Sunday, January 23, 2011
Was Queen Charlotte Black?
Last year I published an e-novel titled, Mulatto Queen:Mother of All Europe. The Mullato is Queen Charlotte Sophia, consort to England's King George III. The story I weaved was an attempt to how a German princess who looked like a mulatto ended up the wife of the most powerful monarch of time (mid-to-late 1700s). George III was England's king during the American revolution. How is it possible that upon her appearance in England her Negroid features weren't immediately detected and the whole royal marriage called off?
Well, you'll have to read my book to find that out, but the evidence she was mulatto is readily available on the net so I'll review most of it here.
At the top of the list is a description of Queen Charlotte made by her son-in-law's physicain,Baron Stockmar:
"Small and crooked, with a true Mulatto face."
Baron Christian Stockmar, MD
http://tinyurl.com/27ryc3b
Please note two things about this quote: First, the word "true"; Second, the capital M used in mulatto. Clearly, Stockmar could not be any clearer than this -- he meant mulatto as in half black. One the quote was posted in one of the forums several people wrote Stockmar was only trying to say Queen Charlotte was ugly; that is, "mulatto" was a euphanism for ugly during her time. But during my research the usage I found was identical to its meaning today: a person of a white and black parent. The word "mulatto" is of Latin origin and seems to have taken the original meaning as early as 1593. Consider:
Origin of MULATTO
Spanish mulato, from mulo mule, from Latin mulus
First Known Use: 1593
A mule, of course, is a hyprid, a cross between a horse and donkey. The Latin word for mule is "mulus" and from that we can see how some enterprising Spanish fellow co-operated to mean a cross between the white race and black race -- mulatto. Below is a painting made by a South American painter in 1780 graphically showing usage of the word, literally spelling it out in fact:
In other words, all available evidence shows Stockmar meant exactly what we mean when he used the mulatto in his memoir. Stockmar was born in 1787 and died in 1863. He arrived at English court in 1816 two years before Queen Charlotte (by then Queen Mother) died. As Physician-in-Ordinary to her granddaughter, Princess Charlotte, and grand-son-law, Prince Leopold of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, he'd have been considered part of the royal family. His memoir, in fact, describes taking males with huge brood (Queen Charlotte and King George had 13 children who survived.
Therefore, we can only reasonable conclude that when Stockmar described Queen Charlotte as "...with the face of a true Mulatto" he most surely meant she had Negroid features, no other interpretation meant sense.
Stockmar went on to become a respected diplomat and confidant of Queen Victoria, Charlotte's granddaughter. We have several letters from Queen Victoria discussing political matters with him. Stockmar was not only a physician, but one who had served as a doctor during the Napolenic wars, than set up a military hospital in which wounded from both sides were treated. The guy was no flake; in fact, we could hardly expect there existed anyone better qualified than he to describe how she looked.
As to context, his description was part of a dozen others describing members of the royal household. In each of these descriptions we see the same sober, frank, and existing language as in Charlotte's description. Here are two other descriptions from the same page:
The Queen Mother (Charlotte, wife of George III.). 'Small and crooked, with a true Mulatto face.'
The Regent: 'Very stout, though of a fine figure; distinguished manners; does not talk half as much as his brothers; speaks tolerably good French. He ate and drank a good deal at dinner. His brown scratch wig not particularly becoming.'
The Duke of York: the eldest of the Regent's brothers. 'Tall, with immense embonpoint, and not proportionately strong legs; he holds himself in such a way that one is always afraid he will tumble over backwards; very bald, and not a very intelligent face: one can see that eating, drinking, and sensual pleasure, are everything to him. Spoke a good deal of French, with a bad accent.'
Memoirs of Baron Stockmar VOL. I. E pp. 50
Stockmar, Christian Friedrich, Baron von (krĭs`tyän frē`drĭk bärōn` fŭn shtôk`mär), 1787–1863, Anglo-Belgian diplomat and courtier, b. Coburg, Germany. A physician, Stockmar became (1816) adviser of Prince Leopold of Saxe-Coburg, who in 1831 became King Leopold I of the Belgians. At Leopold's request Stockmar, created baron in 1831, became (1837) an unofficial adviser to Leopold's niece, Queen Victoria of England. Wielding an increasing influence over the young queen, he was instrumental in bringing about the marriage (1840) of Victoria to Leopold's nephew, Prince Albert. His influence still continued after Albert's arrival, and he was regarded as something of a mystery man. In 1848, Stockmar represented Saxe-Coburg-Gotha at the Frankfurt Parliament, but he returned to England occasionally and continued his role as unofficial adviser to Victoria and Albert.
Another argument offerred against Charlotte being a true mulatto is that no one else thought she was -- that no one else said she was and that all the paintings of her show a decidedly Caucasian-looking woman. Not so! The fact is, there are many references to her mulatto looks in literature and many paintings and mezzotints that appear to borne out Stockmar's description.
Several of these were made before Stockmar was born. In fact, with a good number of these rendering we have two versions of Charlotte: one in which she appears to be completely Caucasion, and the other in which he displays obvious Negroid features:
The woman in the top absolutely has an afro; there is no doubt about it which surely explans why her head was later covered in the image below.
Friday, January 7, 2011
First Chapter
PART ONE
Spring 1760 – Mecklenburg-Strelitz, Germany
Frau Mueller wanted another sip of brandy …
She was sitting in the grand banquet hall of her liege lord Duke Frederick of Mecklenburg-Strelitz. Although the most skilled hairdresser in the duchy, never had she been summoned to the Duke’s palace, never had she thought such good fortune possible.
Heidi, her sixteen-year-old apprentice, was agog at the magnificence of the room. Indeed, such was Heidi’s bedazzlement that when Frau Mueller asked whether she remembered to pack the flask, the girl hadn’t answered. Hopefully, she would snap out of it; meanwhile, Frau Mueller rummaged through the baskets for the precious liquid herself.
Intelligence was scant: everyone knew the issue with the Princess’s hair; no one knew what the Duke wanted done about it. Some said he wanted his sister’s hair bleached blond, and if this was so, Frau Mueller had the fix for that. Others said he wanted it cut to a Joan of Arc fringe, and this too Frau Mueller could do with flourish.
The Duke’s footsteps sounded from the hall. Poor Heidi was ready to dive under the table. She grabbed Frau Mueller’s arm and said in a hushed voice, “He’s coming, Frau Mueller.” Seconds later Duke Frederick entered the room.
“Ah, Frau Mueller,” he said.
Frau Mueller and Heidi jumped up and gave curtseys so low their joints popped. The Duke smiled. Other footsteps came from the hall then the Princess entered. She was wearing a white skirt of Chambery gauze and her hair was covered in a big headscarf made of cambric. She seemed younger than her sixteen years. The Duke coughed then said, “See here, Frau Mueller, I’ve summoned you for a matter I’m told your skills alone hold the key.” He turned to his sister. “Charlotte, remove your scarf.”
Charlotte removed her scarf to reveal a mane of beautiful Negro hair.
“The Princess’s hair is of a texture we would like to change.”
“Change, sir?”
“Can it be done?”
Frau Mueller pointed toward the Princess. “May I?”
“Of course,” said Duke Frederick.
Frau Mueller walked around the Princess, her eyes locked on the young woman’s hair.
“Magnifying glass!”
Heidi plucked the magnifying glass from one of the baskets handed it over. Frau Mueller continued her circular inspection, now peering through the magnifying glass. She stopped and said, “Lady Charlotte, if it pleases, may I touch your hair?”
“Please,” said Charlotte.
Carefully, as if it were a precious jewel, Frau Mueller let her fingers touch the girl’s hair. She frowned. It not only looked kinky, it felt kinky.
“Has it always been this … texture, madam?”
“I believe so, Frau Mueller.”
Frau Mueller turned to the Duke. “I ask the question, Your Grace, because children sometimes out-grow it … but let me see … “ She turned to Charlotte. “If I remember correctly, Lady Charlotte, you’re sixteen summers, no?”
“I am.”
Frau Mueller gave a warm laugh. “I remember, ma’am, because you were born the same year as my youngest.”
“And her name is Aarika, is it not?”
“Yes, Lady Charlotte,” said Frau Mueller stunned. And in an instant she was beaming as proudly as she ever had. “You do me a great honor in remembering the name of such a worthless child, Lady Charlotte. When I tell her she will be very pleased – very pleased, indeed.”
Everyone smiled at this. Frau Mueller, it seemed, knew how to turn a phrase.
Thrilled with the Princess’s unexpected kindness, Frau Mueller curtsied her yet again, then cut Heidi a look that said, Mark that well, girl – the Princess of Mecklenburg knows my daughter’s name!
Heidi smiled.
Frau Mueller continued her inspection, stopped, and said, “Your Grace, is it possible – and if it isn’t I will surely understand – I might snip a few strands for closer analysis?”
“Proceed.”
Frau Mueller snapped her fingers. Heidi dug into the baskets, retrieved a pair of scissors and handed it over. Frau Mueller grabbed the scissors without letting her eyes off the Princess’s hair. She considered where to cut, lifted a tuft, snipped.
“Ah!”
In a moment Frau Mueller was at her baskets. She rifled through one, pointed to a second, rejected this, pointed to a third. From this she retrieved a small jar and a large one. She motioned Heidi to push a fourth basket forward. From this she retrieved a pair of gloves, thin flat stone, more jars. She assembled the pomades, powders, and emollients around the flat stone. She placed the lock of hair on the center of the stone, inspected it once more with the magnifying glass then put on the gloves.
“The guild gave me a good account of this procedure,” she said, waving her hand over the assemblage. “It comes from Paris.”
“Paris?” said Charlotte, unable to resist. For although long tutored in French, she had not yet conversed with a native French speaker.
“Yes, Lady Charlotte,” said Frau Mueller. “All the latest hair techniques come from France – and in Paris there are many foreigners with your grade of hair.”
“There are?” said Charlotte, her curiosity piqued. It was her first time hearing this. She thought about it for a second then said, “And where do these foreigners come from … originally?”
“Africa … although –”
“Enough!” shouted the Duke.
Frau Mueller was stunned – what had she said wrong?
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Heidi stared at Frau Mueller then the Duke – what had her mistress said wrong?
The Duke’s voice came like a whip: “You brainless ape.”
Frau Mueller’s mouth dropped open.
And even now the storm wasn’t over for the Duke was out of his chair, eyes glaring, jaw clinched.
“Over the chair!” he ordered. And suddenly he had a belt in his hand.
More humiliated than she’d ever been in her life, Frau Mueller went to the chair and “assumed the position”– bending and grabbing its arm-rests with both hands. She knew what was happening. The Duke had a terrible temper and was known to flog on the spot at the slightest provocation. But what Frau Mueller didn’t know was why.
First came his yell then the lash:
“Dummkopf!”
Twack!
The first lash she didn’t feel because she was thinking of how poor Heidi would never look up to her again.
“Dummkopf!”
Twack!
The second lash she didn’t feel because her heart went out for the poor princess who was sobbing now.
“Dummkopf!”
Twack!
The third lash bit into her flesh like fire and she screamed and turned around in rage and pain yelling,
“What did I do, Your Highness? What did I say to deserve this, sir?”
But he was gone … storming out of the room like a man challenged to a duel.
READ MORE
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