Part 95: The Coburg Love Affair
The King and his Mistress
The relationship between Leopold and his children has been well documented and detailed as mentioned in previous chapters. He was a doting father to his daughter Katherine, upon whom he showered all his parental love and affection. He was strict, yet fair to his second son Alexander owing to the latter’s skills and the strong resemblance to himself. Finally, he was cold at best and abusive at worst to his eldest son and heir, Constantine whom he constantly ridiculed and neglected. Yet the relationship between King Leopold and their mother, his wife Queen Marie of Württemberg has been much harder to discern.
On the surface, King Leopold was portrayed as a faithful, if somewhat distant husband to his wife of 29 years. They were regularly seen together either walking down the main promenade of Athens or riding horses across through the Attica countryside – one of the few pastimes that still brought visible excitement to Leopold. They would regularly entertain guests in the Royal Palace, whilst on quieter occasions they would sit together and read in their study for hours on end. He would confide in her and listen to her counsel on matters of state and foreign policy – even if he didn’t always follow it. Finally, they had had three successful children and numerous grandchildren with more on the way, ensuring that their line would continue for generations to come. Yet, despite all this, there was something amiss with their marriage.
For one, Leopold was more than 25 years her senior, having been born in 1790, whilst she was born in 1816. Although age gaps between spouses was certainly common, especially among royal couples; the great magnitude of this difference was certainly an outlier even by the standards of the day. By all rights, Leopold was old enough to be her father - coincidentally he was only 9 years younger than her actual father, King Wilhelm of Württemberg. Moreover, owing to their vastly different ages, the two had vastly different experiences growing up which would shape them in completely different ways.
Having been born on the 16th of December 1790, the first twenty-five years of Leopold’s life would be shaped by tragedy and strife brought on by the French Revolution and Napoleonic Wars. In late 1806, his homeland the Ernestine Duchy of Saxe-Coburg and Saalfeld was occupied by the French during the War of the Fourth Coalition after his father had made the disastrous decision to join Prussia in its fight against the Corsican Devil.[1] Broken by this defeat, Leopold’s father Duke Francis died soon after, whilst his brother Ernest and mother Augusta Reuss were forced to flee to Russia for refuge. Leopold himself was taken as a hostage and later sent to Paris in return for an end to French occupation of the Duchy. After some time as a captive in France, he would escape to Russia where he would serve during the Patriotic War of 1812 and following War of the Sixth Coalition, making a name for himself as a brave and dashing cavalry officer culminating in the Battle of the Nations at Leipzig. Sadly, the end of war and defeat of Napoleon would not signal an end to Leopold’s hardships or his tragedies, but it would offer a brief respite.
In early 1816 on a chance meeting in London, Leopold met Charlotte Princess of Wales, the heiress to the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland. The two would quickly develop a romantic attraction for one another and fell deeper and deeper into love in the coming months. By the end of the May, the two were wed and within a year, Charlotte was pregnant with their first child. Sadly, this happiness was but a fleeting moment in Leopold’s otherwise dreadful life as their infant son was stillborn. Completing the tragedy would be the death of Princess Charlotte hours later due to medical complications from the miscarriage. Devastated by these twin losses, Leopold retreated into a self-imposed solitude and stupor for 13 long years, barely stirring from Claremont House. When he was finally called upon to become King of Greece in 1830 by his British paymasters, he was a markedly different man. Where he was once kind and compassionate, he was now cold and callous. Where he had been once been brave and dashing, he had now become cautious and calculating.
Claremont House; Leopold’s home for 14 years
Queen Marie, meanwhile, was born on the 30th of October 1816 and would be raised during a time of general peace and prosperity across Europe as the Corsican Devil was defeated and the Old Order was finally restored. Unlike Leopold she would experience no wars or civil unrest, she would not need to flee to distant lands or fight in terrible wars. No, her childhood was an ideal one filled with love and family. The only tragedy Marie that would experience in her youth was the loss of her birth mother, Grand Duchess Katherine Pavlona of Russia in 1819. Yet, as she was only a small child at the time Marie hardly knew her at the time of her death. Soon after, her father, King William married his cousin, Duchess Pauline of Württemberg, and whilst this could have complicated young Marie’s life, her stepmother readily accepted Marie and her sister Sophie into her loving embrace, raising the two girls as if they were her own. Whilst her youth was certainly charmed, her marriage would not be as fortunate.
Though Leopold still retained most of his famous good looks at the time of their marriage in early 1833, he was emotionally distant and dreadfully dull. Moreover, his marriage to Marie was based more upon good business and politics, than on love or genuine affection between the two. Leopold certainly cared for her, or rather he cared for what she represented to him – a connection to one of the great distinguished houses of Europe and all the prestige and respect that marriage would bring to him. She knew all this, yet it still hurt her deeply that the man she was to marry had little love for her as a person. Ever the dutiful daughter, Marie would maintain appearances during the wedding service for the sake of her family, but behind closed doors she would later admit to her maids and ladies that she wept all throughout her wedding night. After spending a fortnight in Stuttgart, the royal couple would depart for Greece in what was to be another troubling event for the young Queen as she left the land of her birth for a distant and unruly land on the cusp of civilization.
Although Leopold was a cold and rather loveless man, he was not heartless or cruel to young Marie and would slowly win her affections through his gentle and respectful demeanor. Thanks to good providence, three children would be born from this union and to all it seemed as if Leopold and Marie had finally come to understand one another, if not love each other. Perhaps they did for a time. Yet the loss of their fourth child (a stillborn son) upended whatever affection had grown between them in their seven years of marriage. Both King and Queen were said to be deeply aggrieved by the loss of their fourth child as they went into mourning for several weeks. Yet, their grief would affect them in completely different ways.
Seeking to replace the loss of her fourth child through the nurturing of her first three, Queen Marie would devote herself to them more than ever before. She would dote on them whenever possible, giving her love freely and endlessly, whilst also providing them with toys and trinkets whenever Leopold would permit them. More than that, she would take on a more active role in their education and development; selecting instructors, preparing curriculum and providing them with opportunities to grow and have new experiences.
Queen Marie of Greece, circa 1834
In sharp contrast, King Leopold would withdraw further into himself. He would distance himself from his wife, both figuratively and literally, as he refrained from sharing the same bed as her for the remainder of their marriage. Yet Leopold did not suddenly choose the life of an ascetic, nor that of a chaste monk to ease his melancholy. No, it is likely that he simply did not wish to see his dear wife, suffer, and die in childbirth as his beloved Charlotte had so many years before. Instead, he would look for loose women and cheap thrills to fill the hole in his cold heart and satisfy the lustful urges he still possessed.
In what was perhaps, one of his worst kept secrets, King Leopold had a propensity for having several mistresses throughout his lifetime. Although it is unknown how many extramarital affairs Leopold engaged in over the years, there were a few noteworthy women to enter his life. The first was the German actress Caroline Bauer, niece of Leopold’s close friend and confidante Doctor Christian Friedrich Stockmar. Owing to her eerily close resemblance to his late wife Princess Charlotte, the two would develop a rather close relationship with one another, with Caroline showing great love and loyalty towards the dour Prince in their short time together. Although Leopold refrained from opening his heart to her fully, he did open his home to Caroline and her mother (Baron Stockmar’s sister). Because of this many believed that Leopold had married the woman. These rumors eventually proved untrue – much to Caroline’s disappointment, but they would continue to persist until Leopold formally broke off all relations with her in 1830 upon taking the Greek Throne.
Although he had ended his relations with Caroline Bauer upon arriving in Greece in 1830, he did not swear himself off from romantic flings as he quickly established relations with a number of women in the nascent Greek Court soon after arriving in his new Kingdom. To what extent these relations progressed, none but Leopold and those women can say. Nonetheless, it can be confirmed that Leopold was quite keen on the Phanariot actress Rallou Karatza during the first months of his reign, with particularly salacious rumors claiming the pair shared a few nights together in 1831. Similarly, rumors contend that Katarina Botsaris was also a familiar of the King. Although Katarina would reveal that she had tender feelings for King Leopold as a youthful girl, she remained adamant they did not engage in sexual activities together, nor was her dignity besmirched through promiscuity. Owing to her father’s good reputation and great influence - along with a few underhanded suggestions of violence by his followers, these rumors didn’t persist very long.
To his credit, Leopold would refrain from engaging in any extramarital affairs after his marriage to Queen Marie to not offend his young and fertile and beautiful wife (and his rather potent in-laws). Yet, as the years progressed and Marie’s beauty began to fade and her child baring years passed her by, Leopold’s lustful eyes began to wander. They need not look far as they would eventually settle upon one of his wife’s companions, the lady Fotini Mavromichali.
Granddaughter of famed Maniot chieftain Petros "Petrobey" Mavromichalis, Fotini was born in 1826 just prior to Ibrahim Pasha’s campaign in the Mani. There she would spend much of her childhood; only occasionally venturing out of Laconia alongside her father Anastasios on his business trips to Athens. Yet following her 17th birthday, her father brought her with him to the Capital as he had done many times before, yet on this specific occasion she would catch the eye of Queen Marie. The two quickly formed a rapport and within days she was brought into the Queen’s retinue as a lady in waiting. Known for her beauty as well as her kindness and great wit, Fotini was well regarded in the Greek court and quickly developed a fondness with the young Princess Katherine, effectively becoming a surrogate older sister for the young girl.
Fotini was also incredibly popular with many of the young men in court, who frequently romanced her and asked for her favor. Even the young prince Constantine is said to have been smitten by her beauty when he first laid eyes on her. Yet, being little more than a child at their first meeting and being highly inexperience in the art of romance, he failed to win her affections or her interest beyond a passing respect for his royal station much to young Constantine’s dismay. Twisting the knife even further, it would be his father King Leopold who earned her affections instead.
Fotini Mavromichalis, longtime mistress of King Leopold
Although official accounts on the beginning of their love affair are sparse, it is believed that Leopold first began courting the Mavromichalis girl within a few weeks of her arrival in Athens in late 1843. Try as she might to resist him at first, she would eventually succumb to his relentless advances sometime during the Spring of 1845, beginning an illicit affair that would last for the better part of the next two decades.[2] Slowly, but surely, rumors would begin to circulate first through the palace and then throughout Athens of Leopold’s infidelity. Hoping to cover his tracks and mitigate the bad press, he would arrange a fitting match for Fotini with Naval Commander Andreas Miaoulis in the Summer of 1846.
Lieutenant Commander Miaoulis was himself the grandson of the famed Hydriot Admiral Andreas Miaoulis and had joined the Hellenic Navy in 1836. Owing to his great skill and family connections within the Navy, Andreas would quickly rise through the ranks, earning the highly prestigious – if somewhat dull assignment as the ship captain for King Leopold’s leisure yacht
Hellas. Despite the great differences in age and upbringing, the two developed a rather strong bond with one another based on their shared interests in the sea and their respective military experiences. Miaoulis was also known to be unquestionably loyal to Leopold, whom he considered as a friend and mentor. Regrettably, it was this very relationship that Leopold now sought to exploit.
Using Miaoulis’ prominent position in the King’s retinue as an excuse, Fotini could be kept nearer to Leopold, whilst her husband was conveniently occupied with the King’s business. Loyal Miaoulis, remained blissfully unaware of his liege’s true machinations and began courting Fotini upon Leopold’s suggestion in early 1846. Either through genuine affection for one another, or out of loyalty to Leopold, Fotini accepted Andreas’ proposal of marriage with King Leopold giving his blessing for the match on the 11th of June 1846. With a cover now established, the lovers were free to continue their affair in the shadows.
Eventually, Fotini would temporarily resign from the Queen’s service during the Fall of 1847, only to return to her service the following Spring after giving birth to a son, who was coincidentally named Leo. Although many would pretend otherwise, most assumed that the boy was the son of the King given his features and the alleged timing of his conception as his legal father was out of the country at the time.
Queen Marie for her part would feign ignorance, although she would dismiss Fotini from her service several months later – officially to provide her with more time to raise her son. Her attitude towards Leopold became noticeably different, however. Although she had always deferred to her husband and respected his judgement, by the late 1840’s/early 1850’s she became increasingly solemn and meek towards him, if not melancholic when in his company. Perhaps she felt as if she had failed him in some capacity or maybe she felt as if she had slighted him in some manner, justifying this betrayal. Hurt and confused as she was, Marie would not condemn Leopold for his infidelity, nor would she call him out on it in public enabling Leopold to continue with his affair as if nothing had happened at all.
Outside of this child's birth and all the rumors surrounding the boy’s true parentage, there would be few ramifications for Leopold as he remained both popular and prestigious and growed more popular still in the coming years. Leopold’s “patronage” of reputable journalists would also help to cover the King’s tracks as these writers and reporters would often dismiss the King’s extramarital adventures as idle gossip and slander against the Monarchy, whilst muddying the waters with stories of the King's successes and triumphs. Similarly, Leopold would go to great lengths to secure the support of the Mavromichali clan through various appointments to prominent positions in court for Fotini’s brothers Petros and Konstantinos, the Governorship of Laconia for her father Anastasios, and seats in the Senate for her other distinguished uncles and cousins. For a time then, it would have seemed that the issue was at an end. Little Leo was raised unaware of his royal lineage, whilst his “father”, Andreas magnanimously accepted the child as his own and made no further fuss about the issue – at least in public.
This state of affairs would continue for the better part of the next 15 years with the lovers seeing each other sporadically, until early May of 1862 when Queen Marie’s father, King Wilhelm I of Württemberg died from a stroke at the age of 80. Although he was quite old and Württemberg - like much of Germany, was awash with unrest and nationalistic fervor, his death was still rather sudden and unexpected for Queen Marie as he had been reportedly in good health only weeks before his passing. Despondent at the loss of her dear father, the Queen immediately departed for Stuttgart, accompanied by her sons and a number of her ladies. Noticeably absent from this Royal party was King Leopold, who was himself ill at the time and was unable to make the long journey with his wife to Germany. Despite her grief, Marie initially offered to stay and tend to her ailing husband, yet out of "true compassion" Leopold encouraged her to go without him, which she reluctantly agreed to.
Funeral Procession of King William I of Württemberg
With his wife and sons conveniently away from the Palace for the next few months, Leopold was thus presented with a golden opportunity to enjoy the company of his longtime mistress who quickly rushed to join him within a day of the Queen's departure. Although her looks had begun to fade by the 1860’s, Leopold still cherished his mistress and doted on her as he did his daughter long ago. Perhaps it was the absence of his beloved Katherine that prompted Leopold to call upon his longtime lover at this time. Or maybe it was a spur of the moment decision with his wife and sons away in Württemberg. Or perhaps, he had genuine feelings for her that went beyond looks and sex. Either way, Fotini Miaoulis was boldly seen entering the King’s bed chambers multiple times over the coming weeks and months, much to the concern and shock of the palace staff. Although his defenders would describe these interactions as that of one friend nursing another back to good health, his detractors would decry Leopold as fraternizing with his mistress whilst his grieving wife and children mourned her father in Stuttgart.
Although this was certainly a bad look for King Leopold, the worst was still to come as young Leo Miaoulis accompanied his mother to the Palace one day in late June. Instantly it became clear whose son he really was. Although barely 14 years of age, young Leo was the spitting image of King Leopold during his youth. He was tall, well muscled, with dark hair and a handsome face featuring the Coburg family’s famous good looks. Unable to deny the truth in front of him, the King and the “Miaoulis boy” would share a few words with one another in public, before departing behind closed doors for a much longer interaction. Sadly, what was said during this exchange was not recorded, but according to second-hand accounts, King Leopold all but confirmed young Leo’s true heritage to the boy and a group of his closest confidantes. Despite their best efforts at secrecy, this information quickly cascaded outwards throughout the Palace and then into the city of Athens.
For the boy’s legal father, Andreas Miaoulis the timing couldn’t have been worse. His life over the last decade and a half had been anything but blessed. His health had deteriorated, his looks had declined, and two of his children (a daughter named Chrissida and a son named Dimitrios) died of cholera in 1856. Moreover, his Naval career came to an abrupt end following the Lebanon Expedition in 1860. Whilst cruising off the coast of Sidon, his ship would come under fire from a pair of small fletches under the control of the Arab rebels. Despite being a veteran Navy captain of 24 years, the altercation greatly unnerved him as a nearby cabin boy was struck in the gut by a 6 pounder, disemboweling him instantly. Seeing a young boy no older than his own son die before him in an extremely excruciating manner, Captain Miaoulis succumbed to a minor nervous breakdown prompting his first mate to assume command in his stead.
Upon his return to Greece later that year, Andreas was promptly cashiered from the service citing problems with his health. Thereafter, he had troubling holding employment for longer than a few months before his deteriorating mindset forced him to retreat into isolation for weeks at a time to recover. Beyond the obvious financial problems caused by this, there were also a number of problems for his marriage with Fotini, whose status as a prominent Athenian socialite was dependent upon the appearance of a stable marriage and an opulent lifestyle. On several occasions between the Fall of 1860 and the Spring of 1862, no less than two dozen Gendarmeries were called to the Miaoulis household in downtown Athens to breakup spats between the embattled husband and his disgruntled wife.
Now came the renewed rumors of his wife’s infidelity, rumors which were confirmed in the harshest manner possible with the revelation that his eldest son was in fact the child of King Leopold. Although he had always suspected the truth regarding Leo's lineage – if not known it outright, Andreas Miaoulis had always treated him as his own. He had loved the boy and truly believed him to be his own, if not by blood than at least by choice. Yet this revelation still stung deeply. Moreover, he did not find a sympathetic press willing to support him in this distressing time. Instead, he would find himself being mocked as a cuckold and a fool. His marriage was revealed to be a sham, his eldest son wasn’t his own, and his close friend, the King was actually his greatest betrayer. Heartbroken and betrayed, Andreas Miaoulis would draw his service pistol and shoot himself in the head on the 20th of October 1862, killing him instantly.[3]
The Death of Andreas Miaoulis
For Leopold, this was an utter disaster.
At first, he would attempt to brush off Miaoulis’ suicide as an unfortunate coincidence brought about by his mental instability. Yet when this proved insufficient at diverting public attention; he and his supporters would instead go on the offensive, decrying his adversaries in the press and legislature for using the death of his close friend as a political weapon against him. Though this would work to some degree, it would soon be upended when a half dozen women came forward, claiming they had sired children with the King. Although most would be turned away as gossipers and liars, at least two of these claimants would be considered legitimate. The first was a former maid in the Palace, whose thirteen-year-old daughter Sophie bore a striking resemblance to Princess Katherine. The other was a young boy named Georgios, whose mother was not publicly identified beyond her name of Anna.[4] He was a stocky boy of 6 and had a a thick head of hair and a face similar to that of Prince Alexander when he was a small child making it apparent to all whose son he was.
Faced with mounting pressure from his adversaries and even some of his allies; King Leopold had little recourse but to publicly acknowledge his errors, admit his faults, and beseech the Greek people for their forgiveness. A magnanimous people by nature, the Hellenes, begrudgingly forgave their erstwhile King, but only after he had made sure to provide reparations to the aggrieved Miaoulis family for their tragic loss. Although the total sum was not officially revealed, the personal funds Leopold set aside would provide for the Miaoulis children for years to come. For his other children, Leopold would provide enough funds for their mothers to live comfortable lives, whilst Leopold would make various arrangements regarding their education and upbringing.
The Hellenic Legislature was less forgiving, as they formally denounced the King’s unfaithfulness towards his lawful wife and moved to censure him. The Vouli would also establish an oversight committee to oversee the Monarchy’s finances in general, but particularly those of the reigning monarch. Effectively, this was to ensure that the King wasn’t wasting the people’s money on his superfluous relationships and hush money on nosy journalists. This was not enough for some, as many of the Republicans and Socialists within the Vouli attempted to initiate an investigation into Leopold’s wrongdoings to see if he had perjured himself before the Vouli or committed any crimes with his numerous affairs and attempted coverups. Were it not for the stern leadership of Prime Minister Constantine Kanaris, it is possible that something more could have actually come of these investigations. Instead these matters were quashed and shelved, albeit at a great cost to Kanaris' already flagging health and political capital.
The true crucible, however, would come with the return of his wife Marie and their sons Constantine and Alexander. For Prince Constantine, this development effectively ended their relationship once and for all. Although he relished in his father’s public humiliation, Constantine could not help but feel that his father had tarnished the Crown’s good name in the waning days of his reign. Moreover, he despised his father for betraying their mother in the manner that he did and would henceforth refuse to speak to Leopold in person, only choosing to communicate with him via letters or intermediaries. Prince Alexander would be a little more reserved in his response, choosing to keep up appearances in public for the sake of the family. Yet in private, he would similarly distance himself from his father and only make amends with Leopold a few days prior to his death. Ironically, it would be Queen Marie who was the least hostile towards Leopold despite being the most aggrieved. Either out of genuine love for her husband or out of a keen political acumen, Queen Marie publicly forgave her lecherous husband for his infidelities against her and humbly asked that the people of Greece do so too. What was said in private between husband and wife is unknown however.
Regardless, Leopold’s extramarital affairs were formally ended in January 1863 as Fotini Miaoulis would promptly leave Athens and return to the Mani where she would reside with her family for the rest of her days. Not much is known about the other women in Leopold’s life after 1862, only that they similarly kept low profiles and disappeared from public life soon after the scandal became public knowledge. Years later, Fotini’s son Leo Miaoulis would follow his royal half-brothers into the Military, yet in honor of his late “father" Andreas, he would join the Navy and enjoy a long and storied career. Leopold’s other children, Sophie and Georgios would remain with their respective mothers until they came of age, with Leopold continually planning their education and development until his own death in 1864. Eventually, the matter would pass as other issues came to the fore of Greek politics and so it was, that the Hellenic Monarchy weathered its most fearsome storm yet. Whether they would weather the next crisis was anyone’s guess.
Next Time: The End of the Beginning
[1] Leopold’s brother, Ernest served in the battles of Jena and Auerstadt alongside the Prussians, whilst his other brother Ferdinand served in the Battles of Aspern-Essling and Wagram with the Austrians. All three brothers would reunite during the War of the Sixth Coalition where they all served with distinction.
[2] The OTL Fotini Mavromichali was also a lady in waiting to Queen Amalie of Greece, and it is rumored that she had an affair with King Otto. ITTL they aren’t just rumors.
[3] The tragic end of TTL’s Andreas Miaoulis is conjecture based upon his OTL suicide in 1887.
[4] OTL Leopold had at least two children out of wedlock.