A Treasury of Royal Scandals: The Shocking True Stories History's Wickedest Weirdest Most Wanton Kings Queens by Michael Farquhar Page A
Authors: Michael Farquhar
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Crown Prince Joseph, as heir to the throne, was given top priority in the marriage market. Luckily for him, he actually fell in love with the mate chosen for him, Princess Isabella of Parma. Unfortunately, Isabella’s affections were directed elsewhere. She had a major crush on Joseph’s sister, Christina. “I am told that the day begins with God,” Isabella gushed to Christina in a letter. “I, however, begin the day by thinking of the object of my love, for I think of her incessantly.”
Empress Maria Theresa would never have tolerated a lesbian relationship between daughter and daughter-in-law, but the issue became moot when Isabella died suddenly from smallpox at age twenty-one. The prince was devastated by his loss, but his mother, ever conscious of dynastic priorities, quickly married him off again. Joseph was given a choice of two brides, neither of whom stirred much desire in him. “I prefer not to marry either,” he announced to his mother, “but since you are holding a knife to my throat, I will take [Princess Josepha of Bavaria], because, from what I hear, she at least has fine breasts.”
Josepha’s breasts, alas, were a disappointment, along with the rest of her. She was short, thickset, and painfully ugly, with festering sores all over her body and bad teeth. Joseph was repulsed by his bride and avoided her at all costs. “They want me to have children,” he wrote despondently. “How can we have them? If I could put the tip of my finger on the tiniest part of her body, which was not covered with pimples, I would try to have children.” Poor Josepha, abandoned and humiliated, suddenly died of smallpox like her predecessor, though this time her husband was not particularly moved by grief.
The smallpox epidemic also saved several of Joseph’s siblings from horrible marriages. His brother Charles died of it before a match could be arranged for him, while his sister Elizabeth, once the great beauty of the family, was so scarred by the disease that no suitor would have her and she was forced into a bitter spinsterhood. Another daughter, Josepha, died just in the nick of time. She had been betrothed to Ferdinand, the child-king of Naples, renowned for his stupidity. He was so dumb, in fact, that his father decided he should be spared the rigors of an education. Needless to say, Josepha was not pleased with the match and made it abundantly clear. Her mother, however, was determined. “I consider Josepha a sacrifice to politics,” the empress wrote firmly to her daughter’s governess, “and if she fulfills her duty to her husband and her God, I shall be content . . . I hope my daughter will not be selfish; she has a tendency in that direction.”
Mercifully, on the day she was to leave Austria to become Queen of Naples, Josepha also succumbed to smallpox. Young King Ferdinand was not terribly upset over the death of his intended. An English ambassador reported seeing him playing funeral, amid much hilarity, with a pal dressed up like the dead Josepha—complete with chocolate dotted all over his face to resemble smallpox. Besides, what was the loss of one sister when another was waiting in the wings to take her place?
That sister, Caroline, was equally displeased with the arrangement. Bitterly homesick, she called her life in Naples “a martyrdom,” and wrote: “I now know what marriage is, and I have a deep pity for [youngest sister] Antoinette who has yet to experience marriage. I admit frankly that I would rather die than be forced to live again what I have gone through. If I had not been taught by my religion to think of God, I should have killed myself, for it was hell to live like that for a week. I shall weep bitterly if ever my sister is in the same situation.”
Sadly, young Antoinette found herself in a very similar situation. She was pawned off to the dauphin of France, the future King Louis XVI, in what her mother considered the ultimate diplomatic coup with Austria’s ancient
Crown Prince Joseph, as heir to the throne, was given top priority in the marriage market. Luckily for him, he actually fell in love with the mate chosen for him, Princess Isabella of Parma. Unfortunately, Isabella’s affections were directed elsewhere. She had a major crush on Joseph’s sister, Christina. “I am told that the day begins with God,” Isabella gushed to Christina in a letter. “I, however, begin the day by thinking of the object of my love, for I think of her incessantly.”
Empress Maria Theresa would never have tolerated a lesbian relationship between daughter and daughter-in-law, but the issue became moot when Isabella died suddenly from smallpox at age twenty-one. The prince was devastated by his loss, but his mother, ever conscious of dynastic priorities, quickly married him off again. Joseph was given a choice of two brides, neither of whom stirred much desire in him. “I prefer not to marry either,” he announced to his mother, “but since you are holding a knife to my throat, I will take [Princess Josepha of Bavaria], because, from what I hear, she at least has fine breasts.”
Josepha’s breasts, alas, were a disappointment, along with the rest of her. She was short, thickset, and painfully ugly, with festering sores all over her body and bad teeth. Joseph was repulsed by his bride and avoided her at all costs. “They want me to have children,” he wrote despondently. “How can we have them? If I could put the tip of my finger on the tiniest part of her body, which was not covered with pimples, I would try to have children.” Poor Josepha, abandoned and humiliated, suddenly died of smallpox like her predecessor, though this time her husband was not particularly moved by grief.
The smallpox epidemic also saved several of Joseph’s siblings from horrible marriages. His brother Charles died of it before a match could be arranged for him, while his sister Elizabeth, once the great beauty of the family, was so scarred by the disease that no suitor would have her and she was forced into a bitter spinsterhood. Another daughter, Josepha, died just in the nick of time. She had been betrothed to Ferdinand, the child-king of Naples, renowned for his stupidity. He was so dumb, in fact, that his father decided he should be spared the rigors of an education. Needless to say, Josepha was not pleased with the match and made it abundantly clear. Her mother, however, was determined. “I consider Josepha a sacrifice to politics,” the empress wrote firmly to her daughter’s governess, “and if she fulfills her duty to her husband and her God, I shall be content . . . I hope my daughter will not be selfish; she has a tendency in that direction.”
Mercifully, on the day she was to leave Austria to become Queen of Naples, Josepha also succumbed to smallpox. Young King Ferdinand was not terribly upset over the death of his intended. An English ambassador reported seeing him playing funeral, amid much hilarity, with a pal dressed up like the dead Josepha—complete with chocolate dotted all over his face to resemble smallpox. Besides, what was the loss of one sister when another was waiting in the wings to take her place?
That sister, Caroline, was equally displeased with the arrangement. Bitterly homesick, she called her life in Naples “a martyrdom,” and wrote: “I now know what marriage is, and I have a deep pity for [youngest sister] Antoinette who has yet to experience marriage. I admit frankly that I would rather die than be forced to live again what I have gone through. If I had not been taught by my religion to think of God, I should have killed myself, for it was hell to live like that for a week. I shall weep bitterly if ever my sister is in the same situation.”
Sadly, young Antoinette found herself in a very similar situation. She was pawned off to the dauphin of France, the future King Louis XVI, in what her mother considered the ultimate diplomatic coup with Austria’s ancient
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