royal wedding celebration

Content that her daughters were finally settled, Vicky could only gaze askance at her Wales nieces trapped in their childhood home.
“[Maud] did look so pretty - & fresh,” she wrote to the Queen, “– like a little rose – with her bright eyes, - and dear intelligent expression, she and Victoria are two such Ducks! I cannot understand their not being married they would be such charming wives.”
Leaving the sheltered world of the nursery was no easy matter for the daughters of the Princess of Wales. Awkward in company and shy among strangers, none of them hoped for a ‘great match’ in the Court of some foreign king, and yet, as they watched their cousins precede them to the altar, even the ‘whispering Waleses’ harboured hopes of the limited independence that marriage might bring. Unlike Moretta, they had neither an obstinate Kaiser nor an arrogant Court to contend with - for the Waleses the chief obstacle was their mother’s reluctance to break up her happy family. With a possessiveness surpassing even that of Queen Victoria, Princess Alexandra clung to her children, carelessly dismissing their pleas to find them suitable partis before it was too late.
Louise was the first to strain at the apron strings though her manner of escape raised a few eyebrows at Court. As the eldest daughter of the heir to the British Empire, the twenty-two-year-old princess might have married one of several foreign princes, but home-loving Louise opted instead for a forty-year-old friend of her father’s, Alexander Macduff, Earl of Fife.
Although ‘immensely rich,’ the uncouth and ill-mannered Macduff was certainly no great catch in the eyes of the aristocracy but to shrinking Louise he offered the possibility of vanishing into the luxurious obscurity of his several Scottish estates. In spite of the age difference, Louise was delighted by his proposal and one member of her household observed that ‘there was never anyone more in love.’
Since Macduff shared his passion for racing and shooting, the Prince of Wales approved of the match, and even Louise’s mother agreed, knowing that her daughter would not have to leave the country. Queen Victoria with her fondness for Scotsmen, was equally content and as part of her wedding present elevated Macduff from Earl to Duke of Fife.
“Dear Louise will, I am sure, be happy with you whom I have known and liked from your childhood,” she wrote to him. “That my dear beloved grandchild should have a home in dear Scotland and in the dear Highlands is an additional satisfaction for me.”
After an engagement lasting less than a month, the wedding took place in July 1889 in the flower-bedecked chapel of Buckingham Palace, where Cousins Thora and Marie Louise of Schleswig-Holstein acted as bridesmaids. Though a wedding dress could not disguise Louise’s plain features, Queen Victoria’s lady-in-waiting, Marie Mallet, observed that ‘[the bride] looked her very best and her gown was lovely very simple and graceful, her manner so charming too.’ The Queen was less impressed observing that, as Louise true to form whispered her vows and fumbled with the wedding ring, she looked:
‘Vy. pale…and not nearly so pretty a Bride as my dear children & she was too plainly dressed - and had her veil over her face wh. no Pcess ever has & wh. I think very unbecoming & not right.’
Right or not, marriage revitalised Her Royal ‘Shyness.’ Spending much of her time at Macduff’s London home, Sheen Lodge, or travelling around his Scottish estates, far away from her mother’s pampering, her health improved dramatically. Though a stillborn baby blighted the early years of her marriage, Louise found happiness with her fatherly husband and in May 1891, she gave birth to a healthy ‘plump’ daughter whom she dutifully named Alexandra after the Princess of Wales. The baby was christened at Windsor with her Aunt Toria among the godmothers. Eighteen months later, Louise was excusing herself from a visit to Windsor for Christmas, because, as she euphemistically told Queen Victoria:
“I am not very strong just now…I confess I am rather sensitive about myself and I am sure you will understand and enter into my feelings about it…I have been obliged to take great care and have not felt very well lately.”
A second daughter, Maud, ‘a pretty little thing but very small’, was born the following April.
The Princess of Wales might complain that she saw too little of her grandchildren but Louise was happy. She took up fishing and cycling and according to one observer, even her appearance improved. Catching sight of the princess driving alone in a dog-cart one day, she noted:
“She looked so pretty - almost as pretty as her mother - with her bright colour, pretty blue eyes - lovely teeth…Pss. May says Pss. Louise is so happy.”
The same could not be said for her younger sisters.

Gloomily recovering from Eddy’s death and traipsing around after their mother on her many foreign jaunts, Toria and Maud were finding the state of singleness increasingly onerous. As Cousin Moretta had already discovered, it was humiliating to attend so many family weddings while their mother firmly refused to make any effort to encourage appropriate suitors.
“It is really not wise to leave these dear girls dans la vague,” Vicky warned Queen Victoria, who drew the matter to the attention of their father. The Prince of Wales’ response was discouraging:
“He knew your kind wishes for the future wh. he quite shared but that Alix [the Princess of Wales] found them such companions that she wld not encourage their marrying & that they themselves had no inclination for it, (in wh. I think he is mistaken, as regards Maud.)”
In fact, he was quite mistaken about both of his daughters; Toria felt her spinsterhood as keenly as Maud did. Though neither her health nor appearance had improved with age, she had every reason remain optimistic. Many royalties would have been delighted at the chance of becoming a son-in-law of the future king, and various gentlemen of the Court and foreign princes had been mentioned as prospective candidates but, the Princess of Wales stubbornly dismissed each suggestion.
Stifled and frustrated, Toria’s health deteriorated under the strain, so much so that, during a visit to England in 1894, the Tsarevich Nicholas recorded, ‘Victoria has got much thinner and unfortunately does not look well.’
Her younger sister, on the other hand, gained weight and fell into a ‘malheureuse passion’ for the handsome but wayward brother of the Duchess of York, Prince ‘Frank’ of Teck. Frank did not reciprocate her feelings and when it was discovered that he that was conducting an affair with an older, married woman, any hope of a possible union came to a sudden end.
While Toria fretted and fainted, Maud refused to lose heart and persistently pleaded with ‘Motherdear’ to find her an eligible prince. She briefly entertained the idea of marrying the much-sought-after Max of Baden but he showed little interest in her and her efforts to meet him were repeatedly dashed. At last, shortly before her twenty-sixth birthday a suitable candidate appeared in the person of her first cousin, Prince Carl of Denmark, the second son of Princess Alexandra’s brother, Frederick. Though he was two years Maud’s junior, and looked much younger, he was a ‘charming, good looking boy’ and, being Danish, even the protective Princess of Wales had no objections to the match.
The engagement was announced on 28th October 1895 after which Carl departed for a five month tour of the West Indies, leaving Maud time to fret about the wrench of leaving the fairy tale world of her childhood. His return in the spring restored her spirits and the wedding took place in the private chapel of Buckingham Palace on Wednesday 22nd July 1896, where the bridesmaids included Toria, Cousin Thora of Schleswig-Holstein, the two Connaught Princesses, Daisy and Patsy, and Alice Albany.
“Dear Maud” wrote the Queen, “looked very pretty in her white satin dress, with a very long train bordered with orange blossoms, on her head her mother’s wedding veil, & a wreath of orange blossoms. The Archbishop of Canterbury performed the little ceremony, assisted by the Bishops of London & Winchester, other Clergy being also present.”
As a wedding present, the Prince of Wales gave his daughter Appleton Lodge on the Sandringham estate so that she might return home whenever she wished. Even with that security, it was almost six months before Maud could bear to tear herself away from her family. Shortly before Christmas 1896, she said her tearful goodbyes and set sail for Copenhagen, which was to be her home for the next nine years.
It was a happy marriage, marred only in its early years by Maud’s failure to conceive. Seven years passed before she gave birth to her only son, Alexander, who would eventually become the first royal child to attend an ordinary state school.

Maud’s departure for Denmark left Toria lonelier and more desperate to make a life of her own. At the same time it strengthened her mother’s resolve to cling to her one remaining daughter. Increasingly deaf, the Princess of Wales had become so reliant on Toria’s company that she barely allowed her out of her sight and was rarely seen anywhere without the dowdier princess trailing like a puppy at her heels.
Humiliated by stigma of spinsterhood and compelled to endure the tedium of her mother’s endless Danish excursions, the sight of her numerous married cousins only increased her pain. As if her loneliness were not enough, every year the Princess of Wales thoughtlessly invited many of Toria’s married friends to her birthday parties. But for the unhappy princess, the most wounding blow of all was her mother’s refusal to consider a proposal of marriage from the widowed Prime Minister, Lord Rosebery, with whom she had fallen in love. Notwithstanding the fact that Louise had already married a commoner, the Princess of Wales argued that Rosebery was unworthy of a daughter of the future king. It was Toria’s last chance of escape from her mother’s domination and, that having failed, she gave way to her numerous psychosomatic ailments and became increasingly resentful and unpopular with the younger members of the family. Even years later, she would bitterly remark that she could have been happy with Rosebery but ‘they’ wouldn’t let her.

The death of Prince Albert Victor dramatically altered the eligibility status of his younger brother, George. Now his wife would eventually assume ‘the greatest position there is’ and again the hunt was on for an appropriate bride. More intelligent than his brother, George was popular with his cousins. Sophie thought him ‘such a dear & so awfully amusing’ , while her sister Moretta recorded that “[his] pretty red lips & white teeth were always my delight.” In later years Marie Louise would describe him as:
“..one of the kindest and most generous men you can imagine. Under that rather gruff manner was the most considerate of hearts. He carried out in full the principle of not letting his right hand know what his left hand did. His generosity, unknown to the outside world, was perfectly wonderful.”
But it was Marie Louise’s sister, Thora, who began an earnest quest to win his heart. Her mother, Lenchen, was determined that this time her daughter would not be overlooked and encouraged twenty-two-year-old Thora to make herself noticed. Hovering in George’s presence and offering him her photograph, the naïve princess succeeded only in incurring Aunt Alix’s ridicule. The Princess of Wales had still not forgiven Prince Christian’s part in the Schleswig-Holstein affair, and dismissed the possibility of his daughter marrying George, in a sarcastic letter to her son:
“So the Xtians have been following you about with their lovely Snipe! Well it will be a pleasure to expect that beauty as your bride - when may we expect the news? You see she is quite prepared to take you by storm already offering you her contrafeit (sic) in a frame.”
Even without the Princess of Wales’ acid comments, Thora had little hope of attracting the prince. George had already fallen under the spell of another cousin five years her junior - Affie’s eldest daughter, Missy of Edinburgh.
During his naval days, George had often stayed with the Edinburghs at San Antonio in Malta where he and Missy had become great ‘chums.’ The young princess appreciated his friendship and enjoyed his company but his reserved manner was no match for her passionate nature. Nor was Missy’s mother, the Duchess of Edinburgh, enthralled by the prospect of her daughter as future Queen of England - a country she had come to despise. When George eventually summoned the courage to propose, Missy refused him.
Affronted and angry at the refusal, the Prince of Wales blamed Missy’s father for the outcome, while the Princess of Wales scathingly remarked that her Edinburgh niece was still a mere ‘baby, barely out of petticoats.’ Baby or not, within months, the seventeen-year-old princess announced her engagement to Ferdinand of Hohenzollern-Sigmaringen, the twenty-seven-year-old heir presumptive to the throne of Roumania•.
The following year the problem of George’s marriage reached a happy conclusion. Since Eddy’s death, he had grown close to his late brother’s fiancée, May of Teck, and there seemed no reason why she should not transfer her affection from one brother to the next. There had been a precedent in royal circles: the Princess of Wales’ sister had once been engaged to the then Tsarevich Nicholas and following his early demise, happily married his brother, the future Tsar Alexander III.
May was undoubtedly willing but dispassionate George, fearful perhaps of a second refusal, dithered until his sister, Louise, decided to take the matter in hand. In March 1893, she invited George and May to her home, Sheen Lodge in Richmond, in the hope that he would propose. Still he tarried until Louise pointedly suggested, “Don’t you think you ought to take May into the garden to look at the frogs in the pond?”
George took the hint, May consented and the wedding took place in July 1893. Nine of Queen Victoria’s granddaughters acted as bridesmaids: George’s sisters, Toria and Maud; the three younger Edinburgh girls Ducky, Alexandra and Baby Bee; Daisy and Patsy Connaught; and six-year-old Ena of Battenberg. The ninth, with remarkable good grace in view of the snub she had received, was Thora of Schleswig-Holstein.

There were many at Court who believed Thora to have been an excellent contender for ‘the highest position there is.’ Though she may not have been as pretty as some of her cousins or her younger sister, Marie Louise, her common sense and gentleness endeared her to all the family.
“Thora is very sensible and level-headed and ought to have a chance,” wrote Marie Mallet, “It would have been for instance a godsend to Russia if the Tsar had married her...”
But Thora was cautious when it came to choosing a husband. As far back as 1890, Aunt Vicky wished ‘someone nice could be found’ for her and four years later, after the embarrassment of George’s rejection, suggested a minor German prince, Ernst of Hohenlohe-Langenburg, a grandson of Queen Victoria’s half-sister, Feodora. Nothing came of the plan and Ernst later married Thora’s cousin, Alexandra of Edinburgh. Almost a decade passed and no suitable candidate appeared. In 1899, there was a vague possibility of a match with a minor Catholic prince but, in spite of her advanced age, the twenty-seven-year-old princess was cautious:
“Thora wishes it to be clearly understood what would be done about the marriage,” Queen Victoria explained, “Else, as she said, if she should like him and great difficulties arise afterwards about the religion, it would be very unpleasant and painful.”
Again, the plans came to nothing and Thora settled happily into a life of ‘blessed singleness’ devoting her attention to her brothers, her parents, her grandmother and her mother’s charitable causes. Far from being stifled in a loveless marriage, the intelligent and open-minded princess enjoyed her freedom and travelled widely, visiting her cousins in Germany and Russia. Her two brothers also remained single and, though both Christian Victor, who served in the British Army, and Albert who served in Germany, were often away on active duty the family remained very close. Thora also enjoyed the company of her grandmother whom she saw almost daily as she and her mother followed the annual migrations between Osborne, Balmoral and Windsor. Living in such close proximity to the Queen, she was a regular attendant at state dinners where, conversing with politicians and statesmen, she developed her own firm views about politics and world affairs, some of which brought her into conflict with her equally politically-minded mother.
“[Thora] talked just as we do about the Government,” wrote Queen Victoria’s lady-in-waiting, Marie Mallett, “…but she only dares to talk openly to me and a few others as Princess Christian is furious with her and everyone else unless they ‘lard’ the Government with fulsome praise.”
Unlike Toria of Wales, Thora was content with her lot, justifying the Queen’s claim that:
“Unmarried people are often very happy, certainly more so than married people who don’t live happily together of which there are so many instances.”
The Queen was speaking from experience: by the turn of the century she was convinced that several of her granddaughters were trapped in desperately unhappy marriages.