Family Hero
John Porter has discovered an inspiring Hungarian cousin who weathered heartbreak and disgrace to reinvent herself as a successful writer. By Gail Dixon
“I discovered a high-society scandal in my family tree!” says John Porter of his inspirational Hungarian cousin
Edith Cornelia Crosse is a legend in her family. A beautiful, intelligent and vivacious society lady, she rejected the comforts of her privileged life to follow her heart – and paid a heavy price for this decision.
Edith was known to family and friends by her Hungarian nickname Yoï (rhymes with Joey). She is a distant cousin of John Porter, who has written a book about her life.
“I didn’t know about Yoï until I began looking into the Crosse family of Somerset,” John explains.
“We are related to Andrew Crosse, a pioneer of electricity who used to carry out daring – and noisy – experiments at his stately home.
“Yoï was his granddaughter and she was born in 1877 in Tállya, north-east Hungary, where her parents owned a vineyard. I was able to map the Crosse family through travelogues, memoirs and their archived letters.”
Yoï enjoyed an idyllic childhood, but this ended when her father’s estate was devastated by crop failure. She was sent, aged 12, to live with her grandmother in London while her parents and siblings moved to South Africa.
In 1896, Yoï married James Buckley, a wealthy businessman and a member of high society. The couple had two children, Wilma and Gabriel. However, married life may have bored Yoï because in 1908 she began an affair with the dashing Sir Coleridge Arthur Fitzroy Kennard, known as Roy. He was eight years younger, and a rising star at the Foreign Office.
“A document I found in the British Library revealed the full story behind the affair. Roy became infatuated with Yoï, and pressurised her to leave her husband and children. He even threatened suicide if she refused.”
The affair caused a public scandal in Edwardian Britain. Roy’s mother, Helen Carew, was well connected and arranged for him to be posted to Rome. However, he continued to bombard Yoï with love letters, and in 1909 she decided to leave her family. She fled to Paris, where Roy later joined her.
As divorce proceedings began, the Foreign Office informed Roy that he must accept a post in Tehran or face dismissal. Yoï travelled back to Rome, and Roy’s mother began a character assassination. She was painted as an exploitative Jezebel.
Helen went to work on Roy, convincing him of his folly and
‘Roy’s mother began a character as assassination. Yoï was painted an exploitative Jezebel’
threatening to disinherit him. Over time, Roy acquiesced and his letters to Yoï stopped.
Confused and heartbroken, Yoï embarked on an arduous two-week journey to Tehran hoping to see Roy. When she arrived, she was met with glacial indifference. Yoï later discovered that Roy had fallen in love with the British consul’s daughter, Dorothy Barclay, whom he later married.
“Somehow Yoï found the courage to continue, and she returned to Italy where she began a successful career writing travel books and novels. As her reputation grew, she became a columnist for the prestigious Saturday Review and was asked to interview Mussolini.”
Yoï socialised with intellectuals such as DH Lawrence, Bertrand Russell and Aldous Huxley, who held her in high regard. She also travelled back to England each year to see Wilma and Gabriel.
In 1911, Yoï met the talented sculptor Antonio Maraini and she became his muse and lover. They married and had two sons.
“Yoï found contentment with Antonio, although adventure was never far away,” says John. “She passed away in 1944, aged 67, in her garden in Florence. My wife says that I’ve fallen in love with Yoï. Perhaps I have. She was an amazing person.”