Happy Birthday to Me!

Today is my birthday. Yippee! I'm having a drinks party later tonight, and my boss is going to be leaving early, so it's shaping up to me a good day.

I'll be over at my other blog Scandalous Women blogging about my birthday buddy Marie Antoinette. Stop over and check it out.

And here's one of my birthday horoscopes:

November 2, 2007 -- You will be energetically involved in partnership issues over the next 12 months, but don't get so energetic that the people you live, work and do business with feel you are pushing them too hard. Not everyone is as driven to succeed as you are. Remember that and make allowances - or risk
losing friends.

Halloween Madness

Halloween is two weeks from this very day and for once I'm actually getting started early trying to find a costume, instead of waiting until the last minute and then throwing something together, when I discover that all the good costumes are gone.

I don't know why, but I feel such pressure to have an amazing costume. Probably because my friends always come up with most outstanding costumes. One year, my friend Lucia, went as Desdemona, complete with a pillow on top of her head, and white make-up, and Maria went as the corpse bride. The year before that Maria went as Ophelia complete with drowned weeds.

Last year, I just wore a black evening gown, strapped a fake gun in a holster to my thigh, along with some stuff from the Spy store and went as International Woman of Mystery, Femme Fatale.

Now this year, I have a dilemma, what to go as? I had high hopes of going as the Empress Josephine but unless I can persuade my friend to make an appointment a the Costume Collection here in New York (where I can rent a costume for $45), I'm out of luck. I have a particular dress in mind which makes it even harder. It should be black and gold (I look really good in those colors). Alas, the only other Josephine costume I could find on the web was sold out (clearly other people have had the same idea as moi!).

So I thought of purchasing this lovely Carmen Mirandesque costume that I saw on the In Character costume web-site. It's outrageous, and unexpected, but do I date? Or do I play it safe and go as a saucy pirate wench? There's kind of a been, there done that quality about being a pirate wench. I went one year as a female buccaneer, so I'm kind of repeating myself. Plus since Pirates of the Caribbean, Part 472 came out this summer, everyone and there mother is probably going to go as a pirate (like the year that Cat Woman came out and everyone, including some guys, went as her.)

Or I can wear this costume, and go as Lola Montez, who I blogged about over at Scandalous Women this week. It looks exactly like the costume that Lola used to wear on stage when she did her infamous 'Spider Dance,' in various locales. The dance was so outrageous and considered vulgar, that Lola would be booed by the audience. At least by the men who were distracted by her shapely ankles, and magnificent bosoms.

So, Cha-Cha or Lola Montez?

EKM

Scandalous Women - Lady Hester Stanhope

I've written a new post about Lady Hester Stanhope, Queen of the East over here.

Lucrezia Borgia - Passionate Poisoner or Virtuous Victim?

Say the name Lucrezia Borgia, and you get an immediate reaction, even if they don't know the whole story, they know that Lucrezia Borgia was though to be scandalous in some way. Some will tell you that she poisoned her lovers with a special ring and her families political enemies, as the Borgia's clawed their way to the top in Renaissance Italy. Others consider the Borgias to be the first crime family, even deadlier than the Medicis in Florence, for their ability to eliminate anyone who got in their way. But was Lucrezia Borgia as bad as the histories have made her out to be? Or was she an innocent pawn used by her families to cement alliances and to raise money to wage war?

Many recent biographies have taken a revisionist tact with Lucrezia. While it's certain that her father Rodrigo also known as Pope Alexander IV and her brother Cesare were ambitious men, who were more than willing to murder their enemies, Lucrezia seems to have been a good woman who was subject to the whims and power mongering of her relatives.

The Borgia family weren't even Italian. They were of Spanish origin, originally from Valencia, the family used the Valencian language amongst themsevles for privacy. Rodrigo moved to Italy when his uncle Alfons de Borja became Pope Callixtus III in 1455. Rodrigo studied law at Bologna, and after his uncle's election as pope, was made a bishop, a cardinal and then finally vice-chancellor of the church.

All the while however, despite the fact that priests were supposed to be celibate, he kept a mistress Vanozza dei Cattani, the mother of Cesare, Giovanni, Gioffre, and finally Lucrezia who was born in 1480. She was twelve when her father was elected Pope Alexander VI after the death of Pope Innocent VIII. Her father, due to his great wealth, succeeded in buying the needed number of votes, in order to take the papal seat.

Lucrezia was apparently a good-humoured, good-natured girl with blonde hair, who enjoyed wearing fine clothes and good conversation. She bathed daily, an eccentricity in the 16th century when people were more apt to take a bath perhaps once a month if even that. Not much is known about her early childhood but she must have been well-educated because her father, during his absences from the Holy See, had no problems leaving her in charge.

Renaissance women were still subject to the whims of men. They were controlled first by their parents, and then passed over to the control of their husbands. They had no political power, and most of those who were heiresses found their estates given over to their husband's control. Women who did not marry were either forced to take vows in a nunnery, or were forced to live with male relatives on sufferance. Women were also discouraged from participating in the arts and sciences. For the most part, wives of powerful men were relegated to cooking, sewing and entertaining.

Lucrezia was married for the first time at the tender age of 13 to a member of the power Sforza family. Her father and brother had already made and broken two bethrothals as they strived to make the best match that would further their interests. Italy, during the Renaissance, was made up of feudal city states like Ancient Greece. Princes, Kings and Dukes jockeyed for position while other countries tried to take advantage of the constant state of chaos by invading.

By all accounts, Giovanni Sforza was a nervous, lackadaisical sort, he may even have been spying for Milan against the Borgias. After awhile the Borgias no longer needed the Sforzas in their quest for even more power. The Pope wanted new, more advantageous political alliances, so Giovanni had to go. There is a possibility that he may have ordered Sforza's execution. The story goes that when Lucrezia was informed of the imminent murder of her husband, she warned him and he then fled Rome.

Instead of execution, The Pope decided to just have Lucrezia's marriage anulled instead. Sforza refused. He accused Lucrezia of sleeping with both her father and her brother. While Cesare may have been a little too fond of his sister, there is no evidence that anything untoward was going on. More likely it was just sour grapes on Sforza's part since he was asked to lie and say that the marriage with Lucrezia had been unconsummated. Sforza refused even thought the Pope offered him all of Lucrezia's dowry to agree. The Sforza family put pressure on Giovanni to agree. With no choice, Sforza signed the confession of impotence and the annulment, and then proceeded to blacken his former wife's name.

While Lucrezia awaited the annulment of her marriage, she may have begun an affair with her father's messanger, Pedro Calderon known as Perotto. Pedro like Rodrigo Borgia was from Spain, and a favorite of the Pope. However he was later found murdered, his body floating in the River Tiber. Was he killed because he dared to not only love Lucrezia, but to father a child with her? All that is known is that the child was named Giovanni. Some suspected that the child was fathered by her brother, others by her father. Adding to the confusion in 1501, a papal bull was issued recognizing him as the Pope's son! The second bull was kept secret for a number of years and it was finally revealed, it stated that the child was Cesare's! Who was the mother of Giovanni, was it Lucrezia or someone else? No one knows for sure but the rumors had been started and would follow Lucrezia for the rest of her life.

Lucrezia's second marriage was to Alfonso of Aragon, another political marriage, as her father sought to ally himself with the house of Naples. Like Lucrezia, he was the natural son of Alfonso II. Handsome and intelligent, he aroused the jealousy of her brother Cesare, who had been thwarted in his desire to marry the daughter of the current King of Naples. While married to Alfonso, she began to gather a court of intellectuals around her. By all accounts they were highly devoted to one another. But once again, her husband had outlived his usefulness. Now married to a French princess, Cesare had allied himself with the King of France, Louise XII, who claimed the duchy of Naples which was in the hands of Alfonso's family. This time, instead of another annulment, Alfonso was murdered on her brother's orders. Again, Lucrezia had fallen in love with her husband, and once again she was left broken-hearted.

No matter how much she may have loved him, Lucrezia's first loyalty was always to her family. Still by the age of 19, she had already two marriages behind her. At the age of 21, she was married to her final husband, Alfonso d'Este, son of the Duke of Ferrara. The d'Este family were the rulers of one of the most important duchies in Italy, with a lineage that far surpassed the Borgias. Alfonso initially was reluctant to marry Lucrezia given the rumors swirling around her. The Pope however persisted and offered the d'Este family a dowry of over 200,000 ducats and the a threat that if he were refused, war might ensue.

Within two years of her marriage to Alfonso, her father died, and Cesare was ruined. However, Lucrezia flourished in Ferrara. She gave birth to six children, and proved to be a respectable and accomplished duchess, the antithesis of her scandalous reputation. She was a generous and gracious patron of the arts, attracting visits by all of the greatest poets and arts of the time. After a time, she became known as "the good Duchess."

She was even left to administer the affairs of state with her brother-in-law whenever Alfonso was away, and given the duty of heading a court for citizens' petitions. The historians of Ferrara gave her the highest praise for her beauty, modesty, virtuousness, and understanding. If you to to the web-site for Ferrara, Towards the end of her life, she devoted herself to works of piety and charity. She died in 1519, after a difficult pregnancy with her last child, Isabella Maria. She was 39 years old.

The worst that can probably be said about Lucrezia is that she was a devoted to her family, despite their rather rampant ambition, cruelty, and selfishness. Still, the image of Lucrezia Borgia, with her poison ring, lives on.

Scandalous Women: The Case of Madeleine Smith

"I would sooner have danced with her than dined with her," John Inglis, Dean of Faculty.

It was called the Trial of the Century. Imagine if you will, an attractive young woman from an upstanding and wealthy family stands accused of murdering her lover by poison. Passionate love letters are found giving the most intimate details of the lovers. Spectators line up daily outside the court room for a chance at the few available seats. The best legal minds in the country have been hired for her defense. The case captures the attention of not just the local media, but newspapers from as far away as London, Paris, New York. Media interest in the case is so great it bumps news of the Mutiny in Calcutta off the front page.

Sound familiar? Like something ripped from today’s headlines, or the lead story on Court TV? Well this case took place 150 years ago this year in Scotland, and the accused was named Madeleine Smith. The Case of Madeleine Smith reads almost like a film noir. It’s exactly the type of case you’d expect to read about in Dominick Dunne’s column in Vanity Fair, of a love affair gone sour and ending in death. It has all the earmarks of Passion, Power and Privilege.

On March 23, 1857, in Glasgow, Scotland, Emile L'Anglier, a clerk at a seed warehouse died suddenly after complaining of intense stomach pains. In his pocket, a letter was found signed only 'Mimi.' Amongst his belongings, his friends find various keys, several packages of letters, and a notebook the deceased was using as a journal. More letters are found at the seed warehouse where he worked going back two years, all signed with the signature of 'Mimi.'

It wasn't long before everyone in Glasgow learned that 'Mimi' was none other than Madeleine Hamilton Smith.

But who was Madeleine Smith? She was the daughter and granddaughter of well known architects in Glasgow. You can still examples of her grandfather, David Hamilton's work, in Glasgow today. She was the eldest of five children, she helped to raise her younger siblings due to her mother frequently taking to her bed with various ailments. Like many women of her class, she was sent to an expensive finishing school to learn how to be a proper Victorian lady. At Miss Gorton’s Academy for Young Ladies in London, she was taught proper manners and took the appropriate courses designed to make her decorative. She returned home four years later at the age of 18. Despite the polish she had acquired in London, Madeleine’s temperament meant that she would never be comfortable in the role she was required to play.

Emile L’Anglier, on the other hand, came from the small island of Jersey, part of the Channel Islands that lie directly in between England and France. Thirty-two when he met Madeleine for the first time, he’d already lived in Edinburgh and Paris before finally settling in Glasgow. Fluent in French and English, Emile worked as a clerk in nursery warehouse. If it hadn’t been for Emile sighting Madeleine by chance on the street, they would never have met, since they didn’t exactly travel in the same social circles. Class separation was a strictly enforced concept in Victorian Glasgow.

Emile, who seems to have had a dramatic temperament, having wooed and lost several ladies over the years, was smitten with Madeleine at first sight. Soon after they met, Madeleine wrote her first note to him while staying at her family’s country home. Even though a warehouse clerk was hardly an acceptable suitor for a young lady of Madeleine’s stature, she was attracted to him for precisely that reason. He must have seemed so different from the men she met at the social gatherings her parents took her to, where she met the crème de la crème of Glasgow society. The pressure must have always been there for her to make an appropriate match.

Letters continued back and forth between the couple, and they managed to meet several times accidentally on purpose on the street or at a nearby shop. Soon, however, Madeleine’s father learned of the relationship, possible from one of her sisters out of either jealously or wanting to protect her sister’s reputation, and demanded that she put a stop to it. Bowing to her father’s wishes, she wrote Emile a note breaking off their relationship and wished him the best in the future.

Emile was not to be put off. He wrote back, entreating her to meet with him. He persuaded a female friend, Miss Mary Perry, to allow them to meet covertly at her house. Madeleine relented, presumably swept up in the forbidden nature of it all. How exciting it must have been for her to have this secret!

For two years they exchanged many letters; meeting secretly in the country whenever her family journeyed there for their holiday. In Glasgow, they met secretly when her parents were out in the laundry room, or at the home of Emile’s friend Miss Perry. Although they wanted to marry, Madeleine’s father was adamant that he wouldn't even countenance meeting Emile. Sometime in 1856, the couple became intimate, in anticipation of their hoped for wedding vows. Although not legally married, they addressed each other as ‘husband’ and ‘wife’ in their letters.

Emile kept all of her letters to him, but he firmly instructed her to burn his, which she complied, ostensibly so that no one in the Smith house could accidentally come upon them, and their secret would be revealed. The few letters of his that survive (he kept a few copies) show him to be a demanding and bullying lover. He would constantly criticize her behavior, he decided what clothes she should wear, who she could or could not talk to, where she could go. He compared her unfavorably to his other female acquaintances. Her letters to him show a young woman who constantly sought his approval.

In the fall of 1856, Madeleine was introduced to William Minnoch, a wealthy merchant and neighbor of the Smiths. Like Emile, he was also in his thirties. Unlike Emile, he was thoroughly suitable husband for a young woman of her class. Madeleine eventually realized that there was no way that her father would ever be convinced to allow her and Emile to be married. Perhaps she also realized that she could hope for no dowry, if she eloped. And what life would like living on a clerk’s salary. Whatever her motives, Madeleine did nothing to discourage William Minnoch from courting her, and in January of 1857, he proposed and she accepted.

Her letters to Emile from this time show a slow cooling off in her ardor towards him, although she cautions him not to listen to gossip about her and Minnoch. Finally, she tried to break off with him, asking that he return her letters to him back to her. Emile, of course, decides not to take this lying down. He tries to blackmail Madeleine by threatening to show her father the letters. Those letters were the 19th Century version of making a sex tape. Her father would know from her letters that she was no longer a virgin. Her life would be ruined.

Madeleine, in a panic, asked him to meet with her again secretly. Events seemed to move rapidly over the next several weeks. On three separate occasions, Madeleine purchases arsenic from several chemists, claiming that she is using it for a beauty treatment (it was a commonly known but dangerous practice to use arsenic to whiten one's skin.) 19th Century law required that she sign a Poison Book recording her purchase. Around the same time, Emile suffered the first of several attacks of violent stomach pains. Three days after her second purchase of arsenic, Emile had tea with his friend Miss Perry. According to her testimony, he told her that he had felt unwell after drinking hot chocolate that Madeleine had passed to him through the bars at her window (her room was in the basement). Miss Perry also testified that Emile told her that “if she were to poison me, I would forgive her.” When Miss Perry declared that Madeleine would have no cause for such an action, Emile replied, “I don’t know that. Perhaps she might not be sorry to be rid of me.”

After the discovery of her letters in Emile’s lodgings and his office, Madeleine Smith was arrested. She gave a statement to the police, claiming that she hadn’t seen Emile in 3 weeks, she’d purchased the arsenic for a beauty treatment. She didn’t deny that the letters were hers, or that they’d seriously discussed marriage. Her statement to the police is the only record we have of what happened between Madeleine and Emile.

Because the sudden and popular interest in the case, the trial was moved from Glasgow to Edinburgh. Madeleine was interred in the county jail until the trial started in June. Her parents hired the 19th Century equivalent of the Dream Team, including John Inglis. Due to Victorian Scottish law, she couldn’t testify in her own defense. Opinion in the press was divided on whether or not she was guilty or innocent.

Just like in today’s court cases, her remarkable composure worked against her, while some admired her for it, others found it shocking. The trial lasted a scant nine days, incredible in these days of continuations, delays, and general stonewalling from the defense team. Most of her letters were admitted into evidence, but Emile’s journal was not because the prosecution argued that it could not be verified that it was indeed Emile L’Anglier’s handwriting.

The jury deliberated for only 9 days before reaching a verdict of ‘not proven’. What this meant was not that she was found innocent, but that the prosecution had not made a strong enough case to convict her.

No one will ever know for sure whether or not Madeleine Smith really did kill Emile L'Anglier. There have been various theories floated over the years that perhaps Emile poisoned himself in revenge for Madeleine’s spurning their relationship. The problem with this theory is that no arsenic was found amongst his possessions after his death, and his name wasn’t found in a single Poison Book in the Glasgow, Stirling or Bridge of Allan areas. Also, how would he have known that Madeleine herself would have been purchasing poison?

If she did kill Emile, why did she make her purchases of arsenic so blatant? She even brought an eyewitness with her for one of her purchases. And if she killed him, why did she not remove his letters from either his room or his office? Just like Lizzie Borden, the Case of Madeleine Smith has taken on a mystique over the years. Was she an innocent victim of an older man? Or a calculating witch getting rid of her lower class lover when she was bored of him? Or a desperate girl taking the only way out that she could think of?

After the trial was over, it was clear that Madeleine could no longer stay in Scotland. She moved to London with her younger brother James. Calling herself Lena, a childhood nickname, she met and married George Wardle, an artist who worked as the manager of Morris & Co. There she mingled with the pre-Raphaelites, Dante Gabriel Rossetti, Burne-Jones and others. She may even have posed for Rossetti at one time. A popular hostess, she started a fashion for not using tablecloths at dinner, using placemats instead. A shocking convention at a time when even piano legs were covered.

After having two children Tom and Kitten, she and her husband separated after 28 years. He moved to Italy where he died. Lena Wardle moved to New York to live with her son’s family at the age of 70, where she eventually died at the age of 93.

But her name and her story still live on over a century later.

EKM

Scandalous- Frances Carr, Countess of Somerset

This post starts a whole series of Scandalous Women of history here at The Lady Novelist. I was actually inspired to write this post after reading Victoria Dahl's post over at History Hoydens about poisons.

The lovely woman on the right is Lady Frances Carr, Countess of Somerset. She was an English noblewoman who was the central figure in a murder scandal during the reign of James I of England.

She was born Frances Howard, the daughter of the second son of the Duke of Norfolk. He was later made the first Earl of Suffolk which made her then Lady Frances Howard. Her father was apparently a wealthy and powerful noble, despite being a second son.

When she was 13, she was married off to Robert Deveraux, 3rd Earl of Essex, son of the infamous Lord Essex, favorite of Queen Elizabeth and great-great grandson of Mary Boleyn. His grandmother was Lettice Knollys who married Queen Elizabeth's other favorite, Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester (Jean Plaidy wrote a wonderful novel about her called My Enemy the Queen). The Earl was 14 at the time, and the marriage was made for political reasons. They were seperated after the wedding because it was considered that sex and an early pregnancy would not be good for either of them (a novel notion to be sure). Essex went off on a tour of Europe, and when he came back, his wife pretty much wanted nothing to do with him.

While her husband was away, Frances had fallen in love with the Earl of Somerset. Also, her husband came back with smallpox which was highly contagious and could have killed him. Rumor has it that she may have given him something called a "love-philter" to keep him impotent and away from her. Instead of being upset by his wife's apparent distaste for him, Essex spent most of his time hanging out with his buddies.

Finally, Frances took the necessary steps to have her marriage annulled, actually she got her father and her uncle, the Earl of Northampton. to do her dirty work for her. Like today, the gossips of her era, watched the proceedings with open eyes and ears. Frances confessed that she had made every attempt possible to make herself sexually available to her husband, but alas she was still a virgin.

As was the fashion, she was examined by a team of experts, who would then testify that she was indeed still virgo intacta. However, it was rumored that she might have substituted another woman, which was easy to do since she would have been examined from behind a sheet to protect her modesty.

Essex of course did not take his manhood being besmirched lightly. He claimed, of course, that he was perfectly capable with other women, just not his wife. He claimed that she was verbally abusive to him, and that was why he was incapable of doing the deed.

Where does the murder come in? Well, Somerset had a very good friend Thomas Overbury's, who was totally against the idea of his friend marrying Frances after her annulment went through, and was quite vocal about it. Not only that but the Earl of Somerset who was Viscount Rochester at the time, told Frances what his friend had said. Uh oh, you can see where this is going. It's a classic tale of a man caught in between his woman and his best friend. These things never end well.

And in Sir Thomas Overbury's case, it ended in his death. But first, Overbury wrote a poem called "His wife" which detailed a list of virtues which a man should demand in a woman before he marries her. WTF? Outrageous but this was the 17th century after all. Let's see a guy try that nowadays. So Overbury threw down the gauntlet so to speak with Frances when he wrote this poem.

Her first step was to try and discredit Overbury with the King. It was apparently easy to do since Overbury had become a tad arrogant with his success, and the King personally disliked him, considering that he had a malevolent influence over Somerset. She somehow managed to get the King to offer the ambassadorship of Russia to Overbury who declined the post which pissed off the King. So he threw Overbury into the Tower on April 22, 1613. With Overbury in the Tower, the Howards managed to win the King's support for the annulment of Frances's marriage to Deveraux, which was granted. Two months later Fraces and Carr were married. It was apparently the wedding of the season, celebrated by no less a personage than the poet John Donne.

As for Overbury, he died in the Tower 11 days before the annulment was granted. Two years later, rumors abounded that Overbury had been poisoned while in the Tower. Frances confessed, although her husband denied any knowledge, and both were sentenced to death. Eventually they were pardoned (I have no idea how they swung that! But apparently the King was afraid of what Somerset might have said about him at the trail), although 4 others were executed instead including the apothecary who supplied the poison.

The details of the murder came out during the trials of the accused. Frances wasn't satisfied to just have Overbury in the Tower, she wanted him dead because hey, he could still talk and try and convince Carr not to marry her. She needed him silenced. She got rid of Sir William Wade, the Governor of the Tower, and her own man, Sir Gervaise Heiwys placed in the position. Overbury was plied with sulferic acid in the form of copper vitriol, probably in his food or drink.

Like Rasputin, he had a strong constitution and it took months for him to die, since they were apparently giving him very small does of the poison, probably to make it look like he'd taken sick in the tower with some lingering disease, instead of just killing him out right which would have looked really suspicious.

Somerset of course was disgraced, even though he pleaded innocent to the crime. No one is quite sure whether he knew what Frances was doing and turned a blind eye because of his love for her, or whether or not he was an innocent dupe, who fell in love with the wrong woman. The Carrs had one child who later married the 1st Duke of Bedford. I remember reading somewhere that their marriage wasn't any happier than her previous marriage to Deveraux. Which is kind of understandable, since she had his friend murdered and almost got them executed!

Overbury's poem however was a sensation. It went through 6 editions in one year when it was printed after his death, and was one of the most popular books of the 17th century. Ironic in a way that his poem took on such a life of it's own, after he lost his.

One of Somerset's descendants has written a book about the murder called Unnatural Murder by Anne Somerset.

So was Frances really wicked? Or just a woman desperate to hold on to her man? After all, she was taking a huge risk of having her marriage annulled to one man. What would have happened to her if Somerset had been convinced by Overbury to throw her over? There was so much gossip about her, Essex, and Somerset. Her reputation was in danger of being ruined by Overbury. I'm sure in her mind, he had to go, and then her life would be perfect.

Thanks for reading,

EKM