Matriarch

by Anne Edwards

  Although the Queen thought her cousin George Cambridge morally unstable and was shocked by his “scandalous behaviour,” she was personally fond of him, and Princess May, always a bit prim in her opinions, felt much the same way. Her departure for Cannes was a happy one as Uncle George was more amusing and charming than ever, and he had brought her a basket of sweets and scents to enjoy on the journey to the commodious Villa Clementine in Cannes.

  An anxious three weeks was to pass after they reached the South of France before the Prince and Princess of Wales contacted the Tecks. A note from Prince George to Princess May finally arrived on March 29. “Papa & I are coming over to Cannes towards the end of the week for a few days (incog.). I hope I shall see you then, we hope one day you will give us a little dinner, we are going to stay at a quiet hotel, only don’t say anything about it. The others will remain here ... Goodbye dear ‘Miss May’ ... ever your very loving old cousin Georgie.”

  Prince George spent every possible moment of his five-day stay with Princess May. The young woman, though still dressed in severe black mourning attire, showed a renewed enthusiasm for life. The colour returned to her face, the gleam to her eyes. The local paper predicted an engagement was imminent, and these reports were repeated in the English press.

  During April, the Tecks visited Cap Martin for three days. Then the Prince and Princess of Wales, accompanied by Prince George and his sisters, Maud and Toria, journeyed to Cannes for a short stay, before leaving for Hyères. With no further reason for the Tecks to remain in the South of France, Princess Mary Adelaide shepherded her party to Stuttgart to visit the Duke of Teck’s relatives, and there they remained until late June.*

  “The reason why we are always putting off the return to England is the rumour of a new engagement for May,” the Duke of Teck wrote his sister, Amelia, on May 15. “We have not spoken to her about it, but it seems she feels frightened by an early return home.”

  Princess May’s hesitancy to face a new engagement had nothing to do with any part of the recent past. Nor was she fearful that talk of a new engagement was too premature or that her cousin might decide upon someone else. She was quite confident, in fact, that this was not the case—for Princess Marie had just announced her engagement to the Crown Prince of Rumania, and there was no pressure from the Queen for any other Royal alliance.

  As unlikely is the idea that Princess May had learned anything not already known to her about Prince George. She might not have been head over heels in love with him, and during their last meeting she had become aware of his immaturity and his dependent nature. But Prince George was dutiful, conservative, and straightforward, all traits she admired. If she married him, she could be certain that he would not philander as his father did, nor lead a life of dissipation as his brother most assuredly would have continued to do. He might well be dull, but she was somewhat stiff and private and not particularly demonstrative. The answer to the riddle then is not Prince George. It is Princess Alexandra.

  The Princess of Wales had become overtly more possessive of her only surviving son, and she had suddenly realised in Cannes that she was in danger of losing him to Princess May, for she suspected that he was truly in love. Her fondness for Princess May remained in evidence, but she now became intensely competitive. Shortly after leaving Cannes, Prince George, recently removed from the Royal Navy, was sent to Germany to continue his studies. His first letters to his mother mentioned Princess May. Princess Alexandra replied with frequent underscoring to emphasise her points, “The bond of love between us—that of Mother and child—which nothing can ever diminish or render less binding—and nothing and nobody can or shall come between me and my darling Georgie boy.”

  She followed this letter with another: “You know my Georgie that you are everything to me now—you must give us double affection for the one that has gone before us!”

  If Princess May was to marry Prince George, quite clearly she must fight desperately hard to win him away from his mother or share him unequally. Neither prospect was too encouraging in the face of the long years under her own mother’s domination.

  Footnotes

  *Before his marriage to the Princess Louise, the Duke of Fife had been a wealthy landowner near the Castle Abergeldie, a home of the Prince and Princess of Wales.

  †The Honourable Julia Caroline Stonor (1861–1950), a commoner and a Roman Catholic. Her mother had been lady-in-waiting to Alexandra, Princess of Wales. After her mother’s death in 1883, Julia Stonor remained close to Alexandra. She and Prince George were childhood friends, and for a time he was devotedly in love with her. She married the Marquis d’Hautpoul Seyre on July 17, 1891.

  *Georgiana Maria (d. 1894), wife of the 2nd Lord Wolverton, founder of the Needlework Guild, and a good friend of Princess Mary Adelaide.

  *Later to be Lady Eva Dugdale (d. 1940). She was the only daughter of the 4th Earl of Warwick. Married Colonel F. Dugdale in 1895. She was Princess May’s first lady-in-waiting.

  *A curious incident occurred while the Tecks were on this trip to Stuttgart. A fire ignited in the small niche of the bedroom of the guest room which Princess Mary Adelaide was occupying in the home of the Princess Catherine of Würtemberg. The only damage was to the desk where Princess Mary Adelaide had left assorted letters and photographs. Supposedly, while the fire brigade was being called, Princess May salvaged all she could from her mother’s desk. The fire was put out before any great damage was done. And the only loss seems to have been the desk, three signed photographs of Prince Eddy, and his correspondence to Princess May during their short engagement. What these mementoes were doing on Princess Mary Adelaide’s desk while on holiday was never explained.

  FIVE

  By the time the Tecks returned to London in the first week in July, the Queen had made up her mind that Prince George should marry Princess May. She minced no words with the Duke of Cambridge, who found the idea “unseemly and unfeeling and horrible,” since he did not believe his niece loved Prince George. The Queen glanced at him disdainfully. “Well,” she said, “you know May never was in love with poor Eddy!” The Prince and Princess of Wales, after the close association with the Tecks in the South of France, were less enthusiastic than Uncle George over the match. “The Prince of Wales must not prevent the marriage,” the Queen wrote to her private secretary, Sir Henry Ponsonby. “Something dreadful will happen if he does not marry.”

  Having thus made up her mind about Princess May’s future, she suggested a financial advisor take over the Tecks’ money affairs. Princess Mary Adelaide was grossly offended, but to no avail. The Queen was determined that if Princess May married Prince George, the Tecks’ reputation for financial crises would have to be improved. And not only was a comptroller installed at White Lodge, but a young steward as well. The idea was to stop Princess Mary Adelaide’s extravagances and to relieve Princess May of her former unsavoury task of putting off their creditors. With the arrival of these two men, the household was at once in a terrible “fluster,” Princess Mary Adelaide insisting that the family needed three carriages and the harrassed comptroller, Alexander Nelson Hood,* countering that the small family could easily go about in one.

  The Tecks were heavily in arrears in paying their bills of the local tradespeople. Now that Princess May was not to marry Prince Eddy, they feared they might never be paid, and these rumours came back to the steward (a Mr. Hough), and consequently to Princess Mary Adelaide, who declared at luncheon one day, “Since it seems the tradespeople are so fond of talking about me I shall stop the beer, bread, and cheese!” These inducements had been dispersed to delivery boys in lieu of tips and therefore were actually financed by their own employers.

  With Prince George in Germany, the summer and autumn of 1892 was an anxious time for the Tecks. Nervously but patiently they awaited a sign, and on November 29 it finally came. The Tecks were invited to Sandringham to observe both the birthday of the Princess of Wales and the one-year anniversary of Princess May’s engagement to Prince Eddy. Alwa
ys optimistic, Princess Mary Adelaide was hopeful that with Prince George at Sandringham, a proposal was in the offing. But the visit to Sandringham proved to be disappointing.

  The Princess of Wales, still dressed poignantly in heavy mourning, fell into a terrible depression. She wept as she opened her birthday gifts and insisted the Tecks visit Prince Eddy’s bedroom. A fire burned in the little grate; flowers stood about in vases; the room was as he had left it; even his soap had been religiously preserved in a soapdish. From this shrine, the Tecks were escorted on a family pilgrimage to Sandringham Church, where a stained-glass window representing an idealised Prince Eddy as Saint George in shining armour, with a halo, had been newly installed. The incongruity of this memorial was enough to prompt Princess Mary Adelaide to write to her sister that she supposed “the cruel battle with death” had created “a noble young knight.”

  It rained hard for most of the visit. Still, Princess May trudged through the mud to meet Prince George and the rest of the shooting party for lunch. In the evenings, they would play cards, particularly bezique. The emotional climate at Sandringham this December 1892 was certainly not conducive to romance. Unsure but hopeful that their inclusion at this memorial “celebration” was the sign they had anticipated, the Tecks returned to White Lodge.

  Then, at Christmas, Prince George sent Princess May a handsome brooch, an encouraging sign. The first anniversary of Prince Eddy’s death, January 14, found Princess May at the chapel at Windsor. “... How beautiful it is,” she wrote Prince George directly after, “... and how calmly and peacefully our beloved Loved One lies there at rest from all the cares of this world. God be with you and help us bear our cross is the fervent prayer of your very loving cousin—May.”

  The year of respectful mourning had passed. If Prince George was so inclined, now was the time he would make his intentions known.

  Once out of mourning, Princess May was able to enjoy the fruits of her current popularity. To her mother’s delight, the Tecks were tendered more invitations than they could accept. This season Princess Mary Adelaide would not have to inveigle fashionable country holidays for her family. She could pick and choose. The most prestigious offer came from the Duke and Duchess of Newcastle at their celebrated hunting estate at Clumber, a favourite of the Prince of Wales. The Tecks—father, mother, daughter, and son Alexander (Alge)—were most pleased to be given the Prince of Wales’s usual suite of rooms. Other guests included Lord Randolph Churchill,* as well as his American wife, Jenny, once a mistress of the Prince of Wales and at thirty-nine still one of London’s most celebrated beauties.

  Lord Randolph was not well and remained in his room. The rumor was that he was losing his mental capacities. A short time later his wife was to claim, “He is quite unfit for society ... one never knows what he may do.” Still, this gloomy prediction did not preclude the spirited Lady Randolph from joining the dancing and festivities along with Princess Mary Adelaide, who loved to dance. One evening when the young people were dancing the new pas de quatre, she remarked how “stupid” the girls were in the execution of it. There and then she began dancing the intricate steps down the long hall from the ballroom with one of the elderly male guests, much to the great delight of all present. In spite of her tremendous girth, Princess Mary Adelaide was exceptionally nimble on her feet. Before long she had a great deal to kick up her heels about.

  On April 29, Prince George, who had recently been gazetted Duke of York upon his father’s request to the Queen, returned to England from Athens, where he had been visiting with his mother.* Arriving alone, he went immediately to Sheen, the home of his sister, Princess Louise. Since Sheen was near White Lodge, the newspapers were filled with speculation of an imminent Royal engagement. The evening of May 2, Prince George dined with the Tecks. The next afternoon, Princess May was a guest for tea at Sheen, after which Prince George and Princess May sat awkwardly among the formal gathering, not quite knowing what was expected of them. “Now, Georgie,” his sister finally said, “don’t you think you ought to take May into the garden to look at the frogs in the pond?” Hardly a romantic suggestion; still, the young couple seized upon it. “We walked together ... in the garden and he proposed to me, & I accepted him,” Princess May confided to her diary. “I drove home to announce the news to Mama and Papa & Georgie followed. He went back to Sheen after dinner. We telegraphed to all the relations.”

  Princess Mary Adelaide, in fact, telegraphed everyone she could think of to proclaim: “May engaged to Duke of York,” completing her list late at night before being struck by the terrifying thought that the Queen’s consent had not yet been given. Her rush to announce the news could, at the very least, raise the Royal wrath. Working through the night, she sent out second telegrams to cover her faux pas, which read: “Unless announced in papers keep engagement secret.” To her great relief, the Queen gave her consent. The next day the newspapers reported the engagement. Princess Alexandra, still in deep mourning, remained in Athens. On May 13, she wrote to Princess May from Venice: “God bless you both & let me welcome you back once more as my dear daughter, & grant you all the happiness here on earth—which you so fully deserve with my Georgie & which was alas denied you with my darling Eddy. I am sure ... his spirit is watching over you now & rejoicing with us & that the clouds have been lifted once more from your saddened young life & that you may yet look forward to a bright & happy future with the brother he loved so well ... I know we two will always understand each other & I hope my sweet May will always come straight to me for everything ... Ever yr most loving & devoted old Motherdear.”

  Princess Alexandra did not hurry home from Venice, however, and the young couple discussed the arrangements for their wedding with the Queen. Princess Alexandra returned only days before the wedding and just in time to greet her own family’s arrival from Denmark. To the Queen’s chagrin, she remained in deep mourning until her first public appearance before the wedding. At no time did she oppose the wedding or the arrangements, but she had become considerably cooler in her attitude toward Princess May. There were no further references to “my darling May” in her letters, no special gifts. Nor did she include Princess May in any of her social activities or dinners where her son was included. To Princess Alexandra, Princess May’s new engagement made a travesty of the first.

  The wedding date had been set for July 6. The newlyweds would have the use of the homely, aptly named York Cottage at Sandringham. But during their two-month engagement, they had no time alone together, for Princess Mary Adelaide was never far away from her daughter’s side. Prince George wrote his fiancée of his grievances toward his mother-in-law-to-be, and Princess May, after some cross words to Princess Mary Adelaide, confessed to Prince George that her mother was “so obstinate” and that the harsh words they had exchanged made her feel “like a little devil,” but that she had not “forgiven her yet.” She adds, “This is a simply horrid time we are going through and I am only looking forward to the time when you and I shall be alone at Sandringham.”

  Nevertheless, mother and daughter gave the impression of being warm and close as they scurried about to purchase the bride’s trousseau. A generous “contribution” by “dear Aunt Augusta,” the Grand Duchess of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, allowed the two women an opportunity to be wildly extravagant. Forty outdoor suits, fifteen ball dresses, five tea gowns, and a vast number of bonnets, shoes, and gloves were ordered along with matinée gowns, travelling capes, travelling wraps, and driving capes. The Lady’s Pictorial in its Royal Wedding Number gave a full description of each gown made exclusively by English dressmakers but did not include the lavish selection of undergarments made in part of “some beautiful flounces of black lace.”

  “I am determined,” Princess Mary Adelaide told the press, “that all the silk [in the trousseau] shall come from England, all the flannel from Wales, all the tweeds from Scotland, and every yard of lace and poplin from Ireland.” The bridal dress with Maiblumen and the extravagant trousseau that had been ordered (and
only recently paid for by the Prince and Princess of Wales) during her engagement to Prince Eddy were packed away, eventually to be misplaced and lost. Silver and white brocade from the Spitalfield looms was ordered for a new wedding gown.

  The affianced couple’s social commitments escalated alarmingly. Almost everyone in position at Court rushed to honour them with a lunch, garden party, tea, dinner, or ball, and protocol made it difficult to refuse. Gala performances at the opera, theatre invitations, and a constant flow of Royal wedding guests to be met filled the daily calendar. And time still had to be found to receive deputations from cities and organisations from all over England. Wedding gifts (nearly fifteen hundred of them in the first weeks) had to be opened, sorted, and acknowledged. Amongst the presents was a dazzling display of brooches, tiaras, pins, bracelets, and necklaces studded with diamonds and gemstones for Princess May, and a boudoir grand pianoforte (she could play tolerably well), as well as rare antique furniture, crystal, paintings, silver, books, magnificent porcelain, and all manner of clocks for the bridal couple. Each day the newspapers would list the latest gifts, and each day Princess May would show visitors round the ever-growing displays at White Lodge. She was also sitting for two portraits, which led her concerned fiancé to write: “I must say that it is a great shame making you sit to all these artists at this time.”