logo
A Dark Fairy Tale of a Young Princess and Her Horrible Husband

A Dark Fairy Tale of a Young Princess and Her Horrible Husband

New York Times24-04-2025

For too long, Queen Victoria's ghost has been allowed to claim the nickname 'Grandmama of Europe,' owing to the countless descendants who became queens, princes, dukes and czarinas. But according to Helen Rappaport, in her serious but sprightly 'The Rebel Romanov, ' that honorific should really go to Victoria's own grandmama, Auguste of Saxe-Coburg.
Auguste, a duchess from a cash-strapped German principality, is the reason both Victoria and her husband, Albert, who was also her first cousin, exist and therefore, Elizabeth and Philip (both Victoria's great-great-grandchildren). At one point, this ducal Mrs. Bennet even tried to fob a daughter off on Napoleon.
But it's another of Auguste's daughters, Juliane, who is the subject of Rappaport's latest book. Initially, Julie, as she was known, promised to be Auguste's greatest matchmaking triumph.
At 14, Julie married Grand Duke Konstantin of Russia at the bidding of his grandmother, Catherine the Great. This was in the late 18th century, but even then, courtiers remarked with distaste at what the author calls 'trafficking in princesses' north to Russia.
Actual wine flowed from fountains during the couple's 1796 wedding festivities, and if all went according to plan, Konstantin and Julie would rule over Constantinople — once Catherine took it. But Julie's new husband was, to mix regimes, a rotten Fabergé egg. Even Empress Catherine described Konstantin as 'a Fury' and 'a little Vulcan.'
Parsing the euphemistic language of the day, Rappaport presents a truly frightening portrait of a marriage. When the military-obsessed Konstantin wasn't drilling his human toy soldiers, throwing kittens in ovens or shooting rats out of cannons, he was terrorizing Julie.
Rappaport quotes one account in which Konstantin, knowing his wife's fear of mice, released a box of them into a room and locked Julie inside, laughing 'most heartily at his spouse's hoppings and jumpings, and screams and entreaties,' while letting his officers peep through the keyhole.
He 'dropped' Julie into a huge blue Chinese vase and fired his pistol at it 'to his wife's utter terror.' References are made to Konstantin's violent outbursts, philandering, cruelty — and the venereal diseases he likely spread to his already sickly young wife.
So it comes as a relief when, five years after their marriage, Julie leaves Russia for her native Germany. But it's also the point at which her story loses steam. From a narrative standpoint, it's hard to compete with the glittering grotesquerie of the imperial Russian court. Take, for example, Catherine the Great's lying in state. Her body had been ineptly embalmed and 'soon appeared quite disfigured: Her hands, eyes and the lower parts of her face were black, blue and yellow' and 'all the riches that covered her corpse served only to augment the horror it inspired.'
Back home in Germany, the financially stressed Saxe-Coburgs worried about the cost of boarding their errant daughter and her eight-carriage-long entourage. In a letter to her financial adviser, Auguste described Julie as 'the catastrophe from the north.'
Rappaport spends mercifully little time explaining the ever-shifting alliances and reconfigurations of various German principalities. The same cannot be said for the ink she devotes to tracking Julie's geographic progressions from spa to spa over decades.
Julie lived a long life as a princess in self-imposed exile, bearing several children, likely by men she employed as managers-cum-father figures, although details are murky. She loved music, amassing a sophisticated and varied collection of scores, and developed the romantic gardens at her estate in Switzerland.
While a pall of scandal and sadness hung about Julie and her household, the Saxe-Coburgs remained a tight-knit bunch. Queen Victoria harbored a fascination with her intriguing aunt and, while the two met only a couple of times, Victoria adorned her residences with pictures of Julie and her siblings. She commissioned a portrait of Julie at age 68, which she described as 'an indescribably like and beautiful picture of Aunt Julia.'
That portrait hangs today at Highgrove, King Charles's country house, and is said to be 'a particular favorite' of his. Another, of Julie as a teenager, hangs in William and Kate's Kensington Palace apartments. Aunt Julie is all around.
And yet her voice is barely audible. We learn of Julie's physical whereabouts as a perma-health-spa guest, but Rappaport fails to breach her inner world. Few letters of Julie's survive (she was a dedicated letter-burner, as were her relatives), and those that do 'are largely unrevealing,' Rappaport writes, 'full of stream-of-consciousness chatter that switches constantly from French to German and back again, about family weddings, birthdays and deaths.' Julie supposedly kept a diary in Russia, but it has never been found.
This is a story of one kind of suffering: that of a noble girl sacrificed on the altar of family ambition, and the malaise that sets in when one has titles, ranks, plenty — if never quite enough — money, but no clear role. She floats like a specter through her own biography, unreal and unknowable.

Orange background

Try Our AI Features

Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:

Comments

No comments yet...

Related Articles

'Proud Dad' Billy Ray Cyrus Congratulates Daughter on Performance With Country Legend
'Proud Dad' Billy Ray Cyrus Congratulates Daughter on Performance With Country Legend

Yahoo

time25 minutes ago

  • Yahoo

'Proud Dad' Billy Ray Cyrus Congratulates Daughter on Performance With Country Legend

'Proud Dad' Billy Ray Cyrus Congratulates Daughter on Performance With Country Legend originally appeared on Parade. Just in time for Father's Day, is sharing a 'proud dad' moment. The 'Achy Breaky Heart' singer took to Instagram on June 8 to celebrate a landmark performance by his daughter with country music legend . 🎬 SIGN UP for Parade's Daily newsletter to get the latest pop culture news & celebrity interviews delivered right to your inbox 🎬 Along with a video of the performance, Billy Ray commented in the caption, 'O. M. G. !!! 😭🎤💥 Is it okay if a proud dad brags a little? CONGRATULATIONS @noahcyrus & @wynonnajudd — you rocked CMA Fest last night! What a powerful performance... Open up the door. When Love starts knocking !!!!! ❤️." Along with Billy Ray's post came a slew of comments, including some from fellow celebrities and one from Judd herself. 'I love your girl!!!!!!!!!!!! 🥹,' Wynonna wrote. '@wynonnajudd and i love you Miss Wynona 🖤🖤🖤,' Noah Cyrus responded. Billy Ray's new girlfriend, , weighed in by sharing, '❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️.' '@wynonnajudd I'm loving all this love and kindness on top of this beautiful talent 💓 so refreshing and beautiful ❤️ Wynonna you're such a gorgeous singer! I'm in awe! Stay blessed 🙏😇❤️,' wrote one fan. 'I love this Performance so much! ❤️‍🔥,' wrote a German-based Noah Cyrus fan account. 'Wowza! What an amazing performance. I really enjoyed watching it.❤️🙌 🔥👏,' another fan commented. '😍😍😍 Noah is becoming more gorgeous as she ages. Absolutely stunning! ❤️,' yet another fan Cyrus, 25, is the daughter of Billy Ray and . Although she's not quite as well known as her older sister Miley Cyrus, she's also appeared on TV and has been making music since she was a child. Her latest album, The Hardest Part, was released in 2022. Since then, she released the single 'How Far Will We Take It?' a duet with country star . She's also featured on and co-wrote the single 'My Fault' with included on his hit album Where I've Been, Isn't Where I'm Going. 'Proud Dad' Billy Ray Cyrus Congratulates Daughter on Performance With Country Legend first appeared on Parade on Jun 9, 2025 This story was originally reported by Parade on Jun 9, 2025, where it first appeared.

Putin's suspected daughter found working in anti-war galleries in Paris
Putin's suspected daughter found working in anti-war galleries in Paris

Yahoo

timean hour ago

  • Yahoo

Putin's suspected daughter found working in anti-war galleries in Paris

Nastya Rodionova, a Russian writer and artist who has been based in Paris since 2022, had only met gallery manager Luiza Rozova in passing at events before she learned who the 22-year-old's parents were. Described by a number of people as a 'very nice and well-mannered girl,' Rozova is the daughter of a Russian woman named Svetlana Krivonogikh — and, according to investigative journalists, Russian President Vladimir Putin. After learning about Rozova's family background, Rodionova took to social media on June 4 to share it, highlighting the fact that the galleries where Rozova works primarily showcase Russian and Ukrainian anti-war art. The post quickly went viral — but the reactions were divided. Some members of the Russian emigre community argued Rozova had no control over who her parents are and it shouldn't be held against her. Others agreed it was ethically questionable that a family member of the Kremlin leader worked in anti-war art galleries as Russia was waging war against Ukraine, and praised the artist for revealing it. 'We are talking about artists (showcased in the galleries) who fled the regime,' Rodionova told the Kyiv Independent. 'Many of them are in danger. They shared all their personal information with the gallery staff without knowing who works there — it upset them very much (to learn about her).' The Kyiv Independent reached out to Rozova for comment through her employer. He acknowledged that he had passed along the request for comment and 'if she considers it possible to answer' she would do so. As of publication, Rozova has not replied. In most of Rozova's photos that were posted on social media or taken by media outlets for interviews, her face is deliberately cropped or turned away — a subtle yet telling choice, which some believe is due to her uncanny resemblance to the Russian leader. In the few photos of Rozova where her face is fully visible, she does bear unmistakable resemblance to Putin. 'Listen, judging by (Putin's) younger photos — probably, yes, I do look like him. But as it turns out, there are actually a lot of people who resemble Vladimir Vladimirovich,' she told GQ Russia in 2021. In the interview, Rozova wasn't directly asked whether she was related to the Russian leader. Rozova first attracted international attention in 2020, when the independent Russian investigative outlet Proekt published an expose detailing the substantial wealth of her mother, Svetlana Krivonogikh, who at the time possessed over $100 million in assets. Proekt's investigation revealed Krivonogikh's longstanding ties to Putin and noted that her daughter Rozova 'bears an uncanny resemblance' to the Russian leader, fueling the widespread speculation about her parentage. In the rare instances that Rozova has granted media interviews since then, she has never outright acknowledged or denied that Putin is her father. Dmitri Dolinski — director of the L Association, which oversees both Studio Albatros and the L Galerie where Rozova is employed — confirmed to Rodionova that Rozova's mother is Krivonogikh, she said. Krivonogikh was sanctioned by the U.K. in 2023 due to her stake in Bank Rossiya, which has, among other things, supported investments in Russian-occupied Crimea following the illegal annexation of 2014. In her original viral social media post, the Russian artist Rodionova stressed the importance of Studio Albatros and L Galerie as cultural spaces showcasing Russian and Ukrainian anti-war artists — and why that made the presence of the Kremlin leader's alleged daughter there problematic. 'In the context of Russia's ongoing war of aggression, people organizing any public events involving anti-war artists — and in some cases direct victims of the regime — must act with maximum transparency and sensitivity,' Rodionova wrote. Rodionova previously participated in some gallery events but has chosen to no longer do so. 'We must know who we are working with and make informed decisions about whether we are okay with (exhibiting art there). My personal answer in this case is no.' Given the Russian and Ukrainian artists' outspoken anti-war positions, there is a potential risk associated with disclosing their personal information to L Association — particularly given the lack of clarity around Rozova's ties to the Russian regime. One artist who collaborated with the gallery had even welcomed Rozova into their home without knowing her family connections, Rodionova added. When Rodionova first asked about Rozova's background, Dolinski reportedly told her that he does not look into his employees' families. At the same time, Rodionova noted, it appears he hired Rozova while knowing who her mother was and the fact that her mother was already subject to U.K. sanctions. Amid the ongoing controversy, the L Association appears to be standing behind Rozova. 'We regret that some voices have called for forms of stigmatization or 'collective punishment,' and we remind everyone that no one should be judged by their origins, birthplace, heritage, or any other criteria beyond their control. This is a red line we will not cross,' the organization wrote on Facebook on June 9, although they didn't mention Rozova by name. In response to Rodionova's post, a number of Russian emigres argued in the comments that Rozova should not be held accountable for the crimes of her alleged father. They claimed she has made a public anti-war stance in social media — although her actual social media account is disputed — and pointed to her residence in Paris as evidence that she is unlikely part of Putin's close inner circle. The exact number of Putin's children remains unconfirmed. It's known that he has two daughters from his marriage to Lyudmila Putina, who he divorced in 2014. In 2024, the Russian investigative outlet Dossier Center reported that he also has two young sons with Alina Kabaeva, a former Olympic gymnast long rumored to be his partner. The two boys reportedly live in Putin's residence on Lake Valdai in northwestern Russia. Since coming forward with her revelation about Putin's alleged daughter Rozova, Rodionova told the Kyiv Independent that she has dealt not only with public slander but also threats made against her. 'I want to believe that these people have expressed their personal opinion but lots of messages were suspiciously similar,' she said, suggesting that there was an organized campaign of retaliation. Rodionova pushed back against those attacking her for raising questions about Rozova's parentage, arguing that they were distorting the reasons behind her decision. Regardless of Rozova's personal politics or the extent to which she has or hasn't benefited from the Russian regime, exiled artists like Rodionova emphasize that the ongoing dangers posed by Russia's full-scale war require extra caution and transparency when it comes to who is welcomed into anti-war cultural spaces. Read also: Controversial Russian literature prize sparks debate on separating culture from war crimes Hi there, it's Kate Tsurkan, thanks for reading this article. The story of Putin's alleged daughter working in anti-war art galleries in Paris is one of those crazy stories that make you realize culture and politics are never that far removed from each other, especially when it comes to Russia's war against Ukraine. I hope by reading this article you also reflected on questions of accountability, transparency, and trust during wartime. If you like reading this sort of material, please consider supporting us by becoming a paid member of the Kyiv Independent today. We've been working hard to bring you independent, locally-sourced news from Ukraine. Consider supporting the Kyiv Independent.

'Ukrainians have been stripped of illusion of control' — Filmmaker Kateryna Gornostai on Russia's war, cinema and reclaiming the narrative
'Ukrainians have been stripped of illusion of control' — Filmmaker Kateryna Gornostai on Russia's war, cinema and reclaiming the narrative

Yahoo

time2 hours ago

  • Yahoo

'Ukrainians have been stripped of illusion of control' — Filmmaker Kateryna Gornostai on Russia's war, cinema and reclaiming the narrative

When Russia launched its full-scale invasion of Ukraine, film director Kateryna Gornostai found herself questioning whether she would continue working. "I had this feeling that life — at least professionally — had come to an end," she says. "Who needed directors or screenwriters, then? At most, volunteers were needed, but hardly anyone involved in filmmaking." The urgency of documenting the war soon became clear, but emotionally picking up a camera didn't come easily. The 36-year-old filmmaker struggled with fear and doubt, knowing any shot she filmed could be her last. "It felt scary that you're filming, and these could be your last shots because now a missile will hit here. And that's all that will be left of you." Yet, she did return. In 2023, Gornostai began working on her first film following the start of the full-scale war. Her latest documentary "Timestamp," was screened at the 75th Berlin International Film Festival — making her the first Ukrainian director in nearly three decades to compete for the Golden Bear. The last was Kira Muratova's "Three Stories" in 1997. Gornostai attended the Berlinale only briefly, arriving just for the film's screening on Feb. 20, days after giving birth to her son. "Timestamp" follows students and teachers across different parts of Ukraine, including cities regularly pounded with Russian missiles and drones, showing what everyday school life looks like in the war-torn country. The film is both intimate and unflinching, offering a glimpse into how kids endure the hardship of growing up under constant bombardment. Gornostai dedicated the film to her younger brother Maksym, killed in action in 2023 while she was still filming. On June 11, the movie premiered in Ukraine. "It should be both fun and sad at the same time," she told the Kyiv Independent days before the screening. "That's what we hope for." Read also: Author Yuri Andrukhovych on Ukrainian dissident art in Soviet times Themes of school and adolescence are in the spotlight of Gornostai's work, with autobiographical and personal elements running through it. Just over a month before Russia launched its all-out invasion, Gornostai's debut feature film "Stop-Zemlia" premiered in Ukraine in January 2022. The movie earned recognition both at home and abroad, winning the Crystal Bear in the Berlinale Generation 14plus section, a category for movies that explore the life of children and teenagers. "Timestamp" has the same focus, yet different story, showing a new reality that Ukrainian education is facing — remote learning, damaged infrastructure, constant air raids, studying in the subway, and the psychological trauma of kids at war. One of the most important scenes in the film for Gornostai is the funeral of the school principal in the town of Romny, Sumy Oblast, killed in a Russian drone strike on the local school in August 2023. It's the only moment in the film where Russia is directly accused of aggression against Ukraine, the phrase spoken by a priest. "Because already, so much pain has touched nearly every person. Everyone has experienced some kind of loss — from their homes to their loved ones. Many have lost the most precious thing of all: life itself." "This school didn't live to see its hundredth anniversary, which would've been next year. It survived World War II, but it didn't survive this war," Gornostai says. Since the full-scale invasion of Ukraine, around 3,500 educational institutions have been damaged, and around 400 completely destroyed, Deputy Education Minister Yevhen Kudriavets said in late February of 2024. The Euromaidan Revolution was a turning point for Ukraine — and for a new generation of filmmakers, including Kateryna Gornostai. She was studying in Moscow at the time of the Maidan protests in 2013 but returned to Kyiv to document the unfolding events. "We all started making documentaries that explored civil society," she says. "It was a moment of growth — personal and professional. You're filming real events but also thinking about how they'll come together as a story." She made two documentaries during that time — "Maidan is everywhere" and "Euromaidan." Rough Cut, of which she was a co-author. While many turned their cameras toward the front lines of Russia's war in Ukraine's east that followed, Gornostai chose a different path. "I'm very scared," she admits. "Even on Maidan, I couldn't stand between the Berkut (riot police) and the protesters like some of our colleagues. I stayed in the rear, and I remember thinking — there are stories here, too." More than a decade later, she sees that moment as the foundation of a powerful wave of Ukrainian cinema. "(The Euromaidan Revolution became) a separation from that post-Soviet, Eastern European blend — because it used to feel like our cinema was perceived as part of Russian cinema prior. During the interview, Gornostai's tone sharpens when the conversation turns to Russia's cultural influence. For decades, Moscow cast a long shadow over Ukrainian cinema. Even after Ukraine's independence, Russian money and distribution networks kept a grip on the country's film industry. That influence didn't vanish with the invasion — it just evolved. Since the start of the war against Ukraine in 2014, Russia's film industry has shifted to propaganda. Yet, Russian films still screen at major international festivals, and Russian actors who support the war against Ukraine continue to win awards. "Movies are just one small part of a much bigger (Russian) cultural push," Gornostai says. "In fact, there is a huge campaign that has lasted for many, many decades, involving enormous financial resources, all aimed at creating an image (abroad). This is something that we (in Ukraine) have not done. And what we are trying to do now is to build some kind of postcolonial lens through which Ukraine should now be seen." 'Most of the films that have been screened somewhere weren't made thanks to the circumstances in Ukraine, but rather in spite of them.' Abroad, she says, fascination with Russian culture persists, while the understanding of Ukraine still lags behind. "The fact that there are signs of genocide committed by Russia and that the Holodomor could have already been recognized as a genocide a century back — very few people know that abroad. But they do know the great Russian ballet, literature — all those things that were deliberately built up, promoted, and became part of a certain stereotype." According to Gornostai, for a long time, there was a prevailing belief in Ukraine that the answer to Russian propaganda should be counter-propaganda. But she thinks that Ukraine should be creating high-quality cinema, not propaganda of its own. "We simply need something completely different that will make us stand out and represent ourselves on the international stage. I think quality is very important now in this world," she adds. Gornostai believes that the current crisis in Ukrainian cinema stems more from domestic policy than the war itself. Even before Russia's full-scale invasion, government inaction had weakened the industry. Following the invasion, funding for the State Film Agency was slashed. In 2025, only Hr 204.1 million ($4.9 million) is allocated, nearly 70% less than in 2024. 'Most of the films that have been screened somewhere weren't made thanks to the circumstances in Ukraine, but rather in spite of them,' says Gornostai. 'They were funded either by private money, individual initiatives, or through international grants, producers, or festival pitching awards that made production possible. Documentary filmmaking can survive in this way.' A standout example is '20 Days in Mariupol' by director Mstyslav Chernov, which documented the Russian siege of the city in 2022 and won Ukraine's first Oscar in 2024 for Best Documentary. 'This is a huge victory for the truth itself. It preserves and engraves the history of Mariupol and no one will be able to distort it anymore,' Gornostai says. Gornostai's new feature film, "Antonivka," is expected to be released in 2027. Set in the aftermath of Ukraine's victory in the war, the film explores death. "Even when this war ends, it won't truly be over," says Gornostai. "Because already, so much pain has touched nearly every person. Everyone has experienced some kind of loss — from their homes to their loved ones. Many have lost the most precious thing of all: life itself." She believes that once the war ends, there will be a difficult period of collective reckoning — a time when people begin to process their grief. Her film, she says, is an attempt to open that conversation. "There's this ephemeral law that time heals. It works very strangely. It doesn't really heal. That's not the whole phrase," Gornostai says. "Time simply passes, and it's as if layers of new experiences start to build up after that very significant moment in your life — for example, the death of someone close to you. These layers grow, and it's as if they gradually distance you from that moment." "That's the subject I'm grappling with now — and it's a subject many others are facing too," she continues. "How do we grieve that kind of loss? How do we reflect on it? The film deals with many kinds of deaths, but at its core, one of its central elements is the acceptance of your own death — the one that awaits you." One of the central figures in the film is an elderly man who lived through famine and war. As Gornostai speaks, she recalls her two grandfathers who passed away. "Ukrainians have now been stripped of the illusion of control," the filmmaker says. "But still, I'd like to have the privilege of dying at a time when I know that my family will remain here, that people speaking the Ukrainian language will remain here, and that there is peace and life on this land. And that I am leaving it behind. Not dying in a moment of total turbulence and uncertainty about what will happen tomorrow — as if I'm leaving everyone in the middle of that." "So this is another privilege: a privilege to die in a free country. And this is one of the motivations for making this film." Read also: Wondering where to start with Dostoevsky? Try his Ukrainian contemporaries instead Hello there! This is Kateryna Denisova, the author of this piece. As Russia's war against Ukraine grinds on, Ukrainian filmmakers like Kateryna Gornostai are capturing stories that reveal the reality on the ground. I hope many people will watch these films and learn more about Ukrainian cinema and its directors through interviews like this one. Your support helps make this work possible. Please consider contributing to sustain our reporting. We've been working hard to bring you independent, locally-sourced news from Ukraine. Consider supporting the Kyiv Independent.

DOWNLOAD THE APP

Get Started Now: Download the App

Ready to dive into the world of global news and events? Download our app today from your preferred app store and start exploring.
app-storeplay-store