Saturday, September 23, 2017

Duchesses Becoming Maids: A Short Essay

By T. H. Enerdly

In 1889, Crown Prince of Austria Rudolph committed suicide together with his mistress, Baroness Mary Vetsera, an event known as the Mayerling incident, Mayerling being the Imperial hunting Lodge, the scene of the incident.


A few years ago, while reading an account of this incident in the book A Nervous Splendor by Frederick Morton, I chanced upon the following interesting observation about the Baroness:


“She knew it wouldn't do to arrive at costume balls as a Bourbon princess (accountants' wives were known to do that). Instead she’d come as a saucy chambermaid (the favorite disguise of duchesses).”


If one occasionally writes lady-to-maid stories as I do, one's interest cannot help but be piqued by a quote such as the one above. I immediately began researching duchesses who liked to wear chambermaid costumes…but found nothing. Every year or so since I first read the quote, I've tried to find more information, but have been disappointed every time.


Recently, I've tried a different approach. I decided to search for an image of a duchess wearing a chambermaid costume. Much to my delight, I found such an image on Pinterest, the one accompanying this essay. The Pinterest posting did not contain much information: Merely a couple of sentences that identified the subject as Grand Duchess Elena Vladimirovna and noted that she was wearing a masquerade costume, probably “chambermaid.”


My first thought, when viewing the image, was that it must be difficult to dance a waltz while holding a lit candlestick. But, with the image, I now more or less had confirmation that duchesses sometimes wore chambermaid outfits to costume balls. This was a place where I could start some actual research.


There is an article about Elena in the Wikipedia. She is described as having had a “grand manner” and a rather nasty temper, which, by the way, are not ideal character traits, either for a unmarried Grand Duchess or a maid. She is reputed to have had an offer of marriage, later withdrawn, from Archduke Ferdinand, the fellow whose assassination sparked World War I, an event some historians believe was a knock-on effect set in motion by the suicide of Crown Prince Rudolph. Failure to marry the Archduke probably was wonderful for Elena’s longevity, given that the man who assassinated Ferdinand also killed the latter’s wife. Elena ended up marrying Prince Nicholas of Greece, her only suitor, presumably because other potential suitors were unenthusiastic about her “grand manner” and temper.


The Wikipedia has some additional tidbits about Elena. She had an English nanny, and, as a consequence, learned English as her first language. Also, during World War I, Greece had factions supporting both the Allies and the Central Powers. The resulting political turmoil forced the Greek Royal family into exile until after the war. Elena evidently supported her family during their exile by selling off her jewelry collection piece by piece.


With this background, let's return to the problem of why duchesses might be fascinated with dressing up as chambermaids. I think the most likely explanation is the one that I will now lay out.


The aristocracy lived in a highly stratified social milieu. There were complex rules of etiquette, precedent, and ceremony that had to be scrupulously observed. Examples of the rules the current British Royal Family must observe were recently described in Elle magazine, some of which include the following:


  1. If an official event is held after 6 pm, women must swap their hats for tiaras.
  2. Only married women may wear tiaras.
  3. Tiaras must be worn at a 45º angle to the ground as opposed to being worn like a hat.


One supposes that many aristocratic women, as well as men, chafe under these and numerous other rules just as their ancestors chafed under similar rules in the past. Attending a costume ball dressed as a chambermaid would be a way of thumbing one’s nose at these burdensome rules.


The rules described above are ones that stipulate what an aristocrat must do. But there were also strict rules about what they must not do. In particular, at one time, there was an institution among European aristocrats called derogation (dérogeance in French), an institution allowing a nobleman to be stripped of his titles if he engaged in manual labor or retail trade. A maxim described this institution thus: The hand that held the sword could not also hold the purse.


One imagines that there was a similar maxim for women, perhaps something like the following: A tiara is not part of a servant’s uniform. In other words, a duchess must not perform the manual labor of a maid if she wishes to remain a duchess. On the other hand, if she wore a maid’s attire to a costume ball, a duchess could avoid the threat of derogation, because, at a costume ball, wearing a maid’s costume does not mean the wearer is an actual maid who performs menial labor, but rather a make-believe maid whose duties consist of delighting her dance partners, while allowing her to thumb her nose at social conventions as well as experiencing the thrill of the forbidden without risking her social position, as well as submitting to those costumed as her social superiors, as well as submitting just as a maid would if she wished to keep her job, as well as submitting to who knows what pleasures…or perversions.


At this point in my researches and speculations, the material I had gathered suggested a scenario for a lady-to-maid story or perhaps, I should say, a duchess-to-maid story.


Scenario


The story is set in Ruritania, a fictional nation reminiscent of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, a popular setting with many writers of fiction. In my story, I’ll assume that Ruritania is teetering on the edge of Revolution. In spite of this, his Imperial Majesty decided to hold the annual Imperial costume ball in the capital, a bit of bravado to signal his confidence in the stability of his regime. He also  demanded that every noble family living in the capital send a representative to the ball to make a show of solidarity. Helena was elected to represent the Habsdorfs at the ball while Helena’s mother remained at the family villa, making preparations to flee the capital in the event of an insurrection. Helena’s father was commanding the Imperial Guard, which had been activated to suppress any sign of a revolution.


The story commences at the ball with Archduchess Helena Habsdorf, costumed as a chambermaid, arguing with Countess Tatiana Romanovich, costumed as a lady’s maid. Tatiana argues that a lady’s maid outranks a chambermaid; therefore Helena should defer to Tatiana. Helena argues that she is still an Archduchess, a more exalted rank than a Countess; therefore, Tatiana should defer to Helena. Both are well known in the capital for their rivalry.


Unbeknownst to both ladies as they argue, the Imperial Guard commits some outrage against the populace, an event that sparks the revolution. Shortly thereafter, an angry mob storms the ballroom, killing anyone believed to be a noble. Helena watches in horror as her chaperone is killed in front of her eyes.


Helena’s mother, in anticipation of the revolution, had told Helena what to do if there was trouble at the ball. She was to pretend that she was an actual maid, to respond to questions in English, a stratagem to hide her aristocratic accent, to grab a couple of the silver candlesticks that were scattered about the ballroom, to slip them into hidden pockets that her mother had had sewn into Helena’s skirt, the purpose of the candlesticks being to provide something to barter as Helena fled the capital. She was then to make her way to Duke Karl’s chateau, on the outskirts of Paris, where a government-in-exile would be established.


Helena grabs a serving tray and pretends to be a waitress as she makes her way to the service entrance, purloining some candlesticks along the way. The revolutionaries ignore her, thinking her to be one of their social class, as they slaughter the other guests. She manages to get out of the ballroom safely.


After many adventures, she finds herself in Dresden, Germany, having had to barter both her candlesticks to get this far. She knows no one in Dresden, and the Ruritanian consulate in Dresden is closed “indefinitely,” so no help there. With no assets except a maid’s uniform, she has no choice but to seek employment as a maid to earn enough money to continue on to Paris.


She secures a position as a scullery maid at the home of a bourgeois family, “bourgeois” being the 19th century term for a “capitalist.” Working for this family is humiliating both because she has to work as a maid but also because aristocrats consider themselves to be superior to the bourgeois. Helena’s natural arrogance and short temper lead to her being frequently disciplined by her employers. But Helena eventually earns enough money to continue on to Paris.


When Helena, dressed in a ragged scullery maid’s uniform, arrives at the Duke’s chateau, she is greeted by Tatiana, dressed in the latest in Parisian fashions. Helena learns that her family did not survive the revolution. She makes up a cock-and-bull story about her adventures to hide the fact that she had worked as a maid. However, Tatiana, who has contacts in Dresden, soon learns that Helena has worked as a maid. Tatiana demands that the government-in-exile derogate Helena, in other words, strip her of her nobility. The government accedes to Tatiana’s demand, leaving Helena with no option but to accept a position as a scullery maid in the chateau kitchen, Tatiana thus triumphing over her long time rival.


End Scenario

I’m not altogether happy with this scenario, mainly because the plot is too heavily driven by the situations in which Helena finds herself rather than poor decision making by Helena, the latter, in my opinion, making for a much more interesting story than the former. In any event, I have neither the time right now to develop this scenario into an actual story nor the time to develop my theory of duchesses as maids any further. So I will conclude this essay at this point. Nevertheless, I hope the reader has found this brief essay of interest.


4 comments:

  1. If Helena’s mother had the discernment to prepare her daughter for the worst, I would wager that she wouldn’t have sent her as their representative. One imagines that the other shrewd noble families have come to the same conclusion and prepared accordingly by sending disposable servants in place of their kin. While such an affront to his Imperial Majesty would never be tolerated, the costumed ball does present certain opportunities to them.

    I’m sure Helena would find the practice of instructing a mere chambermaid on how to dress, act and think like her to be unconscionable. Wouldn’t the Habsdorf nobility, their God-given right to rule, be put into question when no one can tell that this imposter is really a commoner?

    During the main event, I would surmise that a different sort of revolution has taken place. The rumors of a violent uprising were just that—rumors and these peasants who have been trained to replace key members of the nobility have effortlessly taken power in a bloodless coup.

    The people’s uprising is a rousing success due in no small part to Helena after her epiphany that all men are created equal. She has proven that nobility is a lie. Unfortunately, the newly enshrined are reluctant to give up their power. In that way, their revolution is a failure. Those who were sent to abolish the nobility’s divine rights now uphold them.

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    1. My own preference is somewhat opposite to the author's,in that I prefer descent to be willing adventure.In this revolutionary situation I can see her melting into the background and exacting revenge on the revolutionaries who never suspect a mere maid could be the one poisoning them,etc...and becoming a secret agent of sorts whose lowly profession is key to her effectiveness.

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    2. You seem to be suggesting that the heroine become the Purple Pumpernickel, who, disguised as mild-mannered maid Mary Meekly, fights a never-ending battle for truth, justice, and the Ruritanian way.

      An interesting idea.

      T. H. Enerdly

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  2. The miserable situation Helena finds herself in is now entirely her fault and isn't it more delicious to be talked down to by someone who was previously beneath you rather than your social rival?

    "What sort of ignorant fool would give up riches for the betterment of others? Only you, I suspect. You almost destroyed MY family's house with your little conspiracy, do you realize that? This is why your former parents have accepted me as their daughter, because they know that I am better than you. I, of all people, can be trusted to do everything in my power to ensure that MY family continues to prosper off the aching backs of scullery maids, such as yourself.

    If you please me in this task, I may find it within myself to grant you a suitor befitting your station. The butcher's son perhaps. It is likely you would have wed him anyway, should your game have come to fruition."

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