How Titles Are Acquired Today

by

 

Dr. PANGLOSS

 

 

 

In Europe generally and in France in particular, changing one's name is not an easy procedure. Title 2, Article 4 of the French Napoleonic Code of 1802 states "any person who has a valid reason to change his name must direct his request to the government." This law still applies.. The process of changing one's name requires submitting paperwork to the Ministry of Justice, which, after examination for form and content, forwards it to the Council of State. The Council, after due deliberation, will eventually deliver its opinion. It will then be up to the President of the Republic to approve or reject the petition. The total cost of the procedure is between 2,000 and 3,000 francs ($400-$500) and is lengthy.

One must have a good reason to embark on such an undertaking, but good reasons are not hard to come by. The name one is born with may be embarrassing or it may be a foreign one unpronounceable in French. Some people wish to legally adopt a pseudonym that has earned fame in professional life or to be rid of a name brought into dishonor by a relative.

Or, for appearances' sake one may wish to merely join his mother's name. This is common practice in Spain and double barreled names connected by "de" representing the person's patronymic and matronymic in no way imply any nobiliary quality. But in France, this practice can result in something that has a noble air about it. Let us say the father’s name is Dupont, as widespread as Jones or Smith in English, and the mother’s name is the also common Boulanger. In English Dupont would be Bridge and Boulanger, Baker, and separately or together they suggest nothing particularly aristocratic, although Bridge-Baker has nice ring to it. In French however, combined and with a slight change of how Dupont is spelt, they could become du Pont-Boulanger, which might well appear to be the name of a noble family.

Applying for a change of name that results in giving the bearer a semblance of nobility, however, requires a certain prudence. European republics may not give legal recognition to nobility as a class but they do protect a family from having its name usurped. At least two of the would-be princes and most notorious purveyors of false titles, Alexis Brimeyer, and Isaac Wolfe, have been successfully prosecuted for flaunting the names of (noble) families, respectively Khevenhuller , and Brancovan, to which they had no right.

Before the Council of State delivers its verdict, the request is published in the Official Bulletin, then published a second time after the Council has accepted the request. The change of name still does not becomes effective until a year after acceptance by the Council and provided no one has objected to the change.

The Associaton d'entraide de la noblesse française, (the Mutual Aid Association of the French Nobility) publishes lists of changed names and informs its members when it detects what appears to be an attempt to usurp an appearance of nobility in this way.

In the United States as in Britain and other common law countries, names can be changed at will. In America, all that is required in most places is to register the new name at city hall usually for less than $100. Thus, if Anthony (Tony) Melby should desire to change his name to Baron Anthony Melby of Elsinore, he could do it within a few minutes depending on how many people were standing in the queue. What sniggers or outright laughter would meet an attempt to use the new name in the neighborhood pub or at the golf club, is another matter.

Because in Germany a nobiliary title is by law an integral part of one's name, a very lucrative trade in adoptions has developed since the second World War. Here we see a number of titled but ruined families whose lands and properties were appropriated by the East German government and who have no hope of recovering them despite the reunification of the country. Some of those with nothing left but their name resort to adopting wealthy, commoners. Their customers are people who have succeeded in acquiring castles, vineyards, and art collections, everything money can buy and who hope that their money can also buy what has eluded them up until then - nobility. Among these nouveaux riches charlatans find easy targets. The title-mongers' victims fail to realize that assuming someone else's coat of arms and changing their name by adoption or by a visit to city hall will not ennoble them but will gain them the ridicule of those whose milieu they are trying to crash.

We wonder if anyone took up the offer made in the International Herald Tribune dated 28 September 1990: "WOULD YOU LIKE TO BECOME an aristocrat? German baron offers his title to highest bidder. World known name. Very old nobility. Please write to Box 2790, Herald Tribune, Friedrichstrasse 15, D-6000 Frankfurt/Main."

It must be conceded that there are some notable exceptions who carry off playing their new roles quite successfully. Some of the "nobiliary consultants" and purveyors offer advice to their customers on how to get away with it. It is much easier for a recently arrived stylish, lean but penniless European with a thick accent and style, to carry off than for an obviously well-heeled native American who from one day to the next metamorphosizes after "discovering" that he is descended from ancient Bohemian princes.

An item in the supermarket tabloid The Enquirer in 1988. It ran:

"Kimberley Conrad, has yet another new title. The new Mrs. Hugh Hefner, also known as 1988 Playmate of the Year, was dubbed (sic) Princess Kimberley and Lady of Honor on June 21 by German Prince Frederic von Anhalt, also known as the eighth husband of actress Zsa Zsa Gabor. The prince says he frequently grants family titles."

In France a title may only be transmitted in accordance with the rules established by the authority which created it. Thus, while one often can find classified advertisements in specialized publications (i.e. Le Chasseur Français) offering:

"A marquis title. This title has been passed down in the sequence of time and its present holder, 65 years of age, without issue, desiring that the name of his family not be extinguished , would cede it to an honorable person of means who would wear the name according to the ancient traditions. The title-holder will consider the settlement of this question either by an outright sale or by an adoption. …This is a unique opportunity to acquire an historic name which would "ennoble" the purchaser and his posterity".

The purchaser may indeed legally acquire the name of the seller, but neither nobility nor the title. During the Ancien Régime, the transmission of a title by adoption could only be accomplished under certain conditions and only with the authorization of the sovereign. Today, the only way this could be done is if the President of the Republic were willing to approve it, which is highly unlikely. And still the commerce in legal adoptions continues, even in France.

So far we have only dealt with male "titulitis" which may give the mistaken impression that males are the only ones afflicted with the virus. Not long ago one of the supermarket tabloids ran a story about a "shapely 50-year old divorcee" who married a simple-minded young German prince to assuage the itch she had for a royal title. She met the prince's father at a dinner party and the two apparently got along famously and dated for a while. This was before she discovered the young prince with whom she eloped. The furious father declared that his son was too stupid to be able to read or write or hold a job as anything but a house-painter. The irate father declared that the lady would not even sleep with his son on their wedding night and has now moved out of the conjugal home to live alone in Southern France where she is writing her memoirs which are to be an account of her experiences with men.

According to the tabloid, the princess amassed a fortune by marrying and divorcing rich businessmen and had had her eyes on a royal title for some time.

Another but somewhat sadder story about attempted social climbing by the rich and famous appeared in the Spanish mass-circulation HOLA in 1988. The daughter of a wealthy leader of society in Melbourne and Sidney who aspired to have her daughter marry into the nobility, became entangled with an attractive adventurer and self-styled Italo-Byzantine prince.

The couple met in Australia. He was a recent immigrant from the Middle East, a suave airline steward with agreeable manners. The daughter was the social editor of a local newspaper. He claimed a fifteenth century Venetian title, which the tabloid said with an insouciant disregard for history, was proferred by the Ottoman empire. The couple fell in love and became engaged much to the delight of the young woman's mother who was in seventh heaven, seeing herself as the mother of a "Princess of Phanar and Lady of Santa Sophia".

The wedding was to take place in Venice with an Australian priest, a friend of the bride's family, officiating. Plans were made to invite numerous friends from Australia and elsewhere.

The couple and immediate friends arrived a week or so before the wedding. The bride, mother and step-father rented a palazzetto on the Grand Canal while the groom and his best man went to a modest pension to keep up appearances. Mother and daughter could already visualize the wedding procession making its way to and from the church by gondola, the reception amid baroque splendor, the bride throwing flowers, the happy, cheering hoi polloi.

Unfortunately for himself, the groom, who was known under a Venetian title of count, was unaware that while its last legitimate holder had died some thirty years earlier he had left a widow who still lived in Venice. When the best man learned that the widowed countess knew about the wedding and was ready to inform the press of the usurpation of her late husband's title, he persuaded the groom to call the whole thing off. The latter telephoned the lady who was to have been his mother-in-law three days before the wedding saying that he and his best man had been called away on urgent but unspecified business.

The groom and his friend literally disappeared from the face of the earth and were never heard from again.

Needless to say mother and daughter shed bitter tears of rage, frustration and shame as they returned to Australia. It took them months to resume their normal lives.

Another advertisement offering a nobiliary title for sale in a recent issue of the Herald Tribune was intriguing because it appeared to originate in London. Using an assumed name and the fax number of a willing collaborator I indicated an interest in buying the title.

A few days later I received a "confidential" faxed letter which originated in Cherry Hill, New Jersey. The letter, which was badly written thanked me for my inquiry and revealed that his group represented several royal and titled people willing to offer their titles for sale by adoption or marriage. The entire process could be effected in Europe or the United States. The titles currently available are those of German Prince, Baron, Count and an English Lordship. The letter stated that "Generally speaking the privileges connected with these titles are mostly honorarium (sic), although there are indeed special aspects of each title". It enjoined the would-be purchaser that "it is up to each title holder to make the best out of it, personally and economically" and ended by offering the interested petitioner more detailed information upon request.

A request for more information brought material again marked "confidential".

According to the writer a noble or royal title could open many doors and would be a priceless asset in business and personal affairs, and the title of Prince von ---- was currently available by adoption or marriage and that Prince von---- and his daughter Princess von---- were both available. The Prince's family was over 1000 years old, and its head, the Prince, was a royal highness. With the title comes a royal coat of arms both of which could be passed on to one's spouse and children. The title by adoption cost $225,000 and the princess would marry the buyer for $250,000. The writer also offered titles of Count or Countess by adoption or marriage as well as a German baronial title by adoption only. Also offered for sale were, just as we thought, English lordships of the manor at a price of $55,000 each which is rather high since they are available elsewhere for under $10,000.

A ten per cent non-refundable deposit was required for any of these procedures after which the lawyers would start drawing up the necessary papers.

Among the documents received was a sheet describing the procedure for acquiring a title as follows:

"The first step would be to write a contract between the parties specifying exactly what is being sold and for how much. In describing the title it must be made evidently clear that no rights of inheritance or succession are being sold and that no lands or property are to accompany the said title (excluding the lordship of the manor). This is necessary so the seller is not accused of fraud. Further it must be stipulated that the purchaser has no right to sell said title (except in the case of a lordship of the manor). The only rights sold would be the use of said title and the ability to pass said title to all natural children.

"The compensation clause can be written so that there is a down payment and balance due upon completion of paperwork. Or, a lump sump payment may be payable in advance. This is up to the discretion of the seller.

"Upon the completion of the contract and payment we would prepare a certificate granting the purchaser the title. The coat of arms would be included in same.

"The purchaser is ultimately responsible for all legal fees or as otherwise arranged."

These procedures are quite simple, according to the New Jersey entrepreneur, and presumably after pocketing the ten percent non-refundable commission, he bows out of the picture and lets the European lawyers take over. It would be interesting to know at what point in the procedure the title involved is identified. Also, who in his right mind would disburse funds without knowing what he was getting for his money? If the writer is lucky enough to catch a sucker or two with the bait he dangles in the Herald Tribune it would indicate that, while not particularly widespread "titulitis" is virulent when it strikes.

More will be written from time to time on this subject and will appear in these pages. Meanwhile, I strongly urge those who might be tempted to heed my host’s motto: "Caveat Emptor".

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