Dearest Vicky, Darling Fritz

by John Van der Kiste

  If official government circles scorned Fritz and hated Vicky, their attempts to poison the peoples’ minds bore little fruit. At the end of March the weather was fine enough for him to go outside, and the heartfelt reception which greeted them as they drove from Charlottenburg to Berlin in an open carriage one sunny day was reminiscent of that which had been accorded them on their arrival in the city after their wedding thirty years earlier.

  Bismarck was quick to endeavour to secure his position by means of two bills that had been passed by the Reichstag but were not ready for the dying Kaiser Wilhelm’s signature and thus kept in abeyance for his successor. One was an extension of the antisocialist law, aimed at expelling the Social Democrats; the second was a constitutional amendment changing the period between elections from three years to five, thus retaining the current pro-Bismarck coalition in the Reichstag for two more years. Most of the liberals thought these had been drafted with the express intention of forestalling the Emperor’s liberalizing intentions and passed with undue haste. Bismarck had been used to Kaiser Wilhelm rubberstamping bills with barely a glance, and when Emperor Friedrich requested time to consider them properly before committing himself he threatened to resign if His Majesty withheld his signature. He told the Empress that her husband had no right to refuse to sign, and was exceeding his prerogatives. If he relinquished office it would create a constitutional crisis, and he could not answer for the consequences for Germany in the next reign. No further warning was necessary. An unfettered Kaiser Wilhelm II was the last thing any of them wanted, and Vicky gave in; if her husband’s signature was required according to the constitution, she conceded, it would be given immediately.

  That same day Bismarck obtained the sovereign’s signature to an order authorizing Crown Prince Wilhelm to sign certain bills of less importance for his father. Since Kaiser Wilhelm’s death over five hundred documents had accumulated, many of them for small matters such as army promotions and appointments. Vicky offered to do these herself, but while Bismarck raised no objection to her face he disparaged the idea behind her back, saying that Hohenzollern Prussia and the German Empire could not allow themselves to be led by a woman. To him it was one step away from her trying to have herself appointed Regent, which court gossips suggested was her intention. Only when Bertie, in Berlin for the funeral, advised her that it would be unwise to press the issue, did she acquiesce in favour of her son.

  There were signs of a new bond between father and son at the start of the reign. Though Fritz had been so depressed by their increasing estrangement during the previous ten years or so, in these last weeks he held out an olive branch. He showed Willy plans and elevations for a projected rebuilding of Berlin Cathedral, drawn up by the architect Herr Raschdorff, and asked him to see that these were carried out after his death.

  However Willy felt that attempts were being made to prevent him from trying to visit his father, and in his memoirs years later claimed that spies were posted to give notice of his arrival at the palace, so he would be greeted with the news that His Majesty was asleep and the Empress had gone out for a walk. It was clear, he maintained, that he was being prevented from talking to his father without witnesses being present. One day he successfully slipped in by the back stairs into his father’s bedroom with the connivance of a sympathetic valet, and his father said he ought to visit him more often. When Willy explained why he had not, Fritz ‘was greatly astonished and described this barring-out as senseless; he said that my presence was welcome to him at any time.’ On his next visit he saw various unknown faces watching from the doctors’ room, and he locked the door. On leaving he expressed his indignation to his father’s gentlemen, and was told that they were in no position to get rid of journalists under Dr Mackenzie’s protection.16 While Willy had every sympathy for his father, he made no secret of his bitterness towards his mother at this time. He told Bismarck, and others, that she hated him more than anything else on earth.

  At Bismarck’s birthday dinner on 1 April Willy made a speech comparing the state of Germany to a regiment whose general had been killed and whose second-in-command lay badly wounded, therefore the soldiers should flock to the standard of their junior lieutenant. When Fritz read a report in the papers the following day, he wrote to his son expressing sorrow that his first public speech as Crown Prince showed unequivocally ‘that you regard my state of health as a hindrance to the exercise of my duties’, and asking him to ‘avoid making any similar speeches in the future.’17 Willy claimed that the newspapers had misrepresented his speech and a corrected version was duly published. Fritz sent him a note stating that as he had been falsely reported, his own remarks no longer applied and he was happy to regard the matter as closed.

  In another matter the Empress was determined to have her way, though the odds were against her. Shortly before Christmas 1887 Sandro, now living in Austria, had written to her that, in view of the unfavourable circumstances surrounding the ‘attempted betrothal’ between him and her daughter Victoria, he must ask her ‘to help to bring this situation to an end’.18 Yet she thought he feared the reactions of Kaiser Wilhelm and Bismarck, and was prepared to wait.

  Now that Fritz was Emperor, she still hoped that Moretta and Sandro would soon be married. Sandro wrote to his brother Henry in England, asking him to make the situation clear to Queen Victoria so she could prevail on Vicky to face the facts. The Queen duly warned her daughter not to contemplate such a match without Wilhelm’s acquiescence, as it would bring misery on the young couple and place Moretta in ‘an impossible and humiliating position’.19 Bismarck warned the Empress that Prince Alexander had fallen in love with Johanna Loisinger, an opera singer at Darmstadt where he had been living as a private citizen since leaving Bulgaria, but as it was the first she had heard of it she dismissed it as malicious gossip. If only Queen Victoria, who had almost certainly known about the affair from Henry for some time, had told Vicky at once, the issue might have passed into history there and then – and all of them would have been spared much bitterness. But Vicky, worn out by the strain of the last few months, seeing her plans frustrated and persecuted at every turn, had become obsessed with the idea that Moretta would he heartbroken if she did not have her Sandro. Unwisely she tried to expedite the betrothal, even if it meant a secret marriage, flight from Germany for her daughter and new son-in-law, and a commission for him in the Austro-Hungarian army. She asked Radolinski to make the necessary arrangements, but as he considered his loyalties were first and foremost to the Prussian state he promptly informed Crown Prince Wilhelm, whose loathing for Sandro still knew no bounds, and all plans were immediately halted.

  Fritz still opposed the marriage of his daughter to an ex-sovereign prince. He knew that after his death, Kaiser Wilhelm and Bismarck would exact revenge on them both, and on his wife for promoting it. Moreover with no money, no country, and no future, Alexander would not be able to keep a wife brought up in an imperial family, and he himself did not have the funds to provide a settlement for them. That there was a difference of opinion between the desperate Empress and the dying Emperor there can be little doubt, though Waldersee’s allusion to ‘a frightful scene between the Emperor and Empress’20 and colourful descriptions by Radolinski and Crown Prince Wilhelm of the Emperor rending his clothes, tearing his hair, ripping the bandages from his throat, stamping his foot, pointing at the door and trying to shout ‘Leave me alone!’ in his hollow whisper,21 must be regarded with scepticism.* For Fritz and Vicky to indulge in such histrionics in private, let alone in front of a third party, sounds too much like court gossip to be credible.

  After consulting Vicky, Fritz invited Sandro to Berlin with the intention of discussing the marriage and bestowing on him some military command, probably that of the Brigade of Guards. According to Moretta, her father gave her his consent personally; ‘I believe he planned to bring about the marriage then and there’.22 At this point Bismarck told the Kaiser firmly that such a move would embitter Russo-German relations, and if the in
vitation went ahead then he would resign at once. Fritz therefore had no option but to cancel Sandro’s visit.

  As a private citizen Alexander of Battenberg had no direct political standing, save as a possible future threat to the Tsar’s peace of mind. He was still popular in Bulgaria, where an active group of Russophobe politicians, as well as those who disliked his effeminate successor Prince Ferdinand of Coburg, wanted him back. If Alexander did marry his Hohenzollern princess, his position would be firmer and subsequent demands for his reinstatement would grow louder. Outside the family few people knew about Johanna Loisinger, and those who had heard him voice his intention of never returning to Bulgaria shrugged it off as the wild talk of a man who would soon forget, unaware how much his ordeals had permanently undermined his health.

  Whatever Sandro’s future, Bismarck protested that Tsar Alexander III of Russia would lose all confidence in his relations with Germany if the marriage went through, and even a visit by Prince Alexander of Battenberg to Berlin would be interpreted as a hostile demonstration. However when Lothar von Schweinitz, German Ambassador in St Petersburg, tried to ascertain the Tsar’s feelings on the issue, a message came back that the latter said he had never been so satisfied with Russo-German relations as he was at Emperor Friedrich III’s accession and proclamation. Nikolai Giers, the Russian Minister, added that if Alexander did come to Berlin, they would regret it but ‘we would be convinced that neither the Emperor nor the Chancellor would change their policy of friendship towards Russia.’ Taken aback, Bismarck consoled himself by muttering to the press about threats of a war with Russia that could only be to Britain’s advantage. His final objection was an extraordinary belief that the Battenberg marriage was part of a plot by the Empress to make Prince Alexander German Chancellor. Though he would have been well suited to a position in the army, nobody would have thought of promoting him to the Chancellorship, an office for which he was certainly not qualified. Somehow Bismarck fancied his personal power to be in danger, and saw ghosts.23 A suggestion that Alexander might have been considered as Statthalter of Alsace-Lorraine was never taken seriously.

  Once Bismarck had won his victory by insisting on the cancellation of Sandro’s visit, he told Vicky that the marriage might be possible one day; all he required at this stage was a postponement. Aware of her financial worries, he offered to obtain the release of nine million marks from Kaiser Wilhelm’s estate for her husband to dispose of as he wished; it would give him a chance to provide for his wife and daughters, and for their dowries on marriage. The parsimonious late Kaiser had kept his son and daughter-in-law in a position of complete financial dependence throughout his reign and refused to provide for his three younger granddaughters, threatening to disinherit Moretta completely if she married Sandro. In his will he had left his widow three million marks, his son one million, a similar amount to Wilhelm and Dona, a considerable amount of landed property and all his silver to Henry, and the rest to the Crown Treasury. To his daughter-in-law and her daughters he had given nothing.

  That Fritz might die before he had a chance to settle his father’s inheritance and make provision properly weighed heavily on his mind. In a later audience, the Chancellor advised the Empress to invest her share of the money abroad on receipt. On 12 April the Kaiser presented her with a certificate for one million marks and their four daughters certificates for two million marks each. Having disposed of one pressing problem, she decided she would ask Fritz to insert a clause in his will instructing Wilhelm II to acquiesce in the marriage of Moretta and Sandro after his death. It was a forlorn hope.

  Meanwhile Bismarck told Vicky that he must continue to give the impression he was opposing the Battenberg marriage, in order to try and keep Crown Prince Wilhelm on his side. Any disagreement between the Chancellor and the heir would result in the latter going over to the far right, and looking to pious, warmongering friends like Waldersee and Stöcker for support. This must be avoided at all costs if possible. As usual the Chancellor was playing a devious game, at the same time telling his confidantes that the Empress was a ‘wild woman’ who was in love with ‘the Battenberger’ herself, and wanted to have him around her, like her mother did with his brothers. On the same day he had an item inserted in the Berlin press that he was about to hand in his resignation over a ‘secret conflict’, and the next editions of the papers narrowed it down to questions of ‘a family nature’. A subsequent article stated that there was some consternation in diplomatic circles over his intention of resigning because of a possibility of the Battenberg marriage taking place; as Queen Victoria and Prince Alexander were due to come to Berlin, the Queen intent on acting as matchmaker and thus taking it upon herself to interfere in the Reich’s foreign policy. Germany had to preserve her disinterest regarding Bulgaria and thus the trust of Russia and Austria, a confidence which would be destroyed at once if the Tsar’s most hated personal enemy was to become the son-inlaw of the German Emperor.

  On 12 April Fritz had a severe attack of coughing. Mackenzie was called, and after consulting Krause and Wegner he decided to try a shorter tube. When this failed to bring more than momentary relief, he chose a different canula altogether and out of professional courtesy sent a note inviting Bergmann to come to Charlottenburg as soon as possible, to see him insert it. Bergmann arrived late in the afternoon, wildly excited and thinking from the message that an emergency had arisen. According to Hovell, who was by no means uncritical of Mackenzie, the German doctor’s breath smelt heavily of alcohol, and he was swaying from side to side.

  On being led into the Kaiser’s room where he was writing at his desk, his breathing audible but laboured, Bergmann removed the shorter canula from his throat and replaced it with a new one. It went into the patient’s neck, but no breathing came out; instead he had a sudden violent fit of coughing. The doctor tried again, in the same rough and ready manner, and with a similar result. Instead of going into the windpipe as it should have done, the canula was forced in front of it, into the neck tissues, causing heavy coughing and haemorrhage. At this second failure, just as a grim-faced Mackenzie was about to insist on taking over, Bergmann (who had been invited to watch, rather than help) conceded defeat and sent for his more capable assistant Bramann, who had been outside in the carriage waiting to be called if necessary. He replaced the canula properly, but the damage had been done; Fritz continued to cough and bleed for several hours, and Bergmann’s clumsiness left him weaker than before.

  That evening he asked Mackenzie to prevent Bergmann from carrying out any further operations on him. Bergmann proceeded to write to Vicky asking her rather unnecessarily to relieve him of the duty of working as Mackenzie’s adviser, to which the latter’s answer was equally to the point; after what he had witnessed, he respectfully warned that he would withdraw from the case altogether if Bergmann was allowed as much as to touch Fritz’s throat again.24 Since the previous autumn Queen Victoria had been determined to visit her stricken son-in-law again. If Kaiser Wilhelm had lived a few weeks longer they might have met at San Remo, for she had arrived at Florence within a fortnight of Fritz’s accession. When she publicly announced her intention of coming to Berlin, the Bismarcks were convinced this could only mean one thing. Sir Edward Malet, British Ambassador in Berlin, anxious to preserve good Anglo-German relations even if it meant appeasing Bismarck and Crown Prince Wilhelm, asked Lord Salisbury, British Prime Minister, to persuade the Queen to postpone her plans for visiting the city. With some indignation she pointed out that her journey was to have no political significance. She had come north with the sole intention of seeing her gravely ill son-in-law, probably for the last time, even before the Battenberg controversy flickered into life again.

  Bismarck, the ministers, and the Emperor’s household did not realize that Queen Victoria was resolutely opposed to the match. Her main objection was her grandson’s attitude; Sir Henry Ponsonby reported to his wife that the Queen would only accept the marriage if the new Crown Prince would welcome Sandro as a brother-in-law. Wi
lhelm’s recent letter to the unhappy suitor, telling him that if he married Moretta then he would consider him the enemy of his family and country,25 made it clear that he would accord him no such welcome. The Queen was aware of Sandro’s feelings about this, for on 12 March he had made it clear to Vicky that only if he succeeded in winning Crown Prince Wilhelm’s approval could he foresee a happy solution.26 His brother Henry recognised that Sandro could not possibly afford to keep a wife comfortably in his present state, let alone an imperial princess; if he tried, he would surely be expelled from Germany and ruined.

  On the morning of 24 April, with Beatrice and Henry, the Queen arrived at Berlin and went straight to Charlottenburg and the sickbed. Vicky ruefully observed that it was the first time she and Fritz had had her under their own roof as a guest. Though he was rather the worse for recent sleepless nights, the sight of his beloved mother-in-law cheered him as he sat up in bed, propped up on his pillows, his weary eyes lighting up with joy as his trembling hands held out a bouquet of forget-me-nots and French fern from their garden. She sat beside the bed, holding his hand and talking about the family, while he wrote at intervals on his pad and passed it to her. Not until she was able to speak to Vicky alone did she tell her about Sandro and Johanna Loisinger, and Vicky was bitterly upset at having given her daughter false hopes. With his will, Fritz left a letter to Wilhelm dated 12 April, stating that in the event of his death, he gave his consent to Moretta’s marriage and charged him as Emperor to see that it took place. In order to ‘obviate any political difficulties’, he renounced his wish to give Sandro an army commission or decoration.

  Despite Lord Salisbury’s fears that his sovereign would be exposed to fierce anti-English demonstrations in the street, Victoria was enthusiastically received every time she was seen in public. The crowds cheered her and showered the carriage with bouquets, and whenever Vicky took the seat beside her mother, shouts of ‘Long live the Empress!’ were evident too. The Queen’s greatest success in Berlin, however, was her meeting with Bismarck, which took place at his request the day after her arrival. Malet had advised that the Chancellor would be ‘greatly pleased at such attention from the Queen.’27 While waiting for her, the mere thought of coming face to face with her made him quite ill at ease, as he fussed over little details of etiquette. Where exactly would she be in the audience chamber, and would she be sitting or standing? He was quite relieved when Ponsonby finally led him to Vicky, who escorted him to her mother a little after midday.