Ballynatray, Gretna
Green, Penelope
& Carlo
Maybe I was fascinated by
the name, Ballynatray. It’s in Ireland, near places
with irresistible names such as Kilkenny, Limerick and
Cork; and it’s not even a long way to Tipperary. Or maybe
it was the fact that one of Ballynatray’s citizens,
Penelope Smyth (1815-1882) wound up as a main player in
one of the many romantic intrigues that took up so much
royal time in the closing decades
of the Bourbon dynasty’s rule in southern Italy —that is,
the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies.
Young
Penelope (photo insert, right) visited Naples with a
sister in 1835 to spend the winter. They were guests of
William Temple, ambassador to the Bourbon court and the
brother of Henry Temple (aka Lord Palmerston, who would
later be British Prime Minister).
At the time
of her visit, Ferdinand II had
been king for about five years. His brother, Carlo, Prince of Capua,
was a notorious ladies’ man and, from all accounts, a
totally exuberant and likable fellow. He was also an
Anglophile, especially when he saw Penelope for the first
time. Carlo and Penelope decided to get married, at which
point the king expressed disapproval. He opposed Carlo’s
marriage to a commoner and, at most, he said the royal
house would recognize it as a so-called “morganatic” union; that
is, the wife would not be made a royal nor would their
children inherit any titles. (That was not particularly
rare; even the king’s —and Carlo’s— grandfather, Ferdinand
I, had entered into such a union on his second marriage).
No dice, said Carlo and Penelope; we want all or nothing
at all. Fine, said Ferdinand—nothing it is.
Carlo and
Penelope eloped and headed for the Vatican States,
then France, Spain and, finally England, all with the
encouragement and financial help of the king’s first wife,
Maria Christina of Savoy
(1812-1836). She was a saint, (really, she was beatified
in 1872), but she died very young and support from her
dried up. Ferdinand further put the financial screws to
his renegade brother by tying up his funds in Naples.
In spite of
all that, Carlo and Penelope did what many young lovers
do: they went to Gretna Green in Scotland and were married
in the famous Blacksmith's Shops like so many other
runaway star-crossed youngsters. They were then married in
a religious ceremony in London, all the time refusing
Ferdinand’s offer of “morganatic” recognition. The Annual
Register of 1836 contains a lengthy item on efforts of the
King of Naples to petition British courts to prevent the
two from getting married. King Ferdinand’s legal ploy was
that his brother, Carlo, as royalty, could not get married
without his King’s (i.e., Ferdinand’s) consent. The
British courts decided, sensibly, that there was really
nothing to do since the two had not only already been
married legally in Gretna Green, but on two earlier
occasions after their elopement, once in Rome and again in
Madrid. So they were married for the fourth time.
They spent
the rest of the tenure of the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies
(i.e. until 1861) being hounded by creditors and moving
from England to France and Malta, living by their wits and
on the generosity of others. They had two children,
Francesco and Vittoria. Disraeli met the couple in 1838
and remarked how lovely Penelope was and how she had Carlo
absolutely wrapped around her little finger.
When King
Ferdinand II died, his son (Carlo’s nephew), Francis
II, ascended to the throne of Naples. He had every
intention of restoring his uncle’s funds and setting
things right. He ran out of time, however, when Garibaldi
kicked in the door of the kingdom before Francis even had
time to warm up the throne. Garibaldi
confiscated all Bourbon monies and property, and with the
defeat of Bourbon forces at the siege
of Gaeta, the kingdom was through.
Before his
own death in 1862, Carlo went to court (in the new United
Italy) in Torino and sued —as a victim of the Bourbons(!)—
to get his property or at least some money back. He died,
however, and the question of what was to become of
Penelope was solved by the generosity of king Victor
Emanuel, the first king of the new nation. He gave
Penelope a royal mansion in the town of Marlia in Tuscany.
She lived there until her death on December 15, 1882. She
was not particularly well-liked by people in the area (who
had been violently anti-Bourbon and pro-all-Italian), and
she was troubled by the mental illness of her son,
Francesco, the “crazy prince,” as he was known to locals.
Penelope Smyth was buried on the premises of the Marlia
estate.