by Anne Edwards
The Royal children were much taken with this incident. Moments earlier Princess Beatrice of Battenberg—to everyone’s horror—had dropped her heavily embossed Order of the Service over the edge of the box with a deafening clatter. The boys were unable to restrain their nervous laughter until their mother, with a stern look, took hold of each of their arms.
The King was finally crowned at 12:40, the Queen a short time later. The King wore the historic Crown of Saint Edward. The Queen had commissioned the Carringtons to make a crown for her with the Koh-i-noor diamond at its centre and pavé diamonds so closely covering the frame that it was like one spectacular stone.
For fully a half-hour after the end of the service, the King rested in Saint Edward’s Chapel. When he finally reappeared he walked with firm, though slow step to his coach. The Coronation had been exhausting; still, the King was more resilient than those around him had supposed, and by the next morning he was back at work.
“Very good reception from the crowds in the streets,” Princess May commented on the coronation. But her Lady-in-Waiting, Mary Lygon, had the last word. “My Princess May attracted a great deal of admiration, as she walked down the Abbey, with Eva Dugdale and I staggering under her heavy purple velvet and ermine train.” And she added that the Princess of Wales’s ladies wore dresses of white satin with a design of feathers in diamante “all up the front and round the skirt,” which she thought were “prettier than the gold and silver of the Queen’s ladies.”
Footnotes
*Arthur James, first Earl of Balfour (1848–1930). Prime Minister (1902–05).
†Spencer Cavendish, Marquis of Hartington, 8th Duke of Devonshire (1833–1908).
‡Mary Lady Curzon (1870–1906).
ELEVEN
As early as the spring of 1894, Princess May, realising how limited her husband’s schooling had been, set to work to better educate him. She read to him and had him read to her various histories and works of literature. She helped him to compose speeches and rehearsed him in his delivery. His grandmother, the Queen, was most pleased and suggested that the young man also be tutored by an authority on constitutional history. Mr. J. R. Tanner of St. John’s College was engaged, and with him Prince George read and analysed Walter Bagehot’s definitive volume, The English Constitution.* At the end of the course, the Prince was asked to put forth his definition of monarchy. What follows is Prince George’s summary in its entirety, as he first wrote it in a school notebook that remains in the archives at Windsor Castle (italicised words were underscored by him).
Monarchy
(1) The value of the Crown in its dignified capacity
(a) It makes Government intelligible to the masses.
(b) It makes Government interesting to the masses.
(c) It strengthens Government with the religious tradition connected with the Crown.
After the accession of George III the Hanoverian line inherited the traditional reverence of Stuart times.
(d) The social value of the Crown.
Great for good or evil.
Compare the Courts of Charles II and George III in their influence on the nation.
(e) The moral value of the Crown.
(f) The existence of the Crown serves to disguise change & therefore to deprive it of the evil consequences of revolution. e.g. The Reform Bill of 1832.
(2) The value of the Crown in its business capacity. The Crown is no longer an “Estate of the Realm” of itself the executive, but the [Monarch] nevertheless retains an immense unexhausted influence which goes some way to compensate for the formal powers which have been lost; this influence can be exercised in various ways:
(a) In the formation of Ministries; especially in choosing between the Statesmen who have a claim to lead a party.
(b) During the continuance of Ministries. The Crown possesses first the right to be consulted, second the right to encourage & third the right to warn. And these rights may lead to a very important influence on the course of politics, especially as under a system of party government, The Monarch alone possesses a continuous political experience.
(c) At the break up of a Ministry (but this can be treated best in connection with the House of Lords).
Thus, though it would be possible to construct a system of political machinery in which there was no monarchy, yet in a State where a monarchy of the English type already exists, it is still a great political force & offers a splendid career to an able monarch; he is independent of parties and therefore impartial, his position ensures that his advice would be received with respect; & he is the only statesman in the country whose political experience is continuous.
The British monarchy was and is a symbol with certain constitutional functions: mainly, the right to be consulted by the Government; and to encourage and to warn the Ministers of State. The ruling monarch symbolised the nation in the same way a flag of another country might do for that nation, only, of course, this symbol was not an abstract piece of bunting but a person of flesh and blood.
In his book, Bagehot also said, “A family on the throne is an interesting idea ... The women—one-half of the human race at least—care fifty times more for a marriage than a ministry ... a princely marriage is the brilliant edition of a universal fact, and as such, it rivets mankind.” England is very much a domestic country, where—as Disraeli said—“the home is revered and the hearth sacred,” and the King and Queen and their family having been known by the people all their lives become a source of great security. But this kind of blind familial devotion meant that Royal marriages had to be ideal for British subjects to use as a measure of proper morality. Portraits of the Royal Family idealised them and showed them to be united, loving, unblemished; a “pool without a ripple.” And all marriages within the Royal Family were presented as passionate courtships which culminated in fairy-tale endings of eternal harmony.
With King Edward and Queen Alexandra, this, of course, was not the case. Her Majesty’s Ladies-in-Waiting were aware that the King and Queen had not shared a bed in years and that since the King’s liaison with Alice Keppel had begun, he no longer even shared his anxieties and plans with his wife or sought her counsel for decisions. The Queen was helpless to alter the situation. Originally, she had been sharply disapproving of Mrs. Keppel. Time had tempered her feelings, and she now accepted the relationship. Alice Keppel did not flaunt herself or take advantage of her position as the King’s mistress. Most of the King’s former mistresses had been great beauties as well as intelligent and ingenious women, and the Queen had hated them all. Mrs. Keppel was well informed and a good conversationalist. To her credit, where the Queen was concerned, were her plain looks and simple dress. Her clothes were in exquisite taste; still, they were in no way showy. She wore few (though elegant) jewels, and she was no longer slim.
The King’s dependence upon Mrs. Keppel grew. Occasionally, a ripple of Court censure could be discerned, as when the King named one of his horses “Ecila,” which, of course, was Alice in reverse. Yet the King’s love for Alice Keppel had deepened with the years and those close to the Throne respected the liaison, for they had never seen the King so personally content.
Because Edward had brought such life back to the Throne, and because of his near-escape from death before his coronation, his subjects were as prepared to forgive and forget his former indiscretions as they were certain Alexandra was. In truth, the King and Queen were brought closer by their new responsibilities, but it was the King’s mistress, Alice Keppel (called “Favorita” out of the King’s hearing), to whom the King turned for companionship and advice, as well as love. Mrs. Keppel, besides her charm and great intelligence, was a reliable and discreet woman. All the King’s Ministers liked and trusted her, and discussed His Majesty and problems of state freely in her presence.
Wherever the King went, Alice was invited, along with her husband George, a brother to the Earl of Albermarle and a great-nephew to Sir Henry Keppel, “the little Admiral” who had commanded the Bacchante when Princ
e George and Prince Eddy had been aboard.* By the time Edward became King, he and Mrs. Keppel had been inseparable companions for seven years. One close observer wrote that Edward “had found the most perfect mistress in the history of royal infidelity.” By the same token, George Keppel had to be the most agreeable cuckold in the history of royal infidelity. Attractive, of a socially acceptable family, Keppel still did not have the charm or charisma or the talent for personal success that—without Alice—would have included him in the brilliant social circles in which he loved to travel. His easy acceptance of seignorial rights was downright feudal. By the time Edward was King, Alice Keppel was regarded in Court circles in England and abroad as a second wife to him, and treated as Royalty whenever she travelled. Only three bastions of English morality “let down the portcullis and would not let her pass: The Duke of Norfolk at Arundel, the Duke of Portland at Welbeck, and Lord Salisbury at Hatfield.”
Becoming King did not end Edward’s devotion to Alice’s daughters, most especially little Sonia, who called him “Kingy.” He continued to come to tea at the Keppel house on a regular basis so that he could play with Sonia. Sonia Keppel remembers a plump man, bearded, with a “kind, deep voice, and beringed hands and cigars.” She also recalls “a fascinating game” that she and Kingy devised. He would set her on his knee, holding two bits of bread and butter, butter-side-down. “Then bets of a penny each were made (my bet provided by Mamma) and the winning piece of bread and butter depended, of course, on which was the more buttery.” The fact that his Royal trousers would end up each time with butter stains did not bother the King.
At Easter, the year of his Coronation, he gave Sonia an exquisite blue-enamelled Fabergé egg “embossed with a diamond E, and topped by a tiny crown in gold and rubies.”* Sonia was to travel with Kingy and Mamma each year to Biarritz, where roadside picnics were one of the King’s favourite divertissements. Sonia was later to say, “In my life, Kingy filled the place of an accepted, kind uncle, of whom I was much less in awe than I was of my Uncle Harry ... Kingy’s advent always meant fun to me.”
The King was occupied with affairs of state, as well as with Alice Keppel and familial entertainments. The Queen was tireless in her charity work, pious without being stuffy, and far and away the most beautiful Queen that England had seen in centuries. Whatever ripples existed in the pond were blamed on the imponderables of nature; though accepted at home and abroad, the public knew little of Alice Keppel.
Within three years of King Edward’s accession, his diligence was such that the country began to brush aside memories of his dilettante past. His long princehood, when his close friends had all been Liberals, gave him new Royal insight. He had better understanding, thanks to his long period as a king-in-waiting and to Alice Keppel’s more recent and intelligent counsel. The Victorian’s stiffness, false gentility, and inhospitality to foreigners were dispersed. Yet he could still be criticised for going sailing with his “very rich grocer” friend, Sir Thomas Lipton. Edward was loud in his condemnation of such “snobs.”
Breaking precedent, the King even accepted invitations to private dinner parties. These parties were often as gala as any full-fledged ball, for at that time Dorchester House, Grosvenor House, Lansdowne House, Derby House, Stafford House—all the beautiful homes that were to become official ministries, consulates, hotels, and clubs—were still inhabited by their owners. The Queen did not attend too many of the private parties; she was by the King’s side at almost every public function, albeit arriving late. Princess Marie Louise (Princess Helena’s daughter and the King’s cousin) wrote that the Queen was “quite unmoved, and I might add, quite unrepentant at having kept the King and his guests waiting for at least a quarter of an hour. The darling Queen was a law unto herself.”
On another occasion, having arrived for a Court at Buckingham Palace even later than usual, the Queen appeared wearing the Star of the Garter incorrectly positioned opposite the heart. She merely smiled when the King chastised her and replied “that to wear it on the left side interfered with the arrangement of her jewels.” The King was adamant that she return to her dressing room and position the Star of the Garter correctly. The Queen obeyed, “absolutely unruffled.” Then, after a more protracted wait by the King and Court, arrived with the position of the Star of the Garter correct but, in a bold display of recompense, the Koh-i-noor diamond worn over her right breast.
The Royal Family was well aware of the difficulties in their Monarch’s marriage. During the night of December 10, 1903, Charlotte Knollys, the Queen’s bedchamber woman,* awoke to find her room at Sandringham filled with smoke. She rushed downstairs and entered the Queen’s bedroom, which was also smoke-filled. She shook the Queen to wake her, wrapped a dressing gown around her shoulders, and shepherded her to safety just before the fire consumed and nearly destroyed the Queen’s bedroom. The Grand Duchess Augusta’s comment to Princess May reveals the family’s attitude. “I was horrified hearing of dear Alix’s danger, too awful to think of! We must give credit to old Charlotte for really saving her life. What order will the King decorate Charlotte with to reward such readiness of thought and action? Though he was in no hurry to hasten to see Alix after her merciful escape.”
After sitting next to the Queen at dinner one evening at Buckingham Palace, Lord Esher remarked, “It is queer, her determination to have her way. As Princess of Wales she was never, so she says, allowed to do as she chose. ‘Now I do as I like’ is the sort of attitude. And among her likes is a fixed resolve to go to India and ‘see the natives.’ I wonder if she will ever succeed?”
Lord Esher did not know the history behind the Queen’s determination to go to India. Thirty years before, her husband had secretly planned such a trip without her. When she had learned of his scheme, she personally petitioned Disraeli, then the Prime Minister. The Prince of Wales, however, had already obtained his mother’s consent to go alone. Princess Alexandra was thus forced to admit defeat, but she had not forgotten.
In the months following the Coronation, Princess May was in seclusion with her children, awaiting the birth of her fifth child. A fourth boy, Prince George Edward Alexander Edmund, was born on December 20, 1902. Five Princes were now in immediate line to the Throne of England.
Marlborough House, their new home in London overlooking the Mall, was redecorated and ready for occupancy by spring of 1903. Princess May had drastically altered the interior, and from the day she moved in—April 4—until May 10—when she and Prince George gave their first family dinner to the musical accompaniment of Gottlieb’s Vienna Orchestra—she was in a tizzy as to whether the Queen would approve of the alterations. After the party, Princess May wrote in her diary: “The house looked lovely & the dinner went well.” Slipped between the pages was a gold-trimmed menu card signed in the Queen’s bold hand: “Motherdear Alix—the first dinner in our beloved old home,” with no mention of the new decor or the evening’s festivities.
The Queen was still reluctant to give up the past, despite the grand and glorious present. Marlborough House and the title of Princess of Wales were part of this. She also had to think of the future: What would happen if the King should predecease her? She therefore viewed her daughter-in-law as an aging star might view her understudy. Princess May’s popularity and the King’s fondness for her did not ameliorate the strained relationship between the two women. Princess May, who was the soul of punctuality, found her mother-in-law’s inability to be on time for any engagement a constant source of irritation. She was too respectful of the Monarchy—and consequently of the Queen Consort—to reveal the smallest trace of annoyance. On the other hand, Queen Alexandra never attempted to conceal her jealousy of her son’s wife.
As Mabell, Countess of Airlie, illustrates, prior to one Court day, the King, Charlotte Knollys, and Lord Ormathwaite (H. M. Master of the Ceremonies) were in a terrible dilemma; the Queen had a bad cold, and the doctors insisted on her remaining in bed that day and the next. The Queen was determined that if she could not be at Co
urt, a Court should not be held. The King protested and decided that the Princess of Wales would stand in for the Queen. Lord Ormathwaite was dispatched to convey this decision to the Queen, whose anger was so fierce it “rang through the corridors.”
As Lord Ormathwaite was leaving, Charlotte Knollys ran after him with a message. “Her Majesty says that none of her ladies are to attend the Princess tomorrow and that the Mistress of the Robes is not to go to the Court. The Princess can take her own ladies.”
“How can I tell the King this?” Lord Ormathwaite said helplessly.
Charlotte Knollys offered to do it for him. And the next day Princess May held the Court, but she did so with her own inexperienced ladies and without the Mistress of the Robes, which was previously unheard of.
Not only was the King fond of Princess May, he had a high opinion of her intelligence and “used to talk freely to her about political and foreign affairs which he would never have dreamed of discussing with his own daughters. In fact, the King’s trust in Princess May was so great that he gave her his express permission to see the King’s boxes along with the Prince of Wales.”
“But Mamma doesn’t see them,” the Prince of Wales had replied, aghast.
