Yaa Asantewaa – Defender of the Golden Stool

by | Jul 24, 2018 | Africa, Ghana, Mid Modern Period (1750 - 1914) | 0 comments

This is the story of a woman who defended her country against the British, refusing to stand down. Called “Africa’s Joan of Arc” by Western scholars, she commanded the entirety of the Ashanti forces in their final war against the colonialists. This is the story of Queen Mother Yaa Asantewaa.

First, let me take you to the place and time where all of this happened: the Ashanti Kingdom in what is now Ghana. Unifying the individual village-states into a confederacy in 1701, its first king laid the foundation for what became one of the most sophisticated kingdoms in Africa. And of course there was some mythology behind it too. It was told that the Golden Stool, the symbol of the Ashanti throne, fell from the sky into the King’s lap, blessing his reign. Thus the Golden Stool became much more than just a throne – it became a symbol of the undying Ashanti spirit.

And now for the story of the woman who defended it. And it’s not just a myth!

Around 1840, Yaa Asantewaa was born as the oldest of the two royal children in the outskirts of Kumasi, the Ashanti capital, in a town that used to be called Edweso but today is named Ejisu. She grew to become a reputed farmer and cultivated crops on her own land until at one point she married a man from the capital. Following tradition she was but the first wife in a polygamous marriage, giving birth to one daughter. Meanwhile her brother ascended to the throne sometime in the 1880s, making her Queen Mother. You see, that title was inherited just as the royal ones were – and it held just as much influence. During his reign, Yaa witnessed the Ashanti confederacy go through crisis after crisis, war after war, and saw its stability waning. In the 1870s Kumasi was burned and ransacked, a tax was imposed by the British and a civil war was raging. And in the middle of all that her brother died. Making use of her position, Yaa nominated her grandson for the vacant position of chief and he was crowned in 1888.

He wasn’t able to enjoy his position for too long as in 1896 he was sent into exile to the Seychelles and the British demanded the utter surrender of his kingdom. Plus the Golden Stool would be nice. Four years they discussed and negotiated, hoping to a least get their king back for it. And just as the Ashanti chiefs were about to give in, Yaa’s thread of patience finally snapped. Refusing to pay her share of the taxes she gave a rallying speech about pride and courage and bravery. Still the chiefs were hesitant but she won them over quickly by announcing that, if the men are to scared to fight, the women will. And so in March 1900 a rebellion began.

Yaa became the first woman to lead and command the Ashanti forces and her leadership was so a skillful that the following war bears her name. Her first move was to turn her hometown into their base. With many of the men still hesitant to join the army, scared of the British military, she once again turned to the women. After convincing them to refuse to have sex with their husbands unless they fought for their country, most men were quick to join the war effort. For further encouragement, the women were to circle the city everyday, performing victory rituals and thus keeping morality high. For the first time in the Anglo-Ashanti wars, walls and palisades were built around cities and villages, successfully keeping the enemy at bay for the time being. She regained control of the capital by besieging the British fort within it, completely incapacitating its occupants and their allies on the outside. She proceeded to secure the city, deploying generals to monitor and protect strategic points. Yaa also employed psychological warfare against her adversaries, using the traditional talking drums to strike fear in their hearts whenever they heard the drums sing of battles won by the Ashanti.

In the end however the brave warriors were driven back by the British. Village by village, their strongholds were captured and finally Yaa herself was forced to surrender and followed her brother into exile to the Seychelles, accompanied by her generals. Their battle had lasted half a year. Her exile was set to last for 25 years, but Yaa would not see her home again. She died 21 years later.

The British however never got hold of the Golden Stool. It was hidden deep in the forests and only recovered by accident, when a group of labourers happened upon it in 1920. By then, even though they were technically annexed into the British Empire, the Ashanti still basically governed themselves and were not required to report to colonial authorities. And finally in 1957, their indepencence became official – the first African nation to achieve this. So despite her defeat in the end, Yaa Asantewaa’s resilience paved the way for her people’s de facto independence and succeeded in keeping the Golden Stool out of British hands.

image credits:

1: Asante. Stool (Dwa) – Museum Expedition 1922, Robert B. Woodward Memorial Fund – Brooklyn Museum (22.1695)
2: undated portrait of Yaa Asantewaa – Link
3: Yaa Asantewaa Museum – User Noahalorwu in Wikimedia Commons – Link

The Yaa Asantewaa Museum fell victim to a fire in 2004 and unfortunately has not been restored since. – Link

Ida Ferenczy – The Empress’ Best Friend

by | Jul 1, 2018 | Austria, Europe, Hungary, Mid Modern Period (1750 - 1914) | 0 comments

Born to a family of lower nobility, the most that was expected of her was to marry into a good family. Ida Ferenczy disappointed her parents on that front – but isn’t it much better to be the best friend of an Empress?

The Ferenczys of Kecskemét in the Hungarian plains already had three children when Ida was born in 1839, and they would go on to have two more. Like her sisters, she was sent to school to become a proper lady, learning how to read and write as well as the basics of the German language. But Ida longed for knowledge, so she devoured all the books she could find, teaching herself where her teachers failed her. She even got the attention of a professional writer, Ida Miticzky, and so she was trained in the art of reading aloud when she was around twenty years old.

It was around that time that Empress Elisabeth of Austria, who was about the same age as her, began to learn the Hungarian language and decided to surround herself with Hungarian ladies. She had always been fond of the country and having been crowned its Queen, her love only grew. Feeling trapped in the strict conventions of Austrian court, she fled to Gödöllő Palace in Budapest as often as possible, enjoying the looser etiquette and winning the favor of the people. Sisi, as she was nicknamed, soon realized she would much prefer to be surrounded by Hungarian ladies all the time and promptly she was given a list from which to choose. The last name on this list was that of Isa Ferenczy. This was highly peculiar, you see, as she was not technically qualified for her job, her status as rural nobility not acceptable at the Imperial Court. On top of this minor scandal, Ida’s name had been added to the list in a different handwriting than the others. And of all the names, Empress Elisabeth picked hers! She sent for Ida’s picture and for the real girl shortly after. Of course the picture on the left was painted much later, but I think it captures her kind heart very well.

The two women met in 1864 and connected immediately. Ida had known of the Empress’ beauty, but her wit and charms impressed her even more. Elisabeth was taken by Ida’s honesty and her open mind, authenticity being a scarce trait in higher nobility. And even though she could never become a true lady of the court due to her high-but-not-high-enough birth, Elisabeth insisted she stayed, making her her official reader.  

Soon a close friendship formed between the two women, Ida was allowed in her chambers at all times and became the only one Elisabeth addressed by first name. Even though she was never fully accepted and even avoided at court due to her nationality, Ida was happy. Never once did she want to leave, even if that meant to never marry, loving her Empress with all her heart. So loyal was she that she even partook in royal mischief. On a masked ball for example she helped Sisi flirting with a guest under the guise of anonymity. Even though the gentleman in question did recognize her, Ida made sure Elisabeth never found out about it, making it possible for her to enjoy a few careless moments in the middle of strict court etiquette.

Although Ida never took advantage of her position, she did help a lot with Hungarian-Austrian relations, facilitating many important contacts, which earned her the Emperor’s respect as well. It was thanks to her that Sisi met Count Gyula Andrássy, a pardoned Hungarian revolutionary, who would become a lifelong friend and confidante. Frequent trips to Ida’s home country, on many of which Andrássy accompanied them as well, soon became lengthy trips all over Europe.

The Empress loved to travel and Ida was by her side. They went to see the ancient ruins of Troja and Ida was there when Sisi got a little anchor tattooed on her shoulder in Greece. Greece was the “home of her soul,” as Elisabeth called it, and they spent a lot of time on Corfu, her favourite place in the world. She even built a palace there, the Achilleion, where she spent a lot of time – Ida always there with her. Having taught Sisi in Hungarian language and culture for so many years, she now learned new things again herself! Elisabeth was just as hungry for knowledge as she was and hired local teachers and guides wherever she went.

The long journeys, which often included long walks on foot through rough terrain eventually had their toll on the Empress’ entourage however and in 1890 Marie Festetics, who had been in Elisabeth’s service for not quite as long as Ida but became a close friend to both women quickly, broke her ankle. And Ida too began to feel too old for the strenuous travels without much rest inbetween. So with a heavy heart both, Ida and Marie were deployed to in-house duties. But not before Ida was given the Order of the Starry Cross for her loyal service. The Imperial Court, especially the empress dowager, was not too happy about it, but Elisabeth really pressed for it. So as not to travel all by herself, she hired two young Hungarian noblewomen for company but never got just as close with them. And whenever she was at the Imperial Palace in Vienna, she spent time with Ida and Marie. In turn Ida befriended Sisi’s fourth and favourite child, daughter Marie Valerie, who was called “the Hungarian child” for her place of birth.

Eight happy years they lived like that, until Elisabeth’s tragic death in 1898. Her murder hit Ida hard, having spent almost forty years at her side – “I have lost everything,” she exclaimed upon hearing the news. In the last picture ever taken of the Empress, Ida is standing next to her.

Marie Valerie asked Ida to help her with bringing her mother’s estate in order and entrusted her with a majority of Sisi’s literary remains. And Ida never disappointed that trust, keeping the inheritance until her own death. Death however should not come soon. First she and the other Hungarian ladies were forced to move out ot the palace. Fortunately Marie Festetics, who had always been a woman of foresight, had been prepared for an event like this ever since she broke her foot. She had rented an apartment in Vienna already and managed to have Ida move in right next door. Giving each other comfort, both women worked through the death differently. Marie began to travel again (albeit not as recklessly as before), visiting the places she had seen with Elisabeth, while Ida went to Budapest to open a museum dedicated to her. It survived until World War II but was unfortunately destroyed then.

Ida survived her beloved Empress for thirty “long years,” as she said herself. She also lived through the deaths of Maria Fesetics, her long-time friend and companion, and Marie Valerie, the Hungarian child, only one year apart. Finally in 1928 she found rest as well, dying at age 89. Her body was taken back to Kecskemét, where she had been born all those years, a lifetime, ago and interred in the family tomb.

image credits:

1: Ida Ferenczy de Vecseszék […] in traditional Hungarian court gown (before 1896) – Link (Wikimedia Commons)
2: Ida Ferenczy (3rd from the right) next to Empress Elisabeth on a hike – Link (Wikimedia Commons)
3: Empress Elisabeth of Austria and Ida Ferenczy. Purports to be the last photo of the empress, taken the day before her death. – Link

Granny Lum Loy – Surviving Three Cyclones and a War

by | Jun 20, 2018 | Australia, Contemporary (1914 - today), Mid Modern Period (1750 - 1914) | 0 comments

This is the story of a survivor. Adopted and sent to a faraway land, she made it her home while keeping her cultural heritage alive. She built up several businesses and survived many a catastrophe, all while founding her own family. I present to you: Lee Toy Kim, later known as Granny Lum Loy.

Nothing is known of her early childhood, besides that she was born around 1884 in Shekki, southern China. Together with another girl named Lee Leung See, she was adopted by Fong Sui Wing, an entrepreneur who soon set sails to Australia with his new daughters in tow. They arrived in Darwin, Northern Territory, in 1898. The destruction a cyclone had wreaked the year before was still evident, but the small family did not lose courage and went to work. Soon their first grocery and general store was founded in the heart of Darwin’s Chinatown. Three more stores in the area would follow. Although she had never had a formal education and only spoke the Sze Yap dialect of her people, Lee Toy was able to work in her family’s Darwin store, having taught herself to read and write Cantonese. There she forged connections to the locals, slowly learning the language of her new country.

In 1901, when she was around 17, she met mining engineer Lum Loy and fell in love. In no time they were married and moved south to Pine Creek. Five years later their only child was born, a daughter they named Lizzie Yook Lin. After her husband died in 1918, widow Lum Loy moved her small family back to Darwin where she hoped for a better education for her daughter. And Lizzie did not disappoint her, working herself to the top of the class. Being a single mum wasn’t easy though, but she had a plan. She rented ten acres of land and single-handedly turned it into a mango orchard sporting about 200 trees she had all planted herself. In time her plantation grew into a fruit enterprise, exporting mangoes to the western part of the country.

In 1923 her daughter married prominent Chinese businessman Chin Loong Tang and they went on to add two more stores to the family business and nine children to the family itself. This would be the foundation of one of the largest Chinese families in Darwin, making her the matriarch. Now known as Granny Lum Loy, she continued her fruit export business for over ten more years until she decided to sell her orchard in 1935. The growing family returned to their original home in Darwin, where Chin Loong went off to attend business in Hong Kong, leaving the family café in the hands his wife and her mother. When her son-in-law returned, Granny Lum Loy found herself a little bored and purchased another block of land, this time turning it into a chicken farm. Every day she went from her house in the city to the outskirts of town, tending to her chickens and collecting the eggs, which she then sold to a local café. This was also around the time the second cyclone happened.

Then the war came. After the Pearl Harbor incident, her family evacuated Darwin and fled. Granny Lum Loy refused to leave. While she was on her daily morning visit to the Chinese temple however, a bomb hit Darwin in February 1942. Even though she still did not want to leave her home again, she saw that it was the most sensible thing to do. She reunited with her family and together they fled further south. Arriving in Alice Springs, Adelaide, they made a temporary home there, using their talents to set up a vegetable and fruit shop. After two years, her family decided to move to Sydney and Granny Lum Loy decided to go with them. It should not be a pleasant stay. Shortly after giving birth to her ninth child, Lizzie Yook Lin complained about pain in her kidneys and died in August 1945.

Only one month later the war ended and the family returned to Darwin. Granny Lum Loy was shocked to find her hometown in ruins, the land firmly placed in the government’s hands and Chinatown about to be demolished. The landowners were compensated for their lost land, although not exactly fairly. But our clever Granny managed to save her family’s property – albeit at the cost of her chicken farm. This was to be the last time she moved places in the remainder of her long life. Her grandson built her a small house and she proceeded to establish a wonderful garden on her property, growing many tropical fruits – yes, mangoes too. The third cyclone in her life should come in 1974. In the morning after the storm when people carefully began to move outside and oversee the damage, a figure could be spotted in the remains of her garden. It was Granny Lum Loy, 91 years old at the time, who was already beginning to work on its restauration.

She became a prominent figure in Darwin’s social landscape, the Chinese gardener lady in her traditional clothes. So prominent indeed, that in 1979 painter Geoff la Gersche created a big portrait of her. She was overwhelmed. After all, in the China of her memory only emperors had their portraits painted! Her death one year later, when she was about 96 years old was mourned by many. Marking the end of an era, her funeral was the largest one the town had seen and would see for many years.

image credits:

1: National Museum Australia: Harvest of Endurance Scroll (Collection interactive) – Entrepreneurs
2: The Canberra Times  Sa, 1 July 1989: “The women from the north: larger than life but unknown” – Link (archived article)
3: “Mrs Lum Loy” © Northern Territory Library (PH0044/0058)

Dada Masiti – Expanding Her Traditional Duties

by | Jun 11, 2018 | Africa, Mid Modern Period (1750 - 1914), Somalia | 0 comments

Thinking about Somalia, literature might not be the first thing that comes to mind, but unbeknownst to many, Somalia is a country of bards and poets. This is the story of one of them.

Mana Sitti Habib Jamaladdin was born around 1810 in the city of Brava on the southern coast of Somalia to a family that took pride in the fact that they were part of the Ashraf clan, direct descendants of the Muslim prophet Muhammad. As the Somali people follow an oral tradition of storytelling, there are a lot of uncertainties regarding her life. Though it is confirmed that she was abducted as a child and taken to Zanzibar where she lived in slavery, opinions differ on how exactly this happened. 

One source says, she was kidnapped and sold, while another states that the kidnapping was voluntary so she could marry a suitor her family had turned down. They were said to have married on the Kenyan island of Pate, but soon sweet young love turned bitter and she ended up enclosed in her home, a mere maid. Mana herself seems to have hinted on the latter version to be true, writing in one of her poems that she was “led astray by worldly lures.” But however things went down, they ended the same way: in slavery. After ten years she was finally found: one of her cousins was in town, recognized her and brought her home.

Having grown into an intelligent young woman (albeit slightly remorseful regarding her “worldly adventure”), she immersed herself in religious studies, earning a reputation as a Muslim scholar. Contrary to other religious texts and the oral tradition of the Somali people, Mana began to write poems in her own language and dialect, Chimbalazi or Bravanese. And they were well-received. Showing eloquence and a deep understanding of religious scripture, they found their way into mosques and Quranic schools all over the region and eventually became a staple piece of literature in and around Brava. And not only that, her work helped to spread and revive the Sufi order of the Qadriyya in Somalia, finding a new purpose as prayers! Her poems were memorized and recited and even the Sheikh wanted his eulogy written by the famous poetess. Eventually she was even revered as a Muslim saint.

She went on to be more than one hundred years old in which she never stopped writing. As she grew older, she was regarded a treasure of the town and known by everyone as Dada Masiti (Grandmother Masiti). Until her death in the summer of 1919 she continued to live in her little house in her hometown and was buried there as well. After spending the earlier part of her life away from home, it seems she didn’t even want to leave it in death.

Still remembered fondly throughout Somalia, each year a pilgrimage to her house can be observed in the streets of Brava. It were (and still are) mainly the women who are keeping the poems of Dada Masiti memorized, looking up to her. You see, she never married and lived a self-determined life, all while still contributing to society and fulfilling her traditional duties. In Brava men and women are strictly separated and women are prohibited from attending and performing many functions. Nonetheless their role as teachers is essential to a functioning community, providing intellectual but also cultural knowledge.

Dada Masiti managed to carve out a place of her own in this society by following her traditional role and expanding it.

Finally here is an excerpt from her work. It’s the final part of her eulogy for the Sheikh: “After Life”
It is one of her most famous pieces and the most famous eulogy in all of Somalia.

Dada Masiti by Kateryna Kateryna

Hu xuzuniko mpeengele
Kutta schinendhroowa
Hu xuzuniko ni darsa
Fadhi schitalicoowa

Miskiti huwa miinza
Ataa tarha ichashoowa
Tarha waarhiko niyeeye
Nuuru ya ku rhangaaloowa

Sawarataani turhaani
Sheekhi siwo wakhpatoowa
Sheekhi karheente Jannaani
Na kurhiindra kendreloowa

 

The pathways he walked daily
Will feel sad,
As will his daily circle of students
And the lessons he used to teach

The Mosque will be dark
Even when it is lit
For he was the light
A bright light we all watched

Calm down and be consoled
For the Sheikh is out of our reach
He is residing in Heaven
Waiting for us to join him

image credits:

Brava today: User Vascoscream in Wikimedia Commons – Link

As there were no images of this week’s heroine available, I reached out to the community that started this project and was lucky to have had three awesome artists interpret her in their very own styles. Check out their amazing work:

1st picture: Anna Latchman
2nd picture: Annassez – on facebook, patreon and etsy
3rd picture: Kateryna Kateryna – on instagram and patreon

Hortense Mancini – The Runaway Dutchess

by | May 17, 2018 | Early Modern Period (1500 - 1750), Europe, France, UK | 0 comments

This time I’d like to introduce you to one of my biggest history crushes: Her name is mostly mentioned in relation to her famous family and as a famous mistress, but she is so much more than that. Today’s post is about Hortense Mancini, a runaway wife who bedded kings. Are you interested yet? Because it keeps getting better. But let’s start with the beginning.

Hortense was born in Rome as the fourth of the five Mancini sisters, who were to become famous for their beauty and wit. When their mother was widowed in 1650, she sent the girls to Paris to live with their uncle Cardinal Mazarin. She hoped that his position as the king’s minister would allow her daughters to find suitable husbands. And the plan worked. The sisters were superstars at the French court, famed for their olive-skinned beauty which differed from the “standard French girl” and for their scandalous lives; either praised or despised, but definitely talked about. They even had a collective name: “The Mazarinettes” – remind you of anyone? (In the picture, Hortense is the one on the far right.)

Anyways, there were a lot of suitors. And I mean a lot. And they were respectable too. But because Hortense was her uncle’s favourite, no one seemed to be good enough for her. The cardinal had rejected a ton of suitors, among them Charles II, the exiled King of England (who funnily enough was legitimized only a few months later and was quick to reject the cardinal’s offer of Hortense’s hand and a lot of gold – hurt pride and all.) Finally in 1661, on his deathbed, Mazarin signed a marriage contract between Hortense and one of Europe’s wealthiest men: Armand Charles de La Porte de La Meilleraye. Not a good choice as it turned out.

Hortense was a cheerful girl (just look at the flower portrait on the left!), liked by everyone who met her, while Armand was a grumpy and jealous person. Also he was twice her age. Not to mention that he had that weird obsession with sex – and not in a good way. In his vast art collection, every bit of nudity was either painted over or chipped off, the teeth of his female servants were knocked out so they wouldn’t attract suitors and he tried to keep them from milking the cows (because udders are sexual, you know). Hortense was forbidden from meeting with any other men and often woken up at midnight when her husband decided to sweep her room for hidden lovers. Finally he forced her to move to the countryside with him, away from her beloved city.

Sure enough, Hortense was more than unhappy. And she decided to do something against that. And so she took a lover who was her age. Her name was Sidonie de Courcelles. Armand was shook when he found out, oh, the immorality. So he put both girls in a convent. That’ll teach them. Well, that plan kinda backfired – who would have thought? Honestly, I’m a little sorry for the nuns. The two girls were basically the Fred and George of the nunnery: they spiked the Holy Water with ink, flooded the nun’s beds and even tried to escape through the chimney. So in the end Hortense had to reluctantly return to her husband. She stayed for seven years, in which she bore four children. She did not idly take the abuse though. It was around that time when she started on her memoirs – highly unusual for women in the 17th century. Her main reason was to chronicle her husband’s behavior to have a solid case against him in court. It did not do her any good though and her attempt to divorce Armand failed.

But now she truly had enough and bolted, donning men’s clothing and leaving her children behind. A move so unusual at the time, that it attracted a lot of attention – not only from the public, spawning own magazines devoted to the topic, but also from the court. Soon the French King and her former suitor, the Duke of Savoy offered themselves as her protectors. Graciously she accepted the pension offered by the king and moved into the household of the Duke. Unfortunately he died not long after and his wife kicked her out again. Once more she was alone. Her husband had managed to freeze all of her bank accounts, including her pension from the King, which left her penniless – unless she returned to him. But that was out of the question. Enter the English ambassador. To secure his own status and maybe even improve it a little he’d like Hortense to try and replace the current mistress of Charles II. Does that name ring any bells? Right, the guy she’s supposed to seduce is the same King of England who wanted to marry her earlier, which didn’t quite end so well. Still, she was willing to give it a shot. Where else should she go anyways?

Soon she was on her way to London, pretending to be visiting her cousin there and once again dressed as a man. She travelled through Germany, having her memoirs basically published on the way. In January 1675 she arrived at the English court and by August she had been given an apartment and a generous pension by King Charles II. Less than one year later, she fully took the place of his chief mistress. It was the perfect match. They both loved lavish parties, riding and fencing. The King didn’t even mind her refusal to address him as “majesty” or her numerous affairs (playwright Aphra Behn even dedicated the introduction of one of her novellas to Hortense, turning it into a full-blown love poem.) And he liked her penchant for cross-dressing. Life could have been great.

And it was, until Hortense decided to start a relationship with Anne of Sussex. You see, generally the king didn’t care which beds she hopped into, but Anne was his daughter – an illegitimate daughter, but still. It didn’t really help that the two girls were caught in the midst of a friendly fencing match. In their nightgowns. Right in the middle of a public park. Watched (and presumably cheered on) by a group of onlookers. Immediately Anne was sent to an estate in the country, where she reportedly refused to leave her bed and just lay there, kissing a small painting of her beloved Hortense. That alone would not have tipped the King over the edge, but then Horense took the Prince of Monaco as her lover. Another royal was just too much for poor Charles II and he refused to pay her pension for a few days, but quickly relented. Hortense however had to give up her position as the King’s favourite to her predecessor in 1677. They did however remain friends until his death in 1685.

With both of her protectors dead however, Armand came back. Yep, I had hoped to never hear of him again as well. And so in 1689, he went to court, demanding his wife to return to Italy with him. But Hortense fought – and won. She was allowed to stay in England. And while her pension was reduced by the new King she kept her estate, which she turned into a salon for intellectuals and artists. In 1699, Hortense too died. It isn’t entirely sure how, but her drinking problem is mostly assumed to have been her downfall, but there are also rumors of a suicide.

One might think the story of Hortense Mancini ends here. But did you forget that Armand is still alive? Yes, even after her death, he couldn’t just let her be. He literally took her dead body with him while he travelled the country, visiting all the estates she had despised so much. It took four months until he finally allowed her to find a resting place in her uncle’s tomb. I hope she whoops his ass in the afterlife.

You can still buy her autobiography (and that of her sister)!
It’s on amazon but if you can, please support your local bookshop!

image credits:

1: “Three Nieces of Cardinal Mazarin” (detail; fltr: Marie, Olympia, and Hortense) by an unknown French artist, ca. 1660 – Link
2: presumed portait of Hortense Mancini by Jacob Ferdinand Voet, 1671 – © Hermitage Museum (ГЭ-5743) – Link
3: “Hortense Mancini, Duchess of Mazarin, as Cleopatra” by Jacob Ferdinand Voet, 17th century – © Bonhams (Lot 17) – Link
4: “Portrait of Ortensia Mancini, as Aphrodite” by Jacob Ferdinand Voet, ca. 1675 – © Christie’s (Lot 202) – Link