Sackville dukes of Dorset

The Dukedom of Dorset is mostly forgotten today, a title that had only five holders between 1720 and 1843. Yet their surname, Sackville, is well remembered, particularly as borne by Vita Sackville-West, one of the leaders of the Bloomsbury Group of the early 20th century. The surname also probably inspired Tolkien in his choice of a ‘typical’ double-barrelled surname for posh folks, which he assigned to the pushy relatives of the Hobbit Bilbo: the Sackville-Bagginses. Looking back further in the history of the dynasty, the Sackvilles of the Elizabethan and Jacobean age were courtiers par excellence, and left behind possibly the greatest of all over-the-top aristocratic portraits.

Richard Sackville, 3rd Earl of Dorset, c1613

As is normal for the English peerage, you won’t find much evidence of the history of the dukes of Dorset in Dorset, the county from which they took their name. This is instead a story of Sussex and Kent, in particular of Buckhurst Park and Knole, both set in the hilly area south of London known as the Weald, on either side of the border dividing these two counties. Though they have claims to go back to the Norman conquest (with genealogists pressing for the town of Sauqueville, near Dieppe in Normandy, as their point of origin), they are essentially a great example of one of the families of the new Tudor aristocracy that burst onto the scene in the sixteenth century and made lots and lots of money through royal favour.

Early Norman ancestors listed on probably embellished Victorian genealogies include Herbrand de Sackville (d. 1079) and his son, Jordan, described as ‘Sewer of England’, which isn’t as bad as it sounds (a ‘sewer’ was a household servant responsible for the lord’s table). His son, Sir Jordan Sackville is said to have married Ela de Dene, great-granddaughter of a cupbearer of Edward the Confessor and heiress of Buckhurst in Sussex. A manorhouse did exist here at least as early as the 1270s, and there have been Sackvilles buried in nearby Withyham parish church since that time.

The first really prominent member of the family was Richard Sackville of Buckhurst, a Member of Parliament for Sussex and financial officer in the government of Henry VIII. He had pretty excellent connections: one ancestor was household treasurer for Henry VI in the previous century, one of his aunts was related by marriage to Sir Thomas More, but most importantly, his mother was Margaret Boleyn, aunt of Queen Anne, which meant that his family would be cousins to Queen Elizabeth I. Richard was appointed chancellor of the Court of Augmentations, an office set up by Henry VIII in the 1530s to handle the management of church lands recently secularised by the Dissolution of the Monasteries. Unsurprisingly, much of this money and land found its way into his coffers. In 1535 he made a very good marriage, to the daughter of a Lord Mayor of London, the wealthy draper Sir John Brydges, and in the next decades he was given a knighthood himself and reached the top of the world of finance as his cousin Elizabeth’s Chancellor of the Exchequer, from 1559 till his death in 1566.

Sackville coat of arms

Thomas Sackville took the family to the next level, as one of the favourites of Queen Elizabeth. She promoted him to the peerage as Baron Buckhurst in 1567, and gave him a fantastical house, Knole, about which more below. Lord Buckhurst was a trusted diplomat, travelling to France to negotiate the Queen’s possible marriage to the Duke of Anjou in 1571, then being selected to present the news to Mary, Queen of Scots of her sentence of execution in 1586. As a typical courtier of the Elizabethan age, he wrote poems and plays, but also held an office within the royal administration, attaining the post of Lord High Treasurer in 1599. James I confirmed him in this post early in the next reign, and further honoured him by creating him earl of Dorset, in 1604. By the time of his death in 1608, Thomas Sackville had acquired properties all across the south of England, and established his family as one of the premier noble houses of England.

Thomas, 1st Earl of Dorset

From 1605, this premier noble house moved into one of the premier country houses of the Kingdom: Knole, near Sevenoaks, in Kent. This house is still today one of England’s largest private houses and maintains a famous and significant deer park. The estate was held by various Kent gentry families in the 14th and 15th centuries, then was acquired by Thomas Bourchier, Archbishop of Canterbury, who donated it to his diocese in 1480. Knole served as the country house of the next four archbishops, then was given to the Crown by Thomas Cranmer in 1537. Elizabeth gave it to her cousin Lord Buckhurst in 1566, and it was significantly rebuilt by his heirs in the early 17th century—giving it the look and layout we see today, one of the few Jacobean country houses in England that has not been significantly remodelled or refashioned in later periods. There are approximately 365 rooms, causing some to call it a ‘calendar house’. The Sackville-Wests still live there, but since 1947 it has been managed by the National Trust.

Knole

The 2nd earl of Dorset, Robert, did not survive his father by long (only a year), and didn’t make as significant a mark (though he had served for much of Elizabeth I’s reign as an MP). He did solidify the dynasty’s entrée into the highest circles of the nobility by marrying Lady Margaret Howard, daughter of the Duke of Norfolk. The same is true for their elder son, Richard, the 3rd Earl, who also is known in part for a great marriage, to Lady Anne Clifford, the heiress of vast lands and estates in Cumbria and Yorkshire. They had two daughters, so this inheritance went elsewhere, and Richard Sackville is known mostly as a gambler and womaniser, something that can perhaps be detected in his fantastic portrait, by William Larkin (c1613), seen above.

An almost identical portrait of his brother, the 4th Earl of Dorset, also suggests an extremely colourful character, a notorious dueller in his youth. In 1613, he travelled to the Netherlands to duel Lord Kinloss over the beautiful Venetia Stanley (it was illegal to duel, so they had to go abroad). He killed Kinloss, but royal favour allowed him to escape punishment.

Edward, 4th Earl of Dorset

In the 1620s, he was a prominent supporter of the efforts to establish colonies in the New World, in particular as governor of the Bermuda Islands Company, and contributor to funds for the Virginia Company and the exploration of Canada (giving his name to Dorset Island in the far north). He was also a major patron of the theatre scene, and built his own theatre next to his London residence, Dorset House on Fleet Street, called Salisbury Court—this burned down in the Great Fire of 1666 and was rebuilt as the Dorset Garden Theatre in 1671 (later called the Queen’s Theatre, then demolished in 1709).

Dorset Garden Theatre, on the Strand, London, 1670s

Later in life, the playboy 4th Earl of Dorset emerged as a solid royalist and statesman in the government of Charles I, serving as Lord Chamberlain of the Household and Lord Privy Seal and President of the Council, in the difficult years of the Civil War after 1644. He had already been serving as Chamberlain of the Queen’s Household since the late 1620s, and his wife had held the post of Governess of the royal children from the 1630s until her death in 1643. Mary Curzon was the heiress of one of the branches of the Curzon family, from Derbyshire, bringing Croxall Hall into the landholdings of the Sackville family. This Elizabethan manor house was used from time to time by their successors, but less and less in the 18th century, and was sold in 1779.

Croxhall Hall

The 4th Earl and Countess were survived by only one son (a second son had been killed during the war). Richard, the 5th Earl, continued the family tradition by holding the post of Lord Lieutenant of Sussex, but added to the portfolio the similar post of Lord Lieutenant of Middlesex from the start of the Restoration. He had married the heiress of the earls of Middlesex (Lady Frances Cranfield), and those properties were added to the ever growing landed wealth of the Sackvilles after the death of her brother, the 3rd Earl of Middlesex in 1674.

Their son, Charles, was created Earl of Middlesex (and Baron Cranfield) before he succeeded his father as 6th Earl of Dorset. Like his grandfather, he was Lord Chamberlain of the Household, for William & Mary (1689-1695), and he served as one of the Lord Justices of the Realm when the King was overseas in the 1690s. But he was better known as a poet and spirited courtier—also like his grandfather in his youth—and a typical libertine of the Restoration court. He was a patron of the playwright Dryden and other writers. His love for the theatre also brought him into contact with Nell Gwynn, the actress, who called him her ‘Charles the Second’, as the second of her lovers with that name (King Charles II was in fact ‘the Third’). Charles died in 1706, but his royal favour carried on into the reign of George I in the person of his son, Lionel Cranfield Sackville, 1st Duke of Dorset.

The 1st Duke, created in 1720, had been named a Privy Councillor right away in the new reign (1714), and Groom of the Stole, one of the most intimate posts in the royal household. His wife, Elizabeth Colyear, was named Lady of the Bedchamber to the new Princess of Wales (Caroline of Ansbach) in the same year, and would serve her for the rest of her life (as Princess and as Queen-Consort), becoming Mistress of the Robes in 1723. Two years later, the Duke was promoted to the office of Lord Steward of the Household, acting as Lord High Steward of England at the coronation of 1727, then being sent to Ireland as Lord-Lieutenant (or Viceroy) in 1730. His eight years there was uneventful, so he was sent back in 1750—this time he got involved in political infighting in Dublin and became so unpopular he was recalled in 1755, and was given the post of Master of the Horse as compensation. He died in 1768, at the ripe old age of 77.

Lionel Sackville, 1st Duke of Dorset

The first Duke also set about rebuilding Buckhurst Park as a summer retreat, much cooler than Dorset House in London. The house, sometimes known as Stoneland, was mostly a new build on the site of the old manor house. It would be renovated again in the early 19th century along fashionable ‘Jacobethan’ lines, and the park landscaped by Humphrey Repton. The estate would later be augmented with formal gardens designed by the leading designer Edwin Lutyens in 1902. The estate borders the Ashdown Forest, and some of the woods at Buckhurst were frequented in the 1920s by local writer, A. A. Milne, who used this as a setting for Winnie-the-Pooh’s adventures in the ‘Hundred Acre Wood’.

Buckhurst Park, c. 1900

The 2nd Duke of Dorset, Charles, was part of the clique of the Prince of Wales in opposition to his father, George II, in the 1730s-40s (as the heir he was known as the ‘Earl of Middlesex’), and an MP for East Grinstead and then for Sussex. He was also an opera impresario, having acquired the taste on his Grand Tour, and he tried to re-launch Italian opera in London (and his Italian mistress), with only limited success—like Handel, he found that Italian opera was no longer favoured in England in the 1740s.

Charles, 2nd Duke of Dorset, on the Grand Tour in Italy, c1730

The 2nd Duke was only duke for four years, following his father to the grave in 1769, and was succeeded in the dukedom by his nephew John, the only son of the unfortunate Lord John Sackville who had been committed to an asylum, c. 1746, then sent to Switzerland where he died. The 3rd Duke served the very delicate and important position of Ambassador to France in the tumultuous years between the end of the War of American Independence (which was won with French support) and the outbreak of the French Revolution. He correctly identified the disturbances of July 14 as a ‘revolution’ (still a fairly new concept at the time) in his dispatches back to London, and returned to England in August when events started to heat up, particularly against the nobility—though he was not formally replaced until the next summer. Like his uncle, he was also interested in the Italian arts, and had a long-term mistress, Giovanna Zanerini, a ballerina at the King’s Theatre Haymarket.

John, 3rd Duke of Dorset

Dorset spent the 1790s as Steward of the Household, and died in 1799, succeeded by his son, George, 4th Duke, who died young in 1815 (not yet 22). The latter left two sisters, Mary, Countess of Plymouth, who inherited Knole and the estates in Kent, and Elizabeth, Countess De La Warr, who inherited Buckhurst and the lands in Sussex and Middlesex. Mary died with no heirs, so Elizabeth inherited the lot, and was created Baroness Buckhurst in her own right in 1864. We will pick up her story again below.

The Dukedom of Dorset, without the lands and houses, passed to Charles Sackville-Germain, son of George, Viscount Sackville of Drayton (cr. 1782), the youngest brother of the 2nd Duke. Lord George had been a prominent soldier in the Seven Years War, and commander of British Forces in Europe in 1758, until he was dismissed and court martialled in 1759 for refusing to follow orders. He was nevertheless rehabilitated by his friend the new king, George III, in the 1760s, and became Secretary of State for America in 1775, as part of the ministry of Lord North. A few years before, Sackville had been adopted by the widow, Lady Elizabeth Germain, of Drayton. As it turned out, Lord George Sackville-Germain was rather uninformed about the situation in America, and his bungling of much of the war forced his retirement in an effort to save the North ministry (which it didn’t)—he died a few years later. Despite not being a tremendous success in the New World, he left the name Sackville in several towns, in Nova Scotia and New Brunswick, and in New South Wales (Australia).

George, Viscount Sackville of Drayton

The last male heir of the House of Sackville was Viscount Sackville’s son, Charles, who became the 5th Duke of Dorset in 1815. He served as Master of the Horse under two Tory governments of the 1820s and 30s, and died unmarried in 1843. His seat was Drayton House, near Kettering in Northamptonshire, an early 18th-century house built around a 14th-century core. When he died, this house and the Germain estates passed to his niece Caroline Stopford, whose descendants took the name Stopford-Sackville.

Drayton House

This takes us back to the other female heirs of the Sackvilles, the sons of Elizabeth, Baroness Buckhurst. She had married in 1813 George West, 5th Earl De La Warr. The West family were also from Sussex, with roots in the 14th century, created barons in 1402. They inherited the lands and titles of the La Warr family in 1427 (and were given precedence of the original La Warr barony of 1299). The Wests had plenty of aristocratic blood, marrying a cousin of the Plantagenets in the 1380s and a cousin of the Tudors (Anne Knollys) in the 1570s. The La Warr family were Normans who settled in Gloucestershire in the Middle Ages and gave their name to the village of Wickwar, but more famously lent their name to the evolving maps of the New World, lands being explored to the north of the new colony of Virginia—what is now known as Delaware: the state, the river, and the native people who inhabited the region. Thomas West, 3rd Baron de la Warr—the barony being re-created in the 16th century, when the original, and the West barony too, passed to female heirs—was the first Governor of Virginia, from 1610, and actually went there to get the colony going, returned to England, then died in 1618 on a return trip. His brother Francis (whose wife bore the wonderful name of Temperance Flowerdew) had been commander of the fort at Jamestown since the start, and became acting governor in 1627. Another brother, John, married the daughter of Virginia governor George Percy, and was named governor himself in 1635—he left descendants, the Wests of West Point, Virginia.

Thomas West, Lord Delaware (from Encyclopedia Virginia)

Over a century later, John West, 7th Baron de la Warr, was named governor of another colony, New York, in 1737, and was later elevated to an earldom (De La Warr, with the viscountcy of Cantelupe) in 1761. Subsequent earls held prominent positions in the military and the royal households of the Hanoverian monarchy, with the 5th rising in the hierarchy to the position of Lord Chamberlain of the Household (1841-46; 1858-59). It was he who had married the Sackville heiress, and they changed their surname by law in 1843 to Sackville-West. They had six sons: the first, ‘Lord Cantelupe’ (named for an ancient West family property in Devon, Cauntelow) died before his father, in 1850; the second, Charles, 6th Earl De La Warr, committed suicide in 1873, leaving the earldom and the Buckhurst estates to the third son, Reginald, who had been his mother’s designated heir (and originally held the title Baron Buckhurst)—he had also been a clergyman, and served as Chaplain to Queen Victoria from1846 to 1865, before marrying and continuing the Sackville family line (he changed his name from West to Sackville in 1871). The 9th Earl was given the name Herbrand—in line with the fashion of the late Victorians to revive ancient Norman names (recall the first Herbrand de Sackville, at the start of this post). He became an eminent courtier and politician, a Lord in Waiting to George V in the 1920s, and Chairman of the Labour Party in the 1930s. He was appointed Lord Privy Seal, 1937-38, Envoy to the Emperor of Ethiopia, 1944 (in the wake of Haile Selassie’s restoration behind the forces of Great Britain), and Postmaster General in 1951. Today’s Earl De La Warr, the 11th (William, since 1988), splits his time between the City and raising livestock at Buckhurst, and in particular, developing the perfect sausage. You can find the Buckhurst Sausage at the Dorset Arms pub in Withyham and at Waitrose!

http://speldhurstqualityfoods.com/our-story/

This leaves one final line, the Sackville-Wests, the family of the writer Vita. The fourth of the six sons mentioned above, Mortimer, was supposed to inherit the barony of Buckhurst when his older brother succeeded to the earldom (by the slightly weird terms of the creation of his mother’s title), but didn’t. So in compensation, he was given the Sackville estates, including Knole, and created 1st Baron Sackville of Knole in 1876. He held a number of prominent places at court and died in 1888, leaving the barony and Knole to the fifth brother, Lionel. The 2nd Baron Sackville was a diplomat, spending much time abroad where he acquired a mistress, Pepita de Olíva, an internationally famous Spanish dancer. Her origin story is so incredible it is worth quoting from her online biography from the Real Academia de la Historia: ‘Officially the daughter of Pedro Durán [a barber or a butcher] and Catalina Ortega, there were rumors that she was the illegitimate daughter of Francisco de Borja Téllez-Girón y Pimentel, 10th Duke of Osuna. … Catalina Ortega, daughter of a gypsy who made sandals in Malaga, had worked in a circus. …’. She even had a waltz named for her by the Viennese composer Johann Strauss, the ‘Pepita-Polka’. Pepita and Lionel spent several years together in various settings, she touring as a dancer, he working in British embassies; they had five children, called themselves ‘Comte et Comtesse West’ at their Villa Pepa in France, and when she died in 1872, he considered that she was legally his wife. He served as ambassador to Spain, 1878-81, then to the United States, 1881-88 (when he succeeded as Baron Sackville). When he died in 1908, his children tried to claim that their parents had been legally married, but the case was thrown out of the British courts in 1910.

Pepita

The eldest daughter of Lionel and Pepita, Victoria, did however become Lady Sackville, by marrying her cousin, another Lionel, son of the sixth of the Sackville-West sons (William, d. 1905). They had only one child, the Honourable Victoria (‘Vita’) Sackville-West, who married the Honourable Harold Nicolson (third son of the 3rd Baron Carnock). Denied possession of her cherished childhood home, Knole, because of her gender, Vita purchased the nearby derelict Elizabethan manor of Sissinghurst Castle (which had belonged to one of her distant ancestors), in 1930, and she and Harold transformed it into the marvellous garden showpiece beloved by tourists today. I first visited in 1993, sang with my college choir in the rose garden, and was privileged to receive a guided tour of the house by Vita and Harold’s son, Nigel Nicolson. It’s an incredible sensation when you browse the books in someone’s library and nearly every book is either written by that person’s mother or father. An unforgettable experience.

Vita Sackville-West

Later that day we also visited Lionel, 6th Baron Sackville, at Knole, and wondered at the number of courtyards that make up this very complex house, and at the expanse of parkland populated by hundreds of deer. Since 2004 the house and its park has been looked after by his nephew, Robert Sackville-West, 7th Baron Sackville, a businessman in the world of publishing, who has himself published a history of the Sackville family, and an intriguing book, The Disinherited (2015), about the failed claims of the children of Lionel and Pepita. It would be equally intriguing if a descendant of the 18th-century Sackvilles, in Buckhurst or Knole, ever tried to reclaim the earldom or the dukedom of Dorset, long since forgotten.

Knole’s main gate today

(images Wikimedia Commons)

An Ulster Circuit: O’Neill princes and Abercorn dukes

Travelling in Britain and Ireland can be quite damp. While there are certainly moments of glorious sunshine, any traveller should also be prepared for days and days of drizzle, grey skies, and mud. Yet this can be a bonus for viewing historical monuments, adding drama and mystery to the landscape. Northern Ireland is one place that sees its fair share of rain each year, as I discovered on this circular drive around several key sites of the ancient Kingdom of Ulster.

Armagh in the evening after the rains

Ulster is today mostly a geographical concept, a ‘traditional province’, and it is divided between the six counties that make up Northern Ireland, part of the United Kingdom, and the three counties that became part of the Republic of Ireland when these two political entities were separated in 1921-22. The name comes from a Norse form of the Irish words Ulaidh, the tribes that lived in the area, and tír, or land. The instantly recognisable symbol of the province is the red hand, the symbol of the O’Neill family since about the 13th century, but with legends stretching back much earlier, to a king’s bloody hand on a white banner used to rally soldiers in battle. Since the 16th century, the red hand of Ulster has become a symbol of resistance to English rule.

O’Neill of Tyrone

I encountered another powerful visual symbol of O’Neill authority in this region on one of my first days of a trip I took in April 2018 to Belfast to attend a history conference. In the magnificent Ulster Museum next to Queen’s University I marvelled at an ancient stone slab that was once the princely ‘inauguration chair’ of one of the branches of the O’Neills, the Clandeboye, from Castlereagh in County Down.

Ulster Museum, Belfast

This was a good inspiration for the circular trip I then set off on around Ulster—staying within Northern Ireland; the Republic counties of Donegal, Cavan and Monaghan would have to wait for another trip. In this journey, I explored sites associated with Ireland’s ancient past, coronation mounds and sacred burial spots, and some that were more modern, such as the seat of the Irish branch of the great Scottish house of Hamilton, the dukes of Abercorn. I did this loop in only five days, partly to meet up with an appointment to give a talk at Ulster University-Coleraine; a much more leisurely trip would certainly yield more treasures. As usual, I like to drive with local music wherever possible, so I found a nifty CD from a London band (with Ulster roots) called Lick the Tins, who had hits in the 1980s with a cover of ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love’ and ‘Belle of Belfast City’, which I offer here.

On my first morning out in the car, I wanted to get into the countryside swiftly, so I did not go to two of the largest built attractions in the Belfast area, Carrickfergus Castle to the north or Hillsborough to the south, and instead headed east towards the coast and deep into County Down. This was O’Neill of Clandeboye country. This branch of the old royal house of Ulster pushed eastwards in the 14th century and took over the areas now known as Down and Antrim (to the north). They took their name as the Clan of Hugh the Blonde (Clann Aodha Bhuide), today spelled often as Clandeboye, Claneboye or Clanaboy. Their main seats of power were in Castlereagh, noted above (just outside Belfast), Bangor, further east on the coast, or Edenduffcarrick, in western Antrim, on the northeast shore of Lough Neagh (the large lake in the middle of Northern Ireland). The latter changed its name to Shane’s Castle in the 16th century, and has been the seat of Earls, then Barons O’Neill since the 19th century (whose surname was Chichester, but descend from O’Neills in the female line).

traditional territories of Ulster in the early modern era

The first major castle I came across that first morning out was Killyleagh, at times part of the Clandeboye story, but more prominently forming a centre of English power. Built by one of the first Anglo-Norman invaders of the 12th century, John de Courcy, as a defence against Vikings (or so the guidebooks say, even though Viking power in Ireland had pretty much dwindled by the 1180s, and surely the Normans themselves could be considered Vikings of a sort—we should always be slightly wary of things repeated in guidebooks). It is dramatically poised on a hill overlooking Strangford Lough and strategically watching over the channel that connects the lough to the sea.

Killyleagh, County Down

The castle and its lordship became part of the Clandeboye territories as the Norman earldom of Ulster crumbled in the 14th century, but following the destruction of power and the redistribution of the lands of the native Celtic princes at the end of the 16th century, Killyleagh was given to a loyal servant of King James I, James Hamilton (a distant kinsman of the main branch of Hamiltons who became dukes in Scotland—see my separate posting for them). Hamilton acted an agent and informant for the King in this part of Ireland, and was rewarded with one of the confiscated O’Neill baronies in 1602. He brought Protestant settlers over from Scotland and was given the title Viscount Claneboye in 1622. His son, also James, attempted to keep the region loyal to the Crown during the Civil Wars of the 1640s, and rebuilt the castle towers to fend off the invasion from Cromwell, and was raised to an earldom, of Clanbrassil, in 1647 (this name is taken from estates further to the west in County Armagh). This line came to an end in 1675; the earldom was re-created for a cousin in 1756 (already Baron Claneboye); but extinct again in 1798. A cadet branch had already taken over the lands and castle of Killyleagh, and as the double-barrelled Rowan-Hamiltons, still inhabit it today. It was largely re-designed in the 19th century to resemble a French Renaissance château from the Loire Valley.

James Hamilton, 1st Viscount Claneboye

Meanwhile, the dispossessed O’Neill Clandeboye chieftains emigrated first to France, where they were prominent soldiers in the Jacobite armies who fought for the king of France in the 18th century, then to Portugal in mid-century, where they remain today. They have estates and palaces around Setubal, outside Lisbon, and the head of the family regards himself as ‘The O’Neill’, or head of the entire Clan O’Neill (and they also sometimes claim the earldom of Tyrone, the family’s more senior title; see more on this below). He is also sometimes called ‘Prince of Clanaboy’. One was prominent in the mid-19th century, an intimate of the Portuguese royal family, served as a prominent official in the judiciary, and was created Viscount of Santa Monica in 1876. Today’s Clan Chief is Hugo O’Neill.

Henrique O’Neill, 1st Visconde de Santa Monica

I couldn’t go inside Killyleagh, but the sun came out so I was pleased to press onward towards the coast, and drove up a rather steep hill into the town of Downpatrick, and even further up to the Cathedral, a special place for all of Ireland as the supposed burial place of Saint Patrick himself. The town is named for the Fort of Patrick (Dún Pádraig), though it seems to have been called ‘fort’ (and given its name to the surrounding county of Down) long before. Details of Patrick’s life are murky, but notionally he was born in northern Britannia, came to Hibernia (Ireland) to convert the locals to Christianity, and after his death sometime in the 5th or early 6th century, was buried here, along with the bodies of St Columba (who travelled in the opposite direction, from Ireland to Scotland, and died in the late 6th century) and St Brigit (originally from Kildare near Dublin). Both Columba and Brigit’s remains (or parts of them) were brought here later, in the 9th century. The very traditional looking stone marking the spot was in fact placed here in the early 20th century, but there are crosses inside the Cathedral and in the local museum that genuinely date back to the 9th century.

Down Cathedral (and my little car)
the stone thought to mark the spot of St Patrick’s grave

The town of Downpatrick became a centre of English settlement in the north of Ireland from the 13th century onward, and Down Cathedral is today part of the (Protestant) Church of Ireland, not Catholic. The name was also used more recently as the third of the titles given to Prince George, the Duke of Kent, on the occasion of his marriage in 1934 (along with the earldom of St Andrews). Today, the grandson of the current Duke, Edward Windsor, is called ‘Lord Downpatrick’. Such titles are a means by which the royal family demonstrates its shared interests in all parts of the United Kingdom, not just England, but it doesn’t come with lands or castles connected to the name.

After lunch in this nice town, I headed south to the coast, and encountered a tiny seaside cottage that I had read about in the excellent book, Aristocrats, by Stella Tillyard, about the four fascinating Lennox sisters, daughters of the Duke of Richmond in the mid-18th century. The second of these sisters, Emily, married the Earl of Kildare (a Fitzgerald, see my earlier blog post about driving around Leinster and the south of Ireland). They became the 1st Duke and Duchess of Leinster in 1766, and produced an army of children. As part of their education, Emily hired William Ogilvie, whose Enlightenment-era teachings included the physical exploration of nature, and he and the Duchess built a small retreat on the seaside at Ardglass where the children could collect shells and study sea life up close. The little bathing house that is in the marina now was built long after the children had gone, and after the Duchess had married the tutor: Ardglass became their getaway from Dublin society in the first decades of the 19th century.

Emily, Duchess of Leinster
The bathing house at Ardglass

From here I drove around the southern coast of County Down and around the impressive Mourne Mountains. Bright sunshine emerged just as I passed some lovely looking beach towns, but I pressed on to where I wanted to spend that evening, in Armagh. I turned inland at the Carlingford Lough, which intrigued me since the Earl of Carlingford is one of the figures I encounter often in my research about the Duchy of Lorraine—I was tempted to cross over the border into the Republic of Ireland and see the Carlingford estates, but I continued inland and arrived at my B&B on a broad plateau looking over the rolling grassy hills of County Armagh, named for the goddess Macha, about whom I would soon learn more about.

I had arrived at my accommodation at about 4 PM and wanted to see if I could squeeze in a visit to Navan Fort, and got there just before closing. They made a production about how they would now have to put on one more tour, just for me, and I insisted that they really didn’t, especially since I only wanted to see the mound itself, and not the re-constructed early Celtic village and the costumed interpreters there. But they insisted, so I went and sat in a muddy hut filled with smoke and pretended to be interested in the songs about hunting being sung by a man dressed in furs while his woman weaved fabrics in the background. Don’t get me wrong, things like this are great for kids, and I did enjoy bantering with them about pretending to not know anything about the modern world (they wondered how I had travelled to Hibernia from Britannia; and I tried to throw a wrench in by saying I was well travelled in Gallia and originally came from the unknown lands over the seas to the west), but I was truly grateful when they finally released me to go see the actual site itself.

Navan, modern reconstruction (not my photo…note blue skies)

One of the site guides took me up, and as it was her last round of the day, she had to lock up various fences, so she dawdled and talked to me for ages—a really excellent and knowledgeable guide. The site is very ancient, neolithic, so actually predates the Celts, probably raised somewhere around 3 or 4,000 BC. There are two embankments that encircle the mound, atop which there is evidence for wooden buildings back to at least the 8th century BC. Roundhouses built and re-built and built again, so the idea seems to suggest that this was not a residence, or a coronation spot (though it may have been used as such by the later Ulaidh people, in part because from here you can see into almost every corner of the Kingdom of Ulster, or fires lit atop similar mounds in each county), but more likely a ceremonial royal immolation spot, with buildings and effigies (or actual people) burnt as part of the process for transitioning from this world to the next. As it became a Celtic or Gaelic site, it continued to be a site associated with kingship, and came to be known by an Irish name: Macha, a goddess associated with land and kingship. Eamhain Mhacha (mound, or more poetically ‘brooch’ of Macha) was somehow morphed into the English Navan (if the Irish ‘mh’ in Eamhain is pronounced ‘v’, as in the name Niamh).

the view from Navan Fort

The site was abandoned by the Middle Ages, as a Christianised population moved its main focus about 2 miles away in ‘Macha’s Height’ (Ard Macha, Armagh), where reverence to the goddess gradually made way for a Christian shrine, and ultimately the centre of the Church in the north of Ireland. For centuries the Archbishop of Armagh was the most important religious figure in the north, rivalled only by the Archbishop of Cashel in the south. I wandered around the town in the early evening, looking for something to eat. It’s a lovely place, built on fairly steep hills, though the main cathedral—as with Downpatrick—is now Church of Ireland, and the Catholic cathedral (both are called St Patrick), built in the 19th century, is on the opposing hillside. In both church hierarchies, the archbishop of Armagh is still the Primate of All Ireland. The older church, with some foundations from the 5th century, was remodelled several times over the centuries, and is also the (supposed) burial place of a major figure of Irish history: Brian Boru, one of the greatest of all High Kings of all Ireland, killed in battle in 1014.

St Patrick’s Cathedral, Armagh

The next morning I headed northwestwards into County Tyrone—the real heartland of O’Neill territory. As noted above, there were two main (and many, many junior) branches of this clan, one of the most dominant in Irish history, comparable to the princely houses of O’Brian or MacCarthy in the south. I first crossed the Blackwater, roughly the ancient dividing river between the kingdoms of eastern Ulster and the Tír Eoghain, or ‘land of Eoghan’, one of the legendary founders of the O’Neill dynasty in the 5th century (anglicised as ‘Owen’), pals with St Patrick, and founder of a new kingdom called Ailech. The dynasty founded by Eoghan were called the Cenél nEogain, the ‘kindred of Eoghan’ (forgive my spellings here—there seem to be quite a lot of variants in printed and online sources, and I am certainly no expert in the Irish tongue). I paused at Blackwatertown, where the English built a major fort in the later 16th century to attempt to impose their authority over this region, but were in fact repelled here during the Nine Years War in which the native chieftains fought back against the forces of Elizabeth I.

Blackwater Fort–the weather was just great today…

From here I proceeded to Dungannon, once the main stronghold of the O’Neills. This town is a nice market town, with a newly redesigned museum about the O’Neills and in particular the ‘Flight of the Earls’, the eventual result of the Nine Years War, when dozens of native chieftains and their followers left Ireland altogether, rather than submit to English rule. The castle atop the mound at the back of the museum is just a ruin, and in fact the two remaining towers are from a much later structure, built by the politician Thomas Knox, 1st Earl of Ranfurly, a member of the Ulster Scots community that had re-settled the area after the departure of the earls in the early 17th century. Castle Hill did play one more prominent part in Irish history, in 1641, when it was the site of the Proclamation of Dungannon, by Phelim O’Neill, by which Irish chiefs declared their loyalty to Charles I and against the forces of the English Parliament.

Castle Hill, Dungannon (still raining)
A little bit cheesy

To get more of a genuine feeling for O’Neill kingship, I drove a few miles north of town, to another mound: Tullyhogue, of Tulach Óc, the ‘hill of young warriors’. Like Navan, it had been a ring fort long before the O’Neills shifted their capital from a spot further north in Tyrone (Inishowen), but by the 9th century it became their chief secular ceremonial space, for inaugurations (with Armagh becoming the complementary spiritual space and burial site). It was a great muddy slog up to the hill, now ringed with trees, and it still has a great aura of history and mystery—enhanced certainly that day by black clouds and misty rains. I was covered with black mud by the time I got back to my car.

Tullyhogue, County Tyrone–the enchanted circle at he top of the hill
the view from the bottom of the hill

Like many Celtic monarchies, the O’Neills were served by another clan in a hereditary position; in this case the O’Hagans were for centuries the stewards of this site, and were in charge of running the ceremonies needed for kingship (sort of like the Earl Marshal in Britain today). During an inauguration ceremony, the chief vassal of the O’Neills, The O’Cahan, threw a golden sandal over The O’Neill’s head, to suggest good fortune, then The O’Hagan placed this shoe on the new king’s foot, and handed him a rod of office. You can see this in the much magnified detail from a map from 1602 (below). The last genuine inauguration ritual here took place in 1595, and it is said that the inauguration stone (the Leac na Rí, ‘flagstone of kings’) was smashed soon after.

With the crushing of the stone and the flight of the earls, the Kingdom of Tyrone ceased to exist, and traditional O’Neill power in the region was destroyed. According to legend, this power stretched all the way back to Niall of the Nine Hostages, a mythical high king of all Ireland who lived in the 5th century. Closer to provable territory was Niall, High King of Ireland, 916-919, a member of the ‘kindred of Eoghan’ noted above. Much of this early history is quite murky, but it becomes clearer by the mid-12th century when the O’Neills replaced the MacLochlainns as the main power in Ulster, just in time to join with other northern chieftains to try to repel the Anglo-Norman invasions of the 1170s. Aodh Méith (d. 1230) stabilised the Kingdom of Tyrone, made peace with newly emergent English earldom of Ulster to the east, and became the most powerful of the native princes of the north of Ireland. Their history was not always about resistance, however; the relationship of subsequent O’Neill kings with the English was often quite positive—several went on crusade with English monarchs, or fought alongside them in France in the Hundred Years War. This changed with the emergence of Tudor power in the 16th century, and the rebellion of the Fitzgeralds to the south in the 1530s (supported in part by the O’Neills). The Tudors transformed the Lordship of Ireland into a Kingdom of Ireland in 1541 and, not able to tolerate the idea of independent kingship within a unified kingdom, introduced a ‘surrender and regrant’ policy, which meant that a native chief could relinquish his claim to being a sovereign prince in return for a title in the new Irish peerage, given by the new King of Ireland. Conn Bacagh O’Neill, King of Tyrone, did indeed surrender his claims in return for the earldom of Tyrone, in 1542 (with the subsidiary title Baron of Dungannon, named for their old royal capital). When he died in 1559, a succession struggle ensued, in part because the newly introduced English titles were based on primogeniture, rather than the traditional tanistry system which does not pass directly from father to son. The first Earl’s grandson Hugh was recognised as second Earl, but a kinsman, a half-brother, Shane (Seán, John), proclaimed himself as The O’Neill, a title no longer recognised by the English overlords. As a point of interest for this blogsite, Shane sometimes took the titles ‘Prince of Tyrone’ and ‘Dux Hibernicorum’ (duke of the Irish). He fought against the MacDonnells, a Scottish clan settling along the Antrim coast, until he was murdered by them in 1567.

Hugh O’Neill, 2nd Earl of Tyrone

Shane was succeeded as The O’Neill Mór by a cousin, Turlough, who later submitted to the English and was given the title Earl of Clanconnell. Hugh O’Neill, 2nd Earl of Tyrone, initially supported the Elizabethan regime, but by the 1590s he had turned against her and was one of the leaders of the great rebellion that led to the Flight of the Earls in 1607. Hugh was declared a traitor and his titles were attainted (and he died in Rome in 1616), but his descendants in Spain would continue to call themselves ‘Conde de Tiron’ until their extinction in the main line in 1695. There are a lot of people who claim the title of The O’Neill today, including the descendants of Shane (the MacShanes), the Prince of the Fews (a branch historically based in the south of Ulster), and the Marques de la Granja (today’s Carlos O’Neill), and although I found widely conflicting information, it seems that only The O’Neill of Clanaboy (in Portugal) is officially recognised on modern lists of clan chiefs.

A contemporary image of Turlough O’Neill yielding to the English governor Sir Henry Sydney

In the evening I lodged in an ancient house that belonged to an eccentric old man whose family had owned this estate for generations, just outside the town of Omagh. I was disappointed to find that Ómaigh is not also a derivation of the goddess Macha (that would have been more fun), but ‘virgin plain’. It’s a cute town nestled in the valley of the river Strule, which means I’ve crossed a watershed since it flows west and north into the River Foyle, not east into the Irish Sea or into Lough Neagh in the centre of Ulster.

my b&b outside Omagh, with its own standing stone!

On day three I headed down the Strule valley towards the town of Strabane. A little detour on small country roads at Newtownstewart (10 points for guessing the origins of that town’s name!) and I arrived at the gates of Baronscourt, the seat of Ireland’s second extant ducal family (Leinster being the other), the dukes of Abercorn. This is, like Killyleagh, once again Hamilton country (see my Hamilton blog post for why so many branches of this Scottish dynasty came to Ireland). I couldn’t get inside—it is still run as a private estate, with agriculture, forestry, fisheries, and so on—which was a bummer, but at least I got the sense of what this end of the country looks like (this is still County Tyrone, the very western end of it). It is lush and green with rolling hills. Maybe someday the Duke will invite me for tea, but it was not that day. The estate also includes a prominent golf course, established in the early 20th century. I don’t golf.

My view of the Baronscourt estate
an illustration of Baronscourt from the 1840s

In the early years of the 17th century, James Hamilton, 1st Earl of Abercorn (a village in West Lothian, near Linlithgow), was granted lands in County Tyrone following the Flight of the Earls and the confiscation of O’Neill lands. He was the grandson of the Earl of Arran, regent of Scotland in the 1540s-50s. Abercorn built the first Baronscourt house, and died soon after in 1618. His son (also James) had been created Baron Hamilton of Strabane (the nearby larger town) himself in 1617 (in the peerage of Ireland), inherited the earldom of Abercorn the next year, and became heir-male of the House of Hamilton in 1651 (the main Hamilton line continued, however, passing into the House of Douglas). He lost his lands in Scotland during the Commonwealth as a Catholic, so his family turned their attentions even more to Ireland. The 4th Earl was loyal to James II during the Glorious Revolution, but the 5th Earl changed tack and supported William & Mary, so was restored to lands and titles that had been lost. There were many, many sub-branches of this family, who, as Catholics, found their careers blocked within the British military or court hierarchies, so instead became soldiers and courtiers in France and Austria. The main line maintained interests in both English and Irish politics in the 18th century, rebuilt Baronscourt considerably in the 1780s, and the 9th Earl, a friend and colleague of Prime Minister William Pitt, was promoted to 1st Marquess of Abercorn in 1790. This title was in the peerage of Great Britain, not Ireland, and thus gave him a seat in the House of Lords in London.

John James Hamilton, 1st Marquess of Abercorn

His grandson was created 1st Duke of Abercorn (in the peerage of Ireland) in 1868, in recognition of his service as Lord Lieutenant of Ireland (1866-68, 1874-76), and as an intimate of the royal family itself. He had the curious honour of being recognised, somewhat, by Napoleon III as Duc de Châtellerault in France, as senior male of the House of Hamilton. This means that the Duke of Abercorn today is one of the only noblemen in the UK who has a title in the peerages of Great Britain, Scotland, Ireland and France (though this is of course only notional). The 1st Duke’s sons were both involved in the Unionist movement to keep Ireland as part of the United Kingdom in the late 19th century, and the younger son, Lord George Hamilton, went on to serve as First Lord of the Admiralty and Secretary of State for India (1895).

James Hamilton, 1st Duke of Abercorn

This continued in the next generation, as the 3rd Duke of Abercorn was appointed first Governor-General of Northern Ireland, 1922-1945. His family were closely intertwined with the other ducal families of the UK—Bedford, Marlborough and Buccleuch—which would continue in the next generations with marriage links forged with the Spencers, Percys and Grosvenors. The 4th Duchess, Mary (d. 1990), was Lady of the Bedchamber to Queen Elizabeth (wife of George VI), then to Queen Elizabeth II; her sister-in-law, Lady Cynthia Hamilton, became Countess Spencer and was grandmother to Lady Diana Spencer. The current Duke’s wife, Sacha, who died in 2018, was the sister of the Duchess of Westminster—both sisters were descended from Russian royalty, and the late Duchess of Abercorn was noted as the founder of the Pushkin Trust, which encourages creative writing in pupils in Northern Ireland, especially with an eye to cross-cultural exchange, Protestant and Catholic. This seems increasingly relevant in these Brexity times, and with Baronscourt’s estate boundaries so very near to the border with the Republic of Ireland.

Cynthia, Countess Spencer

The next leg of my trip would of course bring me face to face with modern politics, as I spent the afternoon touring the town of Derry/Londonderry. There’s a lot to say about the recent history of this city, and ‘the Troubles’, and viewing its monuments and scars was truly moving, but I’ll keep this blog post about more ancient history. Originally called the ‘oak grove’ or Daire, the town grew up around a monastery founded by St. Columba in the 540s. The monastery church is now the Catholic parish church of the old town (the Catholic cathedral is outside the old town walls); it was built in the 12th century and rebuilt in the 1780s.

the site of the old monastery of St Columba

Columba, or Colmcille, is thought to be a member of another one of Ireland’s ancient ruling clans, the Cenel Conaill, of Donegal (the county just to the west, today in the Republic). These were also a branch of the original O’Neills (the Uí Néill), with the same legendary descent from Niall of the Nine Hostages (see above). The town became more important as a trading centre in the Tudor and Plantation era, and became seat of a new county, Londonderry, 1610, built and planned by London merchants—one of the first planned cities in the growing British Empire. They also built a new cathedral, St Columb’s, for the new Church of Ireland (Protestant). This church sits next to one of the city walls overlooking the broad and elegant River Foyle with its elegant new footbridge.

St Columb’s Cathedral
the bridge over the Foyle

The new County of Derry (or Londonderry, depending on your politics) was carved out of an older county called Coleraine, named for the ‘O’Cahan’s country’, the northern reaches of the old Kingdom of Tyrone. I spent my last night of the trip here in the town of Coleraine where I gave my paper to the local university, and was given a great guided tour of the nearby seaport of Portrush (and an excellent fish supper!).

Portrush from the air (not my photo)

Finally, my last day, I did the one thing every tourist to Northern Ireland must do, and visited the Giant’s Causeway on the north Antrim coast. It did not disappoint, in part because for the first time I was blessed with glorious sunshine! It’s a marvellous walk down to the fantastic and queer geological feature of the (mostly) hexagonal basalt columns, the remnants of ancient volcanic activity in this part of the world. There are no dukes or princes here, but the legends about its creation centre on Fionn mac Cumhaill (Finn MacCool), who was either a giant or a hero-prince (or both—why not?), and even older legends about Fomorians, supernatural beings in the Irish pre-Christian pantheon, personifications of darkness and chaos, like the ancient Greek Titans.

a selfie to prove I was actually on this trip–and that the sun came out!
the views from above the Giant’s Causeway are just stunning

Having hiked and marvelled at this natural wonder, I then zoomed back down the motorway, skirted Belfast, and returned the car at the airport for the short jump back across the Irish Sea to Manchester. If I had one more day, I would have visited Northern Ireland’s most dominant medieval castle, Carrickfergus, another castle built by the Normans in the 1170s (though named for a local legendary king, Fergus). It became the main seat of the English Crown in the North for the next several centuries, and still today has links with the monarchy, as one of the courtesy titles (since 2011) of Prince William, Duke of Cambridge. Another trip to this region certainly beckons.

another view of Derry/Londonderry, from the old city walls looking west to Donegal, my next destination I hope!

(images my own or from Wikimedia Commons)

Dukes of Cleves, with Jülich, Berg and the Mark

‘Divorced, beheaded, died; divorced, beheaded, survived’. Possibly the most successful mnemonic in history; people who love Tudor history can even remember that Number Four (‘divorced’) was Anne of Cleves. But where on earth was Cleves?

A misleading clue is in one of her historical nicknames, the ‘Flanders Mare’, though in the sixteenth century, Englishmen often referred to all of the Low Countries—Belgium and the Netherlands—as ‘Flanders’. And although Cleves could certainly have ended up being a part of the modern nation of the Netherlands (geographically and linguistically it would make sense), due to the complex twists of genealogical and diplomatic history, it ended up instead as part of Prussia, and thus of modern Germany. It was, and still is, the gateway between the German Lower Rhine area, the zone downriver from Cologne and the industrial Ruhr, and the flat delta of the many mouths of the Rhine that flow through the Netherlands. The rather small duchy of Cleves is forever linked to the memory of the unfortunate queen, Anne of Cleves, fourth wife of Henry VIII, married to solidify his position as a leader of the Reformation in Northern Europe, but dismissed from his bedchamber within months for being too plain and too boring.

But Cleves is also closely tied to another great story, much more ancient: the legend of Lohengrin, the Schwanritter, or Knight of the Swan. An epic tale from at least the early 13th century, Lohengrin was the son of Parsifal, the knight of the Holy Grail, who is sent downriver from his castle (the Schwanenburg) in a small boat pulled by swans in order to rescue a maiden. The deal (as is always with such things) is that she can never ask his identity. As the story developed, and later became the opera by Wagner (premiered in 1850), the hero has to marry the Princess Elsa and restore Christian rule to the Duchy of Brabant. After the ubiquitous Bridal March, today played at every wedding on the planet, and the truly gorgeous ‘Elsa’s Procession to the Cathedral’, she inevitably asks her new husband his name (wouldn’t you?), and he gets back into his swan boat and sails away.

Lohengrin by Crane (1895)
a lovely rendering of Elsa’s Procession for brass choir (Canadian Brass and Brass of Berlin)

Today’s Schwanenburg is a tower on a bluff overlooking the Rhine valley, a ‘cliff’ which may have given the name to the local town and the surrounding region, ‘kleef’ in Dutch and Low German, which may have evolved into Kleve in German (though sources tell us that it was actually spelled with a C until the 1930s). The castle is first mentioned in the 1020s; it collapsed and was rebuilt several times; before being utterly destroyed in the Second World War, and then once again rebuilt.

Schwanenburg from a postcard from about 1900

According to legendary history, a Frankish lord, Dietrich (Dirk in Dutch), was ruler of the area between the Rhine (called the Waal in the Netherlands) and the Maas (or Meuse), sometimes called Teisterbant. He died in 713 and left a daughter, Beatrix, whose rule in her town of Nijmegen had to be defended by the local knight Elias (‘Lohengrin’) from Cleves—sometimes called Aelius Gralius (or ‘of the Grail’), a soldier who had previously fought with Charles Martel against the Moors in Southern Gaul. Their children spawned the medieval noble houses of Cleves and Guelders (the neighbouring territory, today part of the Netherlands, as Gelderland). This first house of Cleves-Teisterbant is purely legendary and according to fanciful genealogies, comes to an end in about the year 1000. More concrete (yet still quite shadowy) is the story that two brothers from Flanders, Gerhard and Rutger, were expelled from that territory in about 1020, and were given lands by the German Emperor in the strategic territory downriver from the Imperial cities of Aachen and Cologne: Wassenberg and Cleves. The House of Wassenberg is thus supposedly the origin of both the houses of Guelders, from the elder brother, and Cleves, from the younger. Both are listed as counties by the end of the century.

The intertwined dynastic history of the counties, later duchies, of Cleves and Guelders (which will be covered in a separate posting), are indicative of a much bigger, much more complex story about how medieval dynasties grew and consolidated and split and regrouped over the centuries, sometimes coming together in what I like to call ‘superclans’. The best example of this is in fact the dynasty of Cleves, which, by the time of Anne of Cleves in the early sixteenth century, was in fact the blending of five separate lineages from the Middle Rhineland: Cleves, Jülich, Mark, Berg and Ravensberg. French and Belgian historians know this ‘superclan’ better under the name La Marck (from German ‘der Mark’), and it includes under this umbrella term the dukes of Bouillon, the dukes of Nevers, and the dukes of Arenberg, amongst other lineages, each of which is worthy of a blog post of its own, or we’d be here all day. The famous 17th-century French novel La Princesse de Clèves for example takes its name from this family. At its height, the conglomerate state of Cleves-Jülich-Berg-Mark, aka ‘the United Duchies’, covered almost all of the Rhineland, enveloping the city-state of Cologne and dominating the pre-industrial yet already quite wealthy Ruhr Valley. It was one of the major states of the Holy Roman Empire, but it is mostly forgotten today, since, after 1609, its ruling family became extinct and the different duchies were partitioned between different powers.

The Rhineland in the 16th century, showing in orange the unified duchies and counties of Cleves, Julich, Berg, Mark and Ravensberg (plus Guelders in stripes)

The counts of Cleves of the House of Wassenberg pass in a succession of Dietrichs. It is a very dominant name—one of them even had three sons all named Dietrich. They were constantly at war with their neighbours in Guelders and Brabant and especially with the Archbishop of Cologne, who always wanted to establish his dominance over the entire Rhineland region. They founded the monastery of Bedburg which became their traditional comital burial place, and purchased the town of Duisburg, at the mouth of the Ruhr valley, on the other side of the Rhine, which added greatly to their wealth and would develop into one of the great trading hubs of the area. A junior branch established themselves as lord of Valkenburg, the core of what is today the Dutch province of Limburg, based in a castle on the only real hill in that very flat country. By the early 14th century, the counts of Cleves had used marriage alliances to settle their quarrels with local neighbours that when the last count of the original line died in 1368, the territory smoothly passed to the House of Berg-Mark.

a fanciful image of one of the early Count Dirks of Cleves

This neighbouring family also stretches back into the murky period of the formation of the Holy Roman Empire under the Franks. One of the powerful families of the region known as Lotharingia—the region between eastern and western Frankia, ie Germany and France—were later labelled the ‘Ezzonen’ by genealogists and historians, taken from the name of one of their founders, Ezzo, Count Palatine (basically like a viceroy for the emperor) of Lotharingia in the early 11th century, though his roots go much further back into the 9th. They rose to great prominence through marital ties to the Ottonian kings of Germany. One of their younger sons, Adolf, was given church lands across the river from Cologne to protect (known as an advocatus, avoué or vogt), which was a common way for families to get their start as local rulers in this period. His grandson, also called Adolf, was recognised as ‘count’ of the surrounding lands, called ‘Berg’, by about 1100. Confusingly, the main early seat of the counts of Berg was called Burg, built in about 1130 on the Wupper River (and abandoning an earlier castle called Berg or Altenberg). This castle was in fact called Neuenberg until it was significantly enlarged and renamed, Burg, in the 15th century.

Schloss Burg

Castle Burg was one of the largest fortresses in the Rhineland, and several members of the family were also archbishops of Cologne, across the river, thus uniting sacred and secular power in the region—notably Archbishop Engelbert II, a chief advisor of Emperor Frederick II, who was murdered in 1226 and is venerated as a saint.

St Engelbert of Berg

In about 1260, the counts of Berg moved down from their hill fortress into their chief town on the Rhine, Düsseldorf, and built a new residence. The Düsseldorf Schloss would remain the seat of government and a main courtly centre for the Rhineland for centuries, first for the counts of Berg, raised to the rank of duke in 1380, then for their successors of the House of Jülich (below). The dynastic necropolis remained in the older seat in the monastery at Altenberg. The counts of Berg expanded their lands in 1346 by inheriting the county of Ravensberg, a short distance to the east in Westphalia (in what is today ironically called Ostwestfalen). These counts guarded an important pass across the hills of the Teutoburg Forest, with their capital at Bielefeld, watched over by the fortified tower of Sparrenberg, still a prominent local landmark.

Sparrenberg

The other end of the territory ruled by the House of Berg, a bit further to the south and east, had split off into its own county in the 1160s. This branch of the family were at first called the counts of Altena, named for their castle there—another great castle in this area that has survived into the present, largely restored in the early 20th century and opened as one of the very first youth hostels, which it still is.

Altena

By the start of the 1200s, the counts of Altena had moved to a new castle, Burg Mark, near the Westphalian town of Hamm, and took the name ‘count of the Mark’ for this castle on the Lippe River. Nothing remains today of this castle except some earthworks outside the town. I had always assumed that ‘the Mark’ (and it is always referred to as such, not just ‘Mark’) referred to these lords’ status as guardians of a frontier, or a ‘march’—in this case between the hills east of the Rhine and the plains of Westphalia—but I can’t find anything to support this in my sources—the original fief, held of the archbishop of Cologne, was a ‘feldmark’, which to me is much less interesting, as the border of a field. Nevertheless, in occupying both sides of the River Ruhr, this small territory, ‘the Mark’, would later punch above its weight as the industrial heartland of 19th-century Prussia.

As with Cleves and Berg, the counts of the Mark spent much of the middle ages fighting against the power of the archbishops of Cologne, though at times they also occupied the archbishop’s seat themselves. Count Adolf III was briefly archbishop, 1363-64, before he gave it up to succeed his mother as count of Cleves (he ceded the archbishop’s throne to his uncle, but kept most of the revenues). Another uncle founded the House of La Marck-Arenberg, which became (and remains) one of the leading family of dukes and princes in Belgium (this will get its own separate blog post, to include the dukes of Bouillon, semi-sovereign princes all the way up to the end of the ancien régime in the 1790s). Adolf III later succeeded as count of the Mark as well in 1391, thus combining Cleves and Mark into one trans-rhenane state, and combining the distinctive checkerboard coat of arms of the Mark with the unique star pattern of Cleves (two crossed staffs, with fleurs-de-lys tips on all eight endings).

Cleves-Mark

Count Adolf IV of Cleves and the Mark shifted the orientation of his family’s history to the west. He acquired the lordship of Ravenstein, on the Maas, west of Nijmegen, by conquest in 1397, and entered the service of the Duke of Burgundy, John the Fearless, the most powerful man in the Low Countries, and marrying his daughter, Marie, in 1406. As a recognition of Adolf’s rise in stature, the Emperor Sigismund promoted him to the rank of Duke of Cleves, in 1417. Adolf secured his ascendancy by marrying off his daughters to many important princes, including the Duke of Bavaria, the Duke of Guelders, the King of Navarre and the Duke of Orléans (she became the mother of the future King Louis XII of France).

The second Duke of Cleves, Johann I, was raised at the court of Burgundy and served the dukes in their wars, but also led his own, as usual against the Archbishop of Cologne, successfully adding the town (and abbey) of Xanten to Cleves, and Soest to the Mark. In 1455, he married the heiress of the French counties of Nevers, Rethel and Eu, and his younger son, Engilbert de Clèves, would found the dynasty of Clèves-Nevers, a pre-eminent dynasty in France until its extinction a century later. Johann’s younger brother, Adolf, was given the lordship of Ravenstein and became a prominent member of the court of Burgundy, acting as the Governor-General of the Low Countries in the 1470s and aiding in the transition of these territories from the Valois to the Habsburgs after the death of the last Duke of Burgundy in 1477. His son, Philippe de Clèves-Ravenstein (or Filips van Kleve in Dutch), was also a major military leader for the Habsburgs in the Low Countries, with his seat at Wijnendale Castle in Flanders. He then switched sides and joined French service, accompanying his cousin Louis XII to Italy, and serving as Governor of Genoa in 1501.

Johann II, 3rd Duke of Cleves (d. 1521), is known mostly as der Kindermacher (‘the babymaker’) since he is said to have had at least 63 illegitimate children. He initially rebelled against Habsburg rule in the former Burgundian Low Countries, but was subdued by Emperor Maximilian, and became a loyal ally, helping him in his fight against the other contenders for power in the region, the dukes of Guelders. He spent a lot of money in doing so, and we can see that the dynasty’s rule was becoming quite stretched, from Flanders to Westphalia, leading the local towns and nobles in Cleves and Mark to force concessions from the Duke—by about 1510, they were in complete charge of taxation and other fiscal matters in their territories, an important step towards popular governance in Germany which would have long-term impacts on the history of Brandenburg-Prussia. Before Johann II’s death, his son, Johann III, had succeeded his wife’s father as Duke of Jülich and Berg (in 1511), so we need to back up and look at Berg again, and the House of Jülich.

Johann II of Cleves

About the same time the above-named Rhineland and Westphalian counties of Cleves, Berg and the Mark were being formed, around the year 1000, the strip of hilly land to the west of Cologne, paralleling the Rhine the way Berg did on the eastern banks, was born. And like its neighbours, its counts struggled for much of the Middle Ages to establish their independence against the most powerful archbishops of Germany. The name derives from a Roman settlement or camp, Juliacum, which developed into Gulik in Low German. The first counts were mostly called Gerhard, but the name Wilhelm appears in the mid-12th century and remains the dominant dynastic name, much like Dietrich did for Cleves or Adolf for Berg. The original line died out in 1207 and the heiress took the county to a noble family from the Eiffel, a bit to the south. They had a town residence in Jülich, but by this point were living more securely in their fortress on the western edge of their territory, closer to Aachen: the castle of Nideggen, built in the 1170s and extended in the 1340s to become one of the largest fortresses in the Rhineland. It was mostly destroyed in the wars of the 16th and 17th centuries, and was rebuilt as a museum of local history in the 20th century. Today it houses the Castle Museum (Burgenmuseum).

Nideggen

As with the other comital families covered in this post, the counts of Jülich blended their affairs both east and west, involved in wars in central Germany but also in the Low Countries—two generations of Wilhelms-in-waiting (as the reigning count outlived both his son and grandson) were very involved in Flemish politics, the elder marrying a daughter of the ruling count of Flanders, and the younger becoming an important military figure in some of the Flemish campaigns against France in the early years of the 1300s. His cousins succeeded to the territory and raised the family to the next level, with Wilhelm V as first duke of Jülich, 1356, and his half-brother Walram as Archbishop of Cologne from 1332. More importantly, through his wife, Joanna of Holland and Hainaut, he was brother-in-law to both Edward III, King of England, and Ludwig IV, Holy Roman Emperor, and was a crucial keystone to forming an Anglo-German alliance that allowed Edward to launch the Hundred Years War in 1337. This alliance collapsed a decade later, however, and Wilhelm switched sides to support the French king (who was also his wife’s cousin) and the new pro-French emperor, Charles IV (who raised Wilhelm’s county to a duchy). He may also have been created earl of Cambridge in 1340, but evidence for this is patchy.

arms of Julich

In typical dynastic fashion, Wilhelm I married his two sons to heiresses, and both, in their way, were successful in adding to the territory and influence of the Duchy of Jülich. The elder son, Gerhard, became Count of Berg and Ravensberg in 1348, but died a year before his father, so these lands (but not Jülich) were passed on to a young son, Wilhelm, who was given a dukedom of his own, for Berg, in 1380. The younger son, Wilhelm II, succeeded instead as 2nd Duke of Jülich, and put forward claims to his wife’s family duchy, in neighbouring Guelders (this story seems to keep repeating in this post, eh?). A War of Guelders Succession followed (versus the House of Blois), and the Emperor Charles IV intervened in 1377 to awarded it to Wilhelm II’s son, Wilhelm III, now Duke of both Jülich and Guelders.

This Wilhelm III (or I of the united duchies) thus ruled a conglomerate state that stretched from the Rhine to the Zuiderzee, and became known as one of the great warriors of the 14th century, fighting on numerous crusades in the Baltic and in France as an ally of the King of England. He visited the English court in 1390 and was made a Knight of the Garter. The next year he went on pilgrimage to the Holy Land, then fought against pirates on the North African coast. His court at Arnhem in Guelders became a centre of the flowering of late medieval arts and culture. But he had no children, nor did his brother and successor, Duke Reinald—at least not legitimate ones—so when the latter died in 1423, the Duchy of Guelders passed via their sister, Joanna (all women in this century are called Joanna, right?) to the House of Egmont, and the Duchy of Jülich went back to the main male line, by now known as the dukes of Berg. A little confused? See the chart at the end.

Adolf, 2nd Duke of Berg, thus became Duke of Jülich as well in 1423. As with so many of these families, an ecclesiastical partnership was crucial for augmenting and maintaining their partner, and Adolf was aided by his younger brother, Wilhelm, Bishop of Paderborn, the most important bishopric in Westphalia. Adolf also tried to expand his influence southwards, by claiming his wife’s inheritance, the Duchy of Bar, which he lost—it was instead attached to of Lorraine and remained so into the 18th century. He also claimed the Duchy of Guelders, with Imperial support (and tried to marry his heir to the last Duke’s widow), but again without success. His nephew, Gerhard, Duke of Jülich, Duke of Berg and Count of Ravensberg, continued to press these claims, and won a great battle in 1444, but ultimately sold his claims to Guelders to the Duke of Burgundy—another key step in the consolidation of Burgundian power over the entire Low Countries. (and of course, the new dukes of Guelders also counter-claimed the Duchy of Jülich; fair is fair)

The last independent duke of this line, Wilhelm IV, reigned from 1475 to 1511, and married two times, but produced no sons. In 1510, he therefore made an agreement with his neighbour, Duke Johann II of Cleves and Mark, that their children would marry (the ‘Cleves Union’). And so Marie of Berg and Jülich married Johann III of Cleves and Mark, to form the ‘United Duchies’, finally uniting most of the territories in the Lower Rhine under one family.

Johann III of Cleves-Mark

They retained residences and fortresses in Cleves, Jülich and the Mark, but their principal seat became the city palace of the dukes of Berg in Düsseldorf. The original medieval building was largely extended in the 1540s as a Renaissance palace, and would remain the seat of the dynasty for the next century. It would flourish again as the court of the Elector Palatine in the late 17th century (see below), with one of the first public painting galleries. Later it would serve as the seat of the Prussian governor of the Rhineland and the seat of the regional parliament (from 1845). It burned almost entirely to the ground in 1872, and all that remains today is its medieval great tower, still watching over this particular bend of the River Rhine.

Dusseldorf in the 17th century (palace just left of centre)
the ruins of the Dusseldorf Schloss after the fire, c1890

At last we arrive at the immediate family of Anne of Cleves. By now we see that she is in fact much more than ‘of Cleves’, but ‘of Jülich’ or ‘of the Mark’. From a strictly patrilineal perspective, she was ‘of Berg’ and was in fact born in the old Bergish capital of Düsseldorf, in 1515,and was raised in Schloss Burg. It is the religious question that then becomes really fascinating to me, since I was taught (as we all were) that Anne was ‘the Protestant princess’ meant to solidify Henry VIII’s break from Rome in the 1530s. As with so many things about the early modern period, it’s just not that simple. Anne’s parents differed in their religious outlook and approach to the growth of reform ideas in the 1520s: her father, Duke Johann II, known as ‘the Peaceful’, was heavily influenced by Erasmus, and tried to make his court a centre of a moderate via media: reform the Church, yes, but break with Rome, no. His wife, Maria of Jülich, however, was a much stricter Catholic. Their children were raised in this environment, and the girls in particular raised to be pious, not coquettes, which in part explains Henry VIII’s disinterest in Anne. In 1527, Duke Johann decided to make a very ecumenical double wedding arrangement for his two eldest daughters (the youngest, Amalia, was only 10, and in fact never married, though she lived a long life). He betrothed his oldest daughter, Sybilla, to the heir of the Elector of Saxony. Johann Friedrich soon succeeded and the new electoral couple became two of the main champions of the Protestant movement.

Sybilla of Cleves, by Cranach (c1526)

The second daughter, Anne, was betrothed, in contrast, to the son of one of the fiercest opponents of reform, the Duke of Lorraine. Had this marriage with François de Lorraine taken place, Anne of Cleves’ life would have certainly been very different, but for murky reasons, it fizzled out by 1535, and by 1539, she was being considered as a bride by Henry VIII’s chief minister, Thomas Cromwell, mostly with the aim of connecting Henry to Anne’s brother-in-law, the Elector of Saxony, and to her brother, Wilhelm V, the new Duke of Cleves and Jülich. As we know, Anne now enters the storyline of the Hillary Mantel epic trilogy about Cromwell, and the failure of her marriage after only six months is one of the catalysts of his downfall and execution. She gets a pretty easy ride, in Tudor terms, and lives quietly in the countryside, at Hever Castle, Richmond Palace, Penshurst and other residences, and with a pre-eminent rank at court when she visits, honoured at key ceremonies in the reign of Queen Mary (and quite clearly adhering to the old faith) until she dies, the last of Henry VIII’s queens, in 1557.

Anne of Cleves, by Bruyn in the 1540s

Wilhelm V, known as ‘the Rich’ (so possibly another attraction for Henry VIII), was a much more devoted Protestant than his sister. His interest in the alliance with England was, once again, to try to take over the Duchy of Guelders, now in the hands of the Emperor Charles V. He also married a niece of the King of France, Jeanne d’Albret, in 1541, for the same reason. She was only 12 and this marriage was annulled in 1545. By this time he gave up his hold on Guelders (by the Treaty of Venlo, 1543) and became instead an ally of Charles V. He focused instead on developing his duchies, building new fortifications in Cleves and Jülich, and expanding the residence at Düsseldorf, employing celebrated Italian architect, Alessandro Pasqualini. Becoming a bit more of an Erasmian Catholic like his father, he built a Humanist gymnasium in Düsseldorf and attracted prominent Humanist scholars to his court, including the cartographer Gerhard Mercator. He agreed to educate his children in a way that would please all parties. Having married a Habsburg princess (Maria of Austria) in 1546, he agreed that, although his sons would be raised as Lutherans, his daughters would be Catholics.

Wilhelm ‘the Rich’, duke of Cleves, Berg, Julich (and here, claiming Guelders too)
the enlarged residence in Julich, today a school

Duke Wilhelm of Cleves-Jülich-Berg ruled for a very long time, not dying until 1592, by which time he was old and frail and finding it difficult to navigate the confessional division of his territories and the increasing tensions between his neighbours on either side: the Catholic Habsburgs and the Protestant Dutch provinces. His elder son, Karl Friedrich, rejecting his Lutheran upbringing, died while on pilgrimage to Rome in 1575, honoured by Pope Gregory XIII and buried with great pomp in the German church in Rome. The Pope had hoped the young prince would be a leader of the Counter-Reformation in the Rhineland, where his subjects were very divided—Cleves and Mark mostly Protestant, Jülich and Berg remaining Catholic. His successor as heir, Johann Wilhelm, showed early promise, as Bishop of Münster from 1574, then marrying two good Catholic girls to try to extend the family line, Jakobea of Baden and Antoinette of Lorraine. Johann Wilhelm was already showing signs of mental illness, however, and both women were compelled to navigate the difficult religious divide of the United Duchies as duchess-consort. With support of all the Catholic powers of Europe, Jakobea tried to force herself onto the governing councils of her husband’s duchies, went too far, and was (probably) strangled in the night of 3 September 1597. Antoinette was more subtle, perhaps learning the art of governing unruly men from her grandmother, Catherine de Medici, and managed to wrangle complete control as Duchess-Regent for her unfit husband.

Antoinette, Duchess of Cleves-Julich-Berg

There were no children when Duke Johann Wilhelm died in March 1609, and indeed there were no more male heirs from any of the houses described above. The long-expected War of Jülich Succession broke out, a conflict viewed by historians as the forerunner of the Thirty Years War, as well as a catalyst for the final success of the Dutch Revolt against Spain, and one the possible motivations behind the assassination of King Henry IV of France (who was planning to intervene on the Protestant side in the conflict). By the Treaty of Xanten (in Cleves) of November 1614, the United Duchies were divided, mostly amongst religious lines, between the heirs of the last Duke’s sisters: Cleves, Mark and Ravensberg went to the Protestant Elector of Brandenburg, son-in-law and heir of Maria Eleanora of Cleves, Duchess of Prussia; and Jülich and Berg to the Catholic Count Palatine of Neuburg, son of Anna of Cleves.

From this point onwards, Cleves-Mark would be a very important foothold for the House of Brandenburg-Prussia in the Rhineland, an important source of revenue despite its small size, especially as the area industrialised in the 18th century, and would become the core of the Prussian Rhine Province in the 19th century. The Hohenzollerns continued to use the titles Duke of Cleves and Count of the Mark even after they became emperors of Germany, to the end of the Reich in 1918. Jülich-Berg became the centre of the court of the Counts-Palatine of Neuburg (a territory in what is now northern Bavaria), who were promoted to the premier ranks of German princes in 1685 when Duke Philipp Wilhelm succeeded his cousin as Elector Palatine. Possibly one of the most successful dynasts in European history, he married off his daughters incredibly well: an empress, a queen of Spain and a queen of Portugal. Düsseldorf became a major court city, developed further by his son, the new Elector Johann Wilhelm, and his Medici wife, Anna Maria Luisa. It was this couple who gathered together the major art collection that put Düsseldorf on the map as a major city of the culture in the 18th century.

Elector Palatine Johann Wilhelm and Anna Maria Luisa de Medici

The Electoral couple had no children; Anna Maria Luisa moved back to Florence and took much of her art with her. The new Elector, Carl Philipp, moved the capital back to the Palatinate, to a new city, built from scratch along rational Enlightenment ideals, Mannheim. Düsseldorf became a backwater, even more so when the Elector’s cousin and heir, Karl Theodor, succeeded to the Duchy of Bavaria in 1777, uniting a great swathe of Germany under Wittelsbach rule, from the Alps to the Rhineland. The last duke of Jülich and Berg, Maximilian of Bavaria, became King of Bavaria in 1805, and after the dust had settled following the Napoleonic Wars, a new province of Jülich-Cleves-Berg was created for Prussia, which in 1822 was dissolved to become part of the greater Rhine Province, which had Cologne as its capital (finally—dominance achieved!).

But there is one more historical note worth mentioning about Berg in a blog-page about dukes and princes: one of the many principalities created by Emperor Napoleon for his extended family members was the Grand Duchy of Berg, granted in 1806 to his brother-in-law, Joachim Murat (husband of Caroline Bonaparte), with lands on the right bank of the Rhine, primarily Berg but also some of Cleves (the left bank, including Jülich, had been occupied and incorporated into France by 1799). Murat soon annexed the Mark and the former bishopric of Münster which greatly enlarged his Grand Duchy. In 1808 Joachim and Caroline departed for Italy where they became King and Queen of Naples, and the Grand Duchy of Berg was given in 1809 to Napoleon’s nephew, Napoleon-Louis Bonaparte. Düsseldorf once again became a capital city, but not for long—after the Battle of Leipzig in 1813, the Prussian armies occupied Berg and its territories were soon absorbed into the Rhine Province.

As part of the propaganda drive to unify the nationalist and political unity of the German peoples, the ruling Hohenzollerns were able to draw on one of the greatest legends of the region, the Knight of the Swan of Cleves.

(images Wikimedia commons)

Sforza dukes of Milan

In a recent television series, the artist Leonardo da Vinci is brought to Milan to work for the most powerful man in Renaissance Italy: Ludovico il Moro. Il Moro was head of the Sforza family, one of the names most associated with Italian history in the fifteenth century—like Medici or Borgia—but interestingly, their name wasn’t originally Sforza at all, and though the main line, dukes of Milan from 1450 to 1535, petered out after only four generations, several other branches continued, rose and fell in prominence, and even continue today.

Ludovico Sforza, Duke of Milan

The family Attendolo were originally rich noble landowners near Cotignola in the Romagna, a province north of Rome, on the Adriatic. Several nobles from this region aspired to wealth and glory in the fifteenth century, but as the territory was firmly under the thumb of Papal rule, many sought employment as professional soldiers, condottieri, in other parts of Italy. Having little loyalty to one city state or another, they lead their men in the service of whoever paid the most, and often switched sides mid-campaign if more money was on offer from their opponents. Some of the greatest of these at the beginning of the century were the cousins Lorenzo, Giacomo, Micheletto and Foschino Attendolo—they fought for the Pope, for Venice, for Florence, and especially for (and sometimes against) the Angevin kings and queens of Naples, gaining lots of land and prestigious titles in southern Italy. The greatest of these was Giacomo, whose nickname was ‘Giacomuzzo’, or just ‘Muzio’, who later took on the cognomen ‘Sforza’, from ‘striving’ or ‘steadfast’.

Muzio Attendolo Sforza

At the height of his career, he purchased his hometown of Cotignola from the Pope and had it erected into a countship for himself and his eldest son, Bosio. A Palazzo Sforza remained in Cotignola until it was bombed in the 20th century, but has been restored and serves as the town’s museum.

Sforza Palazzo in Cotignola

By the time Muzio Sforza died in 1424, he had accumulated exalted titles like Grand Constable of Sicily and Gonfalonier of the Church. He left behind no fewer than five sons and ten illegitimate children, who, in Renaissance Italy, could quite often rise as high, or higher, than their legitimate siblings. This was the case with Bosio and Francesco. The legitimate son, Bosio, inherited his father’s properties in the Romagna and Tuscany, and was the progenitor of the line of the Sforza family that continues today. But it was Francesco, his illegitimate half-brother, who really made the family’s name synonymous with Renaissance magnificence. Francesco started out in his father’s armies, then in the 1420s established himself as an independent condottiero with his own band of highly trained warriors. They fought for Naples, for the Pope, and for Milan – the rising powerhouse of northern Italy then under the leadership of the Visconti family, promoted to ducal rank by the Holy Roman Emperor in 1395.

Francesco Sforza, Duke of Milan

After initially fighting against them, Francesco switched sides to serve the Visconti family in their unending wars against rivals Venice and Florence; he even married his boss’s daughter, Bianca Maria, an illegitimate daughter of Duke Filippo Maria, in 1441. By 1445, he was named Captain General of the Milanese troops. The Duke died in 1447, and the people of Milan proclaimed a republic—the Ambrosian Republic—but Francesco pressed his wife’s claims to the Duchy and conquered it by 1450. He was formally recognised as Duke of Milan by the Milanese Senate, though he never obtained formal investiture from the Emperor (like many fiefs in Northern Italy, Milan was considered part of the Holy Roman Empire). Duke Francesco ruled Milan well, modernising its government, creating a more efficient taxation system, building the Ospedale Maggiore, and restoring the Ducal Palace, in which he established a flourishing Renaissance court culture. He expanded Milan’s power by annexing the city and republic of Genoa in 1464 (which also included the island of Corsica), and stabilised Italy for the first time in a generation through a league with Cosimo de Medici of Florence. His oldest half-brother, Bosio, became a solid landowning power in Tuscany (see below), while another was installed as Archbishop of Milan in 1454 (a rare case where one family holds the top jobs in both church and state). His younger, also illegitimate, brothers established themselves as soldiers in various parts of Italy, and one, Alessandro, resumed their father’s job of Grand Constable of the Kingdom of Naples-Sicily—he also became lord of Pesaro and will be looked at again below. When he died in 1466, Francesco, the first Duke of Milan of a new line, was mourned as the founder of a new, powerful Lombard state.

Sforza and Visconti arms joined together as dukes of Milan (photo Giovanni Dall’Orto)

Francesco Sforza, like his father, left behind and army of legitimate and illegitimate children. The legitimate sons, were placed in positions to maintain the family’s prestige and honour at both ends of the peninsula: the eldest, Galeazzo Maria, as Duke of Milan, the younger brothers as successively dukes of Bari (in Apulia, part of the Kingdom of Naples), and the youngest (Ascanio) as a cardinal in Rome. The family’s impact was thus felt in all the major power centres of Italy. The same was true for the daughters: one married one of the powerful lords of Lombardy, the marchese of Monferrrato, while another married the heir to the throne of Naples. Illegitimate daughters were also used to solidify marriage alliances with the leading families of northern Italy: Malaspina, Malatesta, Este. The family were no longer just low-ranking nobles, soldiers for hire, but related by blood to the greatest aristocratic houses in Italy, and even to the royal house of Aragon in Naples.

Galeazzo Maria, Duke of Milan, does not enjoy the same reputation as a good ruler that his father did. He is remembered as cruel, even sadistical. On the positive side, he is known as one of the leading patrons of Flemish music, at that point the height of Renaissance fashion. His brother Cardinal Ascanio was one of the early patrons of the Flemish composer Josquin des Prez, who would become the most famous musician in Europe by the end of the century. Ascanio would also become one of the principal political players in the papacy in the last decade of the fifteenth century, helping to elect Rodrigo Borgia as pope in 1492 and acting as his Vice-Chancellor (‘prime minister’) of the Papal States, always striving to maintain the balance in the Italian Peninsula between Milan and Naples.

Ascanio, Cardinal Sforza

But Galeazzo Maria’s tyrannical rule became too much for his senior courtiers, who murdered him in church the day after Christmas in 1476. He was succeeded by his seven-year-old son, Gian Galeazzo, who was at first governed by his mother, Bona of Savoy, until she was run out by the boy’s uncle, Ludovico. As depicted in the recent series Leonardo, the boy was mostly his uncle’s prisoner and died mysteriously in 1494. Italian Renaissance histories are full of gossipy stories: some say he was poisoned; others says he died from having too much sex with his new wife, Isabella d’Aragona (who was also his first cousin).

A portrait of St Sebastian which may be young Gian Galeazzo Sforza

The Regent Ludovico took over formally as Duke of Milan, completely ignoring the rights of Gian Galeazzo’s little son, Francesco, and the late Duke’s younger brother, Ermes. He did, however, promote their sister (his niece), Bianca Maria, to the very top of the European social and political hierarchy, by marrying her to Emperor Maximilian I in the Spring of 1494, which achieved several things: the Emperor finally formally invested the Sforza family with the Duchy of Milan, and he joined an alliance to help keep the French out of Italy.

Bianca Maria Sforza, wife of Emperor Maximilian I
Ludovico Sforza receiving the Imperial fief of Milan from Maximilian, with Bianca Maria as consort

Ludovico had essentially already been ruling Milan for a decade before he became duke. He is known as ‘il Moro’ perhaps because he had dark skin (‘the Moor’)—other explanations that he had ‘mulberry trees’ on his coat of arms don’t make sense to me—and although this name lent an air of gangster ruthlessness (not totally unwarranted) to his reign, he is also rightly remembered as one of the great patrons of Leonardo da Vinci (notably commissioning The Last Supper for the Convent of Santa Maria delle Grazie outside Milan). Duke Ludovico and his wife, Beatrice d’Este, led one of the most brilliant courts in Europe, hosting painters and poets. He stimulated the Milanese economy, for example, the silk industry (maybe that’s the mulberry connection?) and canals, and refortified the city, notably in building the Sforza Fortress on the edge of the old city.

Castello Sforzesco in Milan (photo Federica Gagliardi)
The Pala Sforzecsa, a large altarpiece, with Ludovico, Beatrice and two of their sons.

But Ludovico also caused a right mess for Italy, and eventually brought about his own family’s downfall, by inviting Charles VIII, King of France, to bring his massive armies into Italy in order to defend Milan against a coalition of Venice, Naples and Rome, an invitation which he later regretted (though the impact and the ‘blame’ for this is debated by historians). Charles had a claim to the Kingdom of Naples, but once he took it, he turned back northwards and challenged Sforza rule in Lombardy. Ludovico managed to defeat the mighty French army at the Battle of Fornovo (near Parma) in July 1495, but a few years later Charles’s successor on the French throne, Louis XII, was back—this time, not just with a claim to Naples, but also to Milan itself, through his grandmother, Valentina Visconti, and he drove Ludovico out of the city in the summer of 1499. Sforza tried to reclaim his duchy in 1500, but was captured and taken to France where he spent the rest of his life locked away in the castle of Loches, in Touraine. He died in 1508.

Little Francesco Sforza (‘il Duchetto’) was also taken to France, as a ‘guest’ of the King, became an abbot, and died, still young, in 1512. Cardinal Ascanio too was taken to France, but was allowed to come and go, and remained a force in Papal politics. The greatest prize, Leonardo da Vinci himself, was also invited to reside in France, and was given a small château of his own, Clos Lucé, next to the King’s palace at Amboise in the Loire Valley, where he died in 1519.

Leonardo da Vinci as an older man

Ludovico’s young son, Massimiliano, was briefly restored to the throne of Milan in 1512, by Swiss troops with Imperial, Papal and Venetian backing. But at the great battle of Marignano (September 1515), the forces of the new, young and vigorous French king, François I, were victorious, and Milan was once again in French hands. Massimiliano, was, like his father and cousins, taken to France, given a pension and died obscurely in 1530 (or some say, even as late as 1552, as a monk hidden away somewhere). His younger brother, Francesco II, having been raised at the Imperial court, was installed on the Milanese throne by Emperor Charles V in 1521; deposed briefly by the French in 1524-25, then allied with the French against the Emperor in 1526; then re-allied with the Charles in 1534 and even married the Emperor’s niece, Christina of Denmark. But he died only a year later, and at the grand peace between France and the Emperor in 1529, Charles V was himself recognised as duke of Milan. Sforza rule was at an end in Milan, and in fact, the city and the dukedom remained a Habsburg possession for the next three centuries, until finally liberated (or captured? depends on your political views about the Italian Risorgimento) by the House of Savoy in 1859.

Massimiliano, Duke of Milan

One member of the main line of the Sforzas remained: Bona, daughter of Gian Galeazzo, who inherited the Neapolitan properties of the family, married the King of Poland in 1518, and is remembered for bringing the best of the Italian Renaissance north of the Alps to the Polish court and through her daughters to the courts of Hungary and Sweden. A classic example of female cultural transmission in this period.

There also remained a number of illegitimate sons: Ottaviano, son of Galeazzo Maria, was a bishop, but also a warrior, and tried—and failed—to take the throne of Milan in 1535; his cousin, Giovanni Paolo, also had ambitions for the Milanese throne in 1535, but died mysteriously the same year. He had, however, obtained imperial favour in the preceding years, and had been entrusted with governing the eastern approaches to the Duchy of Milan, as Marchese of Caravaggio. He established a branch of the Sforzas that remained in Lombardy, based at the powerful castle of Galliate, guarding the western borders of Milan from hereditary enemies in Turin. Muzio II, the 4th Marchese, was less of a fighter than his ancestors, and became instead a patron of the arts—he was one of the early patrons of a local lad, Michelangelo Marisi, whose father was one of their household officers, and who would become famous later under the name of his hometown: Caravaggio. The 17th-century Sforzas of this branch remained in Milan, as top-level counsellors and officials of Spanish rule there until they became extinct in 1697.

Giovanni Paolo Sforza, Marchese di Caravaggio
Sforza Palace in Galliate (photo Alessandro Vecchi)

Another illegitimate line that emerged were the counts of Borgonovo, a town in southern Lombardy. One of the many bastards of Duke Francesco, Sforza Secondo (he had an elder half-brother also called Sforza), was given the town and castle of Borgonovo by his father in 1451, and supported his half-brother Il Moro in the later decades of the century, notably as his governor of the important cities near his castle, Parma and Piacenza. When Duke Ludovico was driven out by the French, Sforza Secondo fled to Naples, but his illegitimate sons returned to the region and established two branches of the family: one in Borgonovo and one in San Giovanni. The first provided a succession of important courtiers and officials for the dukes of Parma until the line became extinct in 1680.

Soecondo Sforza, Count of Borognovo
La Rocca, the Sforza castle in Borgonovo (photo Magistrali)

The second faded more into obscurity, and were denied succession to the county of Borgonovo by the Duke of Parma, but re-emerged into prominence centuries later: Count Giovanni Sforza was an eminent historian at the end of the nineteenth century; his son Carlo served as Minister of Foreign Affairs in the 1920s until his anti-Fascist views drove him into exile—he led the anti-Mussolini faction abroad for the next decade, then led the drive to establish an Italian republic in 1946, and served once more as Foreign Minister in 1947 to 1951, bringing Italy into the very earliest phases of the European Union. Count Carlo’s son, Sforza Galeazzo, was a sculptor, but also served as Deputy Secretary-General of Council of Europe, from 1968 until his death in 1978. Others of this line continue to live in Milan and at the ancestral home in Montignoso, on the Tuscan riviera.

Count Carlo Sforza

Heading back to the Renaissance, we also see one of Duke Galeazzo Maria’s illegitimate offspring in one of the most stirring stories of the period: Caterina Sforza, Lady of Forli. Her story has been depicted on numerous historical dramas, mostly about her conflict with the Borgias. In 1477, her she was married off to Girolamo Riario, nephew of Pope Sixtus IV. The couple were given two cities within the Papal States to rule as their own, Forli and Imola, and they spent a lot of time at the Papal court in Rome, where she flourished amongst high society, the greatest artists and eminent Humanist thinkers. In 1484, the Pope died, and her husband had to fend for himself as ruler of his territories in the Romagna. Caterina, with the support of her powerful uncle, Ludovico ‘il Moro’, did her best to support him, but the local populace grew angry at his heavy taxation and murdered Girolamo in 1488; Caterina held on to power through sheer chutzpa, and—anecdotally at least—when her enemies captured her sons and threatened to kill them, she stood on the ramparts of the fortress, exposed her genitals and shouted: “Fatelo, se volete … qui ho quanto basta per farne altri!” (“Do it, if you want to … I have here what’s needed to make others!”). She governed Forli and Imola as regent for her young sons until another force challenged her: the unstoppable Cesare Borgia, son of Pope Alexander VI, who wished to make Romagna his own principality, so needed the Riario-Sforza family out of his way. She had ruled her states like a true sovereign, a ‘Tigress’ they called her—Machiavelli was a major fanboy—and defended it ably against the French, against the Venetians, but could not hold out against one of the greatest strategists of the age, and in January 1500, she was led by Cesare Borgia to Rome to be the ‘guest’ of his father in the Castel Sant’Angelo. After the Borgias fell from power, Caterina was allowed to retire to Florence where she died in 1509—although humbled, she would have been glad to see her legacy in the career of her grandson, Cosimo de Medici, first Grand Duke of Florence, and through him, her descendants on most of the thrones of Europe.

Caterina Sforza, Lady of Forli

Another lord deposed in the Papal States by Cesare Borgia was Giovanni Sforza, Lord of Pesaro. His grandfather, Alessandro, was an illegitimate half-brother of Duke Francesco Sforza, and like him a prominent condottiero fighting for the Church and for Naples, and appointed ruler of Pesaro, on the Adriatic, in 1444. Alessandro and his son Costanzo built the magnificent ducal palace in Pesaro, then the latter passed the lordship to his illegitimate son, Giovanni. Giovanni is best known, sadly, as the victim of a staged impotence trial conducted by the Borgias in 1497, when they needed to obtain an annulment for Lucrezia Borgia, once her first husband was no longer of political use to them. Giovanni responded by accusing his wife of paternal and fraternal incest—a smear that has stuck with the Borgias ever since. Eventually, he gave way, but it wasn’t enough, and in 1500, he was driven out of Pesaro. Like Caterina Sforza, Giovanni Sforza did have the last laugh, however, and after the fall of the Borgias in 1503, he returned to Pesaro, remarried, and surprise surprise, had a son. The infant Costanzo II was confirmed as lord of Pesaro, but died only two years later, and the territories were given by the new pope to his own family, the Della Rovere.

Sforza Palace in Pesaro

Finally, the line of Santa Fiora, one of the only lines of the family to start and continue through legitimate marriage, and which carries on into the modern era. It is also interesting to consider on this blog site, as, with the exceptions of the dukes of Milan, these were the only ones who obtained ducal rank (at Segni and Onano); however, this being fragmented Italy, the more interesting property (to me anyway), is their eponymous county of Santa Fiora, because, although of lower rank than a duchy, it outranked most of these as sovereign territory, at least nominally having no feudal overlord. The county, in the hilly borders between Tuscany and Lazio, had been the patrimony of the Aldobrandeschi family, counts from about 1215.

the town of Santa Fiora (photo Sailko)

In 1439, Bosio Sforza married the heiress, Cecilia Aldobrandeschi, and established a new line, with large estates on both sides of the Apennines (since they kept the main Attendolo patrimony of Cotignola in the Romagna).

Sforza Palazzo in Santa Fiora

The second count of Santa Fiora was formerly recognised as sovereign by the nearby Republic of Siena in 1471. His grandson, Bosio II, re-established the family’s position in Italy after the fall of the main line in Milan, through his marriage to the illegitimate daughter of the Farnese pope, Paul III. He was named Governor of Parma (newly emerging as an independent Farnese principality) in 1527, and Commander of the Pontifical Guard in 1534. His brothers Ascanio and Alfonso became high ranking church officials, and his sons even more so, as practically extensions of the Farnese dynasty: the eldest, Guido Ascanio (in reversal of the norm, though not for Papal families) became a cardinal, bishop of Parma, and Camerlengo of the Church—the head of the Papal Household. Alessandro was also a cardinal, and succeeded his brother in Parma; politically, he became quite important as a mouthpiece of the Papal government at the Council of Trent in the 1550s-60s. The non-clerical brothers all became important military leaders in service of the Papacy and Parma, or leading mercenary troops in support of the Catholic party in the French Wars of Religion. Sforza Ascanio, the 10th count of Santa Fiora, was, like his father, Captain-General of the Pontifical Guard, Governor of Parma for the Farnese, then Governor of Siena for the Medici, and finally ambassador from Tuscany to the Imperial Count in Vienna, where he was awarded the collar of the Order of the Golden Fleece. The Sforzas were once again a family at the centre of international politics and diplomacy.

Sforza Sforza, count of Santa Fiora

But like so many families closely connected to the Papacy in Rome, their fortunes diminished when there was no longer a relative on the Papal throne. The Sforzas of Santa Fiora tried to keep their position by marrying into the newly emerging Roman powers, the families of  Julius III (Del Monte) or Gregory XIII (Boncompagni), and did add to their landed wealth through marriage to Fulvia Conti, from one of the oldest noble families in Rome, and heiress of the lordship of Segni, in the hills southeast of Rome. Segni was erected into a duchy in 1585 by Sixtus V. A generation later, another lordship in the hills around Rome (though in the north), Onano, was also created a dukedom, 1612, for Mario II, as a wedding present from Pope Paul V. Mario had married Renée de Lorraine, daughter of the Duke of Mayenne, one of the leading Catholics in France, and an important political ally of the Pope in France. But Mario II was unable to keep hold of his family’s vast estates, and, fearing financial ruin, sold off much of his inheritance, including Segni, and the sovereignty (though not the lands themselves) to the Grand Duke of Tuscany, in 1633.

The French links of the family continued: Mario’s brother, Enrico, had been a godson of King Henry IV and stayed in French service under the Italian Queen Mother, Maria de’ Medici, as did his son, Ascanio (‘Marquis de Sforce’ in French). Renée de Lorraine’s son, Ludovico or Louis, stayed in France as well, was recognised as a ‘cousin du roi’, managed to buy back some of his father’s lands (like Segni), and was given lands by Louis XIV to compensate those confiscated by the Spanish, offended by his loyalty to France. Much of his life is hazy and mysterious, and as a potential heir to the Mayenne branch of the Lorraine-Guise family, I was always quite keen to look for more information, but the ‘duc de Sforce, d’Ognano et de Ségni’ remains elusive, though he lived a long life, was awarded France’s highest honour, the Order of the Saint-Esprit in 1675, married one of the nieces of Madame de Montespan in 1678, and died in 1685.

Louis de Sforce had no children, so his lands passed back to his Italian cousins: Federico was once again duke of Segni and Onano, and still count of Santa Fiora and count of Cotignola, and married one of the great heiresses of the age, Livia Cesarini, Duchess of Civitanova and Princess of Genzano. He was also honoured with both the Order of the Saint-Esprit from France and a grandeeship from Spain. The Cesarini family were one of those ancient Roman noble families who claimed descent from an ancient Imperial clan (in this case, none other than the clan Julia, the family of Julius Caesar). A typical Roman aristocratic family with loads of cardinals, they were also raised to ducal status with the creation of the duchy of Civitanova (a town on the Adriatic) in 1582. With the extinction of the last male Cesarini in 1685, a new blended family emerged, and a new title (1697), ‘Dukes of Sforza-Cesarini’, who have since then split their time between a Roman townhouse and the Palace at Genzano, also located in the hills in the south-eastern suburbs of Rome. As a bonus, Livia was also ultimately the heiress of another Roman family, the Savelli princes of Albano. The family was once again set do be a dominant papal family in eighteenth-century Rome, but were prominent in Spain and Naples too (now both ruled by the Bourbons)—Gian Giorgio became the Conde de Chinchon, in Castile, while Leonora, Duchess of San Giovanni Rotondo, was named Cameriera Maggiore of the Queen of Naples and Governess of the Neapolitan royal princesses.

Two families joined together: Sforza (using the older Attendolo arms) and Cesarini–its eagle, column and bear allude to relations with the oldest families of the Roman aristocracy, Colonna and Orsini
Palazzao Sforza-Cesarini in Genzano (photo LPLT)

In the next generation, Sforza Giuseppe Sforza-Cesarini-Savelli (who used the name ‘Duke of Marsi’ taken from the newly inherited Savelli estates), is known as the founder of the Teatro Argentina in Rome, 1732—one of the leading theatres of the city (still today), where the Duke’s grandson, Duke Francesco II, supported the early career of the opera composer Rossini, notably supporting his first staging of ‘The Barber of Seville’ (which was apparently disastrous). Francesco was the 6th Prince of Genzano, the 10th Duke of Segni, and Gonfaloniere del Popolo e del Senato of Rome.

Teatro Argentino in the 18th century
Francesco II Sforza-Cesarini, looking appropriately dramatic

This close tie with Rome was disrupted somewhat in the later 19th century, but not until the family itself was rocked by a succession dispute. When Duke Salvatore Sforza-Cesarini died in 1832, most of his lands passed to his sister’s husband’s family, the Torlonia, but Lorenzo Filippo Montani stepped forward and claimed that, although fairly evident to most that their mother had strayed out of her marriage to the Sforza Duke, by the laws of the Church, he was still legally the son of whomever his mother was married to. The Church courts agreed, and in 1834 he was recognised as the Duke Sforza-Cesarini and Prince of Genzano. This Lorenzo then turned out to be a fair-weather friend to the Church, and when the French armies arrived in Rome in support of the unification of Italy under the House of Savoy, in 1860, he was named a commissioner of the occupying Piedmontese forces by Napoleon III. His lands in Rome were confiscated by an angry Pope Pius IX until King Victor Emmanuel took the city by force in 1870 and restored them to the Duke’s son (Lorenzo died in 1867). Lorenzo Sforza-Cesarini had also been a leader of the artistic elites of Rome in the mid-nineteenth century, rebuilding the gardens at Genzano with his wife, Caroline Shirley, an illegitimate, yet well-provided for, grand-daughter of the English peer, Earl Ferrers. 

Lorenzo, Duke Sforza-Cesarini, Prince of Genzano

Their son, Duke Francesco III, was an avid supporter of the new Italian monarchy, a counsellor to Victor Emmanuel II and a Life Senator. He married a Colonna, to more firmly affix his family’s dubious parentage within the Roman aristocracy, and his son married a Torlonia cousin, to heal the rift with those who had claimed the Sforza and Cesarini properties earlier in the century. She brought with her in marriage the Villa Torlonia in Fiumicino (west of Rome) which became one of the family’s principal residences.

Villa Torlonia in Fiumicino

Much of the situation remained the same through the twentieth century, with no stand-out stories of political or military prominence. Duke Bosio Sforza-Cesarini sold the palazzo in Genzano in 1998 to the local town, and kept only the Villa Torlonia in Fiumicinio. He died in 2018 and left the family fortunes in the hands of his son Lorenzo (b. 1964), the 13th Prince of Genzano. The family maintains the Palazzo Sforza-Cesarini, on the Corso Vittorio Emanuele II in the centre of Rome, originally granted to Cardinal Guido Ascanio in the 1530s by Paul III.

Palazzo Sforza-Cesarini in Rome (photo Alvaro & Elisabetta de Alvariis)

(images Wikimedia Commons)

Dukes of Mortemart: the Rochechouarts

Madame de Montespan—one of the most famous women in French history, one of the most archetypal maîtresses en titre of the court of Louis XIV at Versailles. She was not a duchess, unlike many other women in her position, though she was given the equivalent rights at court as a mark of her unparalleled royal favour. But as a married woman, it would have been difficult to be created a duchess without doing the same for her husband, a man the King despised. But Louis XIV did raise several members of her close family to the highest ranks: their illegitimate son, the Duc du Maine in 1673, and her legitimate son, as Duc d’Antin in 1711. Royal favour was amply demonstrated by the King giving her sister the position of Abbess of Fontevraud, one of the most prestigious and wealthy abbeys in France, in 1670, while her brother was promoted to the top rank of the military, a Marshal of France, in 1675. A marshal is roughly equivalent in rank at court to a duke, but her brother, Louis-Victor de Rochechouart, Maréchal de Vivonne, was already in line to become a duke-and-peer (of Mortemart), as a member of one of the most ancient and enduring court families France has had in its entire history, with prominent members from the 10th century all the way to the 21st.

Françoise-Athénaïs de Rochechouart, Marquise de Montespan

Although some claims take the family back all the way to the early 8th century and the powerful counts of Toulouse, the first attestable Rochechouarts were a line of Frankish lords all called Aimery (or the more Germanic form, Amalric) who, from about 980, held a string of fortresses in the border zones between the Frankish heartlands (the Isle de France and the Loire Valley) and the kingdom of Aquitania in the southwest, in areas that became known as La Marche (literally ‘the frontier’) and Limousin. Their main fortress, from which they took their name, was the roca cavardi, the ‘Rock of Cavardus’ (a personal name, or perhaps from chouard, similar to the French word chouette, owl). Situated on a plateau on the edge of the Massif Central—in fact its most westerly spur—between the provinces of Limousin and Poitou, their fortress commanded a territory they governed as viscounts, or junior count, which in this early period signified a good deal of autonomy, in affairs military as well as judicial. Aimery IV and Aimery V both took part in the early Crusades, and Aimery VI rebuilt the castle in the early 13th century. Today the donjon and entrance tower remain from this period. The castle and the title vicomte passed by marriage out of the family in the late 15th century, and into the family of Pontville (or Ponville), who rebuilt the château in a Renaissance style. It was re-purchased by the Rochechouart family in the 1820s then given to the town in the 1830s, and it now serves as the local town hall and art museum.

Rochechouart

Meanwhile, two heiresses in the 13th century brought in two other properties that became prominent names and titles for the family in subsequent centuries: Mortemart in La Marche, and Tonnay Charente in Saintonge, closer to the coast (we will return to them below). By this point, the former frontier between France and Aquitaine was once again a place of conflict, as the King of France based in Paris tried to bring to heel his most powerful vassal the Duke of Aquitaine, who after 1152 was the King of England. As the Hundred Years War raged, in the 14th and 15th centuries, the Rochechouarts remained loyal to the King of France, so suffered from English raids into Poitou and Limousin. Louis, Vicomte de Rochechouart, at first did homage to the Prince of Wales (as Count of Poitou) in 1363, but by the end of the decade was named Governor of Limousin by the French king and helped him push the English out of the region, with his castle as a centre of resistance.

Western France, showing the complex boundaries between the historic provinces of Poitou, Saintonge, La Marche and Limousin (Aquitaine is the orange region to the south)

In the fifteenth century, several cadet branches were formed, most prominently the lords of Chandeniers, Jars and Faudoas, spreading out across Poitou, the Middle Loire (Sancerre) and Gascony (Lomagne). The eldest of these branches was based at a fortress of La Mothe-Chandeniers in Loudunois, and the much newer, very beautiful Renaissance château of Javarzay in Poitou, built in 1514. Both of these were sold in the early years of Louis XIV, as this branch of the family declined and ultimately died out by the end of the reign.

Javarzay

The next branch, Faudoas, provided generations of generals and courtiers (and a cardinal), before becoming extinct during the Revolution, making the senior line that of Jars. A famous member of the French court came from this branch, the ‘Chevalier de Jars’ a major court intriguer and enemy of Cardinal Richelieu in the 1630s-40s. After the tumults of the Revolution, there was really only one male family member left standing in this branch, Louis-Victor de Rochechouart-La Brosse, who took the title Comte de Rochechouart as an emigré and served as a general in the army of Russia until the Restoration of 1814, after which he was named as an aide-de-camp of the newly restored Louis XVIII, a field marshal, and governor of Paris, 1815-23 (d. 1858).

Louis-Victor, Comte de Rochechouart

His descendants continue to the present, using the titles Marquis de Rochechouart and ‘chief of the name and arms’ of Rochechouart. Today’s head bears the quite traditional name, Aimery (b. 1950).

The ancient coat of arms of the Rochechouart family, one of the most distinct in France

But all of these senior branches were overshadowed by a quite junior branch, the Mortemarts, which split off from the main line in a partition of the estates of 1256. Like the castle of Rochechouart, the ancient fortress at Mortemart—with roots stretching back to the 10th century—was built on one of the westernmost spurs of the Massif Central. It was destroyed by the English in the 14th century, rebuilt, then dismantled in the 17th century on orders of Louis XIII and remained a ruin until restored in the early 20th century. It is not one of the most glamorous or romantic castles in France, but it certainly looks durable. More than just the site of a castle, however, Mortemart was also the location for several prominent monasteries patronised by the family: Augustinians, Carmelites and Carthusians. Today these buildings are the more impressive local monuments. As a typical border family during the 100 Years War, the Rochechouart-Mortemart branch did a lot of side-switching: Aymery II, Seigneur de Mortemart, first served the Prince of Wales (‘the Black Prince’) and accompanied him on his campaign in Spain, but he later joined the King of France’s campaign to drive the English from Aquitaine and was appointed Captain-General of Poitou and Saintonge in 1392. He married another heiress, of the lordship of Montpipeau, in the much more agriculturally rich area of the Orléannais. This estate would later be raised to a marquisate for a junior branch of this line.

Chateau de Mortemart

In the 15th and 16th centuries, the Mortemart branch of the family dominated their region, providing successive bishops of Saintes (capital of Saintonge), and captains and governors of many towns, including the important seaport of La Rochelle. They were close to the royal family and prominent at court: a second son, Louis, Seigneur de Montpipeau (d. 1566), joined the household of Francis I and was appointed a Gentleman of the Chamber, Pantler of the King (head of the kitchens), and ultimately the extremely influential position of Governor of the Royal Children de France. Unlike many noble grandees of this area, they did not become Protestants and remained close to the Crown, René de Rochechouart, Baron de Mortemart, serving as a royal commander in most of the campaigns of the Wars of Religion.  

René de Rochechouart, Baron de Mortemart

They continued to acquire feudal lands, and began to augment their status by playing up their semi-mythical princely origins by adopting the title ‘Prince of Tonnay-Charente’. There was in fact no principality of Tonnay-Charente, and the princely title—like others assumed in this period by noble families of this region, like the La Rochefoucaulds at nearby Marcillac, or Mortagne for the Richelieu family—was never formally created, and entailed no special juridical or legal privileges, but was tolerated by French monarchs who understood that the more glittering titles worn by (loyal) members of their court, the brighter the sparkle to foreign visitors. The coat-of-arms adopted by the Mortemart branch also flaunted their semi-royal status, quartering the Rochechaourt arms with those of the Visconti of Milan, the dukes of Brittany and the kings of Navarre.

Rochechouart in the centre, with Milan at lower left, then Navarre, Chatillon and Brittany (l to r)

Tonnay-Charente itself was an ancient fortified site, on an escarpment above the River Charente, one of the most important rivers in this province known as Saintonge. It was developed as a port, monastery and castle by early medieval rulers, and its lords (it is claimed) used a princely title as early as the 11th century. After it passed into the hands of the Rochechoaurt family, the lands were devastated by the 100 Years War, the Wars of Religion and the Fronde civil wars, until the castle was rebuilt for the last time in the 18th century. It was sold off by the Revolutionary authorities and has served as the seat of the local mayor, a sanatorium and offices for the Red Cross.

the remains of the Castle of Tonnay-Charente

The most prominent Prince of Tonnay-Charente was Gabriel (1600-1675), who was raised as a childhood companion of Louis XIII and remained by his side as Premier Gentleman of the Chamber from 1630. In 1650, his marquisate of Mortemart was elevated to a duchy-peerage, by the Regent of France, Anne of Austria, as part of her plans to shore up support from the old aristocracy during the turbulent period of the Fronde. Parlement objected to this and other ducal creations, and had to be forced by the King to formally register it in law in 1663. Later that decade, Gabriel’s decades of loyalty to the royal family was rewarded by the office of Governor of Paris and of the Isle de France.

Gabriel de Rochechouart, 1st Duke of Mortemart

This grant was also a mark of personal favour, since this was now the era of Madame de Montespan, the Duke’s younger daughter: Françoise-Athénaïs. As we have seen, his other daughter, Marie-Madeleine, became a prominent abbess. Together with the eldest sister, Gabrielle, Marquise de Thianges, these three daughters of the 1st Duke of Mortemart were all celebrated both for their beauty and for their wit—the ‘esprit Mortemart’—which could either be seen as great fun or dangerously sharp. One person who understandably did not enjoy the show was the Queen, Marie-Thérèse of Spain, a woman not known as either witty nor beautiful, and who had to suffer her husband’s mistress as Superintendant of her household.

The son and heir of the family, Louis-Victor, was General of the Galleys of France from 1665, and was created Duke of Vivonne in 1668 (a ‘brevet’ title, given usually to a son in advance of his succession to his father’s dukedom). Vivonne was one of Louis XIV’s great companions, a lover of fun, passionate about literature and the theatre—it seems clear the King was captivated by this ‘esprit Mortemart’ from every angle. He succeeded his father as Duke of Mortemart and was promoted to the rank of Marshal of France in 1675. The Marshal made his name through a bold naval campaign to attempt to capture the island of Sicily from the Spanish in early 1675, and though he only controlled the city of Messina, he governed there as ‘Viceroy of Sicily’ for three years before being driven out. He died fairly young in 1688. The title ‘Duke of Vivonne’ is still used sometimes by the family, normally as the title for the second son (the eldest still using the title ‘Prince de Tonnay-Charente’).

Louis-Victor, Marshal-Duke of Vivonne

Vivonne was the name of another important estate held by the family, not too far away from the family cradle, in Poitou. The medieval counts of Vivonne had built a lovely castle outside that town, Cercigny, which became one of the Rochechouarts’ primary residences when not at court. Another residence was at Lussac, also nearby, the birthplace of La Montespan. Lussac had been one of the most important fortresses held by the English in the 100 Years War, and is today an interesting romantic ruin of four towers on the side of a lake.

Lussac

Madame de Montespan herself had of course a suite of rooms at Versailles, but she also built a country retreat for herself: the Château of Clagny, a short distance from the Palace of Versailles. Built in the 1670s, it survived barely a century before it was torn down by her heirs and sold off for parts.

Clagny

In Paris, the family maintained several prominent townhouses, including two in the St-Germain neighbourhood, near the Luxembourg Palace: the Hôtel de Rochechouart (rue de Grenelle, today’s Ministry of Education), the Hôtel de Mortemart (around the corner), the Hôtel de Jars, and others.

Hotel de Rochechouart
Hotel de Mortemart

The next generations of the family remained at the very top of the court hierarchy: the 2nd Duke of Mortemart’s son (who predeceased him by only a few months) was a General of the Galleys of France, while two of his daughters were abbesses (Beaumont and Fontevraud)  and two became duchesses (Elbeuf and Lesdiguières). The son (Louis, known as the Prince de Tonnay-Charente as heir to the dukedom), even married into the most prominent political circles, through his union with Marie-Anne Colbert, daughter of Louis XIV’s first minister.

The family in the eighteenth century continued to hold the now hereditary post of Premier Gentleman of the Chamber (one of four, who rotated by quarter), positions in the military for the sons, and places in the Queen’s household for the daughters. Several family members bore the name Victor, and by the middle of the century had begun to use instead the curious name Victurnien, taken from one of their feudal estates named for a mysterious fifth-century hermit, St. Victurnien. All four of the younger children of the 9th Duke’s children had it as the first part of their name; and all of his nine grandchildren had it as the last part of their name.  Victurnien-Jean-Baptiste, the 10th Duke, was a field marshal in 1788, a deputy of the nobility at the Estates General of 1789, and formed a regiment of émigrés (the Régiment Mortemart) which was funded by the British government during the wars of the French Revolution. His brother was also a conservative leader of the nobility; whereas their cousin, General Aimery-Louis-Roger, from the line of Rochechouart-Faudoas, was an ardent supporter of the Revolution from the very start, as one of the 47 noble deputies who voted to join the Third Estate to form the National Assembly on 25 May 1789.

His father having reconciled with Napoleon, the 11th Duke of Mortemart, Casimir-Louis-Victurnien (1787-1875), was first a commander of the French Empire, notably as an Ordinance Officer for Napoleon on his 1812 campaign in Russia, but was then a Restoration general and ambassador, returning once more to Russia as a diplomat rather than a soldier (1828-30). Like most of the high court nobility, Mortemart had quickly reconciled with the Bourbons after 1814, was confirmed as a duke and peer in 1817, given the post of Captain of the King’s Swiss Guard, and even asked to form a new government as Prime Minister by King Charles X on the eve of the July Revolution of 1830, during which that king lost his throne. When he appeared before the deputies of the National Assembly, the Duke was told simply: “It is too late”. He went into semi-retirement, but later served as a Senator in the Second Empire.

Duke Casimir

His only son having died young, the 11th was succeeded in 1875 by a cousin, Anne-Victurnien-René, an officer in the Royal Guard, who was in turn succeeded in 1893 by his nephew for a few months. The family continued into the 20th century (younger sons bore the title Marquis de Mortemart or Comte de Mortemart), and is currently headed (since 1992) by Charles-Emmanuel, 17th Duke of Mortemart (b. 1967). [sometimes the numbering varies, with the third duke not counting since he died before his father]. In 2015, he sold off a great deal of the Mortemart treasures, mostly 18th-century furniture, housed at the Château de Réveillon in Burgundy—a news event that rattled the modern nobility of France—so that he could concentrate his family’s remaining wealth on the traditional estates in Haute-Vienne (the former provinces of Limousin and La Marche), like the castle at Mortemart (re-developed as a hotel). In contrast, Réveillon, had been a relatively recent addition to the Rochechouart patrimony: an ancient manor house rebuilt in the 19th century (in ‘Neo-Louis XIII Style’), and passed by inheritance to the dukes of Mortemart in the early 20th.

Reveillon

The jewel in the crown of the family today is also a relatively recent addition, the fantastic Château de Meillant, in Berry. Originally built by the powerful medieval dynasty of the counts of Sancerre, it had been developed into a magnificent showpiece of flamboyant Gothic style by the Amboise family—one of the most influential court dynasties at the end of the 15th century, and with numerous ties to Italy, which is reflected in the development of their château. Meillant passed through the hands of various grand aristocratic families in the 16th to 18th centuries, before being acquired through marriage by Duke Casimir who invested heavily in its restoration in the 1840s. The Castle website touts it as “one of the last inhabited castles in France” and “the flagship of Berry”. For the family that claims an ancientness second only to the royal family of France itself, this seems a worthy claim.

Meillant

(photos from Wikimedia Commons or individual castle websites)

The Herberts & the Duke of Powis

Last summer I drove the lush green valleys of eastern Wales, in the region that was once the ancient Kingdom of Powys, ruled in the early Middle Ages by the Gwerthrynion dynasty until the 850s, then as divided principalities. As we passed by the market town of Welshpool, one of the former princely capitals, we drove by the imposing medieval Powis Castle and its impressive cascading gardens. I was reminded that this was the seat of the one and only dukedom based in Wales—and this only a Jacobite dukedom, so not officially recognised at all in the peerage of the United Kingdom.

The ephemeral ‘Duke of Powis’ was a member of the powerful Herbert family, whose various branches have exercised control over different parts of Wales since the 15th century: Pembrokeshire in the far southwest, Monmouthshire in the southeast, and this area of Powys that was once known as Montgomeryshire. Today the family still thrives in two main branches, the earls of Pembroke & Montgomery, and the earls of Carnarvon—the latter have received much media attention in recent years as hosts of the globally successful television drama ‘Downton Abbey’, in their seat Highclere Castle. This branch of the family are also famous for the 5th Earl’s funding of the expedition that excavated the tomb of King Tutankhamun in the 1920s (and possibly incurring the wrath of its curse), and more recently for the close friendship between the 7th Earl (known as ‘Porchey’) and Queen Elizabeth II, as manager of her racing horses. More recently, the other branch of the family have opened their home, Wilton, to film crews for ‘Outlander’, to serve as a stand in for scenes set at Versailles, not to mention scenes in ‘The Crown’ and ‘Young Victoria’.

A Wilton House interior

I thought it would be a great addition to this collection of short histories of ducal families to be able to include one from Wales, even if it is slightly cheating since the Jacobite dukedom, even if formally recognised, only lasted from 1689 to 1748. And it seems that the Herberts aren’t Welsh in origin anyway, but came—like most of the ruling lords in this region—from northern France. Or at least that is how traditional histories always portrayed them. More recent studies (perhaps with a nationalist bias?) name them as descendants of a cadet prince of the royal house of Gwent (extinct by the 1070s). Other stories say they were the offspring of one of the many illegitimate sons of King Henry I of England (perhaps with Nesta, the Welsh princess of Deheubarth). But if we stick with the traditional version, we get the fascinating idea that this was one of the very few Anglo-Norman dynasties who descended not from the Norman warlords, nor from the Frankish feudal nobility, but from the royal house of France itself.

the arms of the Herberts

One of the great-grandsons of Emperor Charlemagne, Pepin II, was not given a royal throne like most of his cousins, but instead a clutch of lordships in the north of France, what is now eastern Picardy, which were then formed into a county, Vermandois. From him descend the line of the counts of Vermandois, which lasted until the 11th century (or beyond, in the form of the house of Saint-Simon, or so it was claimed—see the entry for the Dukes of Saint-Simon). Several of these counts were known as Heribert, and the last one, Heribert V, had (it is claimed) a younger brother, Pierre, whose son Herbert came to England to make his fortune, and served as Lord Chamberlain to the Conqueror’s son, King William Rufus. His son, Herbert FitzHerbert, was Lord Chamberlain of King Stephen, followed by still another Herbert FiztHerbert, Lord Chamberlain for King Henry II. These latter two made important marriages with women connected to the Welsh borderlands of Hereford and Shropshire: Sybil Corbet and Lucy of Hereford. By the early 14th century, the FitzHerberts were created barons, though the main line died out by the end of the century.

One of their younger sons, Peter FitzHerbert of Chewton (d. 1323), is the claimed link between the Frankish (or Carolingian) FitzHerberts and the Welsh Herberts, which I am not going to attempt to untangle here. Peter married a daughter and heiress of the Lord of Llanllowell in Monmouthshire, and their descendants began to use Welsh naming practices (‘ap’ meaning ‘son of’): Gwyllim ap Jenkin of Gwarinddu (alias Herbert) (living 1350) is seen as the progenitor of the modern house of Herbert. This puts him in the right place (Monmouthshire), to be possibly descended from the Welsh princes of Gwent, as above, but also to become established in the environs of Raglan Castle, the Herbert stronghold for centuries.

Raglan Castle

Raglan, or the “Great Tower of Gwent” was one of the chief fortresses on the borders between England and Wales. It is still a sight to behold, though in ruins since the 17th century, and one of the great models of fortification of the late Middle Ages. It was acquired and rebuilt by Gwyllim’s grandson, Sir Gwyllim ap Thomas, ‘Y marchog glas o Went” (the Blue Knight of Gwent) , who had risen through the ranks first as steward of the lordship of Abergavenny and Sheriff of Cardigan, Carmarthen and Glamorgan, then named as Chief Steward of the Duke of York’s estates in Wales, 1442, and member of the Yorkist military council, before he died in 1446. His wife was Gwladys ferch Dafydd Gam, known as the ‘Star of Abergavenny’, praised by Welsh poets, of whom she was an important patron. Their son, another William (‘Black William’), who adopted the surname Herbert, in the English style, continued the family’s loyal support of the Yorkist cause, and was rewarded, first with a barony (Herbert of Raglan), then the Order of the Garter and possession of the Pembroke Castle (in southwest Wales), all in 1461. He was also, importantly, given wardship of the young Henry Tudor (the future King Henry VII), who was born at Pembroke, and in 1468, created Earl of Pembroke, one of the oldest Welsh earldoms, first held by Gilbert de Clare in the 1130s.

Pembroke Castle

The first Herbert earl of Pembroke was named Justiciar of all of South Wales, but within a year was captured and executed by the Lancastrians at the battle of Danesmoor (or Edgecote Moor). His son the second Earl was forced to give up the lands and title of Pembroke, in exchange for another earldom, Huntingdon. He was confirmed in his father’s office as Justiciar of South Wales, and even married the sister of the Queen, Mary Woodville. But he had only a daughter, Elizabeth, who married Charles Somerset, 1st Earl of Worcester, and took both the barony of Herbert and Raglan Castle to the Somerset family (later Dukes of Beaufort) where they stayed until the 1980s.

But a son of the 2nd Earl’s illegitimate half-brother, Sir William Herbert, miraculously raised the family’s fortunes once more as an ally and friend of Henry VIII—he even became yet another royal brother-in-law, like his uncle, through marriage to Anne Parr, sister of Queen Katherine. He served as the King’s Chief Gentleman of the Privy Chamber and Receiver of the King’s Revenues, and was rewarded with confiscated monastic lands at Wilton Abbey, near Salisbury, and was named as one of the guardians of King Edward VI when King Henry died in 1547. Young Edward created him Baron Herbert of Cardiff (the castle there had also been given to him by Henry VIII), and 1st Earl of Pembroke in 1551. In the 1540s and 50s, he occupied himself with the rebuilding of Wilton Abbey.

the first Earl of Pembroke of the 2nd creation

Wilton House was a large Tudor mansion—today only the tower of that house survives. In the 1630s, Inigo Jones replaced one of the wings, and more of it was renovated in the early 19th century by James Wyatt. A Palladian bridge built on the grounds in the 1730s has been much copied at other English country houses. It is still the Pembroke family seat.

Wilton House (Tudor tower in the centre)
Wilton House, Palladian Bridge

The first Earl of Pembroke of this second creation had two sons. The elder, Henry, continued the family tradition of marrying royal in-laws, this time Catherine Grey, sister of Queen Jane, in 1553. This of course turned out to be a very bad idea, and the marriage was swiftly annulled after Jane was removed from power. The younger son, Edward, purchased the lands of another branch of the Grey family, including Powys Castle, so it is important we return to his line below.

The 3rd Earl of Pembroke was Lord Chancellor for King James, and Chancellor of the University of Oxford, and had a new college (Pembroke College) named for him. His brother was one of James’ favourites, and was created Earl of Montgomery in 1605, then succeeded as 4th Earl of Pembroke—his descendants have ever since been the earls of Pembroke and Montgomery, two Welsh earldoms for one family. The 8th Earl was First Lord of the Admiralty and Lord Privy Seal in the 1690s under William & Mary, then Lord President of the Council, Lord High Admiral and Lord Lieutenant of Ireland under Queen Anne. It is surprising to me he wasn’t created a duke, in this period when loyal supporters of the Glorious Revolution were being promoted in relatively large numbers.

the 3rd Earl of Pembroke, in the central courtyard of the Bodleian Library, Oxford University

This brings us to the cadet branches. One of these, Herbert of Chirbury, had been separate since the mid-15th century, and maintained their lands in the borderlands of Shropshire and Montgomeryshire. They held the castle of Montgomery itself, and were often appointed sheriff of the county. The senior line were created Baron Herbert of Cherbury (or Chirbury) in 1629, while the second line became more prominent, briefly, as both supporters and enemies of King James II. Of the two sons of Sir Edward Herbert, Lord Keeper of the Great Seal for Charles II, the younger, also Sir Edward, became attached to James when he was Duke of York, and was subsequently raised by James once he became king to Lord Chief Justice of England, 1685. He fled England with his master in 1689, and served as Lord Chancellor of the exiled Jacobite court in France (and was created Earl of Portland). In contrast, the older brother, Arthur, had been dismissed as an admiral by James, and went to Holland to encourage William of Orange to invade and take the throne—he was named commander-in-chief of the fleet, and Baron Herbert of Torbay (where William landed in 1688), then Earl of Torrington and First Lord of the Admiralty. Neither Portland nor Torrington left descendants, so these titles became extinct. But another Jacobite of this generation did.

This was the ‘Duke of Powis’, a descendant of the cadet branch noted above, founded by Sir Edward Herbert of Powys Castle. This castle, noted as one of the only major castles built by the Welsh in that great era of great castle building by the English in Wales (think Carnarvon, Harlech, etc), was built in the late 13th century by Welsh prince Gruffydd ap Gwen Wynnwyn, a supporter of Edward I, who convinced him to give up his royal title in exchange for an English barony (La Pole, or Pool, later renamed Welshpool). Soon after, this barony passed to the Charleton family, and then in the 1530s to the Greys, who sold it to this branch of the Herberts—notably, Catholics—in the 1580s. Pole Castle became known as Powys or Powis Castle, and the family were raised to the peerage as Baron Powis in 1629.

Powis Castle, one of my favourite spots in Britain

The 3rd Baron Powis, William Herbert, was created Earl of Powis and Viscount Montgomery in 1674, and was one of the Catholic Lords accused of treason in the Titus Oates Plot and spent six years in the Tower of London from 1678. After his release, he became close to the Catholic king, James II, who raised him a notch to Marquess of Powis in 1687. When James was deposed the following year, Powis followed him into exile and was created Duke of Powis, and served as Lord Chamberlain and Lord Steward of the household and one of the King’s principal advisors until his death in 1696. His wife, Lady Elizabeth Somerset (of the family who now owned Raglan Castle), had helped him spirit Queen Mary and the infant Prince of Wales out of the country to France, and would serve as her principal Lady in Waiting at the court at Saint-Germain, and governess of the Prince of Wales, until she died in 1691.

William Herbert, 1st Duke of Powis

Their son William, known as ‘Viscount Montgomery’ during all of this turmoil, was at most a lukewarm supporter of James and the Jacobites—unlike some of his more avid sisters—and was arrested a few times, but released as being seen as ‘not dangerous’. He was restored to his father’s title Marquess of Powis, in 1722, and the confiscated estates, including Powis Castle, as well as Powis House, their London residence on Great Ormond Street (demolished at the end of the 18th century). He was known to Jacobites as the ‘2nd Duke of Powis’, and indeed he made some weak claims in Parliament to request recognition of this title, but without success. He died in 1745, followed by his son, another William, in 1748. The heiress, Barbara, married her cousin from the Chirbury line (see above), Henry Herbert, who was re-created Earl Powis in 1748 (and Viscount Ludlow, in Shropshire).

This line too came to an end, in 1801, and the estates passed (and titles again re-created) to another son-in-law, Edward, Lord Clive, son of the famous ‘Clive of India’, one of the founders of the British Raj. Their descendants took the surname Herbert, and continues to present. Powis Castle is their seat, and one of its centrepieces is the Clive Collection of artefacts from India. The current Earl of Powis (the 8th), John Herbert (b. 1952), also bears the titles Baron Clive of Plassey (in County Clare, Ireland) and Baron Herbert of Chirbury (among others). A junior branch have been earls of Plymouth since 1905 (with the surname Windsor-Clive).

This brings us to the 20th century, and back to the main senior lines of the House of Herbert. The brothers Sidney and David Herbert were part of the fashionable set of the interwar years—Sidney (who later succeeded his father as 16th Earl of Pembroke) was Private Secretary and Comptroller of the Duchess of Kent (the very beautiful Princess Marina of Greece), while David was a socialite and designer, known as ‘the Queen of Tangiers’, intimate with fashionable writers like Paul Bowles. Henry Herbert, the 17th Earl, was a film and television producer…which leads conveniently to their cousins, the Earls of Carnarvon, who opened their castle, Highclere, to the ITV production team for ‘Downton Abbey’.

Highclere Castle

Highclere, in Hampshire, is mostly a 19th-century creation, a ‘Jacobethan’ fantasy constructed around an earlier house built in the 1670s by Sir Robert Sawyer, Attorney General for Charles II (whose daughter married the 8th Earl of Pembroke). There had been a residence here much earlier, ‘Bishop’s Clere’, which belonged to the Bishop of Winchester in the Middle Ages. Charles Barry, builder of the Houses of Parliament, rebuilt it in the 1840s for the 3rd Earl of Carnarvon.

This branch of the Herberts had been created Baron Porchester in 1780 and Earl of Carnarvon in 1793 (though I don’t think there is any actual connection to that county in Wales). The first Earl was Master of the Horse for George III, 1806-07, and the horsey connection would continue with ‘Porchey’ as seen above. the 4th Earl was Secretary of State for the Colonies in the 1860s-70s, then Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, 1885-86. His sons both had a very colonial outlook, perhaps, and while the elder son (the 5th Earl) became a premier Egyptologist (as noted above), the younger, Lord Aubrey, became an avid orientalist and travel writer, and an advocate for Albanian independence from the Ottoman Empire (and was indeed offered the throne of Albania two times, in early 1914 and in 1920). The Queen’s racing manager succeeded his father as 7th Earl, and died in 2001. The current Earl of Carnarvon, George, and his son, Lord Porchester, realised the great financial windfall a television company could bring by using the house as a set, and particularly to a house badly in need of refurbishing by the end of the 20th century. Downton may not be set in Wales, and its owners not dukes, but it does seem a residence suitable for a family descended from ancient Welsh kings, and maybe even from Charlemagne himself.

Lord Carnarvon and Howard Carter open King Tut’s Tomb in 1923

(images Wikimedia Commons or other public domain)

Dukes of Oldenburg and Schleswig-Holstein

The name Windsor was chosen to represent the royal family of the United Kingdom in 1917, taken, quite rightly, from the castle that had been at the centre of royal operations in England since the 11th century. But if we go back to an older way of giving names to royal dynasties, the name traditionally adheres to the male lineage, so when the current British monarch passes away, by this form of reckoning, the House of Saxe-Coburg will give way to the House of Oldenburg. “But I thought Prince Philip was Greek?” I hear you say. Greece was also once governed by the House of Oldenburg. And so is the current Kingdom of Denmark. And Norway. Oldenburgs once supplied monarchs to thrones of Russia and Sweden as well.

The Arms of the House of Oldenburg, Oldenburg Castle, Germany

If most royal dynasties take their names from the castle from which they originated, where is Oldenburg? This post will look at the origins and extremely successful spread of the House of Oldenburg, the future royal house for Great Britain. Connections will be made with the royal houses of Denmark, Greece, etc, but in keeping with the theme of this website, I will stick to dukes and princes, and look at the various castles and palaces built in the Grand Duchy of Oldenburg and the duchies of Schleswig and Holstein in the fascinating border region between Germany and Denmark. As people who enjoy their royal trivia love to tell you, the “real” surname of the Prince of Wales should be Schleswig-Holstein-Sonderburg-Glücksburg. That’s a mouthful.

In the late 11th century—the same time Windsor Castle was being built by the Normans in England—a Saxon count named Egilmar established himself at a strategic crossing of the river Hunte on the very flat north German plain to the west of the city of Bremen. Here he built a castle called Oldenburg. He married a noblewoman from the other side of the massive Elbe estuary, Dithmarschen, establishing a link between these two low-lying and rather marshy territories that would endure for centuries, and would continually entwine Denmark in north German politics. This is the same area from which the Angles and the Saxons emigrated across the North Sea to Britannia in the 5th century, so perhaps it is fitting that the Oldenburg name has finally arrived on these island shores.

Oldenburg Castle was the seat of a long line of counts—often using the name Christian—who were subsidiary to the dukes of Saxony, then autonomous princes of the Holy Roman Empire until the extinction of the ruling line in 1667. The castle seen today in the city of Oldenburg was rebuilt in the Renaissance style in the early 17th century, and still dominates the centre of town with its bright yellow towers. After 1667, the county was ruled by Denmark and the castle became the seat of a Danish governor, until a junior branch was re-established as dukes (1776), then grand dukes (1815) of Oldenburg, and the Castle was restyled once more in a neoclassical style. Today it is a museum of art and culture, together with the nearby Prinzenpalais, built in the 1820s to become the official residence of the grand dukes, and the Elisabeth-Anna-Palais, the family’s residence from the 1890s until their abdication in 1918.

Oldenburg Castle

A few miles north of the city, the counts of Oldenburg maintained a close relationship with the abbey of Rastede, and following the Reformation, transformed its buildings into a hunting lodge, then a summer residence in the 1640s. The newly established dukes of Oldenburg of the 1780s refashioned this too along neoclassical lines, and added the then very fashionable English gardens. Schloss Rastede remains the residence of the ducal family today, and they also still own Eutin Castle, one of the most significant castles in Holstein, a former seat of the prince-bishops of Lübeck, transformed into the country residence of the grand dukes of Oldenburg in the 19th century, and acting as a point of contact with their Danish and Russian relatives.

Rastede Castle
Eutin Castle

The grand dukes of Oldenburg were never a hugely influential dynasty in 19th-century Germany. But they maintained a high profile as close relations of the royal families of Russia, Denmark and Sweden, and regularly provided consorts to these and other European monarchies. The first to make his mark as grand duke was Augustus, who ruled from 1829 to 1853, and endeavoured to turn this corner of Germany from a mere backwater ruled for a century by Danish governors into a centre for modern agriculture, trade and the arts—though like many of his peers, he resisted granting his state a constitution, still fearing the disorders of popular movements had had witnessed as a young man. Conservatives like him adhered to the older idea from the Enlightenment that an educated benevolent prince was the best way to bring peace and prosperity to the people. Grand Duke Augustus established an efficient if autocratic government and sponsored a theatre, an orchestra and a teaching college founded by his father (the future Oldenburg University).

Grand Duke August

This form of paternalism worked for a small population (about 800,000 people), and was continued by Augustus’ successor, Grand Duke Peter II (r. 1853-1900), but it was increasingly out of step with liberalisation movements spreading across Germany. Peter proposed a constitution for a North German Confederation in the 1860s which retained most of the power for the old ruling princes of the now quite defunct Holy Roman Empire, an idea which was quickly discounted. At home, he increasingly restricted the role of the local parliament, and despite carefully planned reforms from above, his state stagnated.

Grand Duke Peter II

The last reigning Grand Duke, Friedrich August, maintained this hereditary conservatism, but was also very popular, in particular due to his achievements in continuing to develop trade centres for Oldenburg, notably in its canals and ports along the Weser River. Closely associated by marriage to the Imperial family in Berlin, he tried to influence German politics during World War I with his ‘annexationist’ policies, advocating the expansion of the German Empire in Belgium and northern France. He abdicated with the rest of the German monarchs in November 1918. His son, Nikolaus, was head of the family from 1931 to 1970, retreated to a low profile for himself, tending to the family’s agricultural interests at Rastede, and to a more local, small-scale image for the dynasty (resuming the title ‘duke’ rather than ‘grand duke’ for example). Nikolaus’s son was given one of the very traditional dynastic names, Anton Günther, and he remained active in local forestry and agriculture in Holstein and Lower Saxony until his death in 2014, when the headship of the family passed to his son, Christian (b. 1955). One of his cousins, Eilike, brought the family back into the news of the fervent royal watchers in 1997 when she married Archduke Georg of Austria, Prince of Hungary, second son of the heir to the Austrian and Hungarian thrones, in St Stephen’s Basilica in Budapest—which, as it happens, was my one and only genuine moment of royal geekery since I travelled to Budapest to witness it.

I took many photos…but not this one. I wasn’t allowed inside as a mere peasant

It is royal marriages at the very top levels like this, that have continued to bring the House of Oldenburg to prominence, over and over. The most recent, you might say, being Prince Philip of Greece’s wedding to Princess Elizabeth of Great Britain in 1947, but it would certainly also include Philip’s cousin Sophia’s wedding to Juan Carlos of Spain in 1962.The original marriage that propelled the dynasty into the premier rank was that of Christian VII, Count of Oldenburg, to the Dowager Queen of Denmark, Norway and Sweden, Dorothea of Brandenburg, in 1449, as part of the agreement that would bring Christian onto the Danish throne.

Christian and Dorothea

The main reason for the council of the realm of Denmark to choose Christian for their next king after the death of King Christopher in 1448, was that he was the nephew and heir of Denmark’s most powerful feudal lord, Adolf, Duke of Schleswig and Count of Holstein. These two territories formed the important bridge—politically, economically, culturally—between the Kingdom of Denmark and the Holy Roman Empire (in fact, Schleswig was in one, and Holstein in the other), so the Danish elites wanted to keep them secure and more fully under Danish influence. They also wanted to try to preserve the union of the three Scandinavian kingdoms—Denmark, Norway, Sweden—which was indeed rebuilt once again by 1457 by King Christian. The royal house of Oldenburg would rule over Denmark and Norway (losing Sweden in the 1520s) until 1814, then Denmark alone, up to the present day. There was a glitch in the dynastic succession in the 1860s, when the senior line died out, and the throne passed to a junior branch, Glücksburg (about whom below), which is today headed by Queen Margarethe II. With her death, the family name might be said by purists to change to the House of Laborde de Monpezat, but in reality it will remain Oldenburg.

Jutland, Schleswig and Holstein

It is with the sons of King Christian I that begins the incredibly complex and convoluted story of the duchies of Schleswig and Holstein (the latter raised to the status of a duchy as well in 1474). I will only touch on some highlights here, or we’d be here all night, and will focus on the pathway that led to the emergence of the branch of Glücksburg as the leading branch of the family by the mid-nineteenth century.

Schleswig takes its name from a town on the Schlei, an inlet of the Baltic Sea, plus the Danish vik or ‘bay’. It was a southern stronghold of Viking and Danish kings, but became a ‘march’ or frontier of the Empire in the early 10th century and was gradually colonised by Germans, mostly Saxons from the county of Holstein—which was itself established as a stronghold against Slavs on the Baltic coast, with a new bishopric set up at Lübeck to Christianise them. The Eider River was the boundary between Schleswig and Holstein, and by the 1230s the former was firmly Danish territory, and was created a duchy to be given as an apanage to younger sons of the royal house. Holstein, taking its name from a local tribe of ‘wood dwellers’ (Holcetae), was ruled by a line of independent counts from about 1100 from the House of Schauenburg (later spelled Schaumburg), originally from Westphalia. As with most German dynasties, they soon split their patrimony into the sub-fiefs of Itzehoe, Plön, Pinneburg, Rendsburg. The latter of these rose to prominence in the 14th century as regents or rulers of Schleswig, and even at times dominating the affairs of Denmark itself. From 1375, Schleswig and Holstein were ruled together—though one still a fief of Denmark, and the other a fief of the Empire—until they passed together in 1460 to the House of Oldenburg. All of the other branches of the House of Holstein had died out by then, with the exception of Pinneburg (with territory just outside Hamburg), which continued for another two centuries, though with little influence.

The coats of arms of these two territories are distinctive: Schleswig bears the two blue lions on gold, while Holstein is represented by a stylised nettle leaf, fairly unique in the world of heraldry.

A simple form of the arms of the dukes of Schleswig-Holstein, which also includes Oldenburg overall

Two important laws had been passed in these centuries of strife—both of which would come back to haunt Dano-German diplomacy in the nineteenth century: in 1325, the ‘Constitutio Valdemariana’ stipulated that the thrones of Schleswig and Denmark should never be held by the same person; and in 1460, the Treaty of Ribe ordered that Schleswig and Holstein must always be united. King Christian I of Oldenburg violated the first of these by uniting them all together under his personal rule. His sons ruled them jointly, and it wasn’t until 1544 that a formal separation of sorts was made, and a younger son of King Fredrick I, Adolf, was named duke of Schleswig and Holstein with his base at Gottorp.

Adolf, 1st Duke of Holstein-Gottorp

Even after this date, legally the duchies remained indivisibly ruled, as a ‘condominium’ between the kings of Denmark and the cadet branches, who all bore the title ‘duke of Schleswig and Holstein’. By the 17th century, the two co-ruling branches were therefore known as duke of Schleswig-Holstein in Gottorp, and the duke of Schleswig-Holstein in Glückstadt (for the Danish Crown), the latter being a new town and harbour founded on the Elbe (in southernmost Holstein) by the Danish kings in an attempt to compete with the trade juggernaut of the independent City of Hamburg, a few miles upstream.

the amazingly complex map of Schleswig and Holstein, with lands ruled by the Danish Crown in yellow,
by the dukes in orange, ruled jointly in lighter orange, and lands given to the Sonderburg line in pink
(the other colours are for two independent counties and the bishopric of Lubeck)

The branch of Holstein-Gottorp took over the old capital of Holstein, with its island stronghold built in the 12th century, the Castle of Gottorp (Gottorf in German). It was rebuilt as a princely residence in the mid-16th century, and rebuilt again in its current form in about 1700 by the famous Swedish architect Nicodemus Tessin the Younger.

Schloss Gottorf

But Duke Friedrich IV, having married the King of Sweden’s sister, supported Sweden against Denmark in the Great Northern War, and the castle was taken away from them by the treaty that ended the war in 1720, along with a large chunk of Holstein and their portion of Schleswig (which was therefore now fully reunited under the Danish Crown). Gottorp Castle became a barracks for the next three centuries, and is now part of the state museum system for Schleswig-Holstein. The ducal family moved to their secondary residence, the Castle of Kiel, an old fortress that had often been used as a dowager residence for its widows. In the 19th century, Kiel Castle would become the seat of the Holstein government, then residence of its Prussian governors. As a major centre for German naval power, the town of Kiel and its castle were almost completely destroyed in the Second World War.

Feeling they needed to bolster their family’s power with foreign marriages, the duke of Holstein-Gottorp who had lost much of his patrimony, Karl Friedrich, married Anna Petrovna, the daughter of Peter the Great. His first cousin and heir, Karl August, was set to marry the other daughter, Elizabeth, but he died. Both had ambitions to succeed their maternal uncle on the throne of Sweden, which ultimately Karl August’s younger brother, Adolph Friedrich, did, in 1751. By this point, Anna Petrovna’s son, Karl Peter, was established in St. Petersburg as the future Tsar of Russia, having been brought there by Elizabeth Petrovna, now Empress, as a teenager and married off to his cousin, the daughter of yet another Holsteiner, Johanna Elisabeth, Princess of Anhalt-Zerbst. This bride would of course become Catherine the Great, and Peter III and Catherine’s story is well known. Through them the House of Oldenburg would rule Russia—though under the name Romanov—until the Revolution of 1917. Meanwhile, the King of Sweden had sons and the House of Oldenburg would rule in Stockholm—under the name Vasa—until they were replaced in 1818 by the Bernadottes who reign today.

Peter III, Tsar of Russia, Duke of Holstein-Gottorp

Back in Denmark, the idea of a conjoined Russia-Gottorp throne was pretty uncomfortable. So in 1773, a family pact was made, whereby Denmark and Russia exchanged the remaining Holstein lands that remained outside of Crown control for the old County of Oldenburg. Russia then ceded Oldenburg to a junior Holstein cousin, and the new house of Oldenburg, as detailed above, was born. Russia got a firm ally in Denmark out of the deal—to help control its chief rival in the Baltic, Sweden—and Denmark finally got a unified rule over the duchies of Schleswig and Holstein. Everybody is happy.

After the destruction of the Holy Roman Empire in 1806, Holstein joined the Germanic Confederation in 1815, and its ruler, the King of Denmark was happy to interfere in German politics. That old law about forever keeping Schleswig and Holstein, however, reared its head when people in southern Schleswig, mostly Germans, wanted closer ties to Germany, while people in northern Schleswig, mostly Danes, wanted out. A solution was found, some thought, in resurrecting an independent state within the Confederation under the rulership of the next prince in line from the House of Oldenburg who was not the Danish king: the Duke of Schleswig-Holstein-Sonderburg-Augustenburg.

So wait, there’s yet another line of Schleswig-Holstein dukes? I thought you said the Holstein-Gottorp division that ended in 1773 was the last? Sadly not, dear reader. However, the junior branches of the House of Oldenburg-Denmark that were formed after that initial split of 1544, were of a slightly different kind. They did not rule in condominium with the Danish Crown like Gottorp did, but as ‘partitioned lords’ (Abgeteite Herren). This meant that while they gained a certain portion of revenues from the duchies of Schleswig and Holstein, and were granted residences from which they took their names, they did not share in the Crown’s sovereignty over Schleswig, they did not have an independent seat in the Imperial Reichstag for Holstein, and they couldn’t mint their own coins or raise their own armies. These various junior lines—and there were many—all descend from Prince Hans, the younger brother of King Frederick II of Denmark-Norway.

Prince Hans

In 1564, Hans was given the castle of Sønderborg, in Schleswig, which is today one of the southernmost parts of Denmark, on an island just offshore of the east coast of Jutland. It was a fortress built by the king of Denmark in the 1150s, expanded in the 14th century, and now converted into a princely residence in the 1570s. A notable addition at this time was the ducal chapel, which is considered one of the best preserved Lutheran castle chapels. A later duke, Christian Adolf I, went bankrupt in 1667 and sold this castle to the Danish Crown, and moved his family to his wife’s patrimony at Franzhagen, until this line died out in 1709. Sønderborg castle was remodelled in the 1720s, and was once again given to the cadet branches (in 1764), but it was never again used as a ducal residence, but as barracks or a warehouse. It was sold to the Danish State in the 1920s and is today the museum for regional history about the Duchy of Schleswig.

Sønderborg Castle
Sønderborg Castle Chapel–note dynastic family tree on right

The heirs of this first branch were the next branch down, the dukes of Augustenburg. This branch was founded in the early 17th century, and eventually took its name from a new castle built in the 1660s on a fjord on Als island (not far to the east from Sonderburg), and named for the wife of the first duke of this line, his cousin Augusta of Schleswig-Holstein-Glücksburg. Many of these junior branches continued to interlock the family through endogamous marriages, or they mingled with the local Danish and north German nobility, and they earned their living by serving in foreign armies. The castle of Augustenburg was replaced in the 1770s, with the attractive building of today with its yellow walls and blue tiled roof.

Augustenborg Castle

By the mid-18th century, the duke of Schleswig-Holstein-Sonderburg-Augustenburg was the senior cadet prince of the House of Oldenburg, and began to aim higher socially and politically. In 1786, Duke Frederick Christian II married the daughter of the Danish king, a potential heiress, since the Danish kingdom had no laws against female succession (though Holstein, as a German state, did). His younger brother, Christian August, was invited by the Swedish people to become their Crown Prince in 1809, but he died a year later before he could succeed to the throne. By the 1840s, as it became clear that King Frederick VII of Denmark would be childless, Duke Christian August II put forward claims, as senior male heir and son of a Danish princess. His sister, Caroline Amalie, was also the Queen of Denmark. He seemed the perfect candidate. But his marriage to a woman of non-princely rank (though interestingly, still endogamous, since she was from one of the illegitimate lines of the House of Denmark, Danneskjold-Samsø) made him unsuitable. Nevertheless, pressed by German nationalists in 1848, the Duke set up a government in Kiel of an independent Schleswig-Holstein and sparked the first of the Schleswig Wars between Denmark and the German Confederation, a temporary victory for Denmark, supported by the Russian Tsar, as nominally head of the Holstein-Gottorp branch and guarantor of Danish supremacy in the region.

Duke Christian August of Augustenburg

The Duke’s son, Frederick, pressed the family’s claims again after the death of Frederick VII of Denmark in 1863, and sparked the second Schleswig War, in which Prussia and Austria forced Denmark to give up its claims to both Schleswig and Holstein. Great Britain was involved, as a guarantor of the earlier peace settlement, and the issue became familial as well as political in the years following the war when Queen Victoria’s daughter Princess Helena married the Duke’s younger brother, Prince Christian, who relocated to London. A few years before, the daughter of the rival (and successful) claimant to the Danish throne, Princess Alexandra of Glücksburg, had married the Prince of Wales, and for the rest of her life, Alexandra is said to have passionately resented Prussia for having invaded and humiliated her Danish homeland. It would be interesting to investigate the relationship between Christian and Alexandra…

Christian and Helena

The defeated family of the Duke of Augustenburg was vanquished and moved to estates they owned in Silesia (Primkenau Castle, now Przemków in Poland). The castle of Augustenborg (the Danish spelling) was abandoned to the Danish Crown, then sold to the state in the 1920s, and is now a psychiatric hospital. The family built a new palace at Primkenau in the 1890s, but this burned down in 1945, and nothing remains.

the two castles at Primkenau

The family did retain a residence in Denmark, Gråsten Castle, originally a 16th-century hunting lodge, not far from Sønderborg, which was also sold to Denmark in the 1920s, and became one of the favoured summer residences of the Danish royal family in the 20th century, and still today.

Gråsten (Gravenstein) Castle

The son of Princess Helena of Great Britain (aka ‘Princess Christian’), named Albert (of course), became the last titular duke of this line, and with his death in 1931, the line of Augustenburg came to an end, leaving their claims to the duchies of Schleswig and Holstein to the Duke of Glücksburg.

This finally brings us to the line of Glücksburg. There had been several other branches in the 17th and 18th centuries, notably the dukes of Plön with their fantastic castle on a hill overlooking a lake (in Holstein, halfway between Kiel and Lübeck), famous for its library and gardens. These dukes had run into some problems, by becoming Catholic and joining the service of the Emperor in Vienna, and when their line died out in 1761, the Danish king was happy to take over their lands and made their palace one of his favoured summer residences. After the 1860s, once Holstein was lost to Denmark, it became a Prussian military academy, and Plön Castle has remained a prestigious private academy ever since.

Plön Castle

The most junior branch was given no significant estates at all in Schleswig or Holstein, and took their title, Beck, from an estate they purchased in 1605 far to the south in Westphalia, near Minden (fairly close to their kinsmen’s County of Oldenburg). There they built Haus Beck in the 1640s, which they sold in the 1740s. As a princely line quite remote from any chance of a royal throne, this branch ranged widely across Europe, in service of other monarchs, as can be seen in their quite cosmopolitan marriages, from East Prussian Dohnas, a Piedmontese contessa, a Russian Prince Bariatinsky, and the Duke of Silva-Tarouca, the Portuguese-born advisor and minister of Empress Maria Theresa of Austria. Things began to change with the 1810 marriage of Duke Friedrich Wilhelm to Louise of Hesse-Kassel, a grand-daughter and potential heiress of King Frederick V of Denmark. Although a German prince, her father served as a Danish Field Marshal and governor of the duchies of Schleswig and Holstein, so the Duke and Duchess of Beck became quite close to the Danish court.

As a mark of favour, in 1825, Louise’s cousin, King Frederick VI, granted the couple the Castle of Glücksburg, which had been the seat of an earlier Schleswig-Holstein-Sonderburg branch that died out in 1779 (but whose widow had been allowed to remain in situ until her death in 1824). The castle, known as Lyksborg in Danish, is today one of the northernmost points in Germany, on an island in the Flensburg Fjord. It was built in the 1580s on the site of a former monastery, Rüde Abbey, which was dismantled in the Reformation and the bricks re-used for the new ducal residence. Much of the Renaissance decoration on the exterior was removed in the more sober 19th century, and it is one of the few castles named in this posting that remains the property of the family.

The link between the Danish royal family and the dukes of Glücksburg was strengthened with the marriage in 1838 of Duke Charles with Princess Wilhelmina, daughter of Frederick VI, and former wife of Frederick VII (I know, this is confusing), and a few years later by his younger brother, Christian, with another Hesse-Kassel princess with a Danish mother. Although Prince Christian was the fourth of seven sons, he had been the godson and namesake of King Christian VIII, and raised at the Danish court as a surrogate royal prince. When the thorny question of the Schleswig-Holstein succession came up in 1848, he was chosen to succeed the childless Frederick VII, as someone with succession rights to both Denmark and the contested duchies, and was given the title ‘Prince of Denmark’ in 1852, in a treaty agreed to by all the major powers of Europe. His family moved into the elegant Yellow Palace in Copenhagen (where the future Queen Alexandra of Great Britain was born), and he succeeded to the Danish throne in 1863, and moved into the Amalienborg Palace.

The Yellow Palace, Copenhagen

That very same year (in fact earlier), Christian’s second son, William, was selected to become second monarch of the newly independent Greek Kingdom (taking the name Georgios). Alexandra had also married the Prince of Wales in 1863, and her sisters would also marry heirs: to the Russian throne and the defunct Hanoverian throne. Their descendants spread out across all the thrones of Europe, giving Christian IX the nickname ‘Grandfather of Europe’.

Christian IX with his vast extended family, by Laurits Tuxin (Amalienborg Museum), circa 1883. The Prince and Princess of Wales are on the left, the Tsar and Tsarina are in the centre, and the King of Greece is in the back right, with the red collar

In addition to Denmark and Greece, a further throne was added in 1905 with the selection of Prince Carl to become king of a newly independent Norway (as Haakon VII). The Greek princes retained their position as potential heirs to the Danish throne, hence the full title of Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh, when he was born in 1921 at the Villa of Mon Repos in Corfu, as ‘Prince of Greece and Denmark’.

Mon Repos, Corfu

A year later, in the face of a defeat in the Greco-Turkish war, King Constantine I was forced to abdicate and much of the family, including Philip’s father Andrew, fled the country. The Greek monarchy would be removed and restored numerous times over the succeeding decades, and was finally sent away permanently in 1974. The last king, Constantine II, may have wished to solidify his ties with Denmark by marrying Frederick IX’s second daughter, Anne Marie (royal purists may in fact suggest that, as Queen Margarethe II married a non-royal person, Anne-Marie and her ‘double-Oldenburg’ offspring should succeed to the Danish throne, but no one would take them seriously). Oldenburg rule in Norway continues today with King Harald V and his very popular son, Prince Haakon Magnus. As an interesting aside, there was a potential for an Oldenburg takeover of the British throne much earlier, if Queen Anne and her husband, Prince George (Jørgen in Danish), son of King Frederick III of Denmark, had generated a dynasty. As is now well known thanks to the movie The Favourite, all of Anne’s seventeen pregnancies resulted in stillborns or infant deaths, with the single son, William, living to the age of 11. There is therefore a tiny piece of the House of Oldenburg in Virginia, through the namesake of Duke of Gloucester Street, the main thoroughfare in Colonial Williamsburg.

Prince William, Duke of Gloucester

In the 21st century, none of these royals in Denmark, Greece and Norway (not to mention Spain, as still presided over by matriarch Queen Sophia, sister of Constantine), the Duke of Edinburgh or the Prince of Wales, are technically the head of the family. Nor is it the Grand Duke of Oldenburg. The House of Oldenburg, or the House of Glücksburg, is ‘officially’ led by Prince Christophe, Duke of Schleswig-Holstein (b. 1949), who, together with his wife, from the Westphalian princely family of Lippe, heads the family foundation that runs the museum at Glücksburg Castle, as well as extensive landholdings in the region, based from his residence Gut Grünholz, an 18th-century manorhouse bought from the von Moltke family in the 19th century, east of the town of Schleswig.

Grünholz Manor
Duke Christophe and Duchess Elisabeth, at Glücksburg

Unlike many German princely families following the collapse of the German Empire in 1918, the Glücksburgs maintained a fairly low profile for the succeeding generations, marrying well (so far, always with equal marriages by traditional German royal standards). Christophe’s grandfather, Duke Friedrich, head of the entire Schleswig-Holstein family after the extinction of the Augustenburg line, is interesting to note, however, in the context of the life of Prince Philip, in that he was a follower of Kurt Hahn, founder of Salem School, which transferred (along with Philip) to Gordonstoun in Scotland in 1934. After the war, Friedrich founded his own school along similar lines at one of his estates, Louisenlund, today one of the poshest private schools in Germany, located on the banks of the Schlei, nicely taking us back to the dynasty’s earliest origins.

Louisenlund

Castles visited in this blog: Oldenburg and Rastede in Lower Saxony; Gottorp, Kiel, Plön, Glücksburg and others in Schleswig-Holstein; and Sønderborg and Augustenborg in Denmark (since the 1920 referendum dividing Slesvig/Schleswig).

(images taken mostly from Wikimedia Commons)

Here’s a handy table, especially to help with the messy Danish succession in the 1860s (from Wikimedia Commons)

Dukes of Marlborough

If you want to see how many dukes and princes are in the ancestry of the second in line to the throne of Great Britain, it is useful to look at both sides of the family: not just the royal ancestors of Prince William’s father the Prince of Wales, but also the lineage of his mother, born Lady Diana Spencer. While one of her great-grandfathers was the Duke of Abercorn (see my post on the Hamilton family), her paternal ancestors, the Spencers, were earls, a few rungs down from dukes and princes; but if you jump over to the senior branch of the family, the Spencers were dukes of Marlborough and today go by the double-barrelled surname Spencer-Churchill. They acquired the Churchill name and title in 1733 as descendants and heirs of John Churchill, one of the greatest generals in British history. Some sources claim they also inherited a princely title, that of Mindelheim in Bavaria, and although that is not correct, the legacy does remain, in that the current Duke of Marlborough still uses an Imperial double-headed eagle in his coat-of-arms, topped with a princely coronet of the Holy Roman Empire. So in this way, the Spencers are dukes and princes.

coat of arms of the Dukes of Marlborough

It is therefore somewhat ironic that compared to most of the ducal families in Great Britain, neither the Spencers nor the Churchills have an ancient pedigree. Both were relatively new families when they received their titles, the Spencers rising to wealth and power as part of the new Tudor aristocracy in the sixteenth century, and the Churchills not till the following century. There’s an often repeated anecdote from the 1620s, whereby the snobbish Earl of Arundel, with an ancient Howard pedigree, teased Lord Spencer for boasting about his ancestors’ great achievements: “My Lord, when these things you speak of were doing, your ancestors were keeping sheep.” Spencer instantly replied, “when my ancestors (as you say) were keeping sheep, yours were plotting treason.” Both families, Spencers and Churchills, therefore felt the need to embellish their ancestry, especially in the Victorian era, when such ‘imagined histories’ were all the rage.

A number of beautifully illustrated nineteenth-century family histories therefore invented interesting progenitors for the Spencers and the Churchills. Especially so for the latter, said to be descended from somebody called Gitto de Leon, an exiled heir to the Duchy of Aquitaine (or maybe the Kingdom of León?) who took refuge at the court of the Duke of Normandy, then accompanied him (or perhaps his son did) on his conquest of England in 1066. He either came from a town in Normandy called Courcil, or was given lands in Somerset called Courcil or Curcelle, which later corrupted into the Anglo-Saxon Church Hill. Other stories give the original rise of the family from the fortuitous marriage of Roger Churchill, a blacksmith in Catherston, a village in western Dorset, to the daughter of the local landlord of Bradford Peverell in the middle of the 16th century. But they remained tenant farmers in Dorset. The real start of the family’s rise comes a few generations later when John Churchill established himself as a prominent lawyer in London, then returned to the West Country to marry Sarah Winston, of Gloucestershire, in 1618, and rented a sizeable manor house in Dorset, Minterne House.

Minterne House in Dorset

Subsequent generations were born in this house, and adopted the name Winston. The first Winston Churchill was a fervent royalist during the Civil War, an MP from Dorset, an officer in the household of Charles II, and, like his distant descendant and namesake, a passionate lover of history: he wrote a history of English kings and was a fellow of the Royal Society. He even married a descendant of the famous Elizabethan sea captain Sir Francis Drake. But his wife’s more important relative was the Duke of Buckingham, a royal favourite, and this connection opened doors for the family that led to their spectacular rise to the top of the court hierarchy by the end of the century.

Winston Churchill

In a similar manner, the Spencers claimed to be descended from the powerful medieval Despencer family, and even adopted a modified version of their coat-of-arms, with its distinctive golden ‘fret’. The Le Despencer family were major landowners in the 13th century who enjoyed unparalleled royal favour, especially Hugh the Younger, the favourite of King Edward II, executed by the jealous barons in 1326. The rest of the Despencer clan were gone by the 1420s and the first historical Spencer does not appear in the records until 1470—so a link is of course possible, but unproven. This was Henry Spencer who owned the estate of Badby in Northamptonshire, and this county in the heart of England would remain the Spencer headquarters for the next five centuries.

Henry Spencer’s son John raised livestock—here is where the sheep come in—which was a very profitable venture, with wool being shipped across the North Sea to the great burgeoning weaving cities of Flanders and Holland. With this money he was able to purchase the nearby estate of Althorp and one further to the west, Wormleighton, in Warwickshire, around 1510, and by the time of his death had established a family burial spot in Great Brington and rebuilt the manor house in nearby Althorp.

Althorp in the early 19th century, with sheep

Althorp, about 6 miles outside the county town of Northampton, gradually became the family seat, more so after extensive damage to Wormleighton during the Civil War, and was enlarged in the 1680s, and again a century later, when it was transformed into a more fashionable neoclassical style. By the mid-18th century it had become a major social setting for the Spencer political set, and a place of display for the family’s great collections of art and books—the library was one of the largest of its day and today forms one of the cores of the Rylands Library of the University of Manchester. One of the other great treasures of the inside of the house was its grand oak staircase. The gardens were also redesigned in the 18th century, by notable designers like Henry Holland, and remain mostly intact, with the well-known addition in 1997 of the Diana Memorial on an island in an oval lake.

Althorp House interior

Much of these estates had been developed in the early 17th century by Robert Spencer, reputed to be the richest man in England—thanks to all those sheep—and raised to the peerage in 1603 as Baron Spencer of Wormleighton. His sons were active royalists during the Civil War, and his grandson Henry was rewarded for service at the Battle of Edgehill (and for his requisite financial ‘contribution’ to the Crown treasury) with the earldom of Sunderland in 1643. Like so many earldoms in England created in this period, the family had no links to the actual town of Sunderland in the far northeast, near Newcastle. The second Earl of Sunderland led a prominent if a bit unruly political life as an ambassador then secretary of state for Charles II, then a key advisor to James II until they fell out and he fled abroad—returning in the 1690s to become again a key advisor to William III and one of the founders of the Whig Party (with four other lords known as the ‘Whig Junto’ in the reigns of William and then Queen Anne).

Robert Spencer, 2nd Earl of Sunderland, in Classical dress

One of the key factors of politics in the 18th century was the importance of family alliances, and the Spencers would remain a cornerstone of the Whig aristocracy, alongside families related by marriage, the Cavendishes and Russells. Charles, the 3rd Earl of Sunderland, took over this role when his father died in 1702. After a brief marriage to a Cavendish, he married in 1699 the daughter of another prominent member of the inner circle of the court, John Churchill.

John Churchill, 1st Duke of Marlborough, as commander of the British Forces

The son of Sir Winston Churchill and Elizabeth Drake, John Churchill became one of the greatest supporters of James, Duke of York, later King James II, and leader of his troops, until the fateful moment in November 1688 when he abandoned the King in favour of the invading William of Orange. The entire family had benefitted at first through the relationship of John’s sister, Arabella, with the Duke of York in the 1660s. Arabella became mother to four of James’s illegitimate children (called the FitzJameses), and though the Duke’s patronage, John and his younger brothers all benefitted, with positions in the household and in the army. Brothers John, George and Charles all became close to the new husband of James’s daughter, Princess Anne, and when Anne became Queen in 1702, their rise was further solidified, all three becoming leading military figures in the War of Spanish Succession. It helped too that John’s wife, Sarah Jennings was particularly close with Anne—and the story of their tumultuous relationship has become quite famous now through the film The Favourite. John had been raised to the peerage as Earl of Marlborough in 1689 by a grateful King William, and he was now raised further to a dukedom in 1702. Anne also created him Captain-General of the British Army, and he would lead the Allied Forces in Europe to great victories in the war against France, with famous victories at Blenheim, Ramillies and Malplaquet. His wife was at the same time appointed Mistress of the Robes and head of the Queen’s Household. When Sarah fell from power, then so too did John, and he was removed from command just as he was on the verge of defeating France in 1711.

Sarah Churchill, Duchess of Marlborough

John and Sarah retired to a building site known as Blenheim Palace, a few miles north of Oxford, an estate (and funds) given by Queen Anne as a gift from the nation after the Battle of Blenheim in 1704. Blenheim was built at Woodstock, a village that would provide a parliamentary seat for various Churchills and Spencers for the next two centuries, and designated as a ‘palace’, the only non-royal, non-episcopal residence in England with this label. Built between 1705 and 1722 by the controversial architect Sir John Vanbrugh—controversial since he had no formal training, but was a playwright—the palace ran into severe financial difficulties and ‘creative differences’ between the architect and the Duchess. In the end it emerged as one of the most majestic buildings in Britain, with its double suites of state and private apartments, its great hall with amazing ceiling paintings by Thornhill, a grand library and chapel, and extensive gardens and fountains.

Blenheim in the 18th century

Even after his disgrace, the 1st Duke of Marlborough had not been forgotten. Still celebrated in Europe, he had been given a sizeable estate in southern Germany, Mindelheim, which the Emperor wished to transform into a semi-sovereign principality of the Empire in 1705. It was a tiny state, about 15 square miles, and the Duke visited it only once, in 1713. Diplomatic politics got in the way, however, and Mindelheim was restored to its previous owner (the Duke of Bavaria) in 1714, and the Emperor’s proposed replacement, Nellenburg (a bit further to the south, on Lake Constance), was blocked. Still, the title ‘Prince of the Empire’ was retained by the British duke (as were the heraldic elements, seen above), and, more importantly, the Emperor’s personal favour helped restore Marlborough to favour with the accession of an Imperial ally, Prince George of Hanover, to the British throne in 1714. The new King George I restored Marlborough to his position as Captain-General of British Forces which he retained until he died in 1722.

Principality of Mindelheim

A duke needs a male heir however, and the Marlboroughs had only one son, the Marquess of Blandford (the courtesy title for their heir), who died of smallpox when still in his teens. The Duke had two brothers, both prominent as generals and admirals, but neither of them had a legitimate son. Several daughters remained, and Parliament passed a special act allowing for the dukedom to pass to a female heir (the Imperial princely titles however could not be passed to women). All four Churchill daughters had married well into the most solid names of the political aristocracy—Egerton, Montagu, Spencer and Godolphin—and the latter of these, Henrietta, Countess Godolphin, succeeded as 2nd Duchess of Marlborough in her own right. Her son, another Marquess of Blandford, was expected to succeed, but he too died relatively young, and the title passed instead to her sister’s son, Charles Spencer, 5th Earl of Sunderland. Here we see therefore, that fate had removed two young men from the succession, and brought about the union of the two houses, Spencer and Churchill.

John Churchill, Marquess of Blandford (1686-1703)

The 3rd Earl of Sunderland, Marlborough’s son-in-law, had already taken over from his father the role as leader of the Whig Junto in the reign of Queen Anne. Under George I he was promoted to cabinet positions including Lord Privy Seal and First Lord of the Treasury, making him in essence the Prime Minister, until he fell from power in the wake of the financial speculation scheme, the South Sea Bubble, bursting in 1720. His older son died a few years later, so it was his second son, Charles, the 5th Earl, who succeeded to the Marlborough estates in 1733 (and handed over the Spencer estates to his younger brother, John, who started his own dynasty, the earls Spencer … which we’ll come to). The third Duke of Marlborough seemed set to rise to both of his grandfathers’ heights, in politics and in the military, but he died on campaign in the Seven Years War in 1758 without reaching his full potential.

The Spencers also inherited the main London residence of the Churchills, Marlborough House, one of the string of grand houses along the Mall leading up to Buckingham Palace. Built primarily by Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough, to designs by Christopher Wren, from the early 19th century it became a residence of various members of the Royal Family, notably the Prince and Princess of Wales in the 1860s and Queen Mary after 1936. Today it houses the Commonwealth Secretariat.

Marlborough House

The family continued to dominate Whig politics for the rest of the century: the 4th Duke of Marlborough was Lord Chamberlain and Lord Privy Seal in the 1760s, while both of his brothers held seats in the Commons. The younger of these, Lord Charles, was also a key member of the court of King George III, from being appointed Comptroller of the Household in 1763 to dying as one of the Gentlemen of the Bedchamber in 1820. His grandsons led interesting lives working for the Church of England across the British Empire, the elder as bishop of Newfoundland then Jamaica, and the younger as bishop of Madras. Their cousin, Augustus Spencer was Commander in Chief of the British Army in Bombay in the 1870s. This junior line were created Baron Churchill of Wychwood (Oxon), in 1815, raised to Viscount Churchill in 1902, but since 2017 reverted to the barony when it passed to a distant cousin.

Having conscientiously chosen to employ both Spencer and Churchill names, the 5th Duke of Marlborough formally changed the family surname from Spencer to Spencer-Churchill in 1817. He had been a party boy in the early 19th century, the height of the Regency, and sold off much of the family collections. The next Duke, George, spent most of his life as an heir, first as earl of Sunderland, then marquess of Blandford, and only the last 17 years of his life as duke. Before he became a peer, therefore, he had a long career in the Commons as MP for Woodstock, and demonstrated a remarkable about-face for the family by his devotion to the Tory Party, a trend his successors would continue throughout the 19th century, notably his son the 7th Duke. Again having a long Parliamentary career as Sunderland, then Blandford, and still holding the family seat at Woodstock, he then served, as duke, in the Conservative Cabinet of Disraeli.

The wonderfully whiskered 7th Duke of Marlborough

From this point, the family divided somewhat, and elder sons inherited the titles while the younger sons took leading positions in politics. While the 8th Duke of Marlborough was getting involved in divorce scandals, his younger brother Lord Randolph took a leading position in British politics in trying to steer the Conservative Party towards progressive reformist policies rather than simply reacting against those being pushed by the Liberal Party. As Secretary of State for India he supported the annexation of Burma in 1886, and the next year he reached the pinnacle of his career as Chancellor of the Exchequer and Leader of the Commons. But his success was brief and his antagonism of party leaders led to his ostricization, and he died relatively young, leaving the ultimate glory of becoming Prime Minister to his son Sir Winston Churchill, and the political line carried on to Winston’s son and his grandson (another Winston) into the 1990s.

One thing Lord Randolph and his brother the 8th Duke of Marlborough had in common was that they both married Americans. The Duke married Lily Warren Price whose great wealth helped finance badly needed repairs and upgrades to Blenheim Palace; Randolph married Jennie Jerome. This was the age of Edith Wharton’s ‘Buccaneers’, wealthy American heiresses ‘sold’ by their parents to obtain glittering European titles. The greatest of these, perhaps, was Consuelo Vanderbilt, whose 2.5 million dollar dowry (plus shares in New York Central Railroad Company) helped the 9th Duke complete the restoration of Blenheim and its gardens. The marriage was not a great success and ended in acrimonious divorce in 1921.

maybe the best thing to come out of this marriage: the magnificent portrait of the 9th Duke and Duchess of Marlborough and their sons, by John Singer Sargent (1905)

Despite the influx of American dollars, the Blenheim estate struggled to keep up with the rising costs of maintaining a country house in the 20th century. The 10th Duke of Marlborough and his wife were therefore amongst the first aristocrats to open their homes to the public in the 1950s, and though Blenheim Palace remains in private hands, rather than as part of the National Trust or English Heritage, it is still one of the crown jewels of British tourism and attracts nearly a million visitors a year. It is run as a trust, with the current 12th Duke, known as ‘Jamie Blandford’ before he succeeded in 2014, keeping a fairly low profile both in terms of the estate and on the national stage.

In contrast, the younger branch of the family, the earls Spencer, have become more prominent in the 20th century, firstly as close members of the royal court and more recently as the family of the global superstar that was Diana, Princess of Wales. The current earl, the 9th (Charles), was already a page in the royal household before his sister married the Prince of Wales in 1981, and the links go back much further. Their father (‘Johnny Spencer’) was Equerry to George VI, 1950-52, then to Elizabeth II, 1952-54; and their grandmother, Lady Fermoy—as seen in episodes of the new season of ‘The Crown’—was for many years a Woman of the Bedchamber and close friend of the Queen Mother. In fact, Diana’s other grandmother, Cynthia Hamilton, was also a Lady of the Bedchamber to the Queen Mother for many decades. So any attempt to portray Lady Diana Spencer as an uninformed outsider to court circles I think needs to be seen as dramatic licence.

Going back to the origins of this line, the nephew of the 3rd Duke of Marlborough, was given the Spencer lands (as well as those of Sarah Jennings), and was created Earl Spencer in 1765. His daughter Lady Georgiana was the famous Duchess of Devonshire—famous in her own day as a fashionista and leader of the London social set, and again famous today for Keira Knightley’s portrayal of her in the 2008 film, The Duchess. One of the key scenes in that film demonstrated the power of aristocratic women in this century—when women did not have the right to vote—to influence politics through public appearances, and also as society hosts of political groups like the Whigs. Key to playing host to social elites was having a grand London residence, so the 1st Earl commissioned the monumental Spencer residence in London, on St James’s Place, in grand Greek neoclassical style. It is still owned by the family, but in recent decades has been rented out as a business site, to Christie’s, then The Economist, and now Lord Rothschild.

Spencer House

As with their senior Marlborough cousins, the Spencers (and the Devonshire Cavendishes) were at the epicentre of the liberal Whig Party, with the 2nd Earl serving as Lord Privy Seal, 1st Lord of the Admiralty and Home Secretary in the 1790s-1800s (in coalition governments), then the 3rd Earl (John) rising to the post of Chancellor of the Exchequer in the 1830s and being especially instrumental in the passage of the Reform Bill of 1832, under the Whig Prime Minister Earl Grey—interestingly, though not that surprisingly given the persistent interconnections between British politics and family ties—the same man who had been romantically involved with his aunt the Duchess of Devonshire. The 3rd Earl left a real legacy of reform, nicknamed ‘Honest Jack’ for his reputation as politically incorruptible.

John, 3rd Earl Spencer

After the Whig Party transitioned into the Liberal Party in the 1850s, the 5th Earl (also named John) held top government offices for even longer than his grandfather, as Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, Lord President of the Council, and First Lord of the Admiralty. The ‘Red Earl’ (due to the colour of his beard, not his politics) made a name for himself for his reforms of the Irish government and even advocating Irish home rule in the 1880s, and was several times asked to be Prime Minister, but preferred to stay in the House of Lords as leader of the Liberal Party until he retired in 1905.

John, 5th Earl Spencer–ever wonder where those ginger genes came from?

It is interesting to see the two branches of the family by the end of the 19th century dominating both rival political parties, Liberal Spencers and Conservative Churchills. The Spencers also maintained its close links with the royal family in the 19th century, with various members holding posts like Groom of the Bedchamber to the Prince Consort and the Prince of Wales, Lord Chamberlain of the Household (twice) and Lord Steward. They were successive lords lieutenant of Northamptonshire, and made their home, Althorp, a centre of county society. They also maintained an estate much closer to London and to court: Wimbledon Park (part of the inheritance of Sarah Jennings). Here the 2nd Earl Spencer built a new house in about 1800, sold in 1846, and demolished in the 1950s. Not until 1996, however, did the current Earl sell the title of the lordship of the manor of Wimbledon—a title with a few vague rights over common lands, at least until recent legislation abolished even those vestiges of feudalism.

Wimbledon Park House

The more modern Charles, 9th Earl Spencer, spent the early years of his career as a journalist, gave Althorp its first major overhaul since the 18th century, and opens the house for visitors in the summer months, as well as for an annual literary festival in the autumn. This two-pronged family, Churchill and Spencer, each line emerging from obscurity to lead the reforming party of the British politics for much of the 18th and 19th centuries, continues to act as guardians of the legacy of two of the finest examples in 18th-century English country house buildings, Blenheim and Althorp, hopefully for generations to come.

(images from Wikimedia Commons or other license free sites)

Princes of Battenberg

In a dramatic intimate moment of the first episode of the new season of ‘The Crown’, Prince Philip says to his daughter Princess Anne, “A Battenberg refuses to give in”. Who were the Battenbergs and why did this sentiment apply to recent members of the House of Windsor?

Philip and Anne: Battenberg bonding

More than just the namesake of a very sweet cake, the Battenbergs were created princes by the Grand Duke of Hesse in 1858, but they made their mark on history in other arenas, from Bulgaria in the 1880s to Great Britain in the early decades of the twentieth century—and then carrying on in Britain, though under an inverted name: Mountbatten (berg being the word for mountain in German). On the surface, this family was just a cadet branch of the second-tier German princely house of Hesse. But in fact, their lineage stretches back to the very earliest days of German history and also to the earliest building blocks of what is today’s Kingdom of Belgium, as dukes of Brabant. The medieval dynasty took its name from the town of Leuven (or Louvain in French), east of Brussels—and even gave its name to an English queen (Adeliza de Louvain, wife of Henry I), and the regenerated dynasty of the Percy earls of Northumberland descended from Adeliza’s brother, Josceline.

In the 20th century, a Battenberg was Queen of Spain, a Battenberg was Queen of Sweden, and one married the cherished daughter of Queen Victoria, Princess Beatrice. Possibly the most famous of all was Prince Louis of Battenberg, who changed his name to Mountbatten as a teenager, and rose to become First Sea Lord and last Viceroy of India. He was also uncle and surrogate father to Prince Philip of Greece (who also took Mountbatten as his surname, as his mother’s name, though he was really an Oldenburg)—and thus the inspiration behind the line of dialogue from ‘The Crown’.

Louis, Earl Mountbatten of Burma

This short overview will look at the ancestry of the House of Battenberg, the successes and failures of its earliest members, and some of their current whereabouts, and will also look, as usual, at some of the residences that can be visited by the intrepid tourist: from Schloss Heiligenberg in central Germany to Broadlands in southern England.

We can start with Battenberg Castle itself: although it gave its name to the family, they did not live there. Dominating the centre of the Eder river valley (the same one known to my Church of the Brethren friends and relatives as the birthplace of the denomination), on the borders between Hesse and Westphalia, Battenberg was the seat of powerful medieval counts before they became extinct in the 14th century. It then became property of the Landgraves of Hesse, who rebuilt the ruined castle as a hunting lodge in the 18th century. The coat of arms is very simple, a black and white shield.

Battenberg in the 17th century

What is a Landgrave of Hesse? Hesse is the state at the very centre of Germany, formed in the Middle Ages from the disintegration of the ancient Duchy of Franconia. At first they dominated the Upper Weser river valley, between their capital cities of Kassel and Marburg, but gradually the landgraves (a landgraf is a count of a land or region) expanded their holdings to the south and west, incorporating counties as far as a great bend in the Rhine (the Katzenelnbogen), and establishing a second capital, Darmstadt. It is from the Darmstadt branch that the Battenbergs descend—more on them later.

The House of Hesse originated in the House of Louvain, starting with a certain Giselbert, a count who was given control by the Emperor of the region around the river Meuse / Maas in the mid-9th century. This area was at the time known as Lower Lotharingia (or Lower Lorraine), and gradually evolved into the Duchy of Brabant, with its capital in Brussels. The family’s control of the area was solidified through the marriage in the early 11th century of Lambert of Louvain and Gerberga, daughter of Duke Charles of Lotharingia, one of the last of the Carolingians, the descendants of Charlemagne. The dukes of Brabant gained in power and prestige, marrying regularly into the royal houses of France, England and Germany. The last duke died in 1355, leaving three heiresses, which ultimately led to his large territories being added to the growing conglomerate ruled by the Dukes of Burgundy, and eventually would form the modern nation of Belgium.

an early modern imagining of a portrait of Lambert and Gerberga

A younger son, however, had started a new line, as heir to the large Landgraviate of Thuringia—one of the ancient ‘national’ territories of Germany (like Franconia or Saxony). Heinrich I (d. 1308) lost out on inheriting all of Thuringia, but successfully claimed the westernmost parts, to which he applied the name Hesse, and took the Thuringian title ‘landgrave’, and even its coat-of-arms, the  red and white stripey (or ‘barry’) lion on blue. Still today the neighbouring states of Hesse and Thuringia use very nearly identical arms. Centuries later, the Battenbergs would incorporate both the black and white stripes of Battenberg, and the Hessian lion (differenced with a red and white border) in their heraldry.

from a 15th-century heraldry manuscript
coat-of-arms of the Marquess of Milford Haven

Like most German princely states, The Landgraviate of Hesse would be divided and subdivided, and different branches would rise and fall in prominence. Probably the most famous Landgrave was Philip ‘the Magnanimous’, one of the most important leaders of the Protestant Reformation, as host of the famous Marburg Colloquy of 1529, where early Lutheran doctrine was hammered out, and one of the leaders of the religious war against the Emperor Charles V. Philip founded the University of Marburg, which is still one of the pre-eminent universities in Germany.

Philip, Landgrave of Hesse

By the time of the dissolution of the Holy Roman Empire, the two main branches, Hesse-Kassel and Hesse-Darmstadt, were each elevated to higher ranks, the former to the status of an Elector of the Empire (in 1803, just in time to have the whole electoral system abolished), and the latter as a Grand Duchy. The Electorate of Hesse was annexed by Prussia in the 1860s, but the Grand Duchy of Hesse (‘and by Rhine’, to give it is full, slightly odd title) survived as an independent state within the German Empire until all of its princes abdicated in November 1918.

Germany in the first half of the 19th century: the two Hesse states, Electoral and Grand Ducal, are in the centre, light and dark brown

By that point, the ruling dynasty of Hesse-Darmstadt had raised its profile a bit above its rank, through marriages into the royal houses of Great Britain and Russia: Princess Marie of Hesse married Tsar Alexander II in 1841; her nephew Grand Duke Louis IV married Queen Victoria’s second daughter, Alice, in 1862; and their daughter, Alix, would in turn marry the Russian Tsar Nicholas II in 1894. But one of the Hessian princes, Alexander, did not follow the dynastic rules, and married one of his sister Tsarevna Marie’s ladies-in-waiting, Countess Julia von Hauke, and their offspring would be barred from succeeding to the Grand Ducal throne. This was the birth of the House of Battenberg.

By the 19th century, members of ruling families in Europe were meant to marry only others from the same rank. Julia von Hauke’s family were descended from tradesmen in Mainz, but had risen through the ranks in Russian service. Her father Moritz served as Minister of War in Russian-controlled Poland from 1820, was created a count in 1829, and then hacked to pieces a year later by Polish revolutionaries. Julia’s marriage to Prince Alexander of Hesse was frowned on by the rest of the family and he lost his position in the Russian army. Nevertheless, as was by then normal for marriages of unequal status (known as ‘morganatic’ marriages), the bride and her children were given a title (in this instance by the Grand Duke of Hesse): Battenberg. Originally they were to hold the rank of counts (1851), but by 1858 she and her four (soon to be five) children were raised to the rank of princes and princesses, with the honorific address of ‘Serene Highness’.

Alexander’s family settled in one of the Hesse castles, Heiligenberg, located a few miles south of Darmstadt. A country retreat built in the early 19th century and renovated by Alexander and Julia in the 1850s-60s, Schloß Heiligenberg became one of the favoured meeting places in central Europe for the far-flung relations of the House of Hesse, from Britain to Russia, including the courting couple, Nicholas and Alexandra. This castle was sold by the family in the 1920s, and has become property of the State of Hesse, and variously used as a school, a hospital and most recently a concert and exhibition hall. Nearby the Battenberg Mausoleum still stands tribute to the family that once lived here.

It is with the four sons of Alexander and Julia where our story starts to get really interesting, as the family spread out all across Europe: Louis and Henry in Britain, and Alexander and Franz Joseph in the Balkans. The only daughter, Princess Marie, married a local Hessian count, Gustaf von Erbach-Schönberg, and lived a relatively quiet life. The earliest of the four sons to make his mark was the rather unprepared Alexander, known in the family as ‘Sandro’ (or ‘Drino’), who at age 22 was put forward by his uncle the Tsar as the first Prince of Bulgaria, an Ottoman province that had just been granted self-rule in 1878. At first he played by the rulebook set down by his powerful Russian patron, but by 1883 he craved the popularity of the Bulgarian people and restored a liberal constitution, and was ousted by pro-Russian soldiers in late 1886. He retired to Austria and assumed the name ‘Count von Hartenau’, marrying in 1889 an Austria opera singer, Johanna Loisinger. But when he died a few years later, he was buried in Bulgaria, as a sovereign. His children carried the name von Hartenau into the 20th century, but also the memory of the brief Bulgarian Battenberg dynasty, with the typically Bulgarian names Assen and Tsvetana.

Alexander, Prince of Bulgaria

Another potential extension of the Bulgarian story was the youngest of the Battenberg brothers, Franz Joseph, who accompanied his older brother to Bulgaria and served in the army there—as his brother was still unmarried, Franz Joseph was considered the probable heir to the throne, though of course he left when Alexander did. He remained in Balkan circles, however, and in 1897 married the daughter of the ruling Prince of Montenegro, sister of the Queen of Italy. A number of chatterers in diplomatic circles considered the Battenberg princes as ideal candidates for new thrones appearing in south-eastern Europe with the slow decline of the Ottoman Empire—Albania, Rumelia or Crete—as being so well connected by blood to the great royal houses of Europe, but not fully aligned with any. But Franz Joseph and his wife Anna retired instead to Switzerland where he wrote books on economics, and she composed music (apparently very well). He died in 1924, but she lived on until 1971, still using the title Princess of Battenberg, the last person to do so.

In contrast, the eldest brother, Louis, changed his name from Battenberg to Mountbatten, and renounced his princely titles in the summer of 1917, at the urging of King George V in the face of rising anti-German sentiment in Britain (and of course, as is well known, the King changed his own name from Saxe-Coburg to Windsor).

But despite being born in Austria, there was nothing notably un-British about Prince Louis of Battenberg, having served in the British navy since he was a teenager. Adept in three languages (he spoke German with his father, French with his mother, and English with his nanny), he was a natural fit to work in the gathering of information in the various courts and capitals of Europe, and was appointed Director of Naval Intelligence in 1902. Promoted to First Sea Lord in 1912, he was suddenly asked to retire in 1914, again due to anti-German fears in the government and the naval high command. Along with changing his surname in 1917, he was created Marquess of Milford Haven (a Welsh port town in Pembrokeshire). But why just a marquis? Years later his grand-daughter Pamela Hicks wrote in her memoirs that he had been offered a dukedom—more appropriate for a close relative of the King; and his wife, Victoria of Hesse, was a grand-daughter of Victoria—but turned it down, considering he did not have the wealth to support a lifestyle expected of a duke. Indeed, he did not have a lot of money, much of it having been confiscated in Germany during the war or lost in the Russian Revolution, and he sold the family castle at Heiligenberg in 1920, and died only a year later.

Louis of Battenberg

Prince Louis’ second son, Lord Louis Mountbatten, has written that one of his life’s enduring motivations was to recover what his father had lost, and remove the dishonour of having been removed from the post of First Sea Lord. And that he did, becoming First Sea Lord in 1954…but only after holding even higher posts. Proving his worth as a sea captain in the early years of the Second World War, he was promoted Supreme Commander of the Allied Forces in Southeast Asia in 1943, then Viceroy of India in 1947—King George VI’s representative in the transition from colony to independent member of the Commonwealth. Mountbatten (created Earl Mountbatten of Burma in 1947) was criticised for not doing enough to prevent the violence of partition, and he was not very involved in government for several years, before returning to Naval affairs in 1954 as First Sea Lord, then as Chief of the Defence Staff in 1959 in the government of Harold Macmillan.

Mountbatten as Viceroy, with Gandhi and Edwina

Lord Mountbatten was successful, but his success was in great part enabled by his talented wife, Edwina Ashley, who not only helped enable his social networking, but also provided the means to pay for it, as one of the chief heirs of the business magnate Sir Ernest Cassel. Through her descent from the Palmerston family, she inherited a sizeable Georgian country house in Hampshire, Broadlands, and a castle on the rugged coastline of western Ireland, Classiebawn.

Broadlands had begun life as the manor house of Romsey Abbey, in the Test river valley north of Southampton. At the dissolution of the monasteries of the 1540s, it was sold to Sir Francis Fleming, then passed by marriage to the Barbe family, until it was sold in 1736 to Henry Temple, 1st Viscount Palmerston. He hired the most fashionable architects and garden designers—Capability Brown, Henry Holland, William Kent—and rebuilt the house as a Palladian Villa and the gardens as a marvel of ‘broad lands’ gently rolling down to the river’s edge. Broadlands served as the country retreat of the 3rd Viscount Palmerston when he was Prime Minster under Queen Victoria. A century later, the Mountbattens made it their main residence and renovated it. It hosted the Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh for their honeymoon in 1947, and the Prince and Princess of Wales on their honeymoon in 1981. Both matches were arranged, at least in part, by ‘Uncle Dickie’, as Mountbatten was known in family circles. Today it is the residence of the 3rd Earl Mountbatten, Norton Knatchbull, the son of Mountbatten’s elder daughter, Patricia, who died in 2017.

Broadlands

Classiebawn Castle was a summer getaway, near the town of Sligo. Built in the 19th century in baronial style (ie, a style intended to look much older than it was), the land had once belonged to the O’Connor clan, and Mountbatten’s presence there was therefore a living symbol of British imperialism, especially as Sligo is in the Republic of Ireland, not Northern Ireland. Mountbatten’s death in the nearby harbour from a bomb placed by the IRA in August 1979 sent a shockwave through the fabric of Britain in a troubled decade, and a turning point in the lives of the British royal family.

Classiebawn

In contrast, the lives of the senior line of the House of Battenberg, now the House of Mountbatten, were much quieter. Both the 2nd and 3rd marquesses of Milford Haven were, unsurprisingly, naval men. The 2nd Marquess had continued his family’s marital tradition by marrying the offspring of another morganatic marriage, this time the Grand Duke Mikhail of Russia and Countess Sophie von Merenberg. His wife, known before her marriage as Countess Nadejda de Torby, brought a bit of glamour and exoticism to the British royal family of the 1920s, and her son, the 3rd Marquess, became one of the leaders of the London socialite scene of the 1950s (and was best man at the wedding of his cousin, Prince Philip of Greece to the Queen in 1947). The 4th Marquis of Milford Haven lives mostly out of the spotlight, and his younger brother, Ivar only made headlines by becoming the first member of the extended royal family to have a same-sex marriage, in September 2018. Also unlike their junior cousins, the Milford Havens have never had the same kind of showy country house on the scale of Broadlands, though recently, the current Marquess and his wife have been impressing the sporting world with their world-class polo club, Great Trippetts, in West Sussex.

Finally the fourth of Alexander and Julia’s sons, Prince Henry of Battenberg, may have done the best in terms of dynastic success, marrying the daughter of Queen Victoria herself, but had the shortest time to enjoy it, dying only ten years later. The Queen agreed to the match on condition that the Prince settle in the UK so that her beloved Beatrice would never leave her side. At the time of his marriage in 1885, Henry (known as ‘Liko’) was created HRH and a Knight of the Garter, and naturalised a British subject. In 1889, he was appointed Governor of Carisbrooke Castle and of the Isle of Wight, but he wanted to do more. Obtaining a post of colonel in the army in 1893, he joined the expedition sent to fight in the Ashanti War in West Africa in 1896, caught malaria, and died before he could reach home. His widow, Princess Beatrice remained her mother’s supporter in her last years, then worked as editor of Victoria’s diaries, and continued to appear in public well into her 70s, dying in 1944, age 87.

Henry and Beatrice are buried in the Battenberg Chapel of St Mildred’s Church in Whippingham on the Isle of Wight. So too are many of their descendants, though not two of their sons, one (Maurice) who is buried in Flanders fields having been killed in the early months of World War I, and the other (Leopold), who despite being a haemophiliac (the disease passed through the female descendants of Queen Victoria), survived his service in the war, only to die in surgery a few years later.

Their older brother Alexander also served in the war, and was one of the first to use the surname Mountbatten in an official manner, getting married in July 1917 as simply Sir Alexander Mountbatten, since his peerage from the King—the Marquessate of Carisbrooke, to commemorate his parents’ connection to the Isle of Wight—had not yet been granted. There was only one Marquess of Carisbrooke, as he had only a daughter, Lady Iris Mountbatten, who moved to California to have a short career as a television actress, then settled in Toronto where she died in 1982.

Alexander, Marquess of Carisbrooke

The only daughter of Henry and Beatrice, Victoria Eugénie (known as ‘Ena’) married the King of Spain, Alfonso XIII, in 1906, and went into exile with him in 1931 when the second Spanish Republic was proclaimed. She survived her husband by nearly three decades, dying in Switzerland in 1969. Interestingly, her cousin Alice of Battenberg, widow of Prince Andrew of Greece and mother of the Duke of Edinburgh, also died in 1969. It is Alice who could have inspired the fictional Prince Philip in ‘The Crown’ to utter the line, “A Battenberg refuses to give in”, as someone whose life was full of challenges—notably several Greek revolutions and a lifetime of deafness and misdiagnosed mental illness. Yet she is remembered for the important work she did sheltering Jews in Greece during the Second World War, for which she is recognised as ‘Righteous Among the Nations’ in Israel. After the war, she stayed in Greece and founded an Orthodox nursing order of nuns known as the Christian Sisterhood of Martha and Mary.

Princess Alice with her son the Duke of Edinburgh

Possibly her greatest trial came in November 1937 when her daughter Cecile, Grand Duchess of Hesse, was killed in an air accident in Ostend, alongside her husband, two sons and his mother. This tragedy all but extinguished the junior branch of the House of Hesse (Darmstadt), but the ancient House of Louvain carries on in the line of Hesse-Kassel and in the Mountbattens of Milford Haven. And cake.

(Images taken from Wikimedia Commons and other online copyright free sources)

Dukes of Elbeuf, another branch of the House of Lorraine

One of the most well-known ducal families in French history is the House of Guise, an interesting example of a cadet branch of a family being more famous (or infamous) than the senior branch, the sovereign dukes of Lorraine. The dukes of Guise dominated French politics and diplomatic and religious policy for much of the 16th century, and I’ve written about them in an earlier blogpost.  They were also successful in generating further cadet branches who were themselves also able to sustain a position at the top of the social hierarchy in France, for many generations. One of these branches was the line of Elbeuf. They were the most junior branch of the Lorraine-Guise dynasty, but also outlived the others by more than a century, finally dying out in 1825. The Elbeuf line was further sub-divided into the branches of Harcourt, Lillebonne, Armagnac and Marsan, and this post will look briefly at all of these, and in particular at their extensive landholdings, which, although almost entirely vanished today as built structures, demonstrate clearly the vastness of the spread of a major aristocratic family like this, stretching from Normandy to Provence.

An overview of the House of Lorraine-Guise: René of Elbeuf appears on the second row

The Elbeuf branch was founded by René de Lorraine (1536-1566), the youngest son of the first Duke of Guise. René himself left behind little for historians to write about, dying at only age 30, but his portion of the family patrimony, added to the lands he secured through his marriage to a wealthy heiress, established a lineage that was almost as wealthy and powerful as their cousins in the senior line. René’s name itself was a reflection of his membership in the Lorraine dynasty, the name of his grandfather, Duke René II of Lorraine, and a further ancestor, King René I of Anjou, who reigned as sovereign count of Provence, and as king of Sicily, though mostly in name only. At an early age, René was sent with his older brother to fight with French armies in Italy, then against Imperial armies at Metz, and in 1561, he was sent to Scotland with his niece, Mary, Queen of Scots, to Scotland, as representative of the king of France, but also as ambassador from the family, to ensure a Guise presence in Scottish affairs following the death of his eldest sister, the Queen-Regent Marie de Guise. 

In terms of estates, René’s marriage of 1555 to Louise de Rieux secured the family’s hold over a rich succession that the House of Lorraine had been contesting since the 1450s. Most of these lands were in Normandy, and some in Brittany (like the county of Rieux itself, in south-eastern Brittany, not far from the mouth of the Loire). Chief amongst these was the barony of Elbeuf, which the Lorraine family had successfully claimed in the 15th century (and which was given to young René as his portion of the inheritance), and the county of Harcourt, which they had not.  Both of these large feudal estates lay in the rich fertile lands of upper Normandy, and would provide great wealth for René and Louise’s descendants.

The barony of Elbeuf was erected into a duchy-peerage for René’s son Charles (1556-1605), in 1581. The duchy consisted of the lands of Elbeuf itself, plus other nearby baronies: Quatremares, Routot and others. It included jurisdiction over certain local markets and even over a segment of the river Seine, as it wound its way between Paris and Rouen. The town of Elbeuf itself, in a meander of the river just above Rouen, was already thriving as a centre of cloth production, and as a transmission point for grains onto the river from the high plateau above. The dukes of Elbeuf maintained a residence in the town, near the river—it has long since disappeared, but was located close to where the town hall is today. In the hills above the town was the Collegiate Church of St-Louis de La Saussaye, founded by an earlier lord of Elbeuf in the 1300s and rebuilt in the 16th century, which became the sepulchre for this branch of the House of Lorraine—much damaged in the tumults of the Revolutionary period.

La Saussaye today

In addition to the duchy, Charles de Lorraine was also count of three other Norman territories, Brionne, Lillebonne and Harcourt.  The ancient towers of Brionne and Lillebonne, built by the Normans, were both mostly ruins already by the 16th century, but were important strategic points in controlling the economy of this part of Normandy: Brionne in the high plains southwest of Rouen, and Lillebonne in the lowlands closer to the mouth of the Seine. In between, the Elbeuf patrimony included the sizeable forest of Brotonne, at a time when one of the most reliable sources of aristocratic income was in forestry.

Brionne
Lillebonne

But the real treasure in terms of built heritage was the Château of Harcourt, a few miles east of Brionne. One of the best preserved medieval castles in France, it was the stronghold of the powerful Norman Harcourt dynasty from its inception in the 10th century.  Claiming shared roots with Rollo and other Danish lords who invaded this region, the Harcourt dynasty is one of the most successful and prolific noble families in Europe, with branches in both France and England, though they lost possession of the castle of Harcourt itself via female succession in the early 15th century. It remained an important military stronghold for the Lorraine family well into the 17th century, and the county of Harcourt was held by younger Elbeuf sons, giving them revenues almost as grand as the duchy of Elbeuf itself, then was used as a residence by a junior branch of the line of Elbeuf well into the 18th century before falling into disrepair.

Harcourt

Charles de Lorraine-Elbeuf rose to great prominence at the French court alongside his cousins from the branches of Guise, Aumale and Mayenne. He held the posts of Master of the Horse of France and Master of the Hunt, Governor of the Bourbonnais, and was one of the first members of the Order of the Saint-Esprit.

In 1583, he nearly doubled the size of his estates through a marriage to the heiress Marguerite Chabot, Dame de Pagny. Her father, Leonor, Comte de Charny, was one of the most loyal officers of King Henri III, Master of the Horse, and owner of huge estates in Burgundy.  To his extensive properties in Normandy, the first Duke of Elbeuf now added lordships in Burgundy: Charny in the northwest, and Pagny and other lordships spread along the upper Saône valley in the east. The central buildings at Pagny were mostly destroyed in the 18th century, but the great treasure remains, the marvellous Gothic chapel built in the 12th century by the lords of Pagny and rebuilt in the early 16th century by the powerful nobleman Philippe Chabot, Admiral of France under François I. Pagny was also held by a cadet branch of the line of Elbeuf until it was purchased in 1675 by Louis XIV and bestowed on his illegitimate son, the Comte de Vermandois, who passed it along on his death to his maternal family, the dukes of La Vallière.

the chapel at Pagny

The line of Lorraine-Elbeuf was dealt a terrible blow, however, when Duke Charles suddenly died in 1605, leaving a widow, two underage sons, and four daughters, only one of whom had already been married off, and crucially losing the income derived from major court offices, since underage sons could not act as provincial governors or hold senior court offices.  Marguerite Chabot spent much of the rest of her very long widowhood—nearly 50 years!—battling creditors and rapacious kinsmen who wished to claim parts or all of her succession. By the time her eldest son, Charles II (1596-1657), had reached his majority, a degree of royal favour was re-established, mostly through the marriage to the King’s half-sister, Catherine-Henriette de Bourbon-Vendôme, an illegitimate daughter of Henry IV and Gabrielle d’Estrées.  But this alliance soon soured, and a link to the Vendôme clan and to the King’s rebellious brother Gaston, proved to be a liability in the period of the rise of Cardinal Richelieu, and Charles II was disgraced and sent from court. Elbeuf did later secure a governorship, Picardy, but not a major court office. That honour went instead to his younger brother, Henri, Count of Harcourt (1601-1666), who had been favoured by their mother and given most of the richest properties in Burgundy. Harcourt, almost alone in the family, made an alliance with Richelieu, secured through a marriage to one of the Cardinal’s cousins (and rewarded with lands in Gascony as part of her dowry, and the title Count of Armagnac), and was finally restored to his father’s old court office, Master of the Horse of France—one of the eight major court offices in France, which would remain in the House of Lorraine-Elbeuf from 1643 all the way to the end of the Ancien Régime.

The arms of the cadet branch of the House of Lorraine, with the emblems of the office of Master of the Horse

Denied this great honour, the second Duke of Elbeuf would sink lower in the eyes of the Regency government of Anne of Austria when he supported the rebellious Parlement of Paris during the Fronde, leading their troops against the Crown in 1649. His financial losses during these events further strained an already heavily indebted patrimony, as did the need to provide for three sons, the heir, Charles III, plus François-Louis and François-Marie.  The junior branch of the family now took the lead, headed now by the Count of Harcourt’s eldest sons, Louis, Count of Armagnac (a close favourite of Louis XIV) and Philippe, the Chevalier de Lorraine (an even closer favourite of the King’s brother, Philippe, Duke of Orléans).  This junior branch, enjoying such eminent royal favour as well as the incredibly lucrative office of Master of the Horse, even acted as de facto head of the entire house of Lorraine-Guise after the death of the last member of the senior branch, Mlle de Guise, in 1688.  From her, they inherited one further feudal estate that would lend its name to later members of the family: the barony of Lambesc in Provence. Lambesc had been part of the patrimony of King René in the 15th century, and thus a reminder to the family of its distant claims to royal status in the Mediterranean.

The third Duke of Elbeuf, Charles III (1620-1692), himself never rose to great prominence. He spent much of his time living in his provincial governorship of Picardy (to which had been added Artois, Boulonnais, and the other ‘Pays Conquis’, lands acquired from the Spanish in the 1650s). He had a residence in Paris, the Hôtel d’Elbeuf on the rue Vaugirard (near the Luxembourg Palace), plus residences at Versailles and at Saint-Germain-en-Laye. But despite three advantageous marriages, to heiresses and well-connected court families, Charles remained in debt and maintained a low profile. By the end of his life his estates were sequestered and he lived on a pension paid out by a directorate set up by his creditors.

Charles, 3rd Duke of Elbeuf

Of his younger brothers, François-Louis was given the château and county of Harcourt, and married a major heiress from the southeast of France, Anne d’Ornano, Countess of Montlaur in Languedoc and Marquise de Maubec in Dauphiné—the two properties mirroring each other on either side of the Rhône Valley.  Opting to remove himself from his brother’s financial distress, the Count of Harcourt chose instead to live as a great provincial magnate in the south of France, and established a new line, Lorraine-Harcourt, that continued until the middle of the 18th century.  Their base was the ancient seat of the Montlaur family in Aubenas, where the magnificent château is still the centrepiece of the town. They elevated their status somewhat by taking the title ‘Prince’ of Harcourt, though this title reflected their personal rank as a foreign prince of the House of Lorraine, not any possession of a genuine principality; later they took the title ‘Prince of Guise’, which was actually an estate in the Duchy of Lorraine erected into a ‘principality’ by the Duke of Lorraine in 1718 in an effort to lure back to Lorraine some of the cadets of his dynasty. An effort that worked in this case, as the Prince of Guise sold his lands in the south of France and settled for a time at the court of Lorraine in Lunéville.

Aubenas

The youngest brother, François-Marie, was given the county of Lillebonne, and he too established his independence through marriage to an heiress and shifting his activities away from the court of France. In 1660, he married the daughter of the head of his house, Duke Charles IV of Lorraine, and he became one of the Duke’s most trusted military commanders. He and his wife purchased the sovereign lordship of Commercy, on the borders of Lorraine, where they rebuilt an ancient château and established their own miniature court. Their eldest son, Charles-François, took the title ‘Prince of Commercy’ and, like his friend Prince Eugene of Savoy, left France complaining of a lack of royal patronage in the army, and instead became a leading commander in the armies of the Holy Roman Emperor, before he was killed in the War of Spanish Succession in northern Italy in 1702. Commercy left behind two sisters, both great favourites of the Grand Dauphin (who had to scramble for position once their powerful patron at court died suddenly in 1711—the elder sister becoming abbess of the powerful Abbey of Remiremont in Lorraine), and his estates ultimately passed to his uncle, his mother’s brother, the Prince of Vaudémont, who continued to convert Commercy into a miniature Versailles, which is mostly still standing today.

Commercy, later in the 18th century

One final sibling of Duke Charles III remains to be mentioned, Marie-Marguerite-Ignace, Mlle d’Elbeuf, who, unusually, remained single her entire life and never entered a convent. She obtained a major court office, dame du palais of Queen Marie-Thérèse, and her own portion of the Elbeuf patrimony, notably lands in Burgundy which enabled her to purchase the County of Rosnay in Champagne. She also inherited one of the largest non-royal residences in Paris, to rival the Hôtel de Guise itself a few streets away in the Marais, known as the Hôtel de Mayenne, and later as the Hôtel de Lillebonne after she bequeathed it to her nieces: today it still stands, on the rue Saint-Antoine, just inside the Place de la Bastille, inhabited by the Lycée des Francs-Bourgeois, and recently restored to its former glory as a monument to mid-17th-century urban architecture. If you look closely, you can see the double cross of Lorraine in its windows.

the Hotel de Mayenne today

This brings us to the 18th century, and the existence of four sub-branches of the House of Lorraine-Elbeuf: Elbeuf, Harcourt, Armagnac and Marsan. The last of these was established from the youngest brother of the Count of Armagnac and the Chevalier de Lorraine, and took its name from the viscounty of Marsan in the far southwest, near Toulouse. Landholdings in this area were augmented, again through marriage to the heiress of the lordship of Pons in Saintonge (near Bordeaux), and through the gift of another property in the Duchy of Lorraine, the lordship of Lixheim (or Lixin). Not do be outdone by their cousins of the Harcourt branch, the last members of this branch therefore called themselves ‘Prince of Pons’ and ‘Prince of Lixin’. One of the  most prominent members of this line of princes was the Comtesse de Marsan, Marie-Louise de Rohan, who, as Governess of the Royal Children of France, looked after the early childhood development of Louis XVI, Louis XVIII and Charles X, and gave her name to one of the restored elements of the Tuileries Palace, the Pavillon de Marsan, today part of the Louvre.

Pavillon de Marsan (left) today, and the Marsan wing of the Louvre (rebuilt after its destruction in the 1870s)

The line of Harcourt as we have seen sold its southern properties in the early years of the eighteenth century; similarly, the line of Elbeuf sold the county of Lillebonne in 1701—in this case, back to the House of Harcourt, who were on the rise again, and created dukes in 1709 (though not regaining their old château of Harcourt, so the dukedom was instead based on other estates further west in Normandy).  The new Duke, Henri (1661-1748), restored much of his family’s honour as a successful military commander (notably being raised more as a nephew of the great General Turenne than as a prince of Lorraine), and continued to administer his father’s provincial governorships of Picardy, Artois and the Pays Conquis (adding much of Hainaut when it was conquered during the War of Spanish Succession).  He was also now the head of the cadet branch of the House of Lorraine, and as such represented the Duke of Lorraine in ceremonies at Versailles, notably marrying as a proxy spouse the King’s niece, Elisabeth-Charlotte d’Orléans, in 1698, and escorting her to the frontier to meet her new husband, the Duke. As a further mark of royal favour, Elbeuf married a niece of Madame de Montespan, but ultimately his line failed as his son and heir was killed in battle in northern Italy.

A page from the Gazette de France showing the 4th Duke of Elbeuf (centre) as proxy groom for the marriage of the Duke of Lorraine and Princess Elisabeth-Charlotte d’Orléans. Symbols of the Duchy of Lorraine are all over this image.

The heir of the Duchy of Elbeuf was therefore the 4th Duke’s much younger brother, Emmanuel-Maurice (1677-1763), known as the ‘Prince d’Elbeuf’. As a young man he had made himself unpopular at court, with the King and with his brother—the reasons for this are not clear—and he went instead into service of the armies of the Emperor, then fighting in Italy. He became a general in the cavalry for Imperial troops in Naples, married the daughter of a local grandee, the Duke of Salza, and, while attempting to renovate his villa south of the city, accidentally discovered the remains of the Roman city of Herculaneum.  Returning to France after the War of Spanish Succession, he found himself excluded from his family, so, like Guise and Lixheim, was lured to the court of the Duke of Lorraine and resided for a time a the Château of Gondreville, west of Nancy.  Although he succeeded to his older brother’s title as 5th Duke of Elbeuf in 1748, he was coerced into selling the lands to his cousin and future heir (since he himself remained childless).  As the 5th Duke, he also had a new wife, Innocente-Catherine de Rougé, daughter of the Marquis du Plessis-Bellière, and widow of the Marquis de Coëtenfao. As a widow again, late in life the Duchess of Elbeuf was an eyewitness to the French Revolution, and her surviving letters now form the core of an exciting new research project “Revolutionary Duchess” (see http://revolutionaryduchess.exeter.ac.uk/duchess/ )

Gondreville

Finally, in 1763, the title Duke of Elbeuf was restored to its lands, passing to the great-great-grandson of the Count of Armagnac, and reuniting finally the ducal title with the office of Master of the Horse, and the now almost hereditary office of Governor of Anjou. Charles-Eugène (1751-1825) was only a child, but times had changed since the family lost the post of Master of the Horse back in 1605—this time, a minor was confirmed in the office, while his mother, the indomitable Countess of Brionne (Louise-Julie-Constance de Rohan-Rochefort), governed the King’s stables herself, the only instance I know of where a woman held one of the great court offices of France (and was named in documents ‘Grande Ecuyère de France’). Though technically the 6th Duke of Elbeuf, Charles-Eugène instead took the title ‘Prince of Lambesc’, perhaps as a nod to the country’s shift back towards the Mediterranean as a military power (following the defeat in North America in 1763); at about the same time, his cousin, the last member of the line of Marsan, was named Governor of Provence, an important governorship that had last been held by the Lorraine-Guise before their great fall from grace in 1630.  In a subtle way, this title may have been a re-assertion of the family’s ancient claims to royal status in the Mediterranean, a reminder of the glorious Provençal court of ‘le Bon Roi René’. And indeed, Lambesc’s uncle, Camille, was abbot of St-Victor, the most important abbey in Marseille, and since 1768, his sister, Joséphine had been married to the Prince of Savoy-Carignano and lived across the Alps in Turin. Was this a family re-orientation towards the Mediterranean? At the same time, however, Lambesc’s brother, Joseph-Marie took the title ‘Prince de Vaudémont’, a re-assertion of the family’s ties with the Duchy of Lorraine, now firmly part of France, and their sister, Anne-Charlotte, was established as the Abbess of Remiremont, the most prominent abbey in that region.

The Prince of Lambesc, last Duke of Elbeuf

But the name Lambesc did not become famous as a restorer of his family’s prominence in Provence or Lorraine; instead, it was a name that became linked with the failure of Royal attempts to repress the outbreak of the French Revolution in July 1789. In fact, the Prince of Lambesc’s actions, in calling for shots to be fired on a crowd of protestors in the Tuileries Gardens on the 12th of July, may in fact have stoked the flames of violence that followed on the 14th.

See here for a recent blog I wrote about this event for the People’s History Museum in Manchester:

Shortly after the Revolution broke out, he and his brother both emigrated to Vienna, where they served in Imperial armies, and were well treated, considered as ‘princes of the blood’ of the Imperial house, since the House of Lorraine had succeeded the House of Habsburg since the 1740s. Neither brother returned to France, even after the Restoration of 1814, and even after the office of Master of the Horse was formally re-invested in the Prince of Lambesc in absentia—and the line of Dukes of Elbeuf came to an end in 1825.

the coat of arms of the House of Lorraine on a fountain in the town of Lambesc in Provence

(images from Wikimedia Commons or photos by the author)

To read more about the Elbeuf branch of the family of Lorraine-Guise, see Stuart Carroll, Noble Power During the French Wars of Religion (1998) for the sixteenth century; and Jonathan Spangler, The Society of Princes (2009) for the seventeenth.