By the time of Lenchen’s wedding Queen Victoria’s second son, Prince Alfred, Duke of Edinburgh was causing his mother almost as much consternation as his elder brother, Bertie, had done. A rough-speaking, hard-drinking sailor, ‘Affie’ first shocked the Queen by enjoying an affair with a woman in Malta before developing an infatuation for his sister-in-law, the Princess of Wales.
For a brief spell in early 1868 the Queen saw a possibility of redemption. That spring, during a visit to Australia, Affie fell victim to a would-be assassin and was shot in the back. While deploring the violence Queen Victoria hoped that the realization that God had spared him from death, might bring about a change of character. She was quickly disillusioned. The good wishes he received merely increased his arrogance and his behaviour became so brash that the Queen could hardly bear his company:
“His presence in my house…” she wrote to Vicky, “was a source of no satisfaction or comfort. He came only for moments and, when he did, displeased high and low and made mischief. In short he was quite a stranger to me.”
As ever the Queen saw no alternative but to adopt her typical remedy for the treatment of errant princes and set about seeking him a wife. Various brides were suggested and rejected until, at a gathering in Denmark, Affie came across twenty-one-year-old Grand Duchess Marie Alexandrovna, daughter of Tsar Alexander II.
The Princess of Wales was quick to promote the match; she had received favourable reports of the Grand Duchess from her own sister, Dagmar, who was married to Marie’s brother, the Tsarevich Alexander. Princess Alice, too, spoke highly of the Grand Duchess who, as a first cousin of Alice’s husband, Louis, had been a regularly visitor to Darmstadt:
“[She is so] dear and nice, with such a kind fresh face, so simple and girlish….She is very fond of children, and of a quiet country life - that is the ideal she looks for.”
But, for all their flattering descriptions and Affie’s enthusiasm for the match, the notion of an Anglo-Russian alliance was received very badly both in St. Petersburg and Windsor.
While the Tsar doubted that a rough sailor prince, nine years her senior, was worthy of his only daughter, Queen Victoria could not have been more disgruntled had Affie said he intended to marry his Maltese mistress. Since the Crimean War she distrusted all Russians and considered the Romanovs far too decadent for her liking. The prospect of an Orthodox princess tripping through her palaces surrounded by chanting priests was more than she could bear and, as usual it was Alice who took the brunt of her rage. This time she was accused of spoiling Affie and giving him ‘grand ideas’ during his visits to Darmstadt.
In an effort to distract him from Marie, Queen Victoria frantically searched for alternative candidates but Affie, dazzled by the prospect of an exotic bride and the immense wealth that she would bring from St. Petersburg, refused to be impressed. Rejecting all other suggestions, he became so obnoxious, loitering gloomily about the palace and insulting the servants that at last Queen Victoria yielded. After a great deal of haggling with the Russian court about the correct protocol, she eventually allowed Affie to depart with the Prince and Princess of Wales for Russia where the lavish wedding took place in St. Petersburg in January 1874.
When the couple returned to England, Queen Victoria saw her new daughter-in-law in a different light. She found her charming, ‘a treasure,’ and, if not conventionally beautiful, she had a ‘pretty bust.’ What was more, unlike the Princess of Wales, the Duchess of Edinburgh had no desire to fritter away the hours in endless entertaining, but enjoyed the more studious pursuits that appealed to the Queen.
“I have formed a high opinion of her, her wonderfully even, cheerful, satisfied temper - her kind and indulgent disposition, free from bigotry and intolerance, and her serious intelligent mind - so entirely free from everything fast - and so full of occupation and interest in everything makes her a most agreeable companion.’
Though it was true that she surrounded herself with icons and chanting priests, her devotion to Orthodoxy did not impinge on the rest of the family. Nor was she as materialistic as Queen Victoria had anticipated. Members of the Court were shocked to discover how little attention she gave to her appearance within her own home. On formal occasions, however, dripping in so many priceless jewels, she made her English in-laws appear dowdy in comparison.
Marie made an equally favourable impression on the British public. Shortly after the wedding, The Ladies’ Treasury reported that:
“The Grand Duchess speaks English better than most English girls; she has a most pleasing manner, and a presence singularly ladylike and distinguished.”
Unfortunately, Marie could not reciprocate the English sentiments. Life at the English Court was exceedingly tedious after the ostentation of St. Petersburg. The late nights were tiring; the food bland; and her home, Clarence House, uninteresting. Her mother-in-law’s constant interference was more than the proud daughter of the Tsar could stomach and it irked her that she, an Imperial Highness and daughter of the Tsar, should come lower in the order of precedence than her sisters-in-law - mere Royal Highnesses.
Nor, as she learned to her cost, was the taciturn Affie an ideal Prince Charming. Disliked by the servants, to whom he was often rude, his favourite occupation was drinking to excess and entertaining his guests with discordant tunes on his violin until it almost came as a relief to Marie that he spent much of his time at sea. Nevertheless, the marriage produced five children: one son and four daughters.
Nine months after the wedding the Queen was delighted at the birth of ‘young Affie,’ but relations between her and Marie were less cordial a year later when it came to a second confinement. Queen Victoria, no doubt recalling Vicky’s traumatic experiences in Prussia, was convinced that English doctors were far more skilful and delicate in matters of childbirth than any of their foreign counterparts. It both annoyed and alarmed her that, when Marie retired to her country house, Eastwell Park in Kent, she insisted on being attended by German medics. In spite of the Queen’s strong objections, Marie stuck to her guns and a perfectly healthy daughter, was born on 29th October. The christening at Windsor Castle on 15th December brought a further disagreement between mother- and daughter-in-law. Although delighted by her new granddaughter, Queen Victoria was most put out that the child was not to be called Victoria, but rather Marie Alexandra Victoria - though, within the family, she was always to be known as ‘Missy.’ Nonetheless, when Marie went further and insisted on breast-feeding the baby, Queen Victoria grudgingly resigned herself to the inevitable:
“She nurses the child - which will enchant you,” she wrote to Vicky. “As long as she remains at home - and does not publish the fact to the world - by taking the baby everywhere and can do it well - which they say she does now - I have nothing to say (beyond my unfortunately - from my earliest childhood - totally insurmountable disgust for the process).”
Whether or not Marie knew of the Queen’s aversion to breast-feeding, she was already growing weary of her constant interference and it came as relief to know that soon she could escape from England and her overbearing mother-in-law. At birth Affie had been chosen as successor to his uncle, the Duke of Coburg, and the family would eventually settle in Germany•. In the meantime, his appointment as Commander of the Mediterranean fleet provided an opportunity to move to Valetta in Malta. There, in the secluded freedom of the San Antonio Palace the Duchess of Edinburgh came into her own. There, and later in Coburg, she was able to live, as Missy described:
“…entirely according to her desires, uncontrolled by Grandmama Queen and uncriticised by those who were inclined to find her ways foreign and out of keeping with British traditions.”
It was in Malta that a second daughter, Victoria Melita (Ducky) was born on the evening of Saturday 25th November 1876 and christened in the San Antonio Palace on New Year’s Day 1877. Three weeks later, leaving their children in the care of governesses and nannies, the Duke and Duchess of Edinburgh embarked on a tour of Greece. Two years were to pass before Marie’s third daughter Alexandra (Sandra), was born in Coburg, and in 1884, she gave birth to her last child, Beatrice (Baby Bee), at Eastwell Park.
Just as Vicky had became increasingly determined to protect her children from the Prussian influence, so Marie, disenchanted with England, resolutely ensured that her children would be free from the English influence. Bearing in mind that her son should one day be Duke of Coburg, she dispatched him at the earliest opportunity to the military academy in Potsdam. Her daughters, too, she decided to raise as Germans, appointing for them a German governess, who spoke no English and, as Marie herself refused to speak to them in English, German became their first language causing Danish ‘Aunt Alix’ to carp:
“It is a pity those children should be entirely brought up as Germans. Last time I saw them they spoke with a very strong foreign accent - which I think is a great pity as after all they are English.”
With her great love of all things German, the Queen might have been content, but their visits to England became so infrequent that she complained that she hardly knew the ‘darling…lovely children’ and wished she might see more of them. The Princess of Wales was even more disgusted when Missy and Ducky were confirmed in the German Lutheran Church, and wrote bitterly to her son, George:
‘Now they won’t even know they have ever been English…even Aunt Vicky was furious about it.’
Her criticism fell on deaf ears. By then George was smitten by his lively Edinburgh cousins who contrasted so dramatically with his insipid sisters it was hard to believe that they had sprung from the same stock.
Histrionic and intriguing, the granddaughters of two of the most powerful monarchs in the world grew up with a love of adventure, an awareness of their own charisma and a Russian pride inherited from their mother. From their father, whom the Queen claimed they worshipped, they learned a complete disregard for convention, bordering on eccentricity.
Though strict and exacting, the Duchess did everything possible to encourage the girls to develop their many talents. Beautiful Missy, a gifted artist, sculptress and writer, was equally proficient at riding and dancing, and the mere sight of her was enough to make Cousin George’s heart race. She was deeply attached to her younger - and taller - sister, Ducky, whom she described as a ‘rather passionate and often misunderstood child.’ Like their cousin, Victoria of Hesse, the girls had a passion for riding fast horses and, on the ponies that their father had brought over from England, they galloped apace through the Maltese fields, dispelling the tension in the household as their parents grew further apart.
Compared to her adventurous sisters, Sandra, having neither their healthy constitutions nor strength of will, appeared dull. Even her mother considered her ‘uninteresting’ but her more placid temperament provided a stabilising influence among the siblings and made her an easier companion than the youngest ‘Baby Bee’ - a ‘somewhat critical’ child who would later ‘almost lose her mind’ in the throes of unrequited love.
If the Wales children gaped in wonder at their fascinating cousins, the Edinburghs must have been equally baffled by the frailty of the English girls. No two families could have differed more starkly. While the Princess of Wales’ daughters fell ill at the slightest whim, the Duchess of Edinburgh insisted that her daughters must maintain a ‘stiff upper lip’ in the face of tragedy or illness. They were not allowed to be ill; they must eat, without complaint, everything set before them and even throughout their childhood they were encouraged to participate in adult conversations.
Far from being coddled in sheltered nurseries the Edinburghs were forced, from their earliest years, to confront the very real scandals and perils faced by many monarchies of the age. Not only were the girls aware of their parents’ unhappy marriage, but they doubtless heard stories of their Russian grandfather’s affair with a woman thirty years his junior, who bore him four children. His wife, the sickly and consumptive Tsarina, unable to tolerate the cold Russian winters, frequently repaired to the warmer climes of her native Darmstadt. In her absence the Tsar installed his young mistress in the Winter Palace in St. Petersburg and there, to the horror of the Imperial Family the young woman remained giving birth to his child even as his unhappy wife lay on her deathbed. With inordinate haste after the Tsarina’s death, the Tsar secretly married his mistress. The whole of Europe was shocked, sympathising wholeheartedly with the late Tsarina who had, in Vicky’s opinion,
“Suffered cruelly from her husband’s infidelity and that she never uttered a murmur, complaint or reproach – nor ever mentioned the subject to a living soul but died of a broken heart.”
Within the Imperial Family a feud ensued that would remain unresolved for many more years than the brief spell that the Tsar enjoyed with his young bride.
One afternoon in March 1881, when Missy was barely six years old, her grandfather, Tsar Alexander II, was returning from a meeting at the Mikhailovsky Palace in St. Petersburg when a bomb exploded beneath his carriage. Miraculously, the Tsar emerged from the wreckage unharmed but as he turned to tend to his wounded guard, a second terrorist rushed forward hurling another device that exploded at his feet. Disfigured and bleeding, he was rushed to Winter Palace where, as his young wife fell hysterically upon his mangled body, he died in agony.
Marie hurried to St. Petersburg for the funeral and even the Russophobe Queen Victoria was aghast at the news.
“I share your horror, condemnation and sorrow,” she wrote to Vicky, “at the death (unparalleled) of the poor, kind Emperor Alexander…Poor darling Marie on whom her poor father doted, it is almost too much to bear. But she is very courageous.”
The shock waves rippled across the continent and nowhere were they felt more keenly than in the quiet Grand Duchy of Hesse-Darmstadt, where Princess Alice’s daughters were already struggling to come to terms with a tragedy of their own.
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