As the momentous year drew to a close, Tsar Nicholas reflected on the incredible changes of the recent past. What undoubtedly stood out in his mind was the fact that his choice of Alix as a wife had been a wise one. “Every hour that passes I bless the Lord from the bottom of my soul for the happiness which he has granted me. My love and admiration for Alix continually grow.” An equally enraptured Alix filled Nicky’s diary with her own passionate responses:
Ever more and more, stronger and deeper, grow my love and devotion, and my longing for you. Never can I thank God enough for the treasure He has given me for my VERY OWN—and to be called yours, darling, what happiness can be greater?…No more separations. At last united, bound for life, and when this life is ended we meet again in the other world to remain together for all eternity. Yours, yours!71
At the end of 1894, Nicholas reflected on the momentous events that had passed so unexpectedly and so quickly. In his diary, the young tsar wrote tellingly of the burden of being an autocrat that weighed so heavily on his shoulders— that “the worst has already happened, that which I feared all my life!” But to help him cope with his appointed destiny was his new wife, whom “the Lord has rewarded me with a happiness I could never have imagined. He has given me Alix.”72
As for Alix, she confessed to the Bishop of Ripon that so much had happened to her, “it all seems like a dream.”73 Writing to her brother-in-law, Prince Louis of Battenberg, the newlywed happily confessed: “I can assure you that I never thought one could be as happy as I am now, life is so different to what it was in the past—though there are many difficulties, and all is not easy when one comes first into a new country and has to speak another language yet in time I hope I shall be of some help and use.”74
Unbeknownst to Alix, she would find to her dismay that those many difficulties were soon to emerge and multiply with great rapidity. Just as Queen Victoria had feared, the life of Russia’s beautiful young tsarina was about to become one dreadful trial after another. And Alix need look no further than home to see where one battle was already brewing. Her new mother-in-law was not about to concede her position as first lady in the land. Despite showering Alix with lavish gifts, Empress Marie, ever majestic and confident, could not and would not bring herself to retire gracefully into the shadows. Not long after Nicky and Alix became officially engaged, Empress Marie’s own mother, Queen Louise of Denmark, urged Marie to work at being a good mother-in-law toward Alix:
For yours and Nicky’s sake start treating her like your own child, without fear, right away. I have done wrong by Louise [the queen’s daughter-in-law and wife of Crown Prince Frederick] and therefore spoiled Freddy’s life, and she is pulling him away from me, this is where I am afraid for you: and therefore I am warning you.—Pull her [Alix] towards you, then you will keep him and pull her towards you with love! God help you if you lose Nicky’s trust and love, it will be the death of you.75
Unfortunately, the empress did not heed her mother’s wise counsel, and instead showed herself, early on, to be a domineering mother-in-law. Alix, naturally timid and painfully self-conscious, was understandably slighted by such insensitiv-ity. And caught in the middle of two increasingly stubborn women was Nicholas II. The gloves were now off—which of the two dueling tsarinas would win?
Five
“MAUD COULD NOT HAVE DONE BETTER”
SHORTLY BEFORE THE BIRTH OF MISSY AND NANDO S SECOND baby, Elísabetta, Carmen Sylva was allowed back into Romania by King Carol after a three-year exile. Descending on the Bucharest court with characteristic melodrama, the queen took her rightful place as first lady of the land. Queen Elisabeth continued to be a perplexing creature, whose behavior could be described as unpredictable at best. Der Onkel, King Carol, was an overbearing, unbending, predictable, and colorless man, whose devotion to duty knew no bounds. His wife, on the other hand, was capricious and eccentric, with a propensity for overacting. The only thing this mismatched couple had in common temperamentally was an imperious streak that left many quaking. Crown Prince Ferdinand was one such individual. Missy, though, was made of sterner stuff and slowly stood her ground. She was not the Duchess of Coburg’s1daughter for nothing and from that end Missy received every encouragement to fight back. “If you give way,” wrote Missy’s mother, “you are lost and they regularly trample upon you and stamp every bit of life and pleasure out of you.”2
With Carmen Sylva’s arrival, Missy’s dull days in Bucharest took on more color. Visits to the poetess queen’s artistic salons were among the best places to see Elisabeth in action. At times, these gatherings provided quality entertainment. Carmen Sylva was not completely without her merits as a connoisseur of talent, becoming an enthusiastic patron of the legendary Romanian violinist and composer George Enescu. But oftentimes, the queen could not resist extolling the artistic “virtues” of second-rate performers. To Missy’s amazement, these salons frequently took on overdramatic airs. Basking in the glory of an adoring audience, many of whom were unable to distinguish between a talented artist and a charlatan, Carmen Sylva was in her element. Playing the patroness and surrounded by sycophants, Elisabeth liked having Missy “learn” by her side. At these gatherings, the queen would beckon her over and with an overblown wave of her hands order Missy to “sit down here at my feet and listen, darling.” Though barely twenty at the time, and herself imbued with a strong streak of romanticism, Missy nevertheless found Carmen Sylva and her hangers-on absurd— “nothing was ever taken calmly, everything had to be rapturous, tragic, excessive or extravagantly comic.” Because the queen loved to have a “continual audience,” this motley crew “was trained to hang on her every word, to follow her every mood, they had to laugh or weep, praise or deplore according to the keynote given.”3 Missy never felt at home in these gatherings, nor did she feel at ease among many of Carmen Sylva’s “friends.” They, in turn, harbored suspicions about Missy, finding too much of the foreigner about her.
If Missy shrank from Carmen Sylva’s outlandish theatricality at these salons, the same could be said when Elisabeth set her sights on dispensing charity. For she excelled at presenting herself here too in the most absurd light. It was not out of character to find the queen sitting dramatically on a palace windowsill in plain view of the public below her, ready to mete out help to those who approached their benevolent sovereign. Crown Princess Marie often cringed at the spectacle, sensing that many of Elisabeth’s audience laughed behind her back. Carried away by her own monologues, the poetess queen would “speak of her soul, of her most sacred and intimate belief…of the real and imaginary slights…of the non-comprehension…of her husband.”4
It was pointedly obvious that thanks to Carmen Sylva’s outrageous theatricality, the court of King Carol and Queen Elisabeth took on a decidedly bizarre atmosphere. With two such highly disparate personalities to please, Marie of Romania often found herself at her wit’s end trying to juggle der Onkel and Aunty, both of whom had her and Ferdinand at their beck and call. But Missy also felt pity for the royal couple. The king, with his excessive obsession to duty, made his life and that of those surrounding him dull and burdensome; while the queen’s high-flown flights of fantasy made her prey to ridicule. Missy also had to cope with an indifferent and cowed husband. The crown princess could hardly be blamed for taking the opportunity, when she could, to escape from it all. But such opportunities were few and far between in the early days. Missy had to bide her time in Romania amid a motley cast. Another curious character at court who made life unpleasant was none other than Kaiser Wilhelm and Crown Princess Sophie’s sister, Charly
In Romania, Charly, the arch intriguer, set about destroying Missy’s reputation before the king and queen, who readily agreed with her pronouncements. Cleverly, Charly hid her ammunition against Missy through honeyed words. Unfortunately for Missy, Charly’s position at court was unassailable. She had enjoyed the king’s ear for years, poisoning whatever good views he had of the errant young princess.
In order to escape from he
r weighted existence, Missy found that the best antidote during these early years in Romania was to rely on the support of her mother and Ducky. She also took refuge in riding, her favorite sport. Unafraid of daring jumps, fearless of riding fast and hard, Missy was a superb horsewoman. But even in this, her finest accomplishment, she could not escape the scrutiny and disapproval of her exacting masters. To them, Missy’s daredevil escapades were yet more reasons to keep a close eye on her. This, of course, did nothing to lift up Missy’s spirits.
Queen Victoria was not ignorant of Missy’s predicament in this far corner of Europe and tried her best to ameliorate her granddaughter’s situation. The queen enlisted the help of the British chargé d’affaires at Bucharest, Charles Hardinge. He recalled how “Queen Victoria had heard from the Crown Princess of Rou-mania that she felt very lonely in Bucharest and needed the society of an English lady”5 What Missy wanted more than anything at this stage, besides the company of her mother or sisters, was a British friend—a touch of home in a sea of Teutonic personalities at the Bucharest court. The plan, however, never materialized. But despite all the outlandish goings-on between Queen Elisabeth and King Carol, Missy was able to acquire something positive from the royal couple, which she would put to good use years later. From Queen Elisabeth, Missy acquired something of her spirit of charity. Moreover, Missy’s tutelage under Carol I would come to the fore many years later. But during the first few years of her life in Bucharest, Missy—young, beautiful, impetuous, and impulsive—sought only to be happy and carefree. She could not yet grasp why old Carol’s creed was centered on work, on “iron duty”6 Nor could she grasp King Carol’s exasperation with her unwillingness to make Romania “her entire raison d’être”7 That would come only with time.
News that they were expecting their first child thrilled Tsar Nicholas and Tsarina Alexandra. Two months before her due date, the tsarina had the satisfaction of moving into her newly furnished quarters at the Alexander Palace in Tsarskoe Selo, where they savored their new surroundings. It was here, just shy of their first wedding anniversary, that Nicholas and Alexandra became the proud parents of a hefty ten-pound baby girl, Olga, after an agonizing birth.
A girl instead of a male heir did not bother Nicky and Alix. Like all new parents, they doted on their firstborn. “You can imagine our intense happiness now that we have such a precious little being of our own to care for and look after,” wrote Alix to a sister.8 Queen Victoria noted happily: “Darling Alicky is entirely wrapt up in her splendid Baby”9 Princess Maud wrote, “Nicky is now a happy father, but it is a pity it was not a boy!”10 Only twenty-three at the time of Olga’s birth, there would be plenty of time for Alix to give Nicky and Russia the all-important male heir.
By September 1895, any hopes of Princess Maud marrying Prince Francis of Teck had been virtually abandoned by the lovelorn princess. “Imagine I wrote to F.[rank] and he has never answered,” she lamented to her sister-in-law, May. “And also right before we travelled abroad and still no answer, dreadfulI call it! When you write to him, tell him that I think it is extremely unfriendly: I am genuinely hurt !”11
Besides Frank’s obvious lack of interest in Maud, there were even more worrisome aspects that put him out of the running. Frank, for one, was an inveterate gambler whose gaming habits had reached alarming proportions. The last straw occurred when Frank rashly bet £10,000 on the horses—money which he did not have. This irresponsible behavior earned him exile to India, where it was hoped he would come to his senses.
Those privy to the prolonged attachment were in total sympathy with the princess. “Pauvre petite elle l’a bien aimé,” wrote Mme Bricka, Princess May’s former governess. Indignant at Frank’s behavior, Mme Bricka did not mince words, castigating Frank: “sa conduite envers cette petite [Maud] était cruelle; il ne répondait à ses lettres, et vous savez qu’on ne peut toujours jouer avec le coeur d’une femme.”12 What sparked these candid remarks was the news of Maud’s engagement to Prince Carl of Denmark in the autumn of 1895.
Soon after the engagement was announced, Maud’s father wrote to a friend about Carl, noting that “in her cousin she has made an excellent choice, as he is both charming and good-looking.”13 Some misgivings, however, were expressed about the match. The Duchess of Teck, Frank’s mother, thought that Carl “looks fully 3 years younger than Maud, has no money, [and] they are not going either to give him a house.” The duchess then bluntly opined: “My feeling is, Maud does not care for him enough to leave England for his sake & live in Denmark & I dread her finding this out when too late.”14
As cousins, Maud and Charles (who was born on 3 August 1872) knew each other well, but Maud never thought much of him in romantic terms. Besides, she disliked his family—“the Swan family,” as they were known—and never felt completely at ease among them. When Prince Carl left for prolonged periods with the Danish Navy, Maud did not think much of his behavior and instead immersed herself in keeping up with two other young men in whom she was interested, Grand Duke George, in Russia, and the hapless Prince Frank.
Carl had admired Maud since 1892. By the autumn of 1895, he was prepared to take the risk of proposing, though scared he might be rejected. Family cycling trips throughout the Danish countryside had the effect of lightening the mood for one and all, including Maud.
“I will tell you that I am honestly suffering from a terrible disease,” Prince Carl confessed in October 1895 in a letter to a friend. “I am very much in love, you know that I for many years have highly esteemed one of my English cousins, and now she is more charming than ever.” Two weeks later, he reported happily: “I proposed to my cousin Maud and she was so sweet and charming and said yes.” This made him the “happiest individual who exists on this earth.”15
Unlike Alix of Hesse, who kept Nicholas of Russia in agonies over her steadfast refusal to his proposal of marriage, Maud of Wales accepted Carl on the spot. What most appealed to Maud, besides the fact that Carl was obviously devoted to her, was that since her fiancé had very little chance of ascending the Danish throne, or any throne for that matter, Maud could lead a quiet life. The engagement surprised many. “It was like a bolt from the blue,” wrote Carl’s brother, Christian. “No one had any notion that this was a result from our cycling tours.”16
Maud recorded her happiness in her prayer book, noting on 22 October 1895: “engaged to my dearest C(h)arl(es). May God’s blessing always be with us and our love never change.”17 Maud’s insistence that “Carl” be changed to “Charles” exemplified her desire to let the English aspect prevail over all else. By transforming her future husband’s name into an English one, Maud was in effect Anglicizing her Danish prince.
But her happiness was evident in a letter to Prince Frank’s brother: “Everything happened very suddenly; my cousin Charles has really liked me for 3 years, but I never thought it would last and that he would forget me when he went back to sea; instead the opposite happened: when he met me again this autumn, it got stronger, and in the end it had this happy ending!” Maud also admitted, “it will be awful to have to leave my dear home and my family and go back to Denmark.” Then, in a telling remark, she added: “but I will never stay there long; I plan to return home as often as possible.” And when Princess Maud reported on a five-day visit that Charles made to England, she was thrilled, and busy fomenting plans for her future husband: “He managed so well and loves England so much; I actually have plans to make him completely English.”18
Maud also wrote to Queen Victoria about her newfound happiness: “I thought you would like to hear from me myself dear Grandmama, as you have always been so very kind to me and I wanted to tell you how happy I am and I hope you approve of my choice.” She explained that Charles was expected to be away on a trip to the West Indies. “But after his journey he means to come here and thus I hope he may see you dear Grandmama as he has never seen you yet.”19 Queen Victoria noted with some relief that “she seems to be very happy and I am much pleased.”20
In t
he spring of 1896, Queen Victoria recorded with satisfaction her opinion of her future grandson-in-law. “Maud’s fiancé Charles came for lunch. He seems to be a pleasant young man.” Always an admirer of handsome men, the queen also noted, “He is very tall and good-looking.”21 Charles was indeed tall, towering over his bride to be, who, at five-feet-two, always wore heels so as not to appear too small next to her handsome prince.
The happiness that Nicholas and Alexandra enjoyed was overshadowed by the friction that increasingly took hold between the two women he was most devoted to: his bride and his mother. In a clash involving two strong-willed women, Empress Marie let it be known that she intended to maintain her position as the leading lady of the land; protocol, after all, allowed a dowager empress to take precedence over a reigning one. It was a situation that seemed perfectly satisfactory to the new tsarina’s mother-in-law. Though Alix did not exhibit any jealousy, this order of precedence must have seemed strange.
Since both Marie and Alexandra were anxious to claim the tsar’s undivided attention, the ingredients were all there for an unhappy family situation that none could escape. Thus, day in and day out, was Nicky torn between being the loyal son and the adoring husband.
“I still believed that they had tried to understand each other and failed,” recalled Nicky’s sister, the Grand Duchess Olga, years later; “they were utterly different in character, habits, and outlook.”22 The fractious relationship was based upon a clash of personalities. Where Marie Feodorovna sparkled and socialized, Alexandra glowered and withdrew. Though Alix was beautiful, tall and stately, she never came to be considered an elegant dresser and appeared cold and stiff when on show. Marie on the other hand was a petite brunette whose love of dressing and good clothes was just what the Russian court sought in a tsarina. Attired in her magnificent accoutrements, Marie had a commanding presence. She “instinctively understood that to the Russian people the appearance of greatness was as important as greatness itself.”23 According to a niece, Marie “held herself in such a way that she could never have been taken for anything but an Empress.” But above all, the dowager empress possessed an undeniable “personal charm that captivated everyone she met.”24
Born to Rule: Five Reigning Consorts, Granddaughters of Queen Victoria Page 10
