At first sight, Christian had little to offer the twenty-year-old princess. Fifteen years her senior, balding, with poor teeth and a propensity to stoutness, his family, the Dukes of Augustenburg, had lost their lands during Prussia’s annexation of Schleswig-Holstein. To the Queen, however, his impoverishment proved advantageous: landless himself, he would be more than willing to settle in a house that she would provide in England. Lenchen was whisked off to Germany for a meeting and was delighted by what she found. What Christian lacked in youth and good-looks he made up for in kindness and good manners; he shared her love of horses, and was, as his daughter later recalled:
“…a very remarkable person…a splendid shot, a very keen horseman, and had a profound knowledge of forestry. In addition to all these outdoor interests he loved poetry and literature…He had inherited from his mother a love of flowers and gardening.”[35]
What was more, since he readily accepted the Queen’s offer of a home in England, Lenchen would face none of the traumas of leaving the familiar world to become a stranger in a foreign court as her elder sisters had done.
From their first meeting, Queen Victor liked Christian enough to make allowance for his habit of chain-smoking cigars and, though she sighed, ‘if only he looked a little younger,’ she shared Vicky’s view that, with a few adjustments to his teeth and manners, he would make an ideal son-in-law.
The future suddenly appeared brighter for Lenchen, and when Christian proposed she gladly accepted him. The Queen was content; Lenchen was happy; Vicky was satisfied with her part in bringing them together; and none of them was prepared for the furore that the engagement was about to raise.
The outraged Princess of Wales complained that, since Christian had fought against the Danes in the seizure of Schleswig-Holstein, she could not accept him into the family. Bertie, the Prince of Wales, supported his wife and stated categorically that if the wedding took place they would not attend. From Darmstadt too, Alice opposed the match. Her sister, she believed, was being rushed into marriage with an unattractive and older man simply so that her mother could keep her in service forever. The Queen responded by writing to her relatives across Europe that Alice had ideas above her station, and when the press caught a whiff of the dispute, all kinds of improbable stories appeared in the papers. Christian, it was reported, was a madman and a bigamist who had already fathered several children whom the princess was about to adopt.
In the end, it was left to much-maligned Alice to restore the peace. When a flustered Lenchen assured her that she truly wished to marry her not-so-handsome prince, Alice relented,
“I am so glad she is happy,” she wrote to the Queen, “and I hope every blessing will rest on them both that one can possibly desire.”[36]
Though her third pregnancy and Austro-Prussian War prevented her from travelling to England for the wedding, Alice was delighted to hear that the Queen had provided her two elder daughters with new frocks for the occasion and even succeeded in persuading Bertie to attend the ceremony, which took place at Windsor Castle in July 1866.
The newly-weds settled into Frogmore House on the Windsor estate where life was peaceful but dull. As Alice had predicted, Lenchen remained on call to the Queen’s slightest whim, following her progress through Balmoral each spring and autumn, Osborne for Christmas and summer, and back to Windsor in early spring. For her efforts she received the same £30,000 dowry as had been granted to her sisters, but, to impecunious Alice’s great annoyance, she also received a larger annuity of £6,000 and, of course, a free home.
Christian settled easily into his new life in England. With no official duties to occupy his time, he was perfectly content to loll about the gardens, puffing at his cigars until the Queen, watching him through the window, found his idleness disconcerting and, after sending a curt message telling him to find something useful to do, appointed him as Ranger of the Windsor Estate. Even then, the responsibilities were so undemanding that for the most part he occupied himself by caring for his children and shooting birds.
One day while out on a shoot, his brother-in-law, the Duke of Connaught, who was, ironically, a great marksman, accidentally shot him in the eye. Doctors rushed to the scene and after a careful examination informed Queen Victoria that the wounded eye would have to be removed. Whether or not Christian accepted the idea, the prospect of a one-eyed son-in-law so disgusted the Queen that she refused to permit surgery, which was, in her opinion:
“…Quite unnecessary as formerly she knew several people with shot eyes who did not have it done and who did not become blind: that nowadays doctors were always taking out eyes; and in short [she] spoke as if [the doctors] wished to do it for [their] own brutal pleasure.”[37]
Eventually, she relented and the damaged eye was removed, after which Christian acquired a large selection of different coloured glass eyes which he would display for the entertainment of guests.
A year after the wedding, Lenchen gave birth to her first son, Christian Victor (Christle) – ‘a nice little thing’ according to Vicky. Two years later, a second boy, Albert, was born, to be followed in May 1870 by Victoria Helena (Thora) and, in the summer of 1872, Marie Louise, whom the Queen had wanted to be named Georgina.
By the time of Marie Louise’s birth the Christians had moved into the red brick Cumberland Lodge on the Windsor estate, where a third son, Frederick Harold, was born in 1876 but lived for only eight days.
The stresses of pregnancy weighed heavily on Lenchen’s nerves and, following the birth of a stillborn child in 1877, she became increasingly convinced that she was suffering from all kinds of maladies, the symptoms of many of which were largely in her own imagination. Even her mother, while conceding that Lenchen was good and amiable, lost patience with her bouts of hypochondria and warned Vicky to show her less sympathy since she was, in the Queen’s opinion, too inclined to coddle herself and was placing too great a reliance on her doctors.
To calm her nerves, Lenchen took up smoking (in secret, since her mother detested the habit and would not permit it in her palaces) and frequently badgered her doctors for prescriptions of laudanum. Eventually her addiction became so alarming and her behaviour so bizarre that the Queen and Prince Christian persuaded the doctors to prescribe her with placebos instead.
In spite of her personal problems, Lenchen diligently carried out her duties both as a princess and as a mother. She became the first president of the Royal School of Needlework, patronised various medical organisations, helped establish the Red Cross in England and played a major role in creating the Princess Christian Nurse Training Schools and the Princess Christian District Nurses, which proved so successful that, years later, her niece, Alix of Hesse, would establish similar institutions in Russia. Like her elder sisters, Lenchen took a passionate interest in music, religion and politics – a subject about which her elder daughter, Thora, would prove equally enthusiastic.
Like Uncle Louis in Hesse, Prince Christian, the avid gardener, taught his daughters to grow flowers; and, like Aunt Alice, Lenchen often invited the great performers of the day to sing for them. Princesses or not, the children did not always appreciate their mother’s theatrical guests and were not above making occasional social gaffes, as happened when the renowned singer, Jenny Lind, appeared at Windsor:
“She came up to the schoolroom,” wrote Marie Louise, “and said she would like to sing to the ‘dear children’ - which she did…I went up to her when she had finished and said, ‘Dear Madame Goldschmidt, must you always make such a noise when you sing?’ All she said was ‘Sweet child’ - and kissed me.”[38]
Devoted to her children, Lenchen raised them according to the broad educational principles established by her father. Her eldest son, Christle, was the first royal prince to attend a public school, while the girls, like their cousins in Darmstadt, were provided with an extensive curriculum and learned several languages from an early age. They spoke French to their maid and German to their father, who also taught them mathematics and inspired them wi
th a love of poetry and music.
Living in such close proximity to their grandmother, the children were particularly close to Queen Victoria who was happy to take care of them while their parents travelled abroad. Christle, she said was ‘handsome’ and ‘a splendid fellow’ but she was not quite so taken by his younger sister. On one occasion while Lenchen was in the South of France, the Queen sent her a telegram reporting that:
“Children very well but poor little [Marie] Louise very ugly.”[39]
Marie Louise purported ugliness, which certainly was not in evidence as she grew older, did not prevent the Queen from taking a great interest in her granddaughters’ upbringing. From their earliest years she instilled them with her belief in the value of simplicity and the necessity of treating members of the household with respect. Like their Hessian cousins, the girls were not permitted to expect servants to do for them what they could for themselves.
Respect for servants was one thing, but failure to live up to the standards expected of a princess was another. The Queen would never allow her granddaughters to forget the duties that their position entailed. Marie Louise recalled a dinner at Balmoral when she was fifteen-years-old:
“I was sitting next to the Lord Chancellor, feeling very shy and rather inarticulate. I was completely dumbfounded when a voice from over my head whispered in my ear, ‘The Queen wishes the young princesses to remember that their duty is to entertain their neighbours at table.’ After this, before coming down to dinner, I used to rehearse little bits of conversation so as to carry out my grandmother’s injunction.”[40]
Though firmly established in England, the girls spent much of their youth traipsing after their mother through the spas of Germany and France in search of a cure for her various rheumatic and psychosomatic ailments. The continental tours not only inspired Marie Louise with a great love of travel that would remain with her throughout her life, but also brought her and Thora into frequent contact with their German cousins in Potsdam and Hesse. Intelligent, gentle and unassuming, they were welcome guests in Berlin and Darmstadt, where they soon discovered they had a great deal in common with Princess Alice’s daughters. Similar in age to the younger Hessian children, they too had been raised simply, cleaning their own rooms, wearing inexpensive clothes, and assisting their mother in her many nursing projects. With so much in common, it was unsurprising that Marie Louise and Alix of Hesse, born within two months of one another, soon became close friends.
Back in England, life in Cumberland Lodge passed serenely for Lenchen’s daughters. They continued their lessons, cared for their pets, and played happily together by the lake or in the woods of Windsor.
“Few sisters were really so different in temperament and perhaps character as [Thora] and I,” wrote Marie Louise, “yet I do not think that any two sisters have been quite such close and intimate companions and friends as we were. I always referred to her in everything. She had such wonderful judgement, was so clear-headed and wise, and was so loyal and strong in her affection. With it all, she was very humble and very diffident about her own gifts.”[41]
Their gentleness and good sense endeared them to their Wales cousins, though time had done nothing to ease Princess Alexandra’s prejudice towards Prince Christian. While Queen Victoria delighted in having the little princesses so close at hand, the Princess of Wales could never forgive their father’s part in the Schleswig-Holstein campaign and she was not above making childish and cruel remarks about the girls. Overlooking the plainness of her own frail daughters, she mocked their appearance, referring to Thora as ‘the Snipe’ – a nickname chosen by her brothers because of her long nose and thin features.
If the Christians were aware of her jibes, they might have known better than to take her words to heart. After all, their aunt could be equally cutting in her descriptions of the most flamboyant of all the royal cousins: the daughters of ‘Uncle Affie,’ Duke of Edinburgh.
Chapter 6 – After All They Are English
Edinburghs
Affie: Alfred, Duke of Edinburgh; second son of Queen Victoria.
Marie: Duchess of Edinburgh, Affie’s wife; daughter of Tsar Alexander II
Children of Affie & Marie:
Young Affie (Alfred)
Missy (Marie)
Ducky (Victoria Melita)
Sandra (Alexandra)
Baby Bee (Beatrice)
Waleses
Bertie: Albert Edward, Prince of Wales
Alexandra: ‘Aunt Alix’ Princess of Wales
Children of Bertie & Alexandra:
Eddy (Albert Victor)
George
Louise
Toria (Victoria)
Maud
By the time of Lenchen’s wedding Queen Victoria’s second son, Prince Alfred (Affie), Duke of Edinburgh, was causing his mother almost as much consternation as his elder brother, Bertie, had done. A rough-speaking, hard-drinking sailor, Affie first shocked the Queen by enjoying an affair with a woman in Malta before developing an infatuation with his sister-in-law, the Princess of Wales.
For a brief spell in early 1868 the Queen saw a possibility of redemption. That spring Affie spent six months touring Australia as the first member of the British Royal Family to visit the continent. The tour was beset by a series of misfortunes – during a firework display, three boys were burned to death; in the middle of a military display, a soldier’s hand was blown off; and a hall, named in honour of the prince, caught fire and was destroyed. Nonetheless, the prince was well-received and the tour was deemed a success until Affie fell victim to a would-be assassin named O’Farrell, who shot him in the back. Fortunately, thanks to the ministrations of a group of Florence Nightingale’s nurses, who had arrived in Australia the previous week, the prince made a full recovery; and Queen Victoria hoped that the realisation that God had spared him from death might bring about a change of character. She was quickly disillusioned. The good wishes he received increased his arrogance, and his behaviour became so brash that the Queen could hardly bear to be in his company.
“I am not as proud of Affie as you might think,” she told Vicky, “for he is so conceited himself.”[42]
As ever, she saw no alternative but to adopt her typical remedy for the treatment of errant princes and set about finding him a wife. Various brides were suggested and rejected until, at a gathering in Denmark, Affie came across twenty-one-year-old Grand Duchess Marie Alexandrovna, daughter of Tsar Alexander II.
The Princess of Wales was quick to promote the match; she had received favourable reports of the Grand Duchess from her own sister, Dagmar, who was married to Marie’s brother, the Tsarevich Alexander. Princess Alice, too, spoke highly of the Grand Duchess who, as a first cousin of Alice’s husband, Louis, had been a regularly visitor to Darmstadt:
“[She is so] dear and nice, with such a kind fresh face, so simple and girlish...She is very fond of children, and of a quiet country life – that is the ideal she looks for.”[43]
But, for all their flattering descriptions and Affie’s enthusiasm for the match, the notion of an Anglo-Russian alliance was received very badly in both St. Petersburg and Windsor.
While the Tsar doubted that a rough sailor prince, nine years her senior, was worthy of his only daughter, Queen Victoria could not have been more disgruntled had Affie said he intended to marry his Maltese mistress. Since the Crimean War she distrusted the Russians and considered the Romanovs far too decadent and ostentatious. The prospect of an Orthodox princess tripping through her palaces surrounded by chanting priests was more than she could bear and, as usual, it was Alice who took the brunt of her rage. This time she was accused of spoiling Affie and giving him ‘grand ideas’ during his visits to Darmstadt.
In an effort to distract him from Marie, Queen Victoria frantically searched for alternative candidates but Affie, dazzled by the prospect of an exotic bride and the immense wealth that she would bring from St. Petersburg, refused to be impressed. Rejecting all other suggestions, he became so obnoxious, loiteri
ng gloomily about the palace and insulting the servants that at last Queen Victoria yielded. After a great deal of haggling with the Russian court about the correct protocol, she eventually allowed Affie to depart for Russia where the lavish wedding took place in St. Petersburg in January 1874.
When the couple returned to England, Queen Victoria saw her new daughter-in-law in a different light. She found her charming, ‘a treasure,’ and, if not conventionally beautiful, she had a ‘pretty bust.’ Moreover, unlike the Princess of Wales, the Duchess of Edinburgh had no desire to fritter away the hours in endless entertaining but enjoyed the more studious pursuits that appealed to the Queen.
Though it was true that she surrounded herself with icons and chanting priests, her devotion to Orthodoxy did not impinge on the rest of the family.
“Scrupulously respecting the [Protestant] faith we were christened in,” wrote her eldest daughter, “she rather shunned speaking of religion with us, fearing perhaps to influence us in, any way.”[44]
Nor was she as materialistic as Queen Victoria had anticipated. Members of the court were shocked to discover how little attention she gave to her appearance within her own home. On formal occasions, however, dripping in priceless jewels, she made her English in-laws appear dowdy in comparison.
Marie made an equally favourable impression on the British public. Shortly after the wedding, The Ladies’ Treasury reported that:
“The Grand Duchess speaks English better than most English girls; she has a most pleasing manner, and a presence singularly ladylike and distinguished.”[45]
Unfortunately, Marie could not reciprocate the English sentiments. Life at the English court was exceedingly tedious after the ostentation of St. Petersburg. The late nights were tiring; the food bland; and her home, Clarence House, uninteresting. Her mother-in-law’s constant interference was bothersome and it irked her that she, an Imperial Highness and daughter of the Tsar, should come lower in the order of precedence than her sisters-in-law, who were mere Royal Highnesses.
Queen Victoria's Granddaughters 1860-1918 Page 6