schwalb, an illegitimate great-grand-daughter of Queen Victoria, proves precisely nothing...

Leo van Audenhaege also made headlines last month with a totally weird new allegation, regarding a supposed wartime affair with an "ice princess", the married Austrian skating champion Liselotte Landbeck. According to Van Audenhaege, the young and pretty Liselotte was invited to Laeken to teach the royal children to ice-skate, during the winter of 1939-1940, and Leopold and Liselotte "fell in love at first sight", possibly consummating their relationship on the very first night after they met, at the palace. The result, the author continues, was the birth of an illegitimate daughter in Antwerp a year later. Supposedly, Liselotte's hospital room was "filled with flowers from Laeken" and a signed photograph of the "biological father" of her baby was also prominently on display. Incredibly implausibly, despite all this indiscretion, the story was allegedly kept a dark secret for over 70 years; so dark, in fact, that even Leopold's daughter-in-law, Princess Léa, who has doubtless heard many rumors in her time, was extremely surprised at this "revelation".

It all sounds very suspicious to me. Why would Liselotte Landbeck even be needed to teach the royal children how to ice-skate? I would actually be very surprised if Joséphine-Charlotte, Baudouin and Albert did not already possess this skill. The Belgian royal family were famously athletic, and, surely, this was not the first time the ponds at Laeken had iced over! Even if the children did not know how to skate, surely someone in the royal entourage could have given them lessons? Skating is hardly an arcane art. Could the children's much-loved Dutch governess, for instance, not have served the purpose? The Dutch are famous for their feats on the ice. Furthermore, is it likely that the King, who was quite slow, prior to the war, in his advances towards a much more beautiful, single woman, Lilian Baels, whom he could legitimately court, would fall head over heels in love with Liselotte Landbeck, already married to another, at their first meeting? Is it probable that Leopold and Liselotte would tryst at Laeken, of all places, under the eyes of all the palace staff? (Even Leopold I and Leopold II, who genuinely had affairs, met their mistresses elsewhere). Is it credible that the King, while his reputation was in an extremely fragile position, amidst the flurry of scandalous stories circulating in the wake of Reynaud's indictment, would advertise that he had fathered an illegitimate child, by sending his mistress loads of flowers and a signed photograph, to be seen by doctors, nurses, patients and passers-by?

The semi-satirical Belgian paper, Humo, claims to have interviewed the supposed daughter, Ingeborg Verdun, who allegedly lives in the United States under an assumed name, but Leo van Audenhaege has apparently refused to reveal Ingeborg's current identity, or the location of her mother, merely claiming that Liselotte, now very elderly and frail, lives in southern climes. Supposedly, this discretion is motivated by a concern to protect these ladies from press attention, but it is also all very convenient, since it makes it much harder for a third party to verify Van Audenhaege's story. Frankly, too, if Ingeborg Verdun is willing to expose the entire royal family of Belgium, including a deceased and already much-maligned man, to such lurid press attention, she ought to have the decency and integrity to face the same sort of publicity herself, especially when unheard-of allegations are being made. Furthermore, even if Ingeborg Verdun has, indeed, claimed to the the daughter of Leopold III, it's not necessarily true...Consider, for instance, the elaborate imposture of the Affair of the Diamond Necklace.

In fact, the story of Ingeborg Verdun seems incredibly implausible, even aside from everything else, for this simple reason: if it is true, then WHY was it not eagerly unearthed and widely publicized long ago, particularly during the torrential mudslinging of the Royal Question? It would have been very useful to Leopold's enemies to be able to charge him with frittering away his time with a mistress- an Austrian mistress, too, one of Hitler's fellow country-women- while his people were embroiled in war and occupation. Instead, they resorted to trumping up nonsense of Nazi mistresses, honeymoons in Vienna and call-girls at Berchtesgaden. It all sounds quite desperate...

To the allegations concerning Michel Didisheim and Ingeborg Verdun, Leo van Audenhaege has added yet another rumor. He claims that Leopold had a third illegitimate child, a son, conveniently left unnamed, by a young Frenchwoman, during the 1950's. In the press, Van Audenhaege blustered: "What I say is 100% certain. Nobody will be able to refute this". How can anyone be 100% certain about such matters in the first place? Was Mr. van Audenhaege present at the conception of the child? Has he performed a DNA test? Apparently, Prime Minister Achille van Acker (above) reported the birth of the supposed son, among other lurid rumors regarding the royal couple, in his private papers. Achille van Acker, however, was a highly devious individual, a bitter opponent of Leopold III, and a man with a vile mind. During the Royal Question, he tried to frame his Sovereign, accusing him of conniving at his own deportation to Germany, based upon the false testimony of a treacherous friend of the King, Victor van Straelen. (Fortunately, the commission of inquiry investigating Leopold's conduct was able to refute these claims, by demonstrating that the testimonies of all the other witnesses, including Cardinal van Roey, and the rest of the evidence relating to the deportation contradicted Van Straelen's account). It was Achille van Acker, too, who tried to suborn Princess Lilian, offering her ample sums and luxurious advantages, if only she would abandon her husband in exile and return to Belgium with Prince Baudouin. It was Achille van Acker, moreover, who fomented the despicable allegations of an incestuous relationship between Baudouin and Lilian. This is how the Prime Minister, hardly the chivalrous gentleman, referred to the Princess: "Une intrigante qui a la moitié de son derrière sur le trône, et qui se tortille pour y installer l'autre"**. There you have the man. Achille van Acker is not a reliable source concerning Leopold III.

Finally, the 1950's opened with messages of passionate tenderness, overflowing with love for his wife and family, from Leopold to Lilian, and closed with the King's noble tribute to the Princess, on the eve of the wedding of Baudouin and Fabiola. Leopold reminded his son of all he owed Lilian, who had shared her husband's ordeals with the greatest courage, while giving her step-son the affectionate and vigilant care that his own mother, so mourned by all, had not been able to provide herself. It seems rather a surprising admonition on such an occasion. In marriage, a man leaves his father and mother to cleave to his wife, and yet, Leopold saw fit to emphasize the family's debt to Lilian even at this moment. Afterwards, amidst the cruel press campaign against Leopold and Lilian, the former King of the Belgians reiterated the same sentiments of respectful gratitude towards his second wife. Many beautiful photographs from the 1950's also bear witness to the harmony and joy of the royal family in this period. It is during these years that Achille van Acker supposedly claimed that Leopold was having extramarital affairs, spending millions of francs on mistresses, fathering illegitimate children, and even contemplating divorcing Lilian. I think not. In my opinion, Princess Esmeralda described her parents' marriage much better: "Leur seul tort fut de s'aimer"!***


*"The political world did not forgive the King his concern for the common good, or his great political morality".
**"A schemer who has half of her rear on the throne, and is wriggling to set the other half there".
***"Their only fault was to love each other!"

(to be continued)

Defending the Saxe-Coburgs: Part II

We must not trust every word of others or feeling within ourselves, but cautiously and patiently try the matter, whether it be of God. Unhappily we are so weak that we find it easier to believe and speak evil of others, rather than good. But they that are perfect, do not give ready heed to every news-bearer, for they know man's weakness that it is prone to evil and unstable in words. ~Thomas à Kempis

With all the discussion of unhappy and unfaithful royal marriages, it is forgotten that there have also been many devoted ones. Notable examples are St. Louis IX of France and Marguerite of Provence, Charles I  and Henrietta Maria of England, Louis XVI and Marie-Antoinette, Louis-Philippe and Marie-Amélie, Tsar Alexander III and Empress Maria Feodorovna of Russia, Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, Tsar Nicholas II and Empress Alexandra, Emperor Charles I and Empress Zita of Austria-Hungary. Sadly, however, stories of virtue tend to be neglected, while stories of vice are frequently featured in popular accounts of the lives of past monarchs. As a result, many credit lurid rumors about royalty hastily and uncritically, assuming that all kings, more or less, are libertines. In Belgium, these prejudices are feeding the current campaign to portray the reigning Saxe-Coburg dynasty as lascivious and promiscuous. In my opinion, the campaign is often unfair; in a previous post, I gave my thoughts on the attacks on the first three Kings of the Belgians: Leopold I, Leopold II and Albert I. Over the next few weeks, I hope to discuss some of the gossip surrounding their successors: Leopold III, Baudouin I and Albert II.

Leopold III has the general reputation of an inveterate libertine. This image has been reinforced by authors such as Evrard Raskin, Paul Beliën, and, most recently, Leo van Audenhaege. Granted, no man is immune to temptation. Yet, I tend to disbelieve the accusations of promiscuity. Authors such as Roger Keyes, Jean Cleeremans, Georges-Henri Dumont, Jo Gérard and Michel Verwilghen all contradict these charges. However deeply entrenched in the public mind, by endless repetition, the scandalous allegations have often emanated from suspicious sources, at suspicious times. Before the Second World War, Leopold III did not have a reputation for libertinism; quite the opposite. A neutral witness, the American ambassador to Brussels from 1938-1940, Joseph E. Davies, described the young, handsome, athletic King of the Belgians as a noble man of great moral intensity, completely devoted to his duty and to his family, chaste, irreproachable, above even the suspicion of scandal. In The Prisoner at Laeken: King Leopold, legend and fact (1941), written to defend the King from charges of treason during the Nazi occupation, Emile Cammaerts noted his sterling record, prior to the war. In the glare of modern publicity, he argued, Leopold had led a spotless life; how could such a man turn, overnight, into a scoundrel? What sense would such an argument make, if the King had already been known for corrupt habits? In Amours royales et princières: mariages, liaisons, passions et trahisons de la cour de Belgique (2006), Patrick Weber also indicates that the lurid rumors about the King surfaced later in his career. In fact, the legend of Leopold's libertinism evolved amidst a flood of other venomous accusations, amidst the many calumnies promoted by his political opponents, a fact which ought to put us on our guard in the first place. Nor does debauchery accord with the King's lofty, uncompromising idealism, his profound piety, or his spiritual serenity.

There is evidence that Leopold III cared deeply about chastity: his alarm, for instance, during the Nazi occupation, at the prospect of the deportation of young Belgian women to Germany. Appalled by the perils facing these girls, and, in particular, by the threat to their virtue, the King intervened strenuously, and, in large measure, successfully, to ward off the danger of deportation, much to Hitler's fury. In L'éducation d'un prince: entretiens avec le roi Léopold III (1984),  the King, on a similar note, reflected sadly upon prostitution in the developing world. In Échec au Roi: Léopold III, 1940-1951 (1986), Roger Keyes notes that Leopold, like his parents, was worried by the irregular private life of his troubled younger brother, Charles. According to Keyes, Leopold's chastity was one of the reasons why his father preferred him to Charles. In Le mythe d'Argenteuil: demeure d'un couple royal (2006), Michel Verwilghen mentions Leopold's distress at his daughter Marie-Christine's scandals. Most famously, the King insisted on marrying his wartime sweetheart, Lilian Baels. Although the young lady was beneath his station, and the occupation was a constitutionally difficult time for the Sovereign to take a wife, he did so. (Incredibly, he is criticized for this decision; while portraying Lilian as a trollop, many simultaneously blame the King for not treating her as such. The logic of these arguments escapes me). Not only Keyes, Dumont and Gérard, who are sympathetic to the King, but also Jan Velaers and Herman van Goethem, who can be quite critical of him, indicate that the couple's religious and moral principles made marriage imperative.

Some authors, such as Evrard Raskin, have insinuated that Leopold married Lilian merely under "pressure" from the Primate of Belgium, Cardinal van Roey, and from Queen Mother Elisabeth, who did not want a Catholic monarch to "live in sin". (Raskin, however, admitted to lacking precise details as to this supposed episode. Apparently, he had not been authorized access to the Cardinal's archives at Malines, and the Queen's notes were not yet available for study). The King did consult with the Cardinal before the wedding, but what "pressure" could the prelate, realistically, have brought to bear, other than reiterating the laws of the Church, which Leopold and Lilian already knew? Throughout history, monarchs have kept mistresses, and no amount of clerical intervention has been able to prevent it. Van Roey would have been powerless, if the interested parties themselves had not respected Catholic morality. Nor ought we to view Lilian's insistence on marriage as driven merely by ambition, as Raskin also suggested. (As a side note, it's important to realize that Raskin, a former Volksunie deputy, disliked Lilian in any case, on ethnolinguistic grounds, for "betraying" her Flemish roots by opting for French culture. His venom, therefore, is not surprising. I can recommend reading Verwilghen's critique of Raskin's biography of Lilian, in Le mythe d'Argenteuil). The dire political circumstances of Lilian's marriage do not suggest that she accepted the King's proposal out of ambition; quite the opposite. As for Leopold, although few might think it today, he had, in his parents' union, a very pure, very noble ideal of love, which he fervently admired. From his earliest years, he venerated his father; by his own testimony, he desired to emulate him in all matters, public and private. In consequence, as I believe that King Albert I was a virtuous man, I think it's most likely that King Leopold III strove to be so, too.

In fact, perhaps he strove only too hard. Based upon the confidences of one of the King's intimates, in 1937, Victor Serge noted in his diary that Leopold had refused to remarry, following the death of his first wife, Queen Astrid. His scrupulous conscience overwhelmed with guilt at having caused her death, albeit involuntarily, the King had resolved to inflict solitude upon himself forever, as a penance. Of course, he was being overly strict with himself, and he did eventually decide to remarry, but his readiness, for principled reasons, to deny himself even the legitimate consolations of wedlock, gravely undermines the notions of his supposedly irresistible attraction to women, his supposedly voracious, amoral sexual appetites. Serge also described Leopold's life as very pious, dutiful and austere. Later, there were tales of pleasure parties in Paris during this period; I think not. From his youth, as his companion Alfred Willemart noted, Leopold had tremendous self-control. At the age of nine, for example, after dislocating his elbow in a car accident, he bravely underwent a painful operation to reset the bones, his teeth clenched, without a murmur. As a teenager, during the First World War, he gladly shared the dangers and hardships of the Belgian army, as a private in the trenches. It's hard to believe that such a disciplined person would indulge in sensual excess.

It is also worth noting that Leopold was intensely shy and modest, facts which are often overlooked. In her memoirs, his sister Marie-José relates his embarrassment, as a youth, at the feminine attention attracted by his stunning beauty. On on occasion, he blushed to the ears, merely upon overhearing a flirtatious group of girls comment on his good looks. Decades later, it seems, he still felt uncomfortable with such compliments. Marie-José also recalled her brother's embarrassment at the risqué remarks of Lady Asquith during her wartime visit to the Belgian sovereigns. The officers present smiled at her teasing manner, but the young prince blushed. During this period, Leopold was actually known for his reserve around women; before meeting Princess Astrid of Sweden, ladies never seemed to arouse his interest. It seems highly unlikely that he would later become a Don Juan.

(to be continued)

Defending the Saxe-Coburgs

And kings in general...

I'd rather not dwell on this silliness, but I find I must be strict for a bit. We're witnessing far too much scurrilous stereotyping of the Saxe-Coburg family. The campaign is spurred along by the eager publication of books, such as Paul Beliën's highly disingenuous, vituperative and sensationalist polemic, A Throne in Brussels: Britain, the Saxe-Coburgs and the Belgianisation of Europe (2005), which all too many seem to take at face value. Of course, using sexual slurs to discredit public figures is nothing new. Consider, for example, all the feverish, torrid, and, in fact, false accusations launched against Anne Boleyn, Marie-Antoinette, Queen Maria Carolina of Naples and Queen Louise of Prussia by their political opponents. The same process is underway today, in Belgium. We need not be conspiracy theorists to conclude that many people, in powerful positions, simply do not want this battered little kingdom to exist. There is no other explanation for the endless, paralyzing political problems, the bitter divisions, growing ever greater and ever deeper, that afflict a nation which has weathered the worst storms in history triumphantly. Therefore, it is not surprising that sordid little tales are sedulously spread, to undermine Belgians' respect for their monarchy. The Saxe-Coburgs are portrayed as lascivious, promiscuous creatures by definition. How accurate is this image? 

Let's take a look at the six Kings of the Belgians, and examine some ghostly, shadowy rumors in the sober light of day. Oh, and by the way... the Belgian Royal Family dropped the name "Saxe-Coburg" after the First World War...The constant labeling of the reigning house, often in a rather contemptuous fashion, as the"Saxe-Coburgs", serves, subliminally, to insinuate into people's minds the idea that this is merely a foreign family, artificially imposed upon an artificial state, cobbled together in 1830 merely for extraneous, geopolitical reasons, another highly popularized myth. 

Under Leopold I and Leopold II, the Belgian court still had something of the flavor of the ancien régime. Both kings married strictly for reasons of state. Not surprisingly, in consequence, both kings indulged in amorous adventures, to their pious queens' distress. However unfortunate, though, such behavior was commonplace throughout the royalty and aristocracy of Europe for centuries. It does not prove that the Saxe-Coburgs, per se, were extraordinarily lustful. True, Leopold II undeniably took his marriage vows even more lightly than most monarchs. Even within his family, though, his domestic life was unusually disastrous; his character, judging, most notably, by his dealings in the Congo, unusually corrupt. We cannot ascribe his failings to his entire dynasty. This clearly emerges, for instance, from the fact that his successors, Albert I and Leopold III, tried strenuously to reform the colonial administration, taking a deep, personal interest in the Congo's welfare, in sharp contrast to their predecessor.

I also find that even Leopold II's notorious liaison, in his last years, with the young Parisian courtesan, Caroline Delacroix, who ultimately made off with much of his ill-gotten colonial gains, is over-sexualized in many popular accounts. It is easy to see the King as a lascivious old man, besotted with a voluptuous young woman, and, sadly, this scenario was doubtless true to a considerable extent. Yet, more thoughtful accounts, such as the masterful character study of the pair by Xavier Paoli, suggest a subtler, more complex, more genuine, and, oddly enough, more staid romance. Paoli also makes clear that the lovers, despite everything, retained the glimmerings of a conscience. After the death of Queen Marie-Henriette, Leopold II and Caroline Delacroix took care to regularize their union, if only in God's eyes, through a secret religious marriage. Most sources report that the ceremony took place during the King's last illness, but Paoli thought it might have happened earlier.

We come now to Albert I. In his letters, in the reminiscences of various intimates, he emerges as a deeply pure, pious and prayerful soul, although this is often forgotten today, in the poisonous cynicism that has taken over much of Belgian historiography. For many reasons, I am convinced that every aspersion cast upon his private life is a violent outrage. Raised in the virtuous atmosphere of the Palace of Flanders, by pious and charitable parents, Prince Philippe of Belgium and Princess Marie of Hohenzollern-Sigmaringen, a quietly devoted couple, Albert had strict, high moral principles instilled in him at an early age, as evinced by many contemporary accounts. 

At 25, he married an enchanting young princess, the sweet, nimble, 24-year-old Elisabeth of Bavaria, daughter of the noted physician and philanthropist, Duke Karl Theodor. The couple shared many humanitarian, social, cultural and intellectual interests. Both highly intelligent and sensitive, husband and wife also had happily contrasting, complementary temperaments. Albert was thoughtful, reflective, reserved, steady, philosophic, realistic, a bit pessimistic; Elisabeth, lively, energetic, spontaneous, imaginative, impulsive, artistic, optimistic. Not surprisingly, then, they fell tenderly, deeply, undeniably in love. This is abundantly proven in their rich correspondence, dating from the time of their engagement and the early years of their marriage. We are far, very far from the floods of tears shed by Louise d'Orléans at her marriage to Leopold I, her terror at the approach of her wedding night; even further from the mutual revulsion of Leopold II and Marie-Henriette of Austria, from the bride's prayer for death to escape her unhappy marriage. 

Upon becoming engaged to Elisabeth, Albert promised her infinite love, and unfailing fidelity. Albert had an intense commitment, not only to his wife, but, even more importantly, to marriage itself. More than mere love letters, his missives to his bride are ethical lessons, expressing an edifying ideal of conjugal affection, respect, loyalty and collaboration. Not only in his private life, but also in his public life, Albert evinced this commitment to marriage, as the foundation of the family, and, therefore, as essential to the health of society. During his tour of the Congo in 1909, he noted in his diary various criticisms of the colonial legal code, regretting, for instance, that it failed to adequately penalize adultery. It's unlikely that the King would fail to live up to his own principles in a matter he regarded as so important. This was a man so conscientious, that he regularly exposed himself to danger and hardship in the trenches, even beyond the call of duty; on one occasion, he collapsed, with sheer exhaustion, at the side of a road. This was a man so rigorous, so stern, that he preferred to lead his entire nation, which he deeply loved, to devastation and death, rather than betray his international obligations, as shown by an early draft of a wartime letter to his Bavarian brother-in-law, Count Toerring. 

Indeed, for many years, nobody cast doubt on Albert's fidelity. On the contrary, Albert and Elisabeth were revered for their domestic virtues. After the King's ghastly, accidental death at Marche-les-Dames, however, evil tongues soon began to whisper...There were torrid tales of trysts in various castles, of illegitimate children, and even of crimes of passion: it was suggested that the King had been killed by a jealous husband, by an abandoned mistress, or even by the Queen herself (!), in increasingly lurid and improbable scenarios. It seems unfathomably tasteless, and bizarrely at odds with the general mood of awe and sorrow, throughout the world, at the King's passing, to spread such scurrilous stories about a man no longer able to defend himself, who had served his country so magnificently, and who had just died so tragically. 

The gossip, moreover, was unsubstantiated. Although the rumors have persisted to this day, Patrick Weber notes, there's no solid evidence that the King had any affairs, at all. (And Weber is certainly not shy about discussing genuine liaisons, which he invariably relates in an open, non-judgmental fashion; he even wrote a whole book on the topic). Even Paul Beliën, who normally relishes salacious details, resorts to a suspicious vagueness in this matter, while nonetheless boldly proclaiming that Albert became unfaithful towards the end of his life. This idea, however, makes no sense. After so long, so strong a commitment to marriage and family, why would Albert suddenly throw his moral principles to the winds, in his last years? Virtue becomes easier, not harder, with practice. How does gold turn into dross?    

The children of Albert and Elisabeth, King Leopold III of the Belgians and Queen Marie-José of Italy, movingly maintained that their parents' love never dissipated; if anything, it only deepened through the years. Other distinguished, thoughtful and sincere contemporaries of Albert and Elisabeth paint a picture of a very simple, sober, orderly and upright couple, quietly devoted to each other throughout their marriage. Furthermore, in his last years, rather than degenerating, Albert apparently improved. As Charles d'Ydewalle indicates, he became more and more physically austere, giving up smoking his Italian cigars, and drinking nothing but water after 1915. As he grew older, his dislike of gluttony was extended to those who indulged in it. In the light of this temperance; this asceticism, even, debauchery seems incredibly implausible. In her memoirs, Albert's daughter also relates that he began to see problems in a more and more elevated manner during his final years. She describes his efforts to conquer faults of character. Irascible from childhood, often frustrated with the iron fetters of his constitutional position, he nevertheless succeeded in overcoming his fits of impatience. How could he take such care to avoid these venial sins, while blithely committing mortal sins, in the same general period? (Yes, mortal sins; I feel that the permissive attitudes of our day make it hard for some people to understand the gravity of unchastity, for a believing, practicing Catholic, especially in those traditional times). This brings us to a final point: during his last years, it seems, Albert became more and more devoted to God. The wise and noble Abbot of Orval, who knew the King well, mentioned his efforts to be prepared, at any moment, for divine judgment, and testified to his great peace of conscience. He also suggested that the King's private life, if anything, was even more beautiful than his public life; perhaps, because only in private did his faith have free rein. 

(to be continued)