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

by Julia P. Gelardi

  Only rarely did Queen Marie let her guard down in front of others. One foreigner, Ethel Pantazzi, encountered the queen at such a moment when, dressed in her Red Cross uniform, Marie went to the Cathedral of Jassy for a service of intercession to help Romania. “She seemed to me,” recalled Pantazzi, “the symbolic victim of all the horror and suffering of these dark days—her eyes were so sombre, her face so drawn and tired.”27 With all the overwhelming problems around her, Queen Marie could easily have thrown up her hands in defeat. Instead, she chose to tackle them. To have done otherwise would have been to let the enemy win. So Queen Marie took it upon herself to be the driving force that would keep Romania’s spirits buoyed. She did so whenever she received the newly injured each morning at the train station at Jassy. Her indefatigable energy and bravery elicited many admirers, among them the French ambassador to Romania, who also had fled to Jassy. He recalled a nurse who said that “ ‘the Queen is our mascot.…Her presence immunizes us better than all the vaccines.’ “28

  The queen’s devotion did not go unnoticed or unappreciated among her suffering people. On the contrary, Marie’s unflinching dedication to them and to Romania earned her accolades and, above all, love. The wounded and dying soldiers at Jassy greeted their queen reverently and admiringly. Visiting one wounded soldier, Marie was amazed: before her lay a seriously injured man, his bandages soaked in blood. When told that his queen was by his side, the man, who could not see, stretched out his hands toward Marie murmuring something. She moved closer, straining to hear his words: “May the Great God protect you, may he let you live to become Empress—Empress of all the Roumanians!” It was a moment of supreme hope amid unbearable suffering and seemingly inevitable defeat. Marie recalled how “I prayed to God to listen to his wish.” She prayed “that the blood of so many humble heroes should not be given in vain, prayed that when the great hour of liberation should sound at last, an echo of the shout of victory that that day would sound all over our land, should reach the heart of this nameless one beyond the Shadow into which he was sinking, so that even beyond the grave he should still have a share in the glory his living eyes were not destined to see.”29

  By December 1916, Romania was in dire straits, prompting Queen Marie to prepare for a personal appeal to the tsar. But the Queen of Romania’s appeal was stopped by earth-shattering news concerning the Tsarina of Russia’s indispensable favorite, Rasputin.

  Nineteen

  NEUTRAL NORTH AND SOUTH

  ABOUT THE TIME MISSY ASCENDED THE ROMANIAN THRONE, HER cousin, Ena, gave birth to her last child. The guns at Madrid’s Campo del Moro fired twenty-one shots in honor of the birth of a son to the King and Queen of Spain. Sadly, the Infante Gonzalo, Ena’s seventh child, was afflicted with hemophilia, just like his eldest brother, Alfonsito.

  At the time of the Great War, King Alfonso and Queen Victoria Eugenie reigned over a nation that had seen a gradual growth in population. This, coupled with strains in the social structure, slow progress in the educational system, and a growing shift among the left toward radicalism, meant that trouble was brewing within the kingdom, posing a challenge to Alfonso and his successive governments. Both Spain and Russia, with large agrarian populations hampered by illiteracy and poverty, lacked a strong vibrant middle class. Large swaths of land were owned by few landowners, whose property was tilled by landless laborers. Missing were the small landowners who might have helped bridge this deep gap between the extremely wealthy and the dirt-poor peasants. What middle class existed, possessed little political clout. Nevertheless, as time passed, agitations for reform in both countries began to permeate parts of the populace. Socialism and anarchism took root and spread, so that political indifference gave way to activism. The problem for the Spanish and Russian monarchies was that those who were for king and tsar largely remained passive and inert, while those who leaned to the left agitated for drastic change. To make matters worse, as urban centers in both countries grew, so did competition for employment. Crowded cities where jobs were not abundant along with the growing resentment of wealthy landowners proved to be a fatal combination. It became only a matter of time before class conflict erupted. Alexandra and Victoria Eugenie, in fact, graced two of Europe’s most tumultuous thrones.

  When World War I began, the Spanish royal family left Santander for San Sebastian. Hamstrung by an inadequate navy and an army numbering less than 150,000, of which half had been used for Spain’s Moroccan adventure, and with its population divided over which side to take, Spain had no choice but to opt quickly for a policy of neutrality. One historian has summed up the problem: “Neutrality spared Spaniards from the human slaughter of the conflict but its ideological, social and economic impact hastened the erosion of the fragile foundations of the regime. Most dynastic politicians were determined to keep Spain out of the war but it was beyond their power to prevent the war from entering Spain.” Though a number of rural Spaniards did not take sides in the conflict because it was beyond their comprehension, in the upper echelons, Spanish society was divided into Germanophiles and Francophiles. The opposing sides took an obsessive interest in the war, which now “was almost perceived as an ideological clash in which each of the warring factions came to symbolize certain transcendent ideas and values: the Allies represented democracy and freedom and the Central Powers, authority and order.”1

  The Spanish royal family was not immune from this ideological divide. Like Queen Elisabeth of Romania, Queen Maria Cristina, born an Austrian archduchess, naturally sympathized with the German Empire, while Ena herself, born and bred in England, easily took to Great Britain’s side, as Marie of Romania had done in her adopted country.

  Sophie of Greece, Alexandra of Russia, and Maud of Norway were equally in sympathy with England, but the queens of Romania and Spain’s experiences during the war were unique. Marie turned out to be the most vociferous supporter of the Allied cause and the most politically influential. Her role in getting King Ferdinand to throw in Romania’s lot with the Entente cause cannot be underestimated. Ena, meanwhile, was much more personally affected by the conflict when her brother, Maurice, came in the direct line of enemy fire as he fought the Germans in France.

  Not surprisingly, King Alfonso, caught between his Germanophile mother and his Anglophile wife, took to maintaining an elusive stance during the war among his family. There is little doubt, though, that “if his sympathies did from time to time stray towards the Central Powers, it was almost certainly in the direction of Vienna rather than in that of Berlin.”2 This was certainly the conclusion of the American ambassador to Spain, who found Alfonso to have been “anti-German, but pro-Austrian.”3 Nevertheless, his mother and wife were never completely sure whether Alfonso was for the Allies or the Central Powers. Alfonso’s cousin, Princess Pilar, wrote that “it is doubtful if even Queen Ena or Queen Maria Cristina really knew where his personal preferences lay.”4

  The war reopened the chasm that had kept Spain’s two queens emotionally apart and prevented them in the early years from enjoying a harmonious relationship. As an Austrian with close relatives fighting on the side of the Central Powers, Queen Maria Cristina openly showed her sympathy for Germany. As queen of a neutral country, Ena was more circumspect in her sympathy toward the Allied cause, but with roots that stretched deep into England, few people doubted which side she was on. Living under the same roof, the two women struggled to keep their relationship on an even keel. One of Ena’s ladies-in-waiting recalled how “the Queen was admirable as a neutral Queen but suffered highly on account of her own native country—England. It was remarkable the way both Queens—one English, the other Austrian…behaved towards each other.”5 As an Englishwoman surrounded by many pro-Germans at court, Ena found life in Madrid during the war very lonely. And since Maria Cristina lived virtually by Ena’s side, there were moments of great strain.

  One of the most dramatic, which threatened to explode into an ugly scene, took place during a luncheon that was interrupted by news of the tragic de
ath of Lord Kitchener at sea. Maria Cristina could barely hide her satisfaction at the misfortune that had befallen the Allies. Victoria Eugenie, on the other hand, was shocked. She had known and admired Lord Kitchener for years, ever since she was a child. Since she was deeply disturbed by her mother-in-law’s insensitive attitude, and highly distressed at the personal loss, it took a superhuman effort on Ena’s part to keep from exploding into anger. But she dug her fingers deep into the white tablecloth and kept quiet—observers were struck by the highly visible marks on the cloth.

  Despite the insensitivity displayed here by Queen Maria Cristina, she was not completely without her moments of kindness toward her daughter-in-law. When, early in 1915, Ena received the awful news that her favorite brother, Prince Maurice, had been killed in action in France, the Queen Mother offered her heartfelt sympathies and prayers. Maurice’s death and her inability to be at her mother’s side in England were particularly hard for Ena. Writing to Queen Mary in February 1915 to thank her for mailing a photograph of Prince Maurice’s grave (taken by May’s son, Edward, the Prince of Wales), Ena spoke sadly of the war: “What a terrible winter this has been for everyone & I so often think of you all in these sad and anxious times.…It is very hard to be away from my old home at such a time as this and especially so since Maurice’s death when I know that Mama is so sad and needs me so much. I would give anything to be able to go to her but that I fear will not be possible for a long time to come.”6

  One of the few ways in which Ena could momentarily ease the tensions in her life was to take refuge in music, for which she had a great passion. She excelled at the piano and became an active patron of the performing arts in Madrid. Ena was especially fond of the great pianist Arthur Rubinstein. The two became friends when the young Rubinstein visited the Spanish capital during the war to play a series of concerts. Rubinstein found Ena to be “charming, beautiful, and very musical.”7 Ena, in turn, found in Rubinstein an astonishing talent. She assiduously attended his concerts and even had him play in her private apartments for herself, her daughters, and a lady-in-waiting.

  In fact, the queen took a surreptitious role in helping Rubinstein. When the piano he was playing in public performances began to deteriorate, he complained about it to the queen. “I have noticed it myself,” replied Ena. Then she added, “If you keep the secret carefully, I shall be pleased to send my own Steinway which you like, for your concerts in Madrid.” A flattered Rubinstein replied, “I hope it will not inconvenience Your Majesty.” “Not in the least,” answered Ena. “I shall have it brought back to the palace after each concert.” In a surprising twist, the queen added, with a smile, “But I do not want to make it known, not even to the King. He might not approve.”8

  All went well until one particular concert, when a worried Rubinstein was set to play but, according to the theater manager, the piano had still not arrived. After a long hour’s delay in which the audience grew more impatient by the minute, the coveted piano arrived and the queen appeared at the royal box. Rubinstein later recalled that that concert “turned out to be one of my best.” When he asked Queen Ena at intermission what had happened, he found her “flushed with excitement.” She proceeded to tell him. “I am sorry about your ordeal waiting for the piano, but something quite unusual happened. At luncheon the Queen Mother and the King entered into a lively political discussion. As a rule, they retire after lunch to rest, but today their differences of opinion led them to continue their quarrel in the very apartment where the piano was ready to be taken out. I was on pins, but I dared not interrupt them. The minute they left the room, my men rushed the piano to the theater, and we rushed here too, didn’t we?” Ena then smiled knowingly at her lady-in-waiting, the Duchess of San Carlos.9

  Moved by the poverty she saw in and around Madrid, Ena sought to alleviate the suffering of her people, and did more than her fair share in assisting her compatriots. Not content to be an adornment at King Alfonso’s side, she took it upon herself to push for reform in the sphere of health care. Like her Greek, Russian, and Romanian counterparts, Queen Ena fought ingrained lethargy and prejudices to forge changes. Hospitals and nursing came in for much of her attention.

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  Spain’s war in Morocco, an imbroglio that lasted for years, causing disruption and sadness in many Spanish lives, meant that there was a dire need to help soldiers’ families. Ena initiated the Queen’s Fund for the Wounded. Like Maud of Norway, who willingly lent her patronage to single mothers, Ena decided to allow charity for children whose mothers did not bear the name of fathers fighting at the front. It was an effort to reach out to as many Spanish families as possible. This liberal approach did not sit well with ultraconservatives, but it was welcomed by many mothers who otherwise might not have received any kind of relief. Ena also saw to it that thousands of vests were sent to the fighting troops in Morocco to help protect them from the wet and cold.

  The fighting in Morocco proved fierce. It took fifty thousand Spanish soldiers between 1909 to 1911 to battle their Moroccan adversaries. Not surprisingly, casualties on the Spanish side were high. Queen Ena did her best to mitigate her subjects’ suffering. Her efforts were appreciated, prompting the British ambassador to Spain to report that “Her Majesty gained much deserved popularity by initiating and presiding over a committee of Spanish ladies which raised over 80,000 /. And collected an immense quantity of medical supplies, clothing, and comforts for the sick and wounded soldiers. Sums of money and other gifts were distributed in the Royal Palace at Madrid by the Queen in person to surviving relatives of the killed.”10

  As World War I dragged on, Ena came into her own as a force in promoting better health care for the Spanish people. She did so by raising the profile of the Spanish Red Cross and reorganizing it. Wishing to include the Queen Mother, Ena chose as her vice president Queen Maria Cristina. In time, Ena’s efforts would bear fruit.

  Not all of her attention during the war was focused on her own projects, however, for the queen also lent her support to King Alfonso’s efforts to help locate and ease the plight of prisoners of war. Ena’s husband was spurred into action when a forlorn French washerwoman wrote to the king, trying to ascertain the whereabouts of her husband, missing in action. When he found out her husband was a prisoner in Germany and wrote to tell her so, the French press got wind of it and published Alfonso’s benevolent gesture. In no time, similar requests came flooding into the Royal Palace, resulting in the creation of a bureau to tackle this important aspect of the war.

  King Haakon had done something similar in Norway, as did the Crown Prince of Denmark; but Alfonso was the most extensive and organized in undertaking this task. The palace bureau, which employed forty people (payment for its cost came out of Alfonso’s pocket), was inundated: an estimated minimum “70,000 civilians and 21,000 soldiers were assisted to obtain repatriation; intervention was made in favour of 122,000 French and Belgian, 8,000 British, 6,350 Italians and 400 Portuguese prisoners-of-war,” all thanks to King Alfonso’s help.11 An admiring Infanta Eulalia wrote that “anguished mothers of five different countries christened the Madrid Palace the Palace of Pity.”12 One of King Alfonso’s biographers has concluded that when it comes to his work on behalf of thousands of prisoners of war, Alfonso “has never received the recognition which is his due.”13

  As if the war, Spain’s internal problems, and Alfonso’s serial adultery were not enough, Ena was always worried about her sons—the hemophiliac Alfonsito and Gonzalo, and the deaf Jaime. Yet through it all, in public she rarely displayed signs of bitterness or defeat. Instead, trained as she had been at the side of Queen Victoria, Ena continued to present a dignified facade.

  Norway’s king and queen, like Spain’s, were fortunate in that they too escaped the kind of coercion and campaign of vilification that made Constantine and Sophie’s life a misery in Greece. Norway fared well during the war, and this naturally boded well for Maud and Haakon VII. Far from being hounded by the Allies as Queen Sophie in Greece experien
ced to her cost, and far from being at the center of an ideological family argument, as Queen Ena endured, Maud’s lot was less contentious. Her only serious immediate concerns (besides a speedy end to the war itself) were worries over German attacks on Norwegian shipping and the fact that she was unable to visit England. Yet Norway did have its share of problems.

  Just because her country remained neutral during the war did not mean that Queen Maud was content to sit on the sidelines. Instead, she spearheaded fund-raising drives for the relief of those who suffered hardships. In the winter months, the queen chaired a committee meeting every two weeks consisting of ladies from different parishes. The money raised “was distributed annually for many years on her birthday for the purchase of food, fuel, clothing and medicines. It was Maud’s wish that special attention should be given to the needs of large families and to single mothers.”14

  In the early stages of the war, Maud was moved to write to Queen Mary about the Germans: “Altogether ‘they’ behave too abominably in every way and are more like mad beasts than ordinary human beings—” Maud, British as ever, could not help but add her pride in England: “How appalling this war is, and how all my thoughts naturally return to ‘home’ and all you dear ones, I feel so far away and lonely, it is terrible being away from one’s own beloved country at such a ghastly moment—With what pride one reads of the splendid way the dear old country has behaved.”15

  Among Queen Victoria Eugenie’s greatest detractors at the Madrid court was the Marquis of Viana. The queen and the marquis crossed swords from the very beginning. As part of King Alfonso’s entourage, Viana was with his master during the heady days when Alfonso courted Ena. Back then, Ena received the marquis with characteristic politeness. Viana also was one of a privileged group of invited guests who witnessed Victoria Eugenie officially embrace the Roman Catholic faith at Miramar. Ena’s acquaintance with Viana, therefore, predated her marriage. In the early days, she had no inkling that this close friend of Alfonso XIII was to make her life a misery.