Similarly to May Teck’s parents, there is little doubt that Zita’s parents were in love and shared many things in common. Like her husband, Maria Antonia came from a deposed family. Her father was the one-time King Michael I of Portugal, who had led a revolution against his brother King Peter IV in 1828. Michael reigned for six years before Peter reclaimed his throne, sending Michael into permanent exile in Germany in 1834. As he approached middle age, the still-unmarried Michael decided it was time to start a family. He may have hoped that if he produced a son, that son might one day reclaim the Portuguese throne. In 1851, Michael married Princess Adelaide of Löwenstein-Wertheim-Rosenberg. Whereas Michael was forty-nine, his new German wife was only twenty at the time of their marriage. After the wedding, Adelaide assumed the courtesy title queen of Portugal.
This eclectic mix of French, Italian, and Portuguese influences gave Zita’s family an inimitable flavor. As an adult, Zita recalled that her family “grew up internationally. My father thought of himself first and foremost as a Frenchman, and spent a few weeks every year with the elder children at Chambord, his main property on the Loire.” She later realized that “of the twenty-four children, only three including me, were actually born in Italy.”238 Of the four imperial consorts, the blissfulness of Zita of Bourbon-Parma’s childhood was unmatched—she herself described it as “particularly joyful and happy.” She and her siblings, including her half brothers and sisters from her father’s first marriage, were a close-knit group. The Duchess of Parma was a loving mother who doted on all twenty-one of her children equally. Robert was just as dedicated. Unlike other royal fathers, he preferred to pass much of the day in the company of his children. A gifted academic, he encouraged his children to spend hours on end with him in his study, listening to him read from his library of books in French, Italian, German, and English. Their education “was a mixture of austerity, charity, and profound piety.”239
The homes that the Bourbon-Parma children grew up in were hardly what one expected for a deposed duke; they were more suited to a reigning monarch. Thanks to Robert’s French family, he owned half a dozen awe-inspiring castles, mansions, and villas spread across central and southern Europe. There was Frohsdorf, a castle-like estate in Lanzenkirchen in eastern Austria; Villa Pianore in Tuscany, a typical Mediterranean manor house; and Schwarzau am Steinfeld, an old, somewhat intimidating castle in Lower Austria on the edge of the Neuenkirchen Forest and less than twenty miles from Vienna. But all of these residences paled in comparison to their most luxurious home, their iconic French palace of Chambord, in the Loire Valley, where Robert spent many happy years as a young man. Famous for its French Renaissance architecture, Chambord was commissioned by King Francis I in the sixteenth century. The five-story limestone palace accommodated the Duke of Parma and his family nicely, with more than four hundred rooms, three hundred fireplaces, and a dozen towers. It even dwarfed the Neues Palais in Potsdam and some of the British royal family’s homes. Trips to Chambord were not as frequent as the family would have liked, though. Despite their enormous fortune, Zita’s parents were keenly aware of living within their means—a quality learned by both Zita and May Teck. The duke and duchess realized that the cost of moving their entire family and court from Italy to France was often prohibitively expensive.
The times they did move, however, left a vivid impression on the young Princess Zita. “We spent about six months of the year at Schwarzau,” she recalled, “usually beginning in July, when the heat got intense in Italy, and staying over Christmas and the New Year until early January, when the real winter cold set in in Austria. Then we would go down to Pianore and stay there through the spring and early summer until moving north again.” When the family moved, it was always an adventure for the children. “And what moves they were!” Zita reminisced. “Every year and for each journey back and forth we had our special train. When fully assembled for the trip, it must have had fifteen or sixteen coaches and two engines were needed to pull it over the Semmering Pass just south of Schwarzau.”240 Zita’s happy childhood, an intellectual wonderland presided over by her passionate father and loving mother, laid the best possible foundation for the rest of her life. “It was a peaceful, happy time,” she said later in life.241 Decades later, it would give Zita the strength to hold together not only her family but her empire.
It was the norm for many Victorian widows to shy away from public life. In fact, Victorian England essentially wrote the book on mourning. It was a morbid cult for many people, carried out with an almost thespian flare. When one’s loved ones died, society expected them to mourn for them with a fanatical obsession. Princess May was no exception to this. For the first few months of 1892, she and her mother stayed in near seclusion at White Lodge. Many in London’s social circle who had been close to Eddy felt it was May’s responsibility to spend the rest of her days pining for her lost love, wearing only black and setting up a shrine to his memory. The Princess of Wales did just that, turning the room where he died into a memorial to her firstborn.For the rest Alexandra’s life, she visited Eddy’s room every day she was at Sandringham, often bringing flowers to place on the bed in which he died. May was expected to be no less devout in her grief.
In the aftermath of Eddy’s death, there was genuine concern in Britain for the future of the monarchy. Eddy’s brother George was now heir to the throne, but he was somewhat sickly and was recovering from deadly typhoid at the time of his brother’s death. Typhoid fever—not to be confused with typhus, a lice-spread illness—made an indelible mark on the British royal family. It had killed George’s grandfather Prince Albert in 1861 and nearly claimed his father’s life a decade later. Many feared in the winter of 1891/92 that George would succumb too. If he did, the throne would pass to his eldest sister, Princess Louise, and her commoner husband, the Earl of Fife. Louise was not generally esteemed in England; many took notice of her dim intellectual accomplishments and listless nature that seemed endemic to the Wales family. The idea of Louise as queen regnant left many people unsettled. It became imperative that George marry as quickly as possible so as to produce an heir of his own. A number of brides were considered. George would have preferred his cousin Princess Marie of Edinburgh, whom he had romanced while stationed with the Royal Navy on Malta. Marie’s Anglophobic mother quickly ended their teenage romance. The Empress Frederick, George’s aunt, had hoped he might marry one of her daughters—perhaps her youngest, Mossy—but the prince expressed little interest. There appeared to be one other candidate, though.
A year after Eddy died, May commemorated his passing by visiting the Chapel Royal at Windsor Castle. “How beautiful it is … and how calmly and peacefully our Loved One lies there at rest from all the cares of this world,” she wrote to Prince George. “God be with us and help us to bear our cross is the fervent prayer of your very loving cousin—May.”242
In 1893, the Empress Frederick visited Queen Victoria at Windsor Castle. While she was there, the grieving Tecks arrived for a visit. Those who were privy to the details of May and Eddy’s relationship expressed their sympathies to the princess. “Aunt Mary Teck was here with May whom I thought very nice indeed,” Vicky wrote. On the day planned for the wedding, February 27, the Prince and Princess of Wales presented May with a dazzling group of diamonds, along with a beautiful handbag covered with gold and jewels, all of which had been intended as wedding gifts. Saddened by May’s tragedy, the Empress Frederick did not mince words: “Her position is most difficult and embarrassing. She is still in mourning for our poor darling Eddy, and the newspapers are constantly writing about her becoming engaged to Georgie, and the whole public seem to wish it ardently.”243
Not long after Vicky wrote these words, her predication came true when May became engaged to George in the spring of 1893. Vicky’s instincts proved correct when she said that the British people wanted May and George to marry. The couple was immensely popular with the general public. May was the grief-stricken princess whose dreams were shattered, and George was
the noble, honorable brother now bound by duty to fill his brother’s shoes. Soon after the engagement was announced, the Morning Post published an article about May, noting, “Not only by birth, but by education and by domicile, she belongs to England. She possesses every qualification for the high place that awaits her.”244
George—who was born June 3, 1865—was eighteen months younger than Eddy. Since he and Eddy were raised extremely closely, their childhood experiences with Princess May were similar. George was quiet, withdrawn, and used to blending into the background. He admired Eddy and was more than happy to let him have the limelight. When the Duke of Clarence died unexpectedly, George was overwhelmed by all the attention he received when he became heir to the throne of Britain and its empire. Since he was now second in line to the throne, George was forced to give up his active position in the Royal Navy, which he had held since 1877. Queen Victoria gave him the title Duke of York on May 24, 1892. This peerage, which like all others included a seat in the House of Lords, is typically given to the next male heir when there is still a Prince of Wales. Queen Victoria wrote to George when she conferred the York peerage on him, “I am glad you like the title of Duke of York. I am afraid, I do not and wish you had remained as you are. A Prince no one else can be, whereas a Duke any nobleman can be, and many are! I am not very fond of that of York which has not very agreeable associations.”245
As a child, Princess May took little notice of George, who was usually off playing with his big brother. When George joined the Royal Navy and left for prolonged periods, May did not give his absence a second thought, especially once she became swept up in her engagement with Eddy, who was the first real love interest of her life. For George, his feelings for May were just the opposite. He had admired her for many years—and even more so once Eddy died. By the spring of 1893, he was prepared to take the risk of proposing, though he was scared he might be rejected. Family trips to the French Riviera had the effect of lightening the mood for one and all, including May. A few weeks later, while May and her mother were visiting Strelitz, her last palpable link to Eddy was symbolically and dramatically severed when a fire in the palace where they were staying destroyed all the pictures she had of him.
A flurry of letters soon began flying between the members of the British royal family. Queen Victoria wrote to Vicky; the Princess of Wales wrote to George; and the Duchess of Teck wrote to the queen. The only two people who kept things on an uncomplicated level, at least for them, were George and May. “Goodbye Miss May,” George wrote to her in March 1892, “ever your very loving old cousin Georgie.”246 It took him more than a year to work up the courage to propose, and it required prodding from a number of his relatives. One person who was instrumental in pushing George in May’s direction was his maternal aunt Queen Olga of Greece. “I’m sure, tootsums, that she will make you happy,” Olga wrote encouragingly. “They say she has such a sweet disposition & is so equal and that in itself is a great blessing, because nothing can be more disagreeable in everyday-life, than a person which is in high spirits today & low tomorrow.”247 Queen Victoria also strongly hoped for the match, writing to her grandson, “Have you seen May and have you thought more about the possibility or foundout [sic] what her feelings might be?”248 On May 29, 1893, George decided to do just that. It was a misty but comfortable afternoon. After they had tea together, he invited May for a walk through the Richmond garden of his aunt Princess Louise, the future Duchess of Argyll. May recorded in her diary her recollections of what happened next: “We walked together afterwards in the gardens and he proposed to me, & I accepted him.… I drove home to announce the news to Mama & Papa & Georgie followed.… We telegraphed to all the relations.”249 Once it was done, Queen Victoria reported happily, “Received a telegram from Georgie … to say he was engaged to May Teck, and asked for my consent. I answered that I gladly did so.”250
At the time of the engagement, George’s mother, Alexandra, was away in Venice. A week after the news broke, she sent May the following message:
God bless you both & let me welcome you back once more as my dear daughter & grant you all the happiness here on Earth—which you so fully deserve—with my Georgie—which was alas denied you with my darling Eddy. I am sure … his spirit is watching over you now and rejoicing with us & that the clouds have been lifted once more from your saddened young life and that you may yet look forward to a bright & happy future with the brother he loved so well … I know we two will always understand each other & I hope that my sweet May will always come straight to me for everything … Ever yr most loving & devoted old Motherdear.251
May was happier than she had been for a long time, but both she and George had difficulty overcoming their natural timidity. “I am very sorry I am still so shy with you,” she wrote to him. “I tried not to be the other day, but alas I failed, I was angry with myself!” She thought it was “so stupid to be so stiff together and really there is nothing I would not tell you, except that I LOVE you more than anybody in the world, and this I cannot tell you myself so I write it to relieve my feelings.” Touched by his fiancée’s letter, George replied, “Thank God we both understand each other, and I think it really unnecessary for me to tell you how deep my love for you my darling is and I feel it growing stronger and stronger every time I see you; although I may appear shy and cold.”252
By the summer of 1893, much to Queen Victoria’s satisfaction, preparations were well in place for the much-anticipated wedding of Princess May of Teck to the Duke of York. On July 4, the British royal family attended a performance at the Royal Opera House at Covent Garden in honor of the upcoming nuptials. Roses of every color decorated the building. Box seats were decorated with pink roses; the proscenium was lined with them as well. Bouquets of pink, white, and crimson roses were supplied to every balcony. When May arrived, dressed in an ice-blue brocade with two rows of perfect pearls around her neck and a diamond tiara and earrings, the three thousand people gathered rose to their feet and gave her a standing ovation.
Two days later, on July 6, May and George were married in the Chapel Royal of Saint James’s Palace, just down Pall Mall from Buckingham Palace. It was the biggest event for the royal family since Queen Victoria’s jubilee in 1887, and it brought together some of the continent’s most illustrious royals. George’s cousins came from Saint Petersburg, including Tsarevitch Nicholas. So too did his other cousin, Emperor Wilhelm II. King Christian IX and Queen Louise of Denmark, the groom’s maternal grandparents, arrived from Copenhagen; the wedding registry alone was signed by twenty-seven royals. The guests marveled at the lavish wedding gifts the couple received. The more than fifteen hundred presents—including horses, ponies, carriages, sleighs, boats, and a cow from India—were so numerous that they had to be stored at the Imperial Institute near Kensington Palace. Their worth was estimated at more than £1 million at the time. On the morning of the wedding, May penciled a note to her soon-to-be husband: “What a memorable day in our lives this will be. God grant it may bring us much happiness. I love you with all my heart. Yrs for ever & ever—May.”253
An estimated two million excited spectators filled the streets of London to catch a glimpse of May and Queen Victoria as they rode together in a glass carriage pulled by four cream-colored horses. As she entered the Chapel Royal, the bride was escorted by ten bridesmaids, nine of whom were Queen Victoria’s granddaughters. Among the bridesmaids were two future queens: George’s twenty-three-year-old sister, Maud of Wales, the future queen of Norway; and little six-year-old Ena of Battenberg, who was destined to be queen of Spain. During the ceremony, May appeared serene as she took her vows. Tsarevitch Nicholas recorded that she looked “radiant” and was “much better looking than her photograph.”254 Following her family’s tradition, all the silk for her dress came “from England, all the flannel from Wales, all the tweeds from Scotland, and every yard of lace and poplin from Ireland.”255 Her cloth-of-silver wedding gown was embroidered with roses, orange blossoms, and other flowers. On her head
sat a stunning arrangement of diamonds, courtesy of Queen Victoria. “The great day, so anxiously looking forward to, was very bright and fine,” Queen Victoria wrote. “To describe this day fully would be impossible.… I could not help but remember that I had stood, where May did, fifty-three years ago, and dear Vicky thirty-five years ago, and that the dear ones, who stood where Georgie did, were gone from us! May these dear children’s happiness last longer!”256
In her diary entry for that day, Lady Geraldine Somerset captured the true atmosphere that prevailed.
May’s Wedding Day! The greatest success ever seen or heard of! not a hitch from first to last, nor an if or a but!! everything went absolutely à souhait! first of all it was the most heavenly day ever could be.… The town was alive!! swarms everywhere! … Piccadilly was beautifully decorated; but anything to equal the loveliness of St. James’s Street I never saw – it was like a bower from end to end … garlands of green across and between the Venetian masts with bracelets of flowers suspended from them, too pretty.
I went to the Household pew in the Chapel Royal … It was all so admirably arranged I think everybody in the Chapel could see well! The first to enter the Chapel was the Queen followed by P[rincess] M[ary Adelaide] who drove in the Queen’s carriage from Buckingham Palace!! will her head be still on her shoulders tomorrow! I believe it will have expanded and blown to the moon! The Princess of Wales looked more lovely – than ever! – none can approach her! but I was so sorry for her today. May with the Duke of York standing at the Altar!! and for the Princess what pain.257
The “pain” that Lady Somerset wrote of regarded the Princess of Wales and George. Alexandra was close with all of her children, but even more so with George, as he became her only son when Eddy died. It was no secret that Alexandra was both happy and saddened by her son’s marriage to May, which she knew would change their relationship forever.
Imperial Requiem: Four Royal Women and the Fall of the Age of Empires Page 15
