Alice, The Enigma - A Biography of Queen Victoria's Daughter Read online

  In the event, the precautions proved unnecessary. Far fewer people than expected attended the Chartists’ meeting, which passed off peacefully without disturbance. Within a few weeks, the Royal Family returned to London and, as the year progressed, the European revolutions petered out and calm was restored.

  Nonetheless, at only five-years-old, Alice had learned that royalties lived a perilous existence; and, having had her first glimpse of revolution, she was about to experience her first taste of the horrors of war.

  By the mid-19th century, the crumbling Ottoman (Turkish) Empire was proving too great a temptation for European predators, who were intent on gaining greater control in the region, under the guise of protecting persecuted Christians. The new French President, Louis Napoleon, was among the first to stake a claim by promising assistance to the Catholic Church in Palestine in the hope that in return he would gain support for declaring himself Emperor Napoleon III.

  Seeing the success of the French operation, Tsar Nicholas I of Russia initiated a campaign to regain Orthodox rights in the Ottoman lands and, when the Turks raised no objections, he went further and attempted to take control of the Dardanelles. Despite opposition from Britain, France and Austria, who encouraged the Turks to reject the Russian demands, the Tsar’s armies, ostensibly under Ottoman supervision, occupied the Principalities of Moldavia and Wallachia on the banks of the Danube with the intention of pressing his case more forcefully.

  Concerned that the Russian presence might have an adverse effect on British trade with the Turks and the trade routes to India, ministers in London watched these manoeuvres with alarm, and, by June 1853, ‘the Eastern question’ was building up to a crisis. Queen Victoria confided to her uncle in Belgium that she was confident that war could be avoided but, four months later, the Turks suddenly turned on the Russian invaders. Within weeks, the Russians retaliated by destroying the Turkish squadron at Sinope, provoking an outcry among the British public who demanded a firm response from the government. Still, the Queen hoped that the situation could be resolved through negotiation and continued to exchange letters with the Tsar, who less than a decade earlier had been such a welcome guest at Windsor.

  Despite an ultimatum and the outbreak of war with the Turks, over a year passed before the Russians agreed to evacuate the Danubian Principalities but, by this time, the joint forces of Britain, France and Sardinia were determined to put an end to the Tsar’s intervention in the region once and for all. In September 1854, an allied expeditionary force landed in the Crimea and besieged Sebastopol, where the Russian Black Sea fleet was stationed. Britain and her allies were at war.

  From the safety of their nursery, the royal children listened with fascination to stories of heroism, which inspired songs and poems such as Tennyson’s epic The Charge of the Light Brigade:

  Half a league, half a league,

  Half a leage onward,

  All in the valley of Death

  Rode the six hundred.

  ‘Forward, the Light Brigade!

  ‘Charge for the guns!’ he said:

  Into the valley of Death

  Rode the six hundred…

  …When can their glory fade?

  O the wild charge they made!

  All the world wondered.

  Honour the charge they made,

  Honour the Light Brigade,

  Noble six hundred.”

  Inspired by such tales, Alice and her siblings eagerly joined the war effort, accompanying their mother to visit the casualties who had been brought back to London, and selling their own paintings to raise funds for wounded soldiers and the families of the dead.

  The newspapers, however, told a story very different from that described by the poets. For the first time in history on-the-spot journalists and photographers sent graphic reports of the sufferings of the British troops, which contrasted sharply with the imagery of heroic battles. Lice-ridden and covered in vermin, injured men lay on filthy, rat-infested floors as there were far too few beds to accommodate the number of casualties. Infection spread rapidly; gangrene was rife; and it was soon apparent that far more British soldiers were being killed by typhus and cholera than by injuries received in battle.

  ‘The sick appear to be tended by the sick, and the dying by the dying,’ a witness observed; while one of the doctors complained that,

  “…The wretched beggar, who wanders about the streets of London in the rain, leads the life of a prince compared with the British soldiers who are out here fighting for their country.”[46]

  In response to the public demand for action, the Secretary of the War Office, Sidney Herbert, authorised Florence Nightingale to travel to Scutari with thirty-eight companions to nurse the wounded. ‘The Lady with the Lamp’ rapidly became the focus of British propaganda as romantic versions of her work appeared in the press:

  “She is a ‘ministering angel’ without any exaggeration in these hospitals, and, as her slender form glides quietly along each corridor, every poor fellow’s face softens with gratitude at the sight of her. When all the medical officers have retired for the night and silence and darkness have settled down upon those miles of prostrate sick, she may be observed alone, with a little lamp in her hand, making her solitary rounds.”[47]

  In actuality, the death rates increased with the arrival of Florence Nightingale, who came into frequent conflict with more experienced nurses who had been working in the squalid conditions since the beginning of the war. Nonetheless, although her contribution to the immediate welfare of her patients was negligible, her administrative abilities and relentless letter-writing highlighted the plight of the ordinary soldiers, and her harrying of the Government led to improvements in nutrition, sanitation and supplies for the troops.

  Florence Nightingale was the heroine of the hour and, as exaggerated stories of her care for the sick and wounded proliferated, Queen Victoria asked to meet her at the home of her doctor, James Clark, where, Prince Albert recorded in his diary,

  “She put before us all the defects of our present military hospital system, and the reforms which are needed. We are much pleased with her; she is very modest.”[48]

  Shortly afterwards the Queen invited her to Balmoral before writing to her, enclosing a brooch, ‘the form and emblems of which commemorate your great and blessed work, and which, I hope, you will wear as a mark of the high approbation of your Sovereign!’[49]

  Florence Nightingale’s work captured the public imagination, and numerous fund-raising events were staged in her honour. Within a few years, the donations reached £45,000, which was used to establish the Nightingale Fund for training nurses at St. Thomas’ Hospital in London.

  Eleven-year-old Alice followed the nurse’s adventures with such fascination that she and Vicky decided to run away to Scutari to assist her. Of course, their plans did not materialise but the example of the ‘lady of the lamp’ inspired in Alice an interest in nursing which would continue to the end of her life.

  For now, though, she had a more immediate experience of illness when, in the summer of 1855, her younger sister, Louise, contracted scarlet fever. Although outbreaks were common particularly among children, it is possible that Louise caught the illness from one of the wounded soldiers since the measles-like infection was known to spread rapidly through military bases.

  As soon as the fever was diagnosed, Prince Albert insisted that the usual precautions were taken – Louise was isolated and confined to bed while the visiting King of Portugal was lodged on a yacht to avoid contamination. Nonetheless, within a short time Louise’s brothers, Leopold and Arthur, contracted the illness and eventually Alice, too, fell victim to the disease.

  It has often been suggested that Alice’s constitution was permanently weakened by the illness, resulting in many of the physical problems she suffered in later life. This, though, is unlikely since the strain was not particularly virulent, and, despite the former belief that scarlet fever is responsible for all kinds of latent maladies which might manifest later
in life (most notably photosensitivity), modern medical science finds no evidence to support this claim. Princess Helena (Lenchen), later recalled that Alice ‘recovered quickly but for some time afterward a certain delicacy was observable’[50], but that is no reason to suggest that the weakness or delicacy persisted beyond a normal period of recuperation; and it must be remembered that, at the time, Alice was on the verge of puberty, when many young girls acquire ‘a certain delicacy’.

  The year of Alice’s illness did, however, mark a turning-point in her life which might well account for the slowness of her recovery. Although she was, as yet, unaware of it, the idyll of her childhood was rapidly spiralling towards its conclusion, and, within a short time, she would face the trauma of separation from two of her most beloved siblings.

  Chapter 5 –

  The Real Separation from Childhood

  When so many royalties had declined an invitation to the Great Exhibition, Queen Victoria and Prince Albert were relieved that Prince Wilhelm of Prussia eventually decided to attend. His presence not only signified respect for the remarkable achievement but also, unbeknown to Alice, provided Prince Albert with an opportunity to further a long-held dream.

  At the time, Germany did not yet exist as a unified nation but comprised a collection of independent kingdoms and grand duchies of which Prussia was rapidly becoming most dominant. Prince Albert cherished the dream that one day the various states would unite under a liberal Prussian leadership so that Germany could become a powerful force for peace and culture throughout the continent. He had studied the subject in detail and had written a now lost treatise on the subject, ‘entitled “The German Question Explained” in which he propounded a scheme for a federated German Empire with an Emperor at the head.’[51]

  Throughout Prince Wilhelm’s sojourn in England during the revolutions of 1848, Prince Albert had found him to be a congenial and intelligent man with whom it was possible to discuss his hopes for the future. For his part, the Prince was grateful for the Royal Family’s friendship and declared that, ‘In no other State or country could I have passed so well the period of distress and anxiety through which I have gone.’[52]

  This friendship between the princes boded well for a future alliance between their two countries and, what was more, made Prince Albert aware of an opening through which his own liberal ideals might one day take root in Germany.

  Three years later, when Prince Wilhelm returned to England for the Great Exhibition, he brought with him his children: twelve-year-old Louise, who began a lifelong friendship with Alice, and nineteen-year-old Frederick Wilhelm (Fritz), who stood in awe of the spontaneity of the British Royal Family, which differed quite starkly from the stiffness of his native court. Although nine years her senior, he was particularly mesmerised by the intelligence and precocity of ten-year-old Vicky who, unlike the majority of Prussian princesses, was clearly well-educated, widely-read and capable of conversing on all manner of subjects in fluent German or English.

  Prince Albert was similarly impressed by the young prince in whom he recognised many of the qualities which he valued most highly. Fritz was intelligent and serious-minded, with liberal opinions, an eagerness to learn and a willingness to listen to advice. It was obvious to Prince Albert that there could be no better way of securing a peaceful future for a united Germany than to cultivate high ideals in this future King and ensure that he found a like-minded helpmate who would support him in bringing to fruition the dream of a pacific and prosperous nation. Who better to play that role, thought Prince Albert, than his own eldest daughter, Vicky?

  As Vicky was still a child at the time of the Great Exhibition, and Prince Albert had no intention of forcing her into marriage against her will, he did not mention the subject to her, but continued to maintain correspondence with Fritz and, with the support of Queen Victoria, nurtured a plan to bring the young people together. As the months passed, Fritz developed a filial affection for Prince Albert and became increasingly appreciative of the way in which the Government and Crown operated in Britain, viewing it as an ideal to which Germany could aspire. Moreover, as he came to know the family better, he could not fail to be impressed by the obvious devotion of Vicky’s parents, when his own parents’ marriage was anything but an example of domestic harmony.

  Meanwhile in Berlin, Fritz’s parents had also recognised the benefits of such a match and, despite initial opposition from Prince Wilhelm’s brother, the King of Prussia, they were equally eager to bring the young people together. All were agreed, however, that no pressure should be placed on Vicky and Fritz; instead they should be given opportunities to meet in the hope that their blossoming friendship might develop into mutual love. It did not take long for those hopes to be realised.

  In the early autumn of 1855, Fritz visited Balmoral where, after almost a week in the remote romantic setting, he summoned the courage to approach the Queen and Prince Albert, requesting their permission to propose to their eldest daughter. Though the Queen’s delight was tempered by consternation about fourteen-year-old Vicky’s immaturity and a desire that ‘all the simple unconstraint of girlhood’ should continue for as long as possible, both she and Prince Albert gave their consent on condition that Fritz did not tell Vicky of his intentions until after her confirmation the following spring.

  Fritz readily agreed but, in spite of his best efforts to keep the secret, his parents were eagerly awaiting news of the outcome and it was almost inevitable that the story should leak out. As congratulatory messages began to arrive from Prussia, Queen Victoria, fearing that Vicky might discover what had been agreed and think that her future had been decided without her knowledge, decided to rescind her stipulation and invited Fritz to propose directly.

  On the afternoon of 20th September 1855, Fritz accompanied Vicky and her parents on a ride up the craggy Highland paths to Craig-na-ban where, as Queen Victoria recorded in her diary:

  “…he picked a piece of white heather (the emblem of good luck), which he gave to her; and this enabled him to make an allusion to his hopes and wishes as they rode down Glen Girnock…”[53]

  Vicky coyly accepted his proposal and so began what was to become one of the greatest royal love-matches in history. The ever-romantic Queen Victoria was delighted; and, although it perfectly suited Prince Albert’s hopes of securing a liberal influence in Prussia, he assured his mentor, Stockmar, that it was not politics which had persuaded him to encourage Fritz’s suit, but rather ‘it was my heart.’

  The following day, Prince Albert was suddenly afflicted with severe rheumatism, which spread so painfully from his left shoulder to his back and right arm that he could not even hold a pen, and was left, in his own words, ‘a cripple’. Considering his highly sensitive nature and the strength of his affection for Vicky, it is not too far-fetched to suggest that this sudden attack sprang from his reluctance to accept that her childhood was nearing its conclusion and his happy family unit was soon to be divided.

  If Prince Albert was so affected by the prospect of parting with his daughter, the discovery of what had taken place left Alice utterly devastated. Deeply hurt that she had not been warned of the plans, the thought of parting with her closest sister and confidante caused her to break down in tears. It is highly likely that she, whose sensitive nature so resembled that of her father, had an equally strong physical reaction to the news, which accounts for the ‘certain delicacy’ that followed her recent bout of scarlet fever.

  Although, due to Queen Victoria’s stipulation that the wedding could not take place until after Vicky’s seventeenth birthday, Alice had two years left in which to enjoy her sister’s company, it was already obvious that their world was changing rapidly and the security of childhood was drawing to a close. Vicky was no longer simply a confidante and playmate, but rather the fiancée of a foreign prince who would one day inherit a throne. Her evenings were no longer spent with Alice, but rather with her father, who was busily preparing her for life as a future Queen.

  Unlike man
y royalties of the day, Prince Albert did not view his daughters merely as vehicles through which dynasties might be continued. He recognised the importance of their intellectual and political opinions and the benefits they could bring to the countries they served. Such responsibility required intensive training and so, from the moment that Vicky’s engagement was officially announced, he spent one hour each day introducing her to political and historical ideas.

  “She comes to me every evening between six and seven, when I put her through a kind of general catechizing,” he wrote to Fritz. “In order to make her ideas clear, I let her work out subjects for herself, which she then brings to me for correction. She is at present writing a short compendium of Roman history.”[54]

  Alice, who adored her father, would have loved such attention, but Vicky’s studies served only to emphasise her imminent departure; and, to matters worse, two of her brothers were also on the point of leaving home.

  In 1856, at his own request, twelve-year-old Affie began preparing for a career at sea and was allocated his own residence at Royal Lodge, under the supervision of a Royal Navy commander. For Bertie, Affie’s departure came as a double blow: now he was not only deprived of his closest companion but he also suffered the humiliation of seeing his younger brother being granted a modicum of independence while he remained at home, straining under the instruction of his overbearing tutor, Frederick Gibbs.