Victoria’s Children, part 9: Beatrice—Dutiful Daughter or Half-crazed Visigoth?

Ha--I knew that would get your attention! And I’m not exaggerating too much, as you’ll see shortly. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves…

Poor Victoria. The queen actually hadn’t wanted such a large family; but medical knowledge being what it was in the mid-19th century, her doctors gave her less-than-accurate advice on family planning. So it was more or less business as usual when her ninth and last child was born April 14, 1857…except that it wasn’t. She had discovered the blessings of chloroform with the birth of her previous child, Leopold, and was determined to utilize it again…which she did, to the continued grumbling of much of the medical establishment of the day.

Her pain-free birth may or may not have had something to do with it, but little Beatrice Mary Victoria Feodore soon became a favorite with her parents, now that their elder children were marrying (Vicky married when Baby, as she was nicknamed, was nine months old). She was a pretty, lively child, and the Queen even overcame her usual dislike of infants in Beatrice’s case.

That pretty liveliness, however, was not destined to remain. The deaths of both the Queen’s mother and husband in 1861 plunged the Queen into gloom, and levity was not welcomed in her household. Gradually, Beatrice’s bright personality and intelligence were worn down, until by her teens, she had become very shy and almost tongue-tied in public and her natural grace dulled. Victoria’s older daughters had, one by one, escaped into marriage, but if the Queen had any say in the matter, Beatrice would not: she would remain at her mother’s side, serving as her personal secretary and companion for the rest of her life.

And so matters continued until 1884. Though Victoria assured everyone that Beatrice was quite content to remain “the daughter of the house”, there had been thoughts of marrying her off, possibly to Louis of Hesse, her late sister’s Alice’s widower. Finding a groom for Beatrice did not appear to be an easy prospect: she was chunky, awkward and gauche in public, and just not very attractive. But at a family wedding in that fateful year, Beatrice fell in love. Her choice was Prince Henry of Battenburg, a minor German princeling. In many ways, he was the perfect choice: he was more or less penniless and landless, and could therefore quite easily move to England and become Beatrice’s husband, rather than her leaving England to become his wife. So after six months of the Silent Treatment (quite literally!) on the Queen’s part, promises were extracted from Henry (nicknamed “Liko”) and Beatrice that they would always live with her, and the pair were allowed to marry in 1885.

Remain with the Queen they did: even after the arrival of four children (Alexander in 1886, Victoria Eugenie—called Ena— in 1887, Leopold in 1889, and Maurice in 1891—the Queen’s 40th and final grandchild) the family followed the Queen on her yearly peregrinations among her residences, while Beatrice continued as her mother’s right hand. The lively “Battenbunnies” helped keep the Queen young for a time; not since the Prince Consort’s death had there been such sunshine in her life. But clouds would soon re-gather: though Beatrice adored him, her Liko eventually chafed under his enforced status as house-husband, and in 1895 got permission to join the British Army to fight in Africa in the Ashanti wars. To everyone’s horror, he contracted malaria and died while en route home.

Poor Beatrice was, of course, devastated, but her aging mother needed her more than ever, not to mention her young family. Though not a very maternal or demonstrative mother, she was, above all, dutiful, and so life continued until 1901..and the real center of Beatrice’s life, her mother, died.

You have to feel sorry for her—for the Queen had occupied almost all of her attention, all her life. And in death, she continued to do so, for Beatrice was named one of the executors of her will and, more importantly, had been requested by the Queen to edit her papers, most notably the diaries she’d kept since 1831 and her private letters. And here’s where the Visigoth part comes in, for edit Beatrice did: by the time she was done copying out what seemed appropriate to her to keep, Beatrice deleted fully two-thirds of the Queen’s diaries and letters...and burned the originals, to the horror of King George and Queen Mary and to generations of historians ever since. Imagine what was lost to history!

The rest of Beatrice’s life remained uneventful, though dramas occurred—the disastrous marriage of her daughter Ena to the last king of Spain and the death of her son Maurice in World War I. She unveiled monuments to her mother’s memory and dabbled in good works (though not to the degree that her sisters Lenchen and Louise did), and lived until 1944…and thus ended an era.

Coming soon, we'll take a look at some of the more interesting of the Queen's forty grandchildren...stay tuned!

Queen Victoria, Part VIII: Love at Last

Time for a happy ending!

When we last left young Queen Victoria in my June 18 entry (gulp!), it was 1839 and she'd had to deal with the Flora Hastings scandal, brought on by Sir John Conroy's scheming and her own rather immature behavior. But with Sir John gone, life took on a more even keel...

Or did it?

After Sir John's departure in June and Lady Flora's death in July, Victoria was at loose ends. The fun and excitement of being queen and her own mistress had beguin to pale, and she felt trapped in the round of social and public events, bored and tense. A change was needed, and several around her thought they knew what that change should be: it was time for Victoria to marry. But she resisted the idea of marriage, saying she was quite happy as she was. Her Uncle Leopold, King of Belgium, had other plans. He overcame Victoria's nervous ditherings and sent his nephew (and Victoria's first cousin), Albert of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, to visit England that fall.

Albert was the younger son of the reigning Duke of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, a small German principality comprising about 18 square miles in central Germany. He was born about three months after Victoria, in August 1819, and almost from his birth it was hoped he'd one day marry Victoria (huge squick factor there for us, but in those days it was considered perfectly all right for first cousins to marry). He was a serious, sober youth, fond of nature and beautiful scenery and not at all fond of society. He and his older brother Ernest visited England in 1836 and Victoria had a delightful time with them...but they had all been children then. Albert's proposed visit in 1839 would determine if he and Victoria would make a match of it...both of them knew it, and both of them were horribly nervous. Victoria worried that Albert would still be the slightly undergrown, sickly boy who couldn't keep his eyes open after nine at night that she'd met before, and Albert had heard dreadful rumors about Victoria's love of empty pomp and ceremony and her tendency to party all night and sleep till noon.

Neither need have worried. When Albert arrived at Windsor on Thursday, October 10, Victoria was waiting to meet him...and fell in love on sight. Her diary for that day states, "It was with some emotion that I beheld Albert, who is beautiful." (That's a sketch she made of him at right.) On Friday she confides that "Albert really is quite charming, and so excessively handsome, such beautiful blue eyes, an exquisite nose, and such a pretty mouth with delicate moustachios and slight but very slight whiskers; a beautiful figure, broad in the shoulders and a fine waist; my heart is quite going...." By Sunday she confided to her Prime Minister, Lord Melbourne, that she had decided to marry Albert, and on Tuesday, she proposed to him. (That's right--she did the proposing. As a queen, it was up to her to do so). Naturally, he said yes.

The wedding was held three months later, in February 1840, and Victoria never looked back. She worshipped her Albert, and there's no doubt that Albert loved her back. He proved to be a steadying influence on her, moderating her sometimes over-enthusiastic likes and dislikes, and becoming her most trusted political advisor as well. It's sad for Victoria that he died only twenty-one years later, leaving her to a long widowhood...and the picture most people have of her today as a sour old lady dressed in black. But I always think of her as she was on the day she became queen, addressing her ministers for the first time--a petite, slender girl who, according the Duke of Wellington "...not merely filled her chair" but "filled the room."

One Hundred and Seventy One Years Ago This Week...

"Tuesday, 20th June.-- I was awoke at 6 o’clock by Mamma, who told me that the Archbishop of Canterbury and Lord Conyngham were here, and wished to see me. I got out of bed and went into my sitting-room (only in my dressing-gown), and alone, and saw them. Lord Conyngham (the Lord Chamberlain) then acquainted me that my poor Uncle, the King, was no more, and had expired at 12 minutes p. 2 this morning, and consequently that I am Queen. Lord Conyngham knelt down and kissed my hand, at the same time delivering to me the official announcement of the poor King's demise. The Archbishop then told me that the Queen was desirous that he should come and tell me the details of the last moments of my poor, good Uncle; he said that he had directed his mind to religion, and had died in a perfectly happy, quiet state of mind, and was quite prepared for his death. He added that the King's sufferings at the last were not very great but that there was a good deal of uneasiness. Lord Conyngham, whom I charged to express my feelings of condolence and sorrow to the poor Queen, returned directly to Windsor. I then went to my room and dressed.

"Since it has pleased Providence to place me in this station, I shall do my utmost to fulfil my duty towards my country; I am very young and perhaps in many, though not in all things, inexperienced, but I am sure, that very few have more real good will and more real desire to do what is fit and right than I have.

"Breakfasted, during which time good faithful Stockmar came and talked to me. Wrote a letter to dear Uncle Leopold and a few words to dear good Feodore. Received a letter from Lord Melbourne in which he said he would wait upon me at a little before 9. At 9 came Lord Melbourne, whom I saw in my room, and of COURSE quite ALONE as I shall always do all my Ministers. He kissed my hand and I then acquainted him that it had long been my intention to retain him and the rest of the present Ministry at the head of affairs, and that it could not be in better hands than his. He then again kissed my hand. He then read to me the Declaration which I was to read to the Council, which he wrote himself and which is a very fine one. I then talked with him some little longer time after which he left me. He was in full dress. I like him very much and feel confidence in him. He is a very straightforward, honest, clever and good man. I then wrote a letter to the Queen. At about 11 Lord Melbourne came again to me and spoke to me upon various subjects. At about ½ p. 11 went downstairs and held a Council in the red saloon. I went in of course quite alone, and remained seated the whole time. My two Uncles, the Dukes of Cumberland and Sussex, and Lord Melbourne conducted me. The declaration, the various forms, the swearing in of the Privy Councillors of which there were a great number present, and the reception of some of the Lords of Council, previous to the Council in an adjacent room (likewise alone) I subjoin here. I was not at all nervous and had the satisfaction of hearing that people were satisfied with what I had done and how I had done it. Receiving after this, Audiences of Lord Melbourne, Lord John Russell, Lord Albemarle (Master of the Horse), and the Archbishop of Canterbury, all in my room and alone. Saw Stockmar. Saw Clark, whom I named my Physician. Saw Mary. Wrote to Uncle Ernest. Saw Ernest Hohenlohe who brought me a kind and very feeling letter from the poor Queen. I feel very much for her, and really feel that the poor good King was always so kind personally to me, that I should be ungrateful were I not to recollect it and feel grieved at his death. The poor Queen is wonderfully composed now, I hear. Wrote my journal. Took my dinner upstairs alone. Went downstairs. Saw Stockmar. At about 20 minutes to 9 came Lord Melbourne and remained till near 10. I had a very important and a very comfortable conversation with him. Each time I see him I feel more confidence in him ; I find him very kind in his manner too. Saw Stockmar. Went down and said good-night to Mamma &c. My dear Lehzen will ALWAYS remain with me as my friend but will take no situation about me, and I think she is right."

Queen Victoria went on to rule until 1901...the longest reign of any British monarch.