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Edward VII's Children
By John Van der Kiste The History Press
Copyright © 2013 John Van der Kiste
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-7524-9517-0
CHAPTER 1
The Wales Nursery
When the baby prince was three days old, Queen Victoria reported to Vicky that he was 'quite healthy and very thriving. It [sic] has a very pretty, well-shaped, round head, with very good features, a nice forehead, a very marked nose, beautiful little ears and pretty little hands.' As he was second in line to the throne, she maintained that the only names possible for him were Albert Victor, after herself and her late husband. Much as the Prince and Princess of Wales respected her decision, they felt that the choice should have come from them and not from her. Bertie was sufficiently moved to complain that six-year-old Beatrice had told Lady Macclesfield that Mama had settled the issue herself.
The first few weeks of Prince Albert Victor's life, or 'Prince All-but-on-the-ice', as he was irreverently dubbed by contemporary wags, were overshadowed by the threat of war in Europe. There was little doubt that his mother's anxiety concerning the plight of Denmark had contributed to his early arrival.
On 16 January, Prussia sent the Danish government an ultimatum to evacuate the duchies within twenty-four hours. The latter refused, and on 1 February a combined Prusso-Austrian force crossed the frontier into Schleswig. On behalf of the British government, Foreign Secretary, Lord John Russell announced that there was no question of going to war single-handed. Much to the Princess of Wales's distress and her husband's anger, 'thinking everyone wishes to crush Denmark,' the great powers were not prepared to intervene in order to rescue King Christian and his domains from inevitable defeat. Within a few weeks, Schleswig was in German hands, apart from the stronghold of Dybboel.
Denmark's waning fortunes overshadowed the christening of Prince Albert Victor Christian Edward at Windsor in March. He roared throughout the ceremony, his mother looked thin and unhappy, and at luncheon afterwards the Prussian Ambassador, Count Bernstorff, declined to drink King Christian's health. Though the war grieved Queen Victoria, her German sympathies were not dented one iota by Alix's unhappiness. She could only remark, how terrible it was 'to have the poor boy [Bertie] on the wrong side.' If only he had married 'a good German and not a Dane.' She was honest enough to admit that her daughter-in-law's parentage had been a barrier to their intimacy, though as time would prove, this was only temporary.
None of this reflected on the infant prince. Despite her oft-expressed aversion to the frog-like physical characteristics of tiny babies, at the age of ten weeks he was pronounced by his grandmother to have a pretty little mouth, 'a well-shaped head and a great look of dear Alix ... a very pretty, but rather a fidgety baby.'
In July 1864 Denmark was forced to relinquish her sovereignty over the Duchies of Schleswig and Holstein. King Christian IX had reigned for a mere eight months before losing more than half his kingdom. This humiliation made Alix more determined than ever to return to her parents for a holiday, something she had longed to do anyway in order to show off her son, and to introduce her husband to Copenhagen. Fearing political repercussions, Queen Victoria wanted to forbid the visit, but her ministers raised no objection. In the end, she gave her permission as long as her son and daughter-in-law promised to remain incognito, did not allow political discussions in their presence, included Germany in their itinerary before returning, and sent the baby prince back to Balmoral on their departure from Denmark.
This last condition was not made out of mere possessiveness, for the queen had her doubts that Bertie and Alix were fully aware of their parental responsibilities. On seeing the baby at Abergeldie that September, she was shocked at his frail appearance.
When he met his daughter's family at Elsinore, King Christian declared that it was the happiest day he had known since his country was invaded. The Princess of Wales was equally delighted to be 'at home again,' though her husband was soon bored. He found their rooms at the Danish palaces uncomfortable, the food monotonous, and the evenings of small-talk and games of loo unbearably tedious. When a member of the household dared to tell him in exasperation that there was nowhere on earth more boring than Fredensborg Palace, the Prince of Wales pretended to be furious. 'How dare you say that!' he retorted, adding after a pause, 'I remember, of course, you have not been to Bernstorff yet.'
After frequent requests for his return, Eddy was sent home on the royal yacht in the care of Lord and Lady Spencer. It was with a heavy heart that Bertie allowed his infant son back across the North Sea, writing to Queen Victoria that Alix hated being compelled for the first time to part with 'her little treasure' against the doctors' advice.
Queen Victoria continued to watch her grandson's progress with interest and affection – all the more so as her other grandchildren, the sons and daughters of Vicky, now Crown Princess of Prussia, and Alice, married to Prince Louis of Hesse, lived in Germany and she saw them only rarely. To Vicky, she wrote (27 January 1865) that Eddy was:
a perfect bijou – very fairy-like but quite healthy, very wise-looking and good. He lets all the family carry him and play with him – and Alix likes him to be accustomed to it. He is very placid, almost melancholy-looking sometimes. What is not pretty is his very narrow chest (rather pigeon-breasted) which is like Alix's build and that of her family and unlike you all with your fine chests. He is decisively like her; everyone is struck by it.
By now it was evident that there would soon be a second child in the Wales's nursery. Like his elder brother, he was impatient to make his entrance into the world. On 2 June 1865 the Princess of Wales appeared at an afternoon concert, but at the last moment she excused herself from attending a dinner-party at Marlborough House that evening. At one-thirty next morning she gave birth to a second son. Queen Victoria was roused from her sleep a couple of hours later with the arrival of two telegrams from Bertie; one to say that Alix had been taken ill, and one to announce the baby's arrival.
The Queen was most put out at being unable to attend her daughter-in-law's second confinement as well as the first. 'It seems that it is not to be that I am to be present at the birth of your children, which I am very sorry for,' she complained to her son. Queen Louise struck a happier note with her message of congratulation, though in writing to her son-in-law she could not omit her own element of feminine solidarity: 'How proud you must be, two boys, don't you grow more attached to Alix at every present thus brought to you in pain and anguish?'
Remembering their experiences with the eldest child, Bertie and Alix had chosen names for their second son well in advance. Writing to his mother on 11 June, the Prince of Wales said that they had agreed for some time that if they had another boy he should be called George, 'as we like the name and it is an English one.' The second name, he added, would be Frederick, as used regularly by his wife's Danish forebears.
To Queen Victoria, however, this was not good enough; 'George only came in with the Hanoverian family.' (She had conveniently overlooked the name of England's patron saint.) Though she had hoped for 'some fine old name,' she approved half-heartedly of Frederick, and hoped they would call him so; 'however, if the dear child grows up good and wise, I shall not mind what his name is.'
George Frederick Ernest Albert was christened at St George's chapel, Windsor, on 7 July. Thereafter, within the family, he was always known as 'Georgy'.
The pride in which Bertie and Alix held their two elder children was tempered somewhat by the shadow of the Queen, and her insistence on a major say in their upbringing. As early as 11 March 1864 she had made plain, to King Leopold, that 'Bertie should understand what a strong right I have to interfere in the management of the child or children; that he should never do anything about the child without consulting me.' The Prince knew that it was useless to protest, but Alix resented her mother-in-law's domination. When Georgy was a few months old, Queen Victoria lamented that the two women could never be as intimate as she had hoped; 'she shows me no confidence whatsoever especially about the children.' Such expressions were invariably exaggerated, as Vicky, usually the recipient of her mother's complaints, always recognized.
Though by now widowed for four years, the Queen was still jealous of her son's married bliss, and of his and Alix's popularity in society; the latter, she insisted was making her 'haughty and frivolous'. It was clear that Eddy and Georgy would not receive an upbringing even remotely like that to which Bertie and his brothers and sisters had been subjected under the eagle eye of Prince Albert and Stockmar. Indeed, this was the last thing that the Prince of Wales wanted. He had vowed that no children of his would be condemned to a Stockmar regime.
Lord Melbourne's warning to Queen Victoria on behalf of her eldest son not to be 'over solicitous about education,' as 'it may mould and direct the character, but it rarely alters it,' went unheeded at the time. Yet the son whom the late Prime Minister had had in mind endorsed such philosophy without hesitation. His childhood memories, unlike those of the Princess of Wales in her comparatively humble yet carefree parents' home at Copenhagen, were not the happiest. It was no wonder that they resented Mama's watchful eye and continual fault-finding. Up to the day of her death both were always in awe of Queen Victoria. Bertie readily, if reluctantly, appreciated that as sovereign she had a 'right to interfere' in the formative years of two children so close to the throne, but Alix did not. This undoubtedly explained her occasional 'want of softness and warmth' which her mother-in-law deprecated at the time.
Such criticisms were generally made in moods of mild exasperation which soon passed. Yet it was in no small measure due to Vicky, the inveterate family peacemaker, that resentment was ironed out before it had time to take root. Could Mama not make an effort to see more of Alix on her own, she suggested in her letters from Germany; it would please her and Bertie so much, for she was so devoted to her, even though 'she knows and fears she bores you.' The advice was taken at once, and Queen Victoria invited Alix to Windsor for luncheon followed by a walk and drive alone. 'Nothing could be nicer or dearer than she is,' she wrote to Vicky afterwards.
By now Alix was pregnant for the third time; her condition prevented her from accompanying Bertie to St Petersburg for the wedding of her sister Dagmar to the Tsarevich, later Tsar Alexander III of Russia. It would have been better for his reputation and popularity if she had been able to go too, for reports soon reached English society, and his family, that he was paying too much attention to Russian beauties while away.
Soon after Christmas, it was evident that the Princess was unwell. On 15 February 1867 she complained of severe pains and a chill, but the Prince was sufficiently unperturbed to carry out his engagements at Windsor, a steeplechase and dinner. While he was away, Alix stayed in bed at Marlborough House where the doctors diagnosed rheumatic fever. Only after three telegrams, each one worded with more urgency than the last, did her ever-socializing husband return. Over the next few days she suffered acute pain in her leg and hip. The doctors thought it too risky to administer chloroform during her confinement, which ended on 20 February with the birth of a first daughter, Louise.
Though Alix had withstood the confinement better than expected, neither her rheumatic pains nor fever showed any signs of abatement. All the doctors feared that her condition could soon become serious. Queen Victoria was cheered by her son's letters that Alix had been unwell, but was bearing up bravely. When she arrived at Marlborough House a week after the baby's birth, she was horrified to see just how ill Alix was. Her solicitude and that of Lady Macclesfield were her constant comfort; her husband's perpetual absence was a sore trial.
How much the orders of Lady Macclesfield and the doctors, who banished him from the sickroom, were responsible, can only be guessed at, but his apparent reluctance to cut down on social engagements did nothing to create the impression of a devoted or gravely worried husband. One night Alix asked not to be given her sleeping draught, for Bertie had promised to be home by one o'clock and she wanted to be awake – albeit in great pain – on his return. When he came back two hours late, he received a scolding which he did not forget in a hurry. His thoughtlessness was condemned by the Queen and her cousin the Duke of Cambridge, and the public were angry that he should be out amusing himself so much at sporting events, dinners and theatres, while his popular and beautiful young wife lay at home in agony.
In his defence, however, it must be said that he was not wanted perpetually hanging around in the sickroom and getting in everyone's way. Although he did have his desk moved in beside her bed, so that he could attend to his correspondence and share her company at the same time, he realized that she was in good hands and there was little else he could do. Restless by nature, he was easily bored, and time hung heavily on his hands.
It was late April before Alix could be wheeled to the window for a sight of the spring weather. On 10 May the infant princess was christened Louise Victoria Alexandra Dagmar, though her mother was still in a wheelchair, one leg completely stiff and prone to swelling. The rheumatic fever left her permanently lame, a depressing prospect for a young woman whose leisure activities eagerly embraced dancing, riding and skating, rather than artistic or intellectual interests. Worse, it exacerbated her deafness and thus cut her off increasingly from her husband's ever widening circle of friends. As her hearing worsened, so she relied more and more on a small group of close confidantes, her children, and animals.
It was inevitable that the Princess of Wales and her energetic, undomestically minded husband would gradually drift apart. While Prince George was still a baby, Queen Victoria had noted sadly that Alix's unpunctuality and lack of organization were not calculated to make her husband's home life comfortable. Both, she observed, regularly breakfasted alone; his crowded schedule of engagements made no allowance for a wife who was rarely out of her room before eleven in the morning. All the same, despite his infidelities, indiscreet attention to ladies in St Petersburg, and associations with 'some of the female Paris notorieties' (he departed for the opening of the Paris International Exhibition a few hours after Louise's christening), Alix had the consolation of knowing that 'he always loved me the best.'
Louise was a sickly infant, and in view of Alix's prolonged convalescence, a respite from childbearing would have been beneficial. Yet by Christmas she was expecting again. On 6 July 1868 she gave birth to a second daughter, named Victoria Alexandra Olga Marie. Queen Victoria greeted the arrival of this 'mere little red lump' with ill-concealed boredom. She told Vicky that this seventh granddaughter and fourteenth grandchild 'becomes a very uninteresting thing – for it seems to me to go on like the rabbits in Windsor Park!' She had conveniently overlooked her even more prolific motherhood, having brought four children into the world within her first four-and-a-half years of marriage.
Alix's surgeon-in-attendance, Sir James Paget, suggested that his patient's rheumatism might have been partially caused by dampness at Sandringham, and Lady Macclesfield remarked on how unbearably cold it was in Norfolk during the spring. In any case, Bertie had realized that considerable alterations to the house would be needed. Shortly before Princess Victoria was born, he was advised that the premises would have to be demolished and rebuilt. In the meantime, the family would spend winter on a tour of Egypt, stopping en route in Denmark, Berlin and Vienna.
The Princess of Wales was thrilled to have a chance of showing her children off again to her family. Louise, named after her Danish grandmother, would accompany them for the first time, although baby Victoria was too young to travel overseas; and in this Alix's decision was supported by Paget. She asked Queen Victoria for permission to take the three children, and back came a reply that the boys might go, but it was extremely selfish of the Princess to risk the health if not life of her elder daughter, to gratify her own foolish whim. The young mother burst into tears at this peremptory missive, and the Prince of Wales wrote Queen Victoria a blunt yet tactful letter himself. He pointed out that Alix had tried to meet her wishes in every way on so many occasions, and was thus hurt and pained at accusations of selfishness and being unreasonable. As Vicky and Alice came to England so regularly with their children, which were just as strong as his, it seemed rather inconsistent 'not to accord to the one what is accorded to the others.' He won his argument, and Queen Victoria had to content herself with grumbling about the composition of their suite.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Edward VII's Children by John Van der Kiste. Copyright © 2013 John Van der Kiste. Excerpted by permission of The History Press.
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