Queen Victoria's Matchmaking

by Deborah Cadbury

  As word spread, Missy’s match continued to evoke strong feelings. ‘Disgusted,’ declared Lady Geraldine, wrongly concluding that the alliance had been engineered by the British royal family to suit their own purposes. ‘It does seem too cruel a shame to cart that nice pretty girl off to semi barbaric Romania . . . to clear the way for May!!! Too bad.’15 Princess May had reached her German relatives at Ludwigsburg when a telegram arrived in early June bearing the startling news. She could hardly fail to know of George’s interest in his Edinburgh cousin. Now pretty, vivacious Missy was spoken for – whisked off the list of potential brides. This could only signify greater hope for the Tecks. There was no discreet holding back for Mary Adelaide. She wasted no time in making arrangements for them all to meet with Missy’s mother to hear all the news at first hand under the guise of happy congratulations.

  Prince George was in Denmark when he heard of Missy’s engagement. A sparkling array of royal relatives had descended on Copenhagen from across Europe to celebrate the golden wedding anniversary of Alexandra’s Danish parents, King Christian and Queen Louise. As the news broke in this imposing company George had to work hard to keep his composure. Many who knew he had hoped to marry Missy were there. He had offered her the prospect of being a future Queen of Great Britain. But the princess of his choice had turned him down, apparently rushing to marry an unremarkable prince in line for an inconsequential throne in a backwater of Europe. This was the ultimate rejection.

  Prince George may have been lacking a bride, but arrangements were proceeding like clockwork for his smooth transition to the married state. Plans were underway for the prince to take up the very apartments allocated to Eddy in St James’s Palace before George embarked on his married life. Over the summer of 1892 correspondence flowed to and from Sir Henry Ponsonby’s office about the costs of repairing the apartments and adapting the bachelor cottage at Sandringham. George’s income to keep up a separate establishment was arranged and ‘in case of Prince George’s marriage’, wrote Ponsonby, sufficient funds were made available for him ‘to make a settlement on his wife’.16 Like his brother before him, the queen honoured George with a new title. Eddy had been elevated to the peerage as the Duke of Clarence and Avondale. George would become the Duke of York and his place and precedence in the House of Lords was being arranged.

  With an almost disturbing seamlessness, he seemed to be stepping into his brother’s shoes. It was as though his very identity was being moulded to take over not just Prince Eddy’s role but also his home, perhaps even his bride. After Missy’s rejection, Queen Victoria was clear that there was one obvious solution for her grandson George. There was a royal bride, already vetted and perfect for him. George must inherit not just his brother’s throne, but his bride as well. As for May, Queen Victoria understood that any sensible girl would know that respect and the doing of one’s duty, whatever disappointments life might offer, were the unvoiced creed of royalty. Love would follow.

  The queen raised the matter again in May 1892, prompting Bertie to advise her not to push the case. After George’s serious illness ‘and then the shock he received when Eddy was taken from us’, the Prince of Wales felt his son had not quite recovered. ‘It would be bad for him’, Bertie wrote to the queen, if he and May were pressed into it.17 The queen at last acquiesced. ‘Georgie shall be forgotten as you wish,’ she promised him. But she omitted to say for how long.18

  Among the royal glitterati who arrived in Copenhagen in June 1892 for the Golden Wedding anniversary of the Danish king and queen was George’s cousin, the tsarevich. Twenty-four-year-old Nicholas was three years younger than his British cousin and slightly taller, his eyes a deeper shade of blue. They remained as alike as twins, even with the same brown-coloured hair, just starting to recede across the forehead. As future rulers of Britain and Russia, between them they were heirs to empires that covered almost half the world. In the informal atmosphere of their grandparents’ Danish court, they had the opportunity for a lengthy exchange. Still feeling the loss of Eddy, George warmed to Nicholas and they talked privately together for hours, as brothers would. Both faced the same pressures to find a bride, and despite living thousands of miles apart, both felt the ubiquitous influence of Queen Victoria over their choice.

  Nicholas knew that Queen Victoria, like his own parents, opposed his first choice of the beautiful Alix of Hesse. Unlike his Romanov relatives, Nicholas tended to indecisiveness, except when it came to Alix. He did not even have to think about it; he was sure he loved her. Whenever speculating on his future he always imagined her in his life, but could not see how this would happen. She seemed remote, unobtainable. ‘I have struggled a long time against my feelings,’ Nicholas had confided to his diary at Christmas 1891, ‘and tried to persuade myself it was an impossible thing, but since Eddy gave up the idea of marrying her, or was refused by her, it seems that the only obstacle between us is the religious question. There is no other, because I am convinced she shares my feelings.’19

  Alix was less certain. The obstacles to marrying the Russian tsarevich loomed large in her mind, first among them her absolute commitment to the Lutheran faith that guided all her actions. If she were to become a future tsarina she would have to convert to the Russian Orthodox Church. Although both Ella and her cousin, Sophie, had each joined their husband’s faith, Alix saw this as an impasse. Her confirmation vows were sacred. She had committed herself to a Lutheran God and all the demands of the Lutheran Church in struggling to be a good Christian. This could not be cast aside for something as selfish – frivolous even – as romantic love, however strong her feelings might be. Compromise was not possible. The searching instruction of her religious teacher, Dr Sell, during her confirmation had made a profound impression. It was as though she was engaged in a permanent struggle to achieve a spiritual ideal, observed her lady-in-waiting, Baroness Sophie Buxhoeveden. ‘She was always mentally fighting things out, always striving to solve deeper questions while jealously keeping all this inner life from prying eyes.’20 Her inner conflict was heightened because she had not raised the idea of conversion with her beloved father before he died. She had seen his anguished reaction to Ella’s change of faith. Not knowing his wishes, how could she risk going against his spirit?

  A change had come over Alix since the death of her father, Louis of Hesse, the year before. With terrible irrevocability a door had been shut and she felt herself to be alone. She appeared to withdraw into herself, shrinking from family gatherings where she could feel overwhelmed. Just like her grandmother, no anniversary or birthday could pass without a lament. ‘One does miss our Darling more than I can say,’ she confided to the queen. ‘Perpetually there are things one longs to ask him’ was a refrain she repeated as though longing for guidance from a trusted parent.21 Her future was undefined, possibly frightening, and Alix found refuge by immersing herself in the day-to-day task of supporting Ernie in his new role as the Grand Duke of Hesse. The more she absorbed herself in her brother’s life, the more she felt comforted and safe. ‘We live so quietly,’ Alix wrote to her brother-in law, Louis. She would accompany Ernie to town for his audiences, entertaining herself while she waited by picking cherries or buying flowers. Ernie needed support running the household and in spare moments, she continued, ‘we have got the craze’ of taking the carriage to beauty spots and painting. Sometimes they went fishing, ‘the other evening got 40 crabs in the pond’.22 Wrapped up in his life, she could avoid the pressures of her own.

  But her anxieties surfaced all too readily. It was at this time that Alix began to suffer from various physical symptoms for which doctors could find no cause. She apologised to the queen after one trip to Balmoral in 1892. ‘It was only such a pity not feeling well as it prevented me from going out with you more . . .’23 A few months later she asked forgiveness for not replying to a letter from the queen, ‘but I was not well enough’. Specialists were consulted but could not find anything physically wrong. The possibility that Alix was suffering from a nervous
complaint could not be dismissed. Queen Victoria urged her to seek further specialist advice. ‘It is such a nuisance having perpetually something,’ Alix confided to her.24

  Her greatest worry was over her future. Although Alix had not seen Nicholas since 1889, she heard about him through Ella, whose letters occasionally gave glimpses of her grandmother’s warnings about Russia. Sergei’s promotion to Governor General of Moscow in 1891 coincided with the brutal repression of Moscow’s Jews in which 20,000 were expelled from the city. With a resurgence of unrest, Sergei wanted the city ‘cleared of Jews’ according to Alexander III.25 Moscow police raided Jewish quarters, evicting hundreds of people with some violence. Over the following months Jewish families hurried to settle their affairs and escape from the city. Many were transported west, others were imprisoned or deported to Siberia, and thousands fled abroad starting a wave of emigration. In the harsh conditions a great many died and as the transports continued during the perishing winter of 1892, the plummeting temperatures prompted even the Moscow police chief to call for a halt until the spring. Ella, whose unwavering loyalty to her husband could admit no weakness, finally let down her guard, confessing to Ernie that she saw ‘nothing in it but shame’.26

  With their families opposed to any union, Alix and Nicholas had had no further opportunity to see each other and explore their feelings. The tsarevich remained under mounting pressure from his parents to consider alternative brides such as the French princess, Hélène d’Orléans. His mother’s hints were becoming increasingly painful. ‘I myself want to go in one direction,’ the tsarevich wrote in early 1892, ‘and it is evident that Mama wants me to choose the other one.’27 Hélène was the only princess apart from Alix who was courted by both British and Russian thrones. It came as a relief to Nicholas to learn that she could not change her Roman Catholic faith. Russian envoys were also sent to the German court to find out about Vicky’s youngest daughter, Margaret, but were informed that she too could not change her religion. Margaret wanted to stay in Germany near her mother and preferred Maximilian of Baden (the very prince who Queen Victoria had singled out for Alix). Meanwhile in Russia the affectionate memories Nicholas treasured of Alix had to compete with another woman cynically singled out by his father as a diversion, the beautiful ballerina Mathilde Kschessinska, or ‘Little K’.

  This liaison had started one evening at the Imperial Ballet in 1890 when Alexander III ordered the beautiful seventeen-year-old ballerina to sit next to him and told the tsarevich to sit the other side, moving another pupil aside. ‘Careful now, not too much flirting!’ said the tsar, knowing full well the likely impact of what he had just said and done on the young ballet dancer. Sure enough Mathilde ‘fell in love with the tsarevich on the spot’, she recalled years later. ‘I had but one desire, to see him again, even from afar.’ She was ‘almost fainting’ with desire on seeing him a few weeks later, when the Imperial Ballet danced for the royal family at the camp for army manoeuvres.28 Mathilde made her interest clear in every possible way. Thwarted for so long in his pursuit of Princess Alix, by the spring of 1892 Nicholas was no longer finding Mathilde easy to resist.

  Shortly before his trip to Copenhagen, Nicholas confided his confusion to his diary. ‘I have noticed something very strange within myself,’ he wrote in April 1892. ‘I never thought that two similar feelings, two loves could co-exist at one time within one heart. Now it is over three years since I loved Alix H., and I constantly cherish the thought that God might let me marry her one day.’ Yet he also felt ‘madly (platonically) in love with little K. An amazing thing, our heart. At the same time do not cease to think of Alix, although it is true, one might conclude from this that I am very amorous . . .’29 But the tsarevich held back, refusing Mathilde’s desire to consummate the relationship. To make sure she understood the strength of his feelings for Alix, he showed Mathilde the entries he had made about Alix in his diary. Mathilde persuaded herself ‘he had only a fairly vague feeling for Princess Alice’. To her father’s immense disappointment, she wanted to set up a home of her own where she could more easily become his mistress. Mathilde found a place to rent in the English Prospect in St Petersburg and waited for Nicholas’s return from Denmark ‘with a beating heart’.30

  In the early summer of 1892 as Nicholas relaxed with George in Copenhagen at the home of their maternal grandparents, they seemed bound by their common fate, talking each night until late into the evening. Uncertain whether he could marry Alix, Nicholas felt he had no choice but to hold out as long as possible until he was forced into a marriage of convenience. George felt his time was running out. Once a suitable period of mourning had elapsed he would be required to reach a decision and set a date for his marriage. Despite Queen Victoria’s promise not to pressure George, within weeks Bertie told his son that she had returned to her theme and ‘was in a terrible fuss about your marrying’.31 Princess May remained understanding and discreet about the continued uncertainty. ‘I have thought so much of you all in Denmark,’ she wrote to George from Ludwigsburg in Germany. Perhaps hoping to establish more common ground between them she aligned herself with his mother’s dislike of Germany. ‘I do not yet know when we shall return home. I hope soon for . . . I cannot stand Germany for too long . . .’32

  George did not rush to reply to May, waiting until he reached Balmoral. Her comment about Germany did indeed strike a chord. Ludwigsburg ‘must be rather a deadly place’, he observed ‘& I quite agree with you that a month in Germany is quite enough for the likes of us’. George had evidently taken May into his confidence about the attentions of another princess, the overly keen Helena Victoria of Schleswig-Holstein, unkindly nicknamed ‘the Snipe’ owing to her prominent nose. ‘The Snipe’ had sent George a framed picture of herself – a sure sign of her interest. ‘It will be a pleasure to welcome that beauty as yr bride,’ Alexandra had teased George.33 ‘The “Snipe” is also here & as charming as ever!’ George wrote to May from Balmoral.34 The idea that this signified wedding bells somehow found its way into the British press. The betrothal of the prince ‘to his cousin, Princess Victoria of Schleswig-Holstein, will be officially announced within the next few weeks’, announced The World on 26 July 1892.35

  For a prince such as George who was not romantically inclined, his short trip to Balmoral in June 1892 was not without complications that interfered with his sporting interests. He was obliged to join the queen and her guests including the hopeful Princess Helena for dinner and other engagements. The queen’s curiosity about his feelings for May had to be circumvented, while wounding reminders of Missy’s new life punctuated his short visit. Perhaps seeking refuge from ‘the Snipe’, he opted for a quiet day’s fishing on 10 June, learning on his return that the queen had received letters from Missy and her mother, both apparently ‘very happy about engagement’.36 On 12 June they heard that Missy and her family were at Sigmaringen, the ancient family seat of the Hohenzollern-Sigmaringens, where she met her future in-laws including the King of Romania. Queen Victoria had a long private talk with George over breakfast one morning and reached a favourable conclusion. ‘He is a dear Boy with much character,’ she wrote in her journal.37

  George left the queen in mid-June to go to London to take his seat in the House of Lords. The chamber was filled with those who wanted a sight of their future king standing solemnly before them in a scarlet robe with an ermine trim. Inevitably comparisons were drawn to his brother. ‘Probably the attendance was larger than on the memorable occasion in 1890 when the late Duke of Clarence was introduced’, observed the Daily Telegraph, and the prince delivered his oath well, in ‘a clear, audible tone’.38 At Queen Victoria’s request the newly invested duke was to spend the autumn in Germany at Heidelberg. The queen’s concern that her future heir had insufficient knowledge of European languages also transferred from Eddy to George. Could he learn the rudiments of German in two months?39

  George endeavoured to meet Queen Victoria’s high expectations. Apart from his studies, she also asked him
to represent her at important functions. ‘It is so good for you,’ she wrote, ‘to make acquaintance with all these foreign royalties.’40 George found his visit to Berlin in his new capacity as second in line to the throne was quite an experience. His mother feared it would be ‘tiresome’ for him to meet ‘with the Great William from Berlin and Potsdam too!!!’41 But the German emperor went out of his way to give George a fine welcome. The Kaiser was unusually ‘kind and civil to me’, George informed his grandmother. ‘I have never known him so nice.’ They went together to Wittenberg for another golden wedding anniversary, this time for the Grand Duke and Duchess of Weimar. A prince from each reigning Protestant house was represented and some 300 guests sat down to luncheon in the very hall where Martin Luther, founder of the Protestant Reformation in the sixteenth century, had once been a professor. All went well, George reassured his grandmother, with the Kaiser even sticking to his notes, written ‘very carefully’ in advance.42 George also took the opportunity while in Germany to see his Aunt Vicky and Ernie and Alix, who was ‘looking thin and sad but very pretty’, he told the queen.43