And the Rest Is History

by Marlene Wagman-Geller

  In 1612, the court astrologers agreed on an auspicious date for the royal union, and the couple, now nineteen and twenty, still madly in love, could finally be together. The emperor arranged for the wedding of the millennium, and he himself adorned his new daughter-in-law with a wedding wreath of pearls. He also changed her name to Mumtaz Mahal, meaning “ornament of the palace.” The couple headed the wedding procession, surrounded by the officials of state wearing robes of spun gold, slaves shooing off flies, servants carrying torches, and dervishes reciting from their prayer beads. Behind them followed musicians and dancers, acrobats, exotic animals in cages, slaves, and priests.

  The ceremony was a fitting prelude for their gloriously happy union. During their years of marriage, Khurram built Mumtaz Mahal sumptuous palaces, showered her with jewels, ignored his polygamous rights with his two other wives, and even entrusted her with the royal seal. Full-time poets were employed at court to extol the beauty of the empress. However, all was not charmed.

  In the Mogul Empire, the throne was not passed down through primogeniture; rather the royal inheritance dictated that the male heirs had to compete with one another for the scepter. This, of course, created fraternal ties similar to the ones shared by Cain and Abel. Upon Emperor Jahangir’s death, a war of succession ignited among his five sons. After years of fighting, during which his brothers all died under highly suspicious circumstances, twenty-five-year-old Prince Khurram was victorious. He was crowned king and given the title Shah Jahan, which translates to “king of the world.”

  Because of the shah’s conquests, his empire grew in size, power, and opulence and was the superpower of its epoch. In true megalomaniac fashion, he built monuments to his power. Immediately following his coronation in 1628, he commissioned the creation of a gold-and-jewel-encrusted Peacock Throne. It took seven years to complete and had as its centerpiece the famous Koh-i-Noor diamond, once valued at half the wealth of India. Today, the fabled jewel is among the crown jewels of Queen Elizabeth. Inscribed on the arches of the ceremonial chair were the words If there be paradise on earth, it is here. However, for the shah, paradise did not come from his boundless wealth, but from the queen who was his ever-faithful companion, Mumtaz Mahal.

  The shah and the empress loved each other to such an extent that throughout their twenty years of marriage they were inseparable. Not willing to be parted from her husband, she was always willing to forgo the pleasures of their palace for the rigors of his military campaigns. Tragically, on one of these, after giving birth to her fourteenth child in nineteen years, she became seriously ill from complications stemming from the delivery. On her deathbed, she asked her husband to erect a monument to their love.

  The shah was consumed with grief at her death and went into a weeklong seclusion during which he refused all food. The only sound his ministers heard coming from the locked room was a low, continuous moan. When he emerged, he was a changed man: His black hair had turned white, his back was bent, and his spirit was gone. He ordered his empire to observe two years of mourning; all music, public amusements, perfumes, cosmetics, jewelry, and brightly colored clothes were forbidden. The “king of the world,” after all, was essentially just a man.

  He declared his life’s mission: to create the most magnificent structure in the world to immortalize his lost love. The shah placed all his resources into his passion to leave a monument fitting for Mumtaz Mahal. Because Islamic belief forbids graphic representations of the divine, his vision of eternity had to be symbolized: His wife’s mausoleum was to be one of divine geometry, symmetry, and grace. From the four corners of his far-flung empire, transported on the backs of a thousand elephants, came priceless treasures of marble, gold, and jewels. A labor force of twenty thousand men toiled on erecting the tomb for twenty years. The finished mausoleum combined Hindu, Persian, Turkish, and Buddhist elements so that its design was entirely unique. The marble building clad in white was covered with designs, each inlaid with precious jewels created by the greatest artisans of the day. The entire edifice was reflected in a pool so its beauty could be seen on a shimmering surface. The crowning touch of the structure is its dome, reminiscent of a giant pearl floating above the building’s four minarets, recalling the prophet Muhammad’s vision of the throne of God as a pearl surrounded by four pillars. It was the shah’s most fervent prayer that one day he would stand before this throne, where God would usher him into paradise, to a reunion with Mumtaz.

  In a story that may be urban legend, the shah ordered the blinding of his chief architect so he would never again be able to create such magnificence. Another tale is that during the rainy season, only one droplet of rain falls on the queen’s tomb, which is why the poet Rabindranath Tagore described it as “one tear-drop ... upon the cheek of time.”

  Soon after the mausoleum was completed, Shah Jahan was to receive another sword in his already broken heart. Seeing their father’s weakened state, his children began fighting in a vicious power struggle for the Peacock Throne. Eventually his son Aurangzeb proved himself the most skilled in fratricide, after which he deposed the king. He imprisoned the shah in his own palace, the Red Fort, which became his cell. He was allowed every luxury except freedom. In contrast to his son’s perfidy, his daughter, Jahanara, volunteered to remain at his side for his remaining years, although that too made her a virtual prisoner.

  For most of the eight years he was under palace arrest, Shah Jahan gazed out the window at the building he had created, inspired by the woman he had treasured beyond all else. To those who see with their eyes, the emperor was merely indulging in vanity, reflecting that he had given birth to something immortal. However, to those who see with their hearts, he was merely looking at the place where his wife waited for him to lie by her side once more.

  In 1666, Khurram fell ill with dysentery; after reciting verses from the Qur’an, he slipped from this world to the next. The embodiment of an emperor’s devotion for his “ornament of the palace” was the Taj Mahal—the jewel in the crown of world architecture, rendered more beautiful when one knows that within its depths lie entombed those whose love story caused its creation.

  Postscript

  Mumtaz died in 1631; her body was temporarily interred in a walled garden. She was later disinterred and transported in a golden casket to Agra. The casket was placed in a small building until its final resting place in the Taj Mahal.

  The reigning shah, not eager to draw attention to the old, refused Jahanara’s request for an elaborate funeral. Khurram’s body was washed in accordance with Islamic rites and transported to the Taj Mahal, to rest for eternity at the side of Mumtaz Mahal.

  5

  Napoleon Bonaparte and Josephine Beauharnais

  1795

  It is common knowledge that France’s most acclaimed general possessed the ambition of the Scottish general Macbeth. What is less well known is that Bonaparte also possessed the romance of a Romeo and the jealousy of an Othello. These latter characteristics became manifest when he fell in love with the Rose of Martinique.

  Napoleone di Buonaparte was born in Corsica (which had recently come under the dominion of France) in 1759, the second of eight children. At age sixteen he was sent to the elite École Militaire in Paris, where he trained to become an artillery officer. The British general Wellington, when asked who was the greatest general of his day answered, “In this age, in past ages, in any age, Napoleon.”

  Napoleon’s destiny, Marie Josephe Rose Tascher de la Pagerie, proves that one can never foretell where the spotlight of fame will cast its beam. The girl from a sugar plantation in Martinique was to one day stand on the center stage of her epoch.

  When hurricanes destroyed his crop, Marie’s financially strapped father arranged an advantageous marriage between his sixteen-year-old daughter (then called Rose) and Viscount Alexandre de Beauharnais. Upon meeting her fiancé, she was ecstatic; he was young, wealthy, well connected at court, and reputed to be one of the best dancers in Paris. On the other hand, she was provinci
al and barely literate. Another legacy of her birthplace was rotting and blackened teeth, a direct result of the sugar-saturated cuisine of her childhood. Self-conscious, she tried her best to keep from smiling. Rose and Alexandre had two children, Hortense and Eugene, whom he left to court glory in the American War of Independence. However, renown was not all he courted. The ever-energetic Alexandre left a number of mistresses and illegitimate children in his wake.

  The young viscount’s enthusiasm was finally halted during the Reign of Terror, when he was guillotined. As a nobleman’s spouse, Rose was similarly incarcerated, and she shared a cell with Marie Grosholtz. Both women had their heads shaved, awaiting their appointment with the guillotine. The latter was to survive and achieve fame as Madame Tussaud; the former was to achieve fame in a far different fashion.

  Following an outbreak of violence, a law was passed in France forbidding any citizen to possess weapons. Eugene de Beauharnais, unwilling to surrender his father’s sword, beseeched General Bonaparte to let him keep his precious memento. He acceded to the child’s request, and the rest was history.

  The first time Napoleon met Josephine was on October 14, when Rose went to thank the general for his kindness. He was instantly smitten and remarked to a friend, “She had that certain something that was irresistible. She was a woman to her very fingertips.” The only quality he disliked was her name, and, in the spirit of “a rose by any other name would smell as sweet” (or in this case, sweeter), he called her Josephine. Napoleon was brought to his knees.

  Rose, on the other hand, was less enthusiastic, but destitute and a spendthrift, she agreed to become Josephine Bonaparte. For a wedding present he presented his bride with a gold medallion inscribed with the words To Destiny. On their wedding night he received a scar from Josephine’s dog, Fortuna; while in bed the pug had viciously bit his ankle.

  Forty-eight hours after their marriage, Napoleon left for Italy to embark on a war against the Austrians; Josephine stayed in France and embarked on an adulterous affair with Hyppolyte Charles. Devastated at their separation, Napoleon penned dozens of letters to his wife: “Come and join me, that at least, before death, we may be able to say, ‘We were many days happy.’ A thousand kisses, and one even to Fortuna, notwithstanding his spitefulness. BONAPARTE.”

  When word reached the general regarding his wife’s affair, he threatened divorce. Josephine always referred to her husband’s discovery of her infidelity as the “day of the catastrophe.” The unsavory revelation marked an abrupt shift in their relationship; Josephine never took another lover, whereas Napoleon was never without one. However, these liaisons stayed within the realm of physical and not emotional adultery. As he said, “My mistresses do not in the least engage my feelings. Power is my mistress.” After a stormy reunion, the couple reconciled and took up residence in the Tuileries Palace. As Josephine played her role as the wife of the most powerful man in the continent, her charm won over the populace. Napoleon recognized her as a political asset when he said, “I only win battles; Josephine wins hearts for me.”

  Ironically, in 1884, the upstart Corsican, who had fought a revolution whose purpose was to end monarchy, was in Notre Dame Cathedral for his coronation ceremony, presided over by Pope Pius VII. At the last moment, Bonaparte took the crown from the pontiff’s hand and placed it on his own head, thereby signifying that his power surpassed the Church’s own. The kneeling Josephine was crowned Empress of France.

  For the next two years, while Bonaparte was not subjugating Europe and Josephine was not on a ravenous spending spree, the two spent passionate days together. However, Bonaparte’s meteoric rise proved the demise of their marriage. As emperor, he was desperate to have an heir. Initially Napoleon believed that their failure to have children lay with him, as Josephine was already a mother; however, when his mistress became pregnant, it became apparent that Josephine, either because she was in her late thirties or because her time awaiting execution had triggered an early menopause, was infertile. Napoleon declared that he had to obtain a divorce for “reasons of state,” as the throne was his main paramour. He began to compile lists of eligible princesses. Afterward, while the Bonapartes were dining, from the next room, Napoleon’s secretary heard screams; Josephine did not take the news well of her forthcoming divorce.

  The following day, servants took her possessions to the Château de Malmaison, a magnificent mansion near Paris, where her chief interest was strolling in her gardens. Eventually Josephine, now the Duchess of Navarre, admitted defeat. She knew that against another woman, she would win; against Napoleon’s ambition, even she did not have a chance. At the divorce proceedings they declared their mutual love, despite the breaking of their hearts. Napoleon stated, “She has adorned thirteen years of my life; the memory will always remain engraved on my heart.” Josephine stated, “I am pleased to offer him the greatest proof of attachment and devotion ever offered on this earth.” Three months later Napoleon married the nineteen-year-old Austrian Archduchess Marie Louise, and within a year Napoleon had his long-awaited heir, to whom he gave the title “King of Rome.” Two years after the birth, Napoleon arranged for Josephine to meet the young prince “who had cost her so many tears.”

  When Napoleon tore himself from Josephine, his once-charmed life became cursed. The erstwhile invincible general suffered military defeats, was eventually forced to abdicate, and was exiled to the island of Elba. There he attempted suicide, but the pill he had long carried had lost its potency. Marie Louise had taken a lover and refused to join him with their son. However, Josephine wrote to Napoleon telling him of her plans to leave for Elba, but destiny had another plan. While walking in her garden with Tsar Alexander, she became ill and passed away shortly after. Her dying words were, “Elba! Marie Louise, Napoleon.” When news of her death reached the defeated general on his island prison, he locked himself in his room for two days, refusing to see anyone.

  With Josephine’s death, Napoleon was left with his only remaining love, France, and he managed to escape and return to Paris. When the soldiers saw him, the air rang with shouts of “Vive l’Empereur!” After regaining control of his troops, Napoleon visited his shrine of Malmaison and went to the room in which his beloved had died. Before he departed, he retrieved some violets, Josephine’s favorite, from her garden.

  Napoleon reigned once more, for a hundred days, until his defeat at the Battle of Waterloo. This time he was placed under an even heavier guard on the island of St. Helena. There he finally met an opponent even history’s greatest general could not defeat: death. In 1821 he passed away holding a picture of Josephine. In a locket around his neck were the crushed violet petals from her garden. Bonaparte’s last words were to his first love: “France, armée, tête d’armée, Josephine” (“France, the army, the head of the army, Josephine”).

  Postscript

  King Louis-Philippe obtained permission to retrieve France’s famous son, and his remains were transported to France. The procession stretched from the Arc de Triomphe (which Bonaparte had commissioned) down the Champs-Élysées until it reached its destination, where he was interred next to his son.

  Bonaparte’s tomb lies in the gold-domed magnificent edifice of Les Invalides; in the midst of its grandiose room is a life-sized white-and-gold statue of Napoleon. As if he were a French pharaoh, his remains are entombed in a series of coffins of tin, mahogany, lead, ebony, and oak. He lies in the last one, dressed in military attire, his hat spread over his legs.

  Josephine was buried in a church near Château de Malmaison, Saint Pierre-Saint Paul in Rueil. Her daughter, Hortense, is interred nearby.

  6

  Prince Albert and Queen Victoria

  1836

  In nineteenth-century England, the country’s greatest boast was, “The sun never sets on the British Isles.” In like fashion, the sun never set on the couple who steadfastly referred to themselves as “we two.”

  Alexandrina Victoria Hanover was born in Kensington Palace in London; there, when she wa
s eighteen, the Archbishop of Canterbury informed her that with the death of her uncle, King William IV, she was to inherit the throne of England. Her response, “I beg Your Grace to pray for me.” However, Victoria, unlike her famous predecessor Queen Elizabeth I, did not want to bear the splendid burden of royalty alone.

  Victoria’s destiny, Francis Albert Augustus Charles Emmanuel of Saxe-Coburg, was born to a family whose main claim to fame was its connection to many of Europe’s monarchs. His life was supposed to be a mere footnote in German history, but fate arranged otherwise.

  The first time Victoria met Albert was on May 18, 1836, in London, where he arrived as the result of a royal matchmaker. King Leopold I of Belgium decided to try to arrange a marriage between his nephew and niece. However, Victoria was not impressed with her chubby, self-absorbed cousin; similarly, Albert, who was extremely serious, found her to be too frivolous for his taste. No tears were shed when Albert returned to Germany, but Cupid’s arrow did leave an impression, and although she was introduced to the most eligible bachelors of Europe, three years later the queen invited her cousin for another visit.

  It was love at second sight. She wrote to their Uncle Leopold to thank him “for the prospect of great happiness you have contributed to give me, in the person of dear Albert ... He possesses every quality that could be desired to render me perfectly happy.” As a monarch, she had to be the one to propose, which she did three days later, and on February 10, 1840, they were wed in the Chapel Royal of St. James’s Palace. She decided to forgo the traditional bridal dress color of the day: silver for the upper classes and blue for the lower ones. Instead she chose white, a tradition that became an established one. The ring that the queen slipped on her beloved’s finger was engraved with the date she had proposed. Victoria’s own ring was a diamond-encrusted snake with ruby eyes biting its tail, which in its era was a symbol for eternity. On her dress, over her heart, she wore a present from her groom, a sapphire and diamond brooch. Her dress had a six-foot train; her wedding cake measured nine feet. The next day, Victoria wrote, “What I can do to make him happy will be my greatest delight.”