Their union had defined the intervening forty years of her reign. Queen Victoria and Prince Albert had had nine children and by the 1880s their family was a British institution that was shaping the future of Europe. Eight of their nine children had married into Europe’s royal houses. Queen Victoria’s oldest daughter, Vicky, led the way, marrying the heir to the Prussian throne, the first of six of the queen’s children to marry into German royal houses. Her oldest son, the wayward Prince Albert Edward, or ‘Bertie’, had married a Danish princess, Alexandra, bringing connections to the royal houses in Denmark, Greece and Russia. For Prince Albert, these marriages were part of a remarkable vision that he hoped would contribute to the peace and stability of Europe.
The ravages of Europe during the Napoleonic Wars at the beginning of the nineteenth century, in which up to six million people lost their lives, had influenced British policy. To achieve a balance of power, no one continental country should become sufficiently dominant to unleash such destruction across Europe again. Prince Albert and Queen Victoria saw the creation of dynastic marriages between their children and European royalty as a further safeguard. This was not just about extending royal power and prestige, but a means of contributing to ‘British Peace’ or Pax Britannica. Each marriage was a form of soft power: a path to spreading British liberal values across the continent, perhaps even a push back against the destabilising forces of republicanism, revolution and war.26 Albert saw the prospect of a federal Europe in which a series of strong, independent countries, stable under their own constitutional monarchies – ideally modelled as closely as possible on the British constitution – were united by the common goal of achieving European peace and prosperity. As the entwined flags of every country so joined in royal matrimony fluttered over the nuptials they seemed to hold great promise, each royal union a potential statement of allied national interests and ideas, bringing hope to the cheering masses – well before there was any concept of a ‘European Union’.
Victoria and Albert had no fewer than forty-two grandchildren and for years the queen was the recipient of correspondence from grandsons and granddaughters growing up in Europe’s palaces. Letters arrived with unvarying regularity, marking birthdays and anniversaries from the Neues Palais in Potsdam, the Palais Edinburg in Coburg, Fredensborg Palace near Copenhagen, Eastwell Park, Cumberland Lodge, Sandringham, Marlborough House, Birkhall and others. From the first scrawls carefully supervised on pencil-drawn lines thanking ‘Grandmama queen’ for presents or telling her about pets, to letters that conveyed their growing experience of their courts or travels, she had watched the progress of the next generation flourish into a cousinhood so large that it formed a unique network or club occupying a singular place at the top of European society. Her union with her beloved Albert had even greater significance as royal connections could be extended and secured still further. The queen had a markedly European outlook and with her trusty Almanac de Gotha, a Who’s Who of European royalty, at her side, she took an informed interest in the prospective marriages of her grandchildren.
Queen Victoria’s grandchildren gained automatic entry into what amounted to the world’s most exclusive dating agency, where one good-looking princess might find herself sought after by the heirs to several thrones. The queen knew that a constellation of judgements had to be called upon when weighing up any hopeful bride or groom. It was not just a question of their country’s prospects and the stability of their throne, but also their religion, moral character, education and looks as well as their ability – perhaps not voiced – to produce strong, healthy heirs. She felt uniquely placed to orchestrate the selection process and help her grandchildren navigate the mysteries of the royal marriage market where young dreams of romance and power often needed realistic guidance.
The birth of a modern form of terrorism with the appalling Russian regicide did not dampen her enthusiasm for matchmaking. As the weeks passed and the queen had a chance to appraise the situation, she saw the Russian murder as a confirmation of her long-held views on the ‘horror of Russia & Russians!’ rather than an assault on all royal power.27 The assassin’s creed in barbarous Russia reflected harsh extremes of tsarist rule that had persisted despite Alexander II’s reforms. Lord Dufferin appeared to confirm this view when he told Queen Victoria that the late tsar’s reforms were good but had been introduced ‘so precipitously as to derange the social fabric’, creating conditions in which ‘the nihilistic conspiracy was born and bred’.28
The queen saw no reason to change her views on other European royal alliances and her grandchildren were expected to play their part in this royal stage production and live up to Prince Albert’s vision. This book explores how seven of Queen Victoria’s grandchildren were elevated to the thrones of Europe at a critical time in Europe’s history and the influence of her matchmaking on the remarkable rise of the royal dynasty.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
This is not a complete list of Queen Victoria’s grandchildren, but highlights her seven crowned grandchildren (in bold), along with siblings who played a key role in their story.
Victoria, Queen Victoria’s
oldest daughter, known as ‘Vicky’
Children of Vicky and her husband Frederick III,
German Emperor (r. March–June 1888)
Wilhelm II, who became Emperor of Germany (r. 1888–1918)
Victoria of Prussia, known as ‘Moretta’
Sophie, who became Queen of Greece (r. 1913–17; 1920–22)
*
Edward, Queen Victoria’s oldest son,
known as ‘Bertie’
Children of Bertie and his Danish wife,
Princess Alexandra
Prince Albert Victor, known as ‘Eddy’
Prince George, who became George V (r. 1910–36)
Princess Maud, who became Queen of Norway (r. 1905–38)
*
Alice, Queen Victoria’s
second daughter
Children of Alice and her husband, Grand Duke Louis of Hesse
Victoria of Hesse (later Battenberg)
Elisabeth of Hesse or ‘Ella’, who became Grand Duchess Elisabeth
Alix, or ‘Alicky’, who became Empress of Russia (r. 1894–1917)
*
Alfred, Queen Victoria’s
second son
Children of Alfred and his Russian wife, Marie of Edinburgh
Marie or ‘Missy’, who became Queen of Romania (r. 1914–27)
Victoria Melita or ‘Ducky’
*
Beatrice, Queen Victoria’s
youngest daughter
Children of Beatrice and Prince Henry of Battenberg
Victoria Eugenie or ‘Ena’, who became Queen of Spain (r. 1906–31)
NOTE ON NAMES AND DATES
Since many of Victoria and Albert’s descendants are themselves called ‘Victoria’ and ‘Albert’, it is perhaps not surprising that the royal family made use of nicknames, and I have adopted these family names where it helps to distinguish younger generations of ‘Victorias’ and ‘Alberts’. For example, Queen Victoria’s oldest daughter, Victoria, later the Empress of Germany, was widely known as ‘Vicky’. In turn, Vicky’s second daughter, Victoria, or ‘young Vicky’, was nicknamed ‘Moretta’ by her family and I have named her accordingly. Prince Albert’s oldest son, Albert Edward, became best known by the name of ‘Bertie’; in turn, Bertie’s oldest son, Albert Victor, was nicknamed ‘Eddy’. I have also adopted the anglicised spellings of names, such as Margaret instead of ‘Margarethe’ and Victoria instead of ‘Viktoria’, with the exception of names where the foreign spellings are very familiar such as Kaiser Wilhelm.
In the nineteenth century, Russia and other parts of eastern Europe followed the Julian or ‘Old Style’ calendar, which was twelve days behind the Gregorian or ‘New Style’ calendar widely used in the West. In the early twentieth century the Julian calendar was thirteen days behind the Gregorian calendar, which was not adopted in Russia until 1918, and la
ter still in Romania and Greece. For consistency I have dated events according to the Gregorian calendar of the West. The (Old Style) Julian calendar dates are indicated by [OS] in my notes on sources.
1
‘A Good Sensible Wife’
‘A good sensible Wife is what Eddy needs most . . .’
Bertie to Queen Victoria, December 1891
In the spring of 1887, as preparations began for Queen Victoria’s Golden Jubilee to mark her fifty years on the throne, an unwelcome altercation arose between the queen and those closest to her. The difference of opinion began over the seemingly trivial matter of the crown she would wear to the forthcoming Jubilee parade through central London. For Victoria’s children this was an occasion for their sixty-eight-year-old mother to abandon her black widow’s weeds and white cap and emerge resplendent from her years in retreat. At her Golden Jubilee she should be highly visible, every inch of her 4 foot 11 inch frame an icon, crowned with many splendid diamonds, indisputably proclaiming her as the great queen and empress of a glorious empire.
Queen Victoria took a different view. No need for a crown; a bonnet would suffice. This would highlight her role as mother, grandmother and even great-grandmother. How could it diminish her authority as queen, she reasoned, to emphasise her position as mother? More than a mother: Europe’s great matriarch? The dynastic unions of her children were a powerful reminder of her unique status in Europe. With a stubborn and counter-intuitive shrewdness Victoria saw that to emphasise her maternal role was to underline her power. Not only this but the symbolism of the ‘universal mother’ forged a link between herself and all her subjects.
Her children were dismayed. Fifty kings and princes from across the world had been invited, who were bound to form a colourful and regal contrast to Queen Victoria’s plain dowdiness topped with a mere bonnet. Indian Maharajas and their suites, flamboyantly attired in brightly coloured tunics, turbans studded with jewels and distinctive white salwars: such exotic company might eclipse the queen altogether. Ten miles of scaffolding were being erected; hundreds of thousands of people would witness the event. How could the British queen-empress, the world-famous monarch of this most envied nation, parade among such distinguished company in a humble bonnet? As one former minister, Lord Charles Halifax, had reminded the queen on an earlier occasion, the people ‘want the gilding for their money . . . They want to see a Crown and Sceptre and all that sort of thing’.1 His view was widely shared. The year before, the foreign secretary, Lord Rosebery, had written to Queen Victoria’s private secretary, Henry Ponsonby, but without success: ‘The symbol that unites this vast Empire is a crown and not a bonnet.’2 Now the queen’s daughter-in-law, Princess Alexandra, was dispatched to bring her to her senses and press the case once again for a crown. The exchange between the queen and her daughter-in-law did not last long. Alexandra emerged from Queen Victoria’s apartments in a matter of moments, ‘quaking’ according to the queen’s biographer, Elizabeth Longford.3 The bonnet had the day.
Such displays of unwillingness to bend to the will of others were adeptly judged by the queen. There was a certain paradox in her position. The monarchy was by no means universally popular. The queen had recently been jeered in the East End of London. Just a few weeks before her Golden Jubilee, one leaflet in circulation drew attention to ‘extreme Radical and Socialistic ideas’ that ‘poured ridicule’ on the very idea of a national celebration in the queen’s honour since the monarchy was a ‘costly and useless luxury’.4 Ever since the death of her husband, Prince Albert, in 1861, Queen Victoria’s retreat into a life of seclusion dominated by her grief had drawn criticism of royalty and its purpose from all quarters. Growing anger at her continued invisibility was captured by one wag who pinned an advertisement to the gates of Buckingham Palace in 1864: ‘These commanding premises to be let or sold in consequence of the late occupant’s declining business.’ By the 1870s the queen’s prolonged ‘over indulgence’ in the ‘luxury of woe’, in the words of one observer, had resulted in widespread anti-monarchical feeling.5 The Liberal politician, Sir Charles Dilke, highlighted the cost of the monarchy in 1871 and called for its abolition. There was talk of abdication as he gained the support of radicals, such as Charles Bradlaugh, member of parliament for Nottingham, and many republican clubs were founded.6
This was a time when radical new ideas were challenging Britain’s class-ridden status quo. The emerging socialist movement was exposing social inequalities and demanding a fairer distribution of wealth and opportunity. Fledgling trade unions were giving a voice to industrial workers and arguing for reform. Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels had urged ‘Workers of the world, unite!’ as early as 1848 in their Communist Manifesto and highlighted the exploitation of the masses by the few. In exile in England, Marx had laboured in the British Museum to produce his seminal work, Das Kapital, in which he expounded his dream of a communist state and exposed the failings of capitalism with its privileged elites. ‘Let the ruling classes tremble,’ cried the communists and Marxists who gathered en masse to protest in Hyde Park in 1871. Meanwhile the anarchist movement had already given birth to modern terrorism on the continent.7 Although the horror of the tsar’s assassination in 1881 had not been repeated by the time of the queen’s Golden Jubilee, different branches of anarchist thinking had deep roots in Europe and raised a whole raft of far-reaching ideas of which the abolition of the state – and the monarchy – was just a prelude.
But Queen Victoria was not for trembling. She rose above the ferment of ideas, impervious, obdurate, gradually imbued with her own unique authority. Ministers may have buckled over her continuing seclusion and the frustration of having to travel 600 miles to her favourite residence, Balmoral, in Scotland, but they invariably – and usually deferentially – complied. She became ‘saturated with an instinctive . . . consciousness of the supremacy of her position’, observed her private secretary’s biographer, his son Arthur Ponsonby. She had a ‘habit of dominating’ in which her imperiousness conveyed such ‘complete assurance and self-confidence’ that even the most forceful minister could find her presence disconcerting.8 Whatever was said about her, she felt her position to be unassailable. An entire entourage revolved around the queen’s wishes. She saw nothing odd, if she felt so inclined, in communicating ‘by means of messages through footmen’. Those who were ushered into her presence often felt overawed. The fact that she could be exasperating, interfering or stubborn was often excused or perhaps blamed on her sex and politely accommodated by the gentlemen running the government. Her prestige increased with Britain’s rising imperial and industrial supremacy until she came to occupy a singular position apparently unequalled by any other sovereign, known across the world as simply ‘the Queen’.9 And as a flood of telegrams of congratulations began to pour into the queen’s office in the weeks approaching her Golden Jubilee, all appeared to augur well for the great event: from ruling chiefs in India, governors of far-flung outposts of empire, from schools, clubs, guilds, unions, city halls, choirs and Sunday schools.10
Queen Victoria marked the opening of the festivities on 20 June 1887 in the manner of her choosing, as near as she could get to her late husband. The queen had built an imposing mausoleum for Prince Albert at Frogmore, near Windsor, and on the opening morning of her jubilee she took breakfast, as she so often did at Windsor, on the lawn close to his tomb, still feeling the great aching, unfillable space in her life. ‘The day has come and I am alone,’ she wrote in her journal.11 At Buckingham Palace later that afternoon she received the many royal figures who had gathered from across the world. The supper-room, she noted, ‘looked splendid’, the many lights on the large horseshoe table casting a warm hue over the uniformed princes and the ‘beautifully dressed’ princesses. But she was old enough for memory to play havoc with her feelings. When she woke the next day the sounds of loud cheering outside took her straight back to that glorious day thirty-six years earlier, opening the Great Exhibition in 1851 with Prince Albert at her side. Even surrou
nded by her family she felt ‘alone, oh! without my beloved husband for whom this would have been such a proud day!’12
Preserved in the royal archives for over 100 years, the fading Ceremonial of Her Majesty’s Jubilee Service, gives a vivid glimpse of the extraordinary pageant, a sight like no other, that wound its way through the packed London streets on 21 June 1887 to Westminster Abbey. The first procession streamed out of Hyde Park Corner at 10 a.m. and brought an exciting glimpse of the Empire to Victorian England: bejewelled and be-turbaned Indian princes, deputations from the Raja of Kapurthala, the Maharaja of Bhurtpore, the Maharaja of Jodhpore and many other Indian dynasties. Half an hour later foreign sovereigns and their colourful suites proceeded from the Alexandra Hotel: the Sultan of Persia, the Prince of Siam, Prince Komatsu of Japan, Queen Kapiolani of Hawaii, and key ambassadors such as the envoy from the Ottoman Empire. At 10.45 a third procession of European royalty departed from the Pimlico entrance of Buckingham Palace: Archduke Rudolf, heir to the throne of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, the crown princes of Sweden and Portugal, the kings of Belgium, Greece and Denmark. The world, it seemed, had come to pay tribute to ‘the Queen’. For one American writer, Mark Twain, watching among the throng, the processions merged and ‘stretched to the limit of sight in both directions’, and still they kept coming, the potentates, the dignitaries, the riders in colourful uniforms, their helmets and breastplates burning gold in the bright sunlight.13
Finally at 11.30 a.m. the queen’s own procession started from Buckingham Palace and as the long line of carriages emerged from the gates, no one could be left in any doubt as to the size and glory of her dynasty. First out were the Prince of Wales Hussars and the Household Cavalry, followed by carriages for senior members of the royal household. Six more carriages conveyed the queen’s granddaughters, one granddaughter-in-law, three daughters-in-law and three of her daughters. ‘Princes of the blood’ came next, riding in order of their relationship to the queen: nine grandsons and grandsons-in-law, five sons-in-law and then three of the queen’s sons. Then twelve Indian officers on horseback heralded the queen’s own handsome landau drawn by six horses, the Royal Hanoverian Creams.14 At the sight of the queen the cheers of the crowd rose into one long continuous roar that sustained along the length of the route and was quite deafening. Packed onto the pavements, the balconies, terraces and rooftops, even clinging to the chimneys, at that moment the great mass of people seemed in love with their queen, so soberly dressed and self-contained. She wore a long dress and her bonnet, fashionably trimmed with white Point d’Alençon, diamond ornaments and pearls around her neck. Her one concession was to wear her exquisite small diamond crown later for her official photographs. She was accompanied in her carriage by her oldest daughter, Vicky, a future German empress, and her Danish daughter-in-law, Alexandra, a future British queen.15
Queen Victoria's Matchmaking Page 2