Born to Rule: Five Reigning Consorts, Granddaughters of Queen Victoria

by Julia P. Gelardi

  By 1893, Maud’s siblings, Louise and George, were already married off; Louise to the Duke of Fife and George to none other than May of Teck. This meant that “Motherdear” ‘s possessive hold over Maud and Toria grew even tighter, prompting Queen Victoria to complain: “If any one has a right to be offended it is I—who am never allowed to have Victoria & Maud to visit me, when all my other Grand Children come & stay with me. I call it unkind & especially very selfish; but that is not Uncle’s fault.”34

  The fate of her unmarried Wales granddaughters preyed on Queen Victoria’s mind and that of their aunt, Vicky, who exclaimed, “I cannot understand their not being married, they would make such charming wives.”35 Queen Victoria had written to their father, expressing her concern about the girls’ unmarried situation, but the Prince of Wales indicated to his mother “that Alix found them such companions that she wld not encourage their marrying & that they themselves had no inclination for it.” “I think he is mistaken as regards Maud,”3 noted the queen presciently “He said,” wrote Victoria to Vicky, that “he was ‘powerless’ [in the matter] wh. I cannot understand.”37

  At twenty-five, Maud had blossomed into an attractive young woman. Her aunt, Vicky, found “dear Maudie…very much en beuté [sic].” Moreover, Vicky also saw the Wales girls in a better light than their Hesse cousins, whose unrivaled beauty was universally acknowledged. Vicky’s praises were high, as she told Crown Princess Sophie: “I cannot help admiring them [Maud and Victoria of Wales] more than Ella or Alicky They are more graceful and more natural, and so much more agreeable and bright. I think they are more clever too.”38

  Maud had certainly caught the attention of one admiring young man in the form of her first cousin, Prince Nicholas of Greece, but he was unsuccessful in getting her to marry him. Nevertheless, he took Maud’s rejection in stride. At one point Queen Victoria had hoped to see Maud married to Ernie, who succeeded his father as Grand Duke of Hesse. But hemophilia in his family plus Maud’s weak constitution scuttled that idea. Victoria, instead, focused on getting Ernie and Ducky married.

  Maud at the Hessian court would have been too much for her mother—not that Maud would have wanted to live in Darmstadt. When she was a guest at the wedding of Ernie and Ducky in 1894, Maud launched a verbal attack on Princess Alix’s hometown and Ducky’s mother. “Thank God I am not her daughter,” exclaimed Maud of her aunt Marie. “No one would make me marry these German vandals. Imagine, having to live in Darmstadt one’s whole life!”39 The Princess of Wales had succeeded in raising Maud to share in her aversion for Germany. When Maud was in Germany in 1886, she disdainfully described her opinions of Germans to her friend, Evie Forbes: “You never saw such frights (just like Germans always are!) I hate every sort of German and I must say they are such vulgar people I think.”40 These words sounded almost as if they had been dictated by Princess Alexandra; evidence, no doubt, of Motherdear’s strong influence in the life of Maud and her sisters. Despite Alexandra’s widely known antipathy to all things German, Queen Victoria and Vicky were still trying to pair Maud off as late as 1894 to another German; this time, the young man in question was Prince Maximilian of Baden.41 But nothing came of it. An exasperated Empress Frederick wrote how “it really is not wise—to leave the fate of these dear girls—’dans le vague.’ “42

  The ongoing guessing game as to whom Maud would marry was not to be resolved until 1895. By then, she was already struck by the fact that life was passing her by. She wrote to Princess May how “it seems so funny that all these younger cousins are getting married and nothing is happening with us, the older ones!”43

  In February 1980, Sophie excitedly told her mother that a baby was on the way. Since, as the Empress Frederick later explained, “accidents happen very easily,” Vicky wisely thought that Sophie might need some help in a medically primitive Athens. She accordingly smuggled into Sophie’s entourage a midwife from Germany, a certain Frau von E. Displaying a characteristically Victorian approach to sexuality, Vicky went on to explain to Sophie why there was a need to keep Frau von E.’s true purpose a secret: “Of course I could not tell you what her real profession was when you were a young girl, so I have to invent the name and function of housekeeper, so that you might have her always near at hand…you married, so she went with you; but I could not tell you why”44

  Had it not been for her mother’s foresight, Sophie’s life and that of her baby might not have been saved. The birth, on 19 July 1890, was dangerous—at one point the umbilical cord was wrapped around the baby’s neck. The doctor in attendance was at a loss what to do, but thanks to the German midwife’s skill, Sophie’s life and that of her baby, George, were saved. In England, Queen Victoria followed events in Greece with a close eye. The queen was taken aback with the speed at which little George arrived—not quite nine months after his parents’ wedding, prompting the queen to write to the Empress Frederick: “What shall I say at this most unfortunate and yet fortunate event happening so soon?” The queen calculated that “it must be a week at least too soon, for she won’t have been married nine months till the 27th.”45

  During the first year in Greece, Sophie found herself drawn to the religion of her adopted country. George’s birth spurred her to adopt the Greek Orthodox faith. After all, as she admitted, “a mother’s church should be that of her children; a wife’s fatherland that of her husband. The news was welcomed by the Greek royals and accepted calmly by Sophie’s own family, including her mother and grandmother. Sophie’s planned conversion, however, earned Wilhelm II’s ire. The fact that Sophie was willing to stick by her convictions and openly defy her brother speaks volumes to the strength of her character and the depths of her conversion. After all, Sophie knew just how unpredictable and unreasonable Willy could be. If there was one thing Wilhelm II could not stand it was disobedience; and a very public act of disobedience from one of his family was tantamount to treason. Here “was a man out of the ordinary run,” an acquaintance once said of the Kaiser. “There was something abnormal, almost unhealthy about him which kept me perpetually asking myself what he would ultimately do.”47

  Sophie announced her intentions to the Kaiser during a visit she and Tino made to Germany in November 1890 for the wedding of Moretta to Prince Adolf zu Schaumburg-Lippe. When Wilhelm’s wife, Empress Auguste Viktoria (“Dona”), heard about Sophie’s plans, she worked herself into a frenzy. Narrow-minded and simple, with few interests apart from her husband, Dona was the perfect fawning wife for Willy. She was also once described by her mother-in-law as possessing “religious prejudices [which were] quite exaggerated and ridiculous!”48

  In the course of the wedding festivities, Dona summoned Sophie to her suite. The heavily pregnant empress immediately confronted Sophie, firing off a venomous attack. Was it true, asked Dona, that Sophie was planning to change her religion? It was indeed, answered Sophie defiantly. But Willy would never hear of it, argued the empress. As head of the church in Germany, it simply would be unforgivable for his own sister to leave the religion she was raised in. Dona shrieked that if Sophie persisted, she would never hear the end of it from Wilhelm, and above all, she would end up in hell. With that, an equally indignant Sophie retorted, “That does not concern anyone here and I do not need to ask anyone.” As for Wilhelm, Sophie continued, “I know him better than that, he has absolutely no religion. If he had, he would never have behaved as he did.” Moreover, “whether I go to hell or not is my own affair.” The heated exchange continued but Sophie dug in her heels, not caring what Willy or Dona thought. “Does Dona imagine that I am going to be ordered about?” said a disgusted Sophie.49

  After their argument, Dona was so agitated that doctors were called in to calm the hysterical empress. Infuriated, Wilhelm II exploded. He fired off an arrogant telegram to King George of Greece: “Should she persist in her intention, I shall no longer regard her as a member of my family and will never again receive her. “50 King George wisely kept a cool head and replied that he did not feel it right to try to
sway Sophie in either direction. The Kaiser’s pompous attitude was in keeping with his character. Count Robert Zedlitz-Trützschler, marshal of the Kaiser’s court, described his master as having “the arrogant conviction that he was called on to play the judge over everybody and everything.”51

  Caught between the warring siblings was their ever-suffering mother, Vicky, who vented her frustration on Queen Victoria. The queen was aghast at Willy’s outbursts. Vicky went on to tell Sophie how the queen felt that Wilhelm’s behavior was “so entirely unnecessary and uncalled for…I myself do not understand such narrowmindedness.” Pleased to find her mother siding with Sophie, Vicky then went on to reassure her daughter, “you see, dear Grandmama thinks just as we do.”52 The Empress Frederick nevertheless grew increasingly anxious that Sophie and Willy’s bitter feud would irreparably damage their already fragile relationship. With this in mind, Vicky urged her daughter to write a conciliatory letter to her brother. In doing so, Sophie tried to explain calmly the reasons for her decision to convert. She sent a copy of her letter to her mother, and it met with Vicky’s approval. However, Vicky knew her son’s character and she warned Sophie what to expect:

  your letter to Wilhelm—I am afraid your kind and nice words will be lost on him, as he has absolutely no heart.… There is no sentiment in his nature, so I fear he will not answer your letter lovingly and sensibly as he should.…With Wilhelm it is not religion that vexes him, it is his silly vanity and pride of being “head of the family,” and their being obliged to bend to his will.53

  The empress was right. Sophie’s conciliatory letter met with Willy’s usual arrogant rebuff. Sophie telegraphed her mother with her brother’s reply: “Received answer. Keeps to what he said in Berlin. Fixes it to three years. Mad. Never mind. Sophie.”54

  Sophie may not have minded, but Vicky did. “It is really too unheard of,” wrote the empress. “It is a piece of tyranny and injustice which fills me with contempt, indignation and disgust…you are quite at liberty to do as you like, you are not his subject, but King George’s.”55

  Willy’s anger did not subside straightaway. Dona and Wilhelm characteristically laid the blame for the premature birth in December 1890 of a son on Sophie. Even five months later, when it was obvious to all that the baby was flourishing, Wilhelm continued to send outrageous comments to Queen Victoria about Sophie’s conversion. One of them reached ridiculous proportions, Willy exploding to his grandmother that “if my poor baby dies it is solely Sophie’s fault and she has murdered it.

  Wilhelm’s threat to banish Sophie never materialized. A wise Queen Victoria knew her grandson and predicted that nothing would happen if Sophie decided to visit Germany, provided that Tino accompanied her. The queen proved correct. Nevertheless, irreparable damage had been done. Willy and Sophie, who had not been close as siblings, would never again find themselves truly at ease in each other’s company.

  By 1892, Sophie was settling in Greece and earnestly learning the language, a fact that won the approval of the Empress Fredrick. By the next year, the crown princess could proudly boast to her mother that she was able to speak Greek to the new ministers who came to a reception at the palace. In time, Sophie was to master the language completely. Her youngest daughter, Lady Katherine Bran-dram, recalls her mother speaking “beautiful Greek.”57

  Aside from the rupture between Sophie and Wilhelm, overall Sophie’s life since her marriage had run a fairly smooth course. By 1893, Prince George was joined by a baby brother, Alexander, also born at Tatoi—the Greek royal family’s summer estate near Athens. Salutes fired from Russian and British warships at the port of Piraeus greeted Alexander’s arrival. No one could have known that the crown princess had given birth to another future King of the Hellenes, one whose tragic destiny was to leave a painful mark on his mother.

  Three

  “GANGAN”

  WITH PRINCESS BEATRICE AND HER HUSBAND, LIKO, FIRMLY ANCHORED to the aging and dependent Queen Victoria, the monarch indulged the youngest brood in her immediate family, the boisterous Princess Ena and her brothers. Compared with her older grandchildren, the dynamics in the relationship between Queen Victoria and these, her youngest grandchildren, were nearly as opposite as night and day. It was a metamorphosis on the queen’s part that was nothing short of astonishing. Whereas the queen’s older granddaughters had an almost reverential admiration for their grandmother, young Ena and her brothers possessed a much more easygoing approach toward the elderly Victoria, whom they affectionately called “Gangan.” Unlike decades before, when she would have balked at the ruckus created by young grandchildren, Queen Victoria put up with the shenanigans of her Battenberg brood. Led by the tomboyish Ena, chirpy voices were heard all day in a never-ending round of “ ‘Gangan this’ and ‘Gangan that’ from rising to bedtime.”1 That the queen adored these grandchildren there is no doubt; on how she herself commented “little Drino & Ena are quite delightful—so amusing.”2

  All was not boisterous fun and games, however. The queen still insisted on discipline and decorum. Ena remembered that “having been born and brought up in her home she was like a second mother to us. She was very kind but very strict with old fashioned ideas of how children must be brought up; the one she most insisted upon was that children must be seen and not heard.”3 By Queen Victoria’s side, Ena learned early how royalty should act. Once, when an older cousin spoke out in the presence of the queen and Ena by saying quite innocently, “I think it is time for us to go to bed,” the queen shot back: “Young woman, a princess should say, ‘I think it is time for me to retire.’ “4

  Living year-round with Queen Victoria meant that the princess was influenced a good deal by the queen. It also came as no surprise that Princess Ena grew to love animals, a predilection she shared with Maud of Norway, Sophie of Greece, Alexandra of Russia, and Marie of Romania. These women, throughout their lives, were surrounded by a menagerie of animals—though dogs were a particular favorite. For Ena, a cherished pet nearly put an abrupt end to her life. In 1894, six-and-a-half-year-old Ena was thrown off her pony at Osborne and hit her head on the ground, causing a severe concussion. The queen recorded being “much distressed. Of course the anxiety we were in was terrible. I love these darling children so, almost as much as their own parent.”5 For Queen Victoria, the next several weeks were tinged with great concern, as “the little treasure” slipped in and out of danger.

  The queen’s physician noticed “dangerous symptoms” appearing and recorded “evident signs of brain pressure, probably a haemorrhage.” Ena’s Aunt Vicky, then at Osborne, related to Sophie of Greece the anxiety they all went through during the uncertain hours after Ena had suffered a concussion. “Grandmama…much tormented, and we are all so distressed…it is so grievous that she [Ena] cannot take notice or open her eyes.” And in another letter from her mother, Sophie read that “the whole day yesterday was one of great anxiety about dear little Ena. She is still in great danger.”7

  After some terrible days, Queen Victoria was finally able to write, “Thank God! she is out of danger today.” The queen added: “We have gone thro’ terrible anxiety since Saturday evg. Tho’ she began to get a little better that very night & she has gone on steadily improving ever since.”8 Even Kaiser Wilhelm was apprised of his English cousin’s health by their grandmother; at the end of February he sent back a telegram: “so glad to hear Ena better.”9 By the beginning of March, the little patient was out of bed. During tea one day, the queen was pleased to see her granddaughter, noting how “sweet little Ena came in. She looks very white and speaks so quietly, but is quite well, only still rather weak.”10 Within a month of the frightening accident, all was well, much to the queen’s relief. She recorded in her journal: “Four weeks since sweet little Ena met with that dreadful accident, and how thankful we must be that she is so wonderfully recovered!”11

  Aside from her fall, Ena continued to enjoy an idyllic life at Windsor, Balmoral, and Osborne. Her placid world, though, was shattered in January 1896
, when her father died unexpectedly while serving with the British in the Ashanti Expedition. Liko was felled by typhoid fever on his way to Africa. His body was brought back to England to a distraught Queen Victoria and Beatrice. Ena, like Alix of Hesse, was orphaned at a young age, another factor they shared with Queen Victoria, whose father died before she was a year old.

  In a faraway land a young man reigned over a historic kingdom. On 17 May 1886, a collective sigh of relief was let out in Spain when it was officially announced that Queen Maria Cristina had given birth to a boy, whose titles were lengthy and impressive, a reminder of the glories of old. The newborn Alfonso XIII was:

  King of Spain, Castille, León, Aragon, the Two Sicilies, Jerusalem, Navarre, Granada, Toledo, Valencia, Galicia, Majorca, Minorca, Seville, Sardinia, Cordova, Corsica, Murcia, Jaen, Algarve, Algeciras, Gibraltar, the Canary Islands, East and West Indies, India and the Oceanic Continent: Archduke of Austria; Duke of Burgundy, Brabant, and Milan; Count of Habsburg, Flanders, the Tyrol, and Barcelona; Seigneur of Biscay and Molina; Catholic Majesty.12

  The fact that the child was a male was all the more reassuring to the nation because just six months before, the child’s father, King Alfonso XII, had died suddenly, leaving a widow and two daughters. The birth of a posthumous son also meant that Spain might more than likely be spared the violence that had marred the country for much of the earlier part of the nineteenth century. Then, a series of wars centering on the Spanish succession pitted the Carlists against supporters of the reigning Queen, Isabella II.13

  The young boy-king grew into a lively and spirited individual, in whose veins coursed the blood of two great dynasties, the Habsburgs and the Bourbons. Alfonso’s unbridled energy was evident from an early age. Maria Cristina noted that “he is good, but so eager, so turbulent, so eager for liberty”14 In raising her son, Queen Maria Cristina struggled with an unenviable task. Well aware of the need to create a sense of balance in the king, she trod a careful path in ensuring that Alfonso not only understood his station in life and his responsibilities but also kept his feet firmly on the ground. She appeared to have succeeded early on, for Alfonso blurted out to a courtier at the tender age of three: “For mother I am Bubi [the German equivalent of “boysey”]: for you I am the King.”15 Alfonso XIII may have enjoyed an affectionate relationship with his mother, but he always gave her the respect accorded to a sovereign of Spain.