Queen Victoria’s grandson, Prince George, Duke of York was the second son of the Prince of Wales; his elder brother, the wayward Prince Albert Victor (known as Eddy to his family) had died tragically in January 1892, leaving a bereft fiancée, Princess May of Teck. While the family were overcome with grief, and the nation mourned the loss of a young life, the practical constitutional concern of reinforcing the line of succession was never far from the thoughts of senior members of the royal family. It was obviously indelicate, perhaps even cruel to mention it out loud, but Queen Victoria and various members of her family hoped that Prince George would fill his dead brother’s shoes in more ways than one.
‘From London I hear all from the Queen downwards are resolved P George shall marry May!’ wrote Lady Geraldine Somerset. George and May were cousins and got on well. Moreover, they came together after Eddy’s death, united in their grief – and their families encouraged their friendship.
Eighteen months after Eddy’s death, to the delight of their families, Prince George and Princess May announced their engagement. The nation sighed with relief and no detail of the wedding was too trivial for patriotic readers.
On 6 June, The Times announced that ‘ the ceremony is to be a stately and imposing function’, before recounting rather breathlessly exactly how the teeming numbers of the extended royal family would be accommodated in the rather small Chapel Royal in St James’s Palace.
‘Workmen are now engaged in the sacred building, making the needful preparations. The north end of the chapel will be tastefully adorned with palms and flowers . . . The Communion platform will be extended . . . A chair will be placed in a convenient position for the use of the Queen . . . Communion rails will be dispensed with . . . Rows of chairs will be arranged on each side of the chapel . . . Some of the Royal Family are expected to assemble previous to the ceremony in the State apartments at St James’s . . .’ The exhaustive list of arrangements went on – and is not dissimilar to the kind of details craved by the public today.
Newspapers recounted on a daily basis resolutions of congratulations passed by town councils up and down the country, The Times remarking with sorrow on 9 June that, ‘The Royal marriage has not, so far excited any great enthusiasm in Birmingham, Staffordshire and the adjoining districts, and the subscriptions for presents are small, owing, probably, to trade depression.’
The list of wedding presents was enormous and ranged from priceless jewels and artefacts sent by Indian princes and diverse family members, to several typewriters, and rather touchingly, a thousand bundles of firewood chopped by poor tramps and criminals in the Church Army Labour Homes.
The Queen decreed that ladies must wear low-necked dresses without bonnets, and that the Royal procession would travel in closed carriages. And in defiance of Mr Gladstone, who had not declared a public holiday for the wedding, many businesses announced that they would be shut anyway.
The earnest young couple were the focus of the empire’s hopes and good wishes, and although the cynical may be forgiven for thinking that they had more or less been forced into an arranged marriage, they would be wrong. George and May were devoted to one another, and although they were both by nature rather shy and undemonstrative, in 1911 George (by then King George V) wrote fondly to his wife,
‘We suit each other admirably & I thank God every day that he should have brought us together, especially under the tragic circumstances of dear Eddy’s death, & people said I only married you out of pity and sympathy.
That shows how little the world really knows what it is talking about.’
George V and Queen Mary 1911
(Courtesy Library of Congress)
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