Matriarch

by Anne Edwards

  Princess Mary Adelaide firmly believed her daughter was owed some recompense. But for the present the mother of the widowed fiancée said nothing.

  The body remained for five days in the chancel of the small parish church adjoining the grounds of Sandringham House. The great unpolished oak coffin rested upon its bier, covered with exotic flowers and with the silken Union Jack for its pall. The weather was dull, the lowering skies threatened snow on the morning of January 20, when the coffin was transferred from Sandringham to Windsor. As the funeral procession made its way through the Royal borough of Windsor, blinds were drawn and townspeople in sombre dress lined the streets, their heads bowed. The only colour in the gloomy scene was provided by the troopers of the Horse Artillery and by the scarlet uniforms of the Foot Guards as they did sentry duty round the castle. The coffin was flanked by Prince Eddy’s own Tenth Royal Hussars, and the procession was led by the Prince of Wales. Prince George was still in a weakened condition and joined the procession only when it reached St. George’s Chapel at Windsor.

  No hymns were to be sung, but the whole of the music used in the service (Purcell, Croft, Chopin, and Arthur Sullivan) had been selected by Princess Alexandra, who, defying both custom and the Queen’s wish, attended the funeral service (Queen Victoria was not present). “I shall hide upon the staircase, in a corner, unknown to the world,” Princess Alexandra told her mother-in-law. She remained behind the curtains of the Edward IV Chantry on the left hand side from where Queen Victoria had witnessed the Prince of Wales’s wedding in 1863, accompanied by her three daughters as well as by Princess May, Princess Mary Adelaide, and three of her husband’s sisters—the Princesses Louise, Helena, and Beatrice. The other royal ladies were seated nearby. Representatives of almost all the royal families of Europe (most of whom were related in some way to the deceased) attended.

  The day was one of national mourning. Businesses were closed, as were theatres and music halls. The entire country was profoundly moved by the death of Prince Eddy, who—in his engagement to Princess May—had suddenly emerged from a position of ridicule to a romantic figure. The saddest and most moving moment of the funeral came when the Prince of Wales placed Princess May’s bridal bouquet of orange blossoms on her dead fiancé’s coffin.

  After the service the pall was borne from St. George’s Chapel to the adjoining Albert Memorial Chapel, where Prince Albert Victor, Duke of Clarence and Avondale, would come to final rest in a grandiose tomb (that had not yet been erected) between the memorial to his grandfather, the Prince Consort, and his uncle, the Queen’s son Leopold, Duke of Albany (who had died in 1884, aged thirty-one). Princess Alexandra, noted the Queen in her journal, looked “... the picture of grief ...” adding, and “... lovelier than ever in her deep mourning.” She was taken by her husband and surviving children to the strict seclusion of Compton Place, the Duke of Devonshire’s palatial seaside estate in Eastbourne, where on February 3 she was forced to bear the news of a potential scandal. James Kenneth Stephen, Prince Eddy’s Cambridge don and close friend, had died as the result of a fast begun the day of his Royal student’s death. Stephen had been committed to St. Andrew’s Hospital, a lunatic asylum in Northampton, ten weeks earlier, and a question was posed: exactly how crazy was Stephen when he had carried on a perfectly lucid correspondence with his former pupil until the day Prince Eddy died? Rumours of a homosexual nature began to circulate at Court, linking Stephen with Prince Eddy and to the Jack-the-Ripper murders, with suggestions that Stephen had been confined to a mental home against his will to get rid of his possible disruptive presence.

  Two days after the funeral, Princess May wrote to her old friend, Miss Emily Alcock, “It is so difficult to begin one’s old life again after such a shock. Even reading, of which I am so fond, is a trouble to me & I cannot settle down to anything—As for writing I simply cannot write ... for it is so dreadful to have to open the wound afresh ...”

  All hope had vanished for her as she prepared to return to the life she had left so willingly that windy morning only three months earlier when she and her brother had boarded the train for Balmoral.

  No one commented that Prince George, that “tower of strength,” was infinitely more equipped for the position of heir presumptive than his brother, brighter, more attractive, with no rumours or scandal attached to his name, or that he was also of a marriageable age.

  Footnotes

  *Queen Victoria’s half-sister was Princess Feodora of Leiningen, the Queen’s mother having been the widow of Emich-Charles, Prince of Leiningen, before marrying the Queen’s father, Edward, Duke of Kent.

  *“Tora,” Princess Helena Victoria (1870–1948) never married.

  *The Empress Maria Fyodorovna (1847–1928) was formerly the Princess Dagmar of Denmark.

  *Irish self-government.

  *Dr. Francis Laking (l847—1914), afterwards made a Baronet, was Physician-in-Ordinary and Surgeon-Apothecary to Edward, Prince of Wales, and to Queen Victoria. He was knighted by Edward VII. In London the doctor lived at Pall Mall, practically across the street from Marlborough House. He also had a home at Broadstairs. Dr. Laking enjoyed a close relationship with the Royal Family.

  †Dr. W. H. Broadbent was subsequently knighted. His medical affiliation with the Royal Family, however, ended after Prince Eddy’s illness and death.

  *Princess Hélène married the Duke of Aosta (1869–1931) a few years later. She became an arrogant, imperious woman. Her husband was a cousin of Victor Emmanuel III of Italy and an Italian general and close to the King. Princess Hélène, who believed herself to be heiress to the grandeur of the Bourbons of France, proudly signed her name Hélène de France, was affected, and thought she was the rightful sovereign, which did not endear her to Queen Elena.

  * Italicised words were underscored in the original letter.

  FOUR

  Most eligible and acceptable young Royal ladies would have been only too pleased to marry Prince George. Therefore, Princess May’s present close ties to the Queen and to the Prince and Princess of Wales had to be preserved and dignified reminders repeatedly made by Princess Mary Adelaide of her daughter’s sacrifice, loyalty, and the manner in which she had endeared herself to the public during her short engagement to Prince Eddy. Princess Mary Adelaide was aware—as was most of the Royal Family—that the Queen favoured announcing a bride-to-be for Prince George as soon as a respectable period of mourning had passed. However remarkable the Queen’s stamina, she was a woman in her seventies. And though robust in appearance, the Prince of Wales was now past fifty and, having led a life of excess, did not engender a sense of security in the strength of the succession in the minds of the British people.

  Pale and gaunt from his recent illness, still shocked by the suddenness of his brother’s death, Prince George’s appearance fed the public’s fears for the Monarchy. If another tragedy should strike the Royal Family and Prince George die before he was to marry and father a child, his eldest sister, Princess Louise, flighty and not terribly bright and wed to a commoner,* would become Queen Regnant, not an eventuality that the country would welcome. An immediate marriage was therefore imperative. The Queen and her ministers were considering prospects within weeks of Prince Eddy’s death. No one could blame Princess Mary Adelaide for hoping that her daughter would be chosen a second time round.

  Though Princess May was aware of her current popularity and knew that the Queen and the Prince and Princess of Wales were fond of her, her mother’s ambitions placed her in an extraordinarily difficult position. Prince George had always shown her great kindness, but he had never given her any indication of a deeper emotion. There was also his long-standing and deep affection for Julia Stonor,† although she had married the previous July.

  Directly after Prince Eddy’s death, to Princess May’s further distress, her father had been overheard by most members of the bereaved family at Sandringham, chanting repeatedly in a deranged manner: “It must be a Tsarevitch, it must be a Tsarevitch!” This was a pointed ref
erence to Princess Alexandra’s sister, Empress Maria Fyodorovna, who had been engaged to the young Tsarevitch Nicholas at the time of his death and had expediently married his younger brother, the future Tsar Alexander III. The fact that this royal union had been successful did not ease Princess May’s embarrassment over her father’s insensitivity.

  The Duke of Teck had always been enveloped by his wife’s enormous shadow. The marriage that he had thought would save him from his own impecunity and shaky royal footing had instead formed him into a totally dependent and useless man. Having married the burdensome Princess Mary Adelaide, he had not been rewarded with work commensurate with his position. In fact, since coming to England, he had never had any specified occupation. To compensate, he gardened when he could and took an interest in his home, but most times he simply remained at his wife’s considerable elbow or walked her small pet dog named, incongruously, “Yes.” But Princess Mary Adelaide was the one who had to deal with creditors and who was forced to importune on the kindness and loyalty of friends and family. In short, the Duke of Teck was a weak man without his wife’s charm, in his daughter’s eyes a social climber and an embarrassment, and whose ineptitude was a major cause of the Teck family’s constant financial crises.

  Two months after the death of Prince Eddy, Princess May had written to Helene Bricka, “I must say I do like Men & here I see nothing but women, women, women, except Papa & he don’t [sic] count to talk to—I am indeed a funny person!” A few days later she confided to Mlle. Bricka, “Mama is quite happy here. Papa is as usual rather trying but we are accustomed to this, wherever we are c’est toujours la meme histoire!”

  Most of the men in Princess May’s intimate circle were either weak or irresponsible. She identified most strongly with the women in her world: her resourceful mother, the indomitable Queen, and the strong-willed, high-principled Princess of Wales. In her own family, her mother was the dominating force, and even with three brothers, Princess May would not have considered turning to any one of the men in her house for advice. Her eldest brother, Dolly, had always had a peppery temper and an immature attitude and had looked to her for guidance; Alge, who was equally immature, she had mothered through their childhood; and Francis, whom they all called Frank, had been a great trial since he was a boy, constantly in trouble over money and women. Since a sense of duty of what was expected of one in her position was so deeply ingrained, Princess May had, therefore, not concerned herself with the poor character of Prince Eddy. Nor did she now think less of Prince George for the nurserylike attitude he still maintained towards his “Darling Motherdear.”

  “Motherdear” was a most theatrical woman who, though lacking artistic taste, possessed an inimitable sense of style. Her tremendous dignity in the face of her husband’s flagrant infidelities added to her aura. Women, parties, and gambling filled the Prince of Wales’s empty hours, whereas the Princess of Wales spent her time stage-managing her awkward, flighty daughters, set-decorating her homes with a clutter of memorabilia, attending diligently to her vast circle of friends and her small dependent family, visiting the ill in hospital, and supporting numerous charities. All comparison between husband and wife had to be to the Princess’s best advantage.

  Shortly after Prince Eddy’s funeral, his family took Princess May with them to Queen Victoria’s Isle of Wight home, Osborne House. From there she returned to White Lodge for a little over a fortnight before her father escorted her to Eastbourne to rejoin the Prince and Princess of Wales at Compton Place. This last invitation was at the instigation of Princess Mary Adelaide. “May has become the child of the Waleses,” the Duke of Teck wrote to his sister, Amelia, as soon as he returned to White Lodge. “I foresee she will be very much taken up with them.”

  On February 27, which would have been her wedding day, “Uncle Wales and Motherdear” gave her a magnificent revière of diamonds which they had intended as a wedding present, as well as a handsome dressing bag, fitted in gold and precious jewels, which their elder son had ordered as a gift for his bride. At Compton Place, drawn together by their grief, Prince George and Princess May for the first time were placed in a situation where they could assess each other as man and woman, and not —as had been previously the case—as future in-laws. Except for Julia Stonor and his mother, and perhaps because of his years in the Navy, Prince George had always preferred masculine company to feminine. He also cared little for social life.

  Although he was the most conservative of dressers, he had a kind of dapper air and a jaunty walk typical of sailors, and was never as comfortable in civilian clothes as in a uniform. He had his mother’s clear blue eyes, smiled easily, and possessed a good sense of humour, but he suffered great insecurity because of knock-knees and a slight lisp.

  From the very start of their friendship, Princess May was determined to overcome the intellectual chasm between them. She read to him for hours and helped him to perfect his French. She took time to look at his beloved stamp collection, and while he told her about particular stamps, she explained some of the background of the country and period of their origin. They were about the same height, although her curious hairdo made her appear taller. They could be seen walking round the grounds of Compton Place, for Princess May had never trusted horses and only mounted one when forced.

  Whatever reservations she had about Princess Alexandra’s possessive attitude toward Prince George, she kept to herself. And when with Princess Alexandra, she remained loving and respectful. With Princess Mary Adelaide prodding her from behind the scenes, and with her own sense of ambition to encourage her efforts, before long Princess May had managed to attract Prince George’s full attention. His bereavement was intense, and Princess May had the sensitivity to understand why. The two brothers had been raised as if they were twins, obsessively close, their relationship reversed (the older following the younger’s lead), and they had shared the experience of being at a great distance from the family.

  Terrified of his father, Prince George also had difficulty relating to the witty young men and beautiful women who were a part of the Prince of Wales’s circle, or with the effete companions of his brother. He loved the Navy life, yet the protection he was given at sea had kept him immature. He still signed his letters to Princess Alexandra, “Darling Motherdear! Your loving little Georgie.”

  Mother and son had a common bond. Neither shared the Prince of Wales’s artistic tastes or intellectual curiosity. To add to this, Prince George had not been well educated. He was, one could say, a very ordinary fellow, better suited for the life of a country squire than that of a future King of England. According to Sir Harold Nicolson, he “preferred recognition to surprise, the familiar to the strange.” That could have accounted for his attraction to Princess May. And she would always be the tie to his dead brother that guilt and love demanded.

  Another candidate for Prince George’s hand in marriage was Marie, the eldest daughter of his father’s brother, Alfred, Duke of Edinburgh. Marie was both clever and comely, and the previous year when Prince George’s ship had put into port in Malta where the Edinburghs had a home, the two had seen each other. However, Marie had intensely disliked Prince Eddy, a fact that created an uncomfortable situation, whereas “Dear Miss May” had deep understanding in her clear blue eyes when he spoke tearfully of his brother as “my darling boy.”

  Shortly after Princess May returned to White Lodge from Compton Place, Princess Mary Adelaide set upon a scheme that she hoped would further the young couple’s affection for each other. Upon hearing that the Prince and Princess of Wales were about to depart for the South of France, she decided that the Tecks would also visit France and stay nearby. Since the Tecks could hardly afford such a journey, someone had to be found to finance it. Princess Mary Adelaide had a clique of wealthy friends desirous of remaining in the good graces of the Royal circle and to whom she often turned when in financial need. Lady Wolverton was one of this select group,* and “dear Lady Wolverton” wished for nothing more than the flowers and sunsh
ine of the South of France and the chance to be near the Prince and Princess of Wales. So while the Prince and Princess of Wales settled into an elegant, quiet hotel at Cap Martin (a promontory that juts out into the Mediterranean between Monte Carlo and the Italian border), Princess Mary Adelaide and Lady Wolverton’s party arranged to take a villa at Mentone, only two miles away.

  When word of this reached the Prince of Wales, he was appalled. Although quite in favour of Princess May as a future daughter-in-law, he found Princess Mary Adelaide’s plan to thrust her daughter into his house indecent. The Duke of Cambridge, Princess Mary Adelaide’s brother and known to Princess May as Uncle George, was duly notified of the Prince of Wales’s displeasure and asked to arrange for the Wolverton-Teck contingent to look for another villa at a more discreet distance—say Cannes, which was ninety-six miles away.

  After several prodding reminders by the Prince of Wales, the Duke of Cambridge convinced his sister that Cannes would be more convivial for her party, and he personally put Lady Wolverton on a train in London for that city to locate a villa. By March 9 a suitable villa had been found, and Uncle George escorted the Tecks, Princess May and two of her young friends, Lady Katy Coke and Lady Eva Greville,* to Victoria Station on the first lap of their journey. Uncle George was a handsome, dashing man who had made the Army his career and beautiful women his passion. In his youth he had turned down the opportunity to be Prince Consort, reportedly saying, “What? Marry ugly little Victoria? Never!” Subsequently he had married an actress, Louisa Fairbrother, and they had three perfectly legitimate sons; but as the wedding had been secret and the Duke had not obtained Victoria’s Royal Consent as required by law, the Queen refused to believe that a wedding had taken place or grant Louisa or her children the use of the family name of Cambridge. They were thus given the name of Fitz-George.