The Awful Events at Paris

The King of the Belgians to Queen Victoria

Laeken, 26th February 1848

My dearest Victoria,—I am very unwell in consequence of the awful events at Paris. How will this end? Poor Louise is in a state of despair which is pitiful to behold. What will soon become of us God alone knows; great efforts will be made to revolutionise [sic] this country; as there are poor and wicked people in all countries it may succeed.

Against France we, of course, have a right to claim protection from England and the other Powers. I can write no more. God bless you. Ever your devoted Uncle,

Leopold R.

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(No, not the cover of a Coldplay album: a scene from the 1848 revolution in France.  Photo credit: Wikipedia)

This letter comes at the beginning of an incredibly eventful year for all of Europe, particularly on the Continent.  In a wave similar to that of the recent Arab Spring in the Middle East (a movement that actually draws its name from the 1848 revolutions), political unrest in multiple European nations arose, sparking widespread protests by the working classes over government representation, working conditions, food prices, and absolute rule, among other issues.  Leopold’s letter is especially significant as the revolutions began in France, the homeland of his wife Louise. 

Louise’s father, Louis-Philippe, had come to the throne as a result of the abdication of Charles X in 1830.  Charles had abdicated amid growing resentment of the French people due to his growing interest in returning France from a constitutional monarchy to an absolute one.  Louis-Philippe had no interest in absolute rule, but he also did not seem to understand that his policies tended to favor the wealthiest French landowners almost exclusively.  These landowners – about 1% of the population – held all the voting rights and naturally voted according to their own needs.  Louis-Philippe seemed perfectly pleased with this arrangement. 

Naturally this set up made most everyone else in France want to spit nails. The considerably wealthy but land-poor merchants and factory owners were incensed that their voices were not heard, despite providing sizeable tax income to the state.  This French upper middle class began holding banquets that were more or less a cover for the political rallies that had been outlawed after the French Revolution.  This group also became interested in recent suffrage successes in Britain, which increased the number of eligible voters – not all of them landowners – by about 40%. 

But the “banquets” couldn’t last for long without someone catching onto their true meaning.  By February 1848, the banquets had also been declared illegal, which provided the spark for the riots that took place that year.  On February 22, four days before Leopold’s letter was written, mobs began to pack the streets of Paris.   The French prime minister resigned the following day, and on February 24, Louis-Philippe abdicated as well.  Louise-Philippe was obviously panicked at the crowds forming near the palace; as the Capetian monarchy had fallen to a bloody end just fifty years before, Louis-Philippe wisely assumed common clothes as a disguise and hightailed it out of Paris.  Louise’s mother, Maria Amalia, accompanied him. 

It is doubtful that Leopold or Victoria knew the whereabouts of Louis-Philippe and his family at the time this letter was written.  Leopold was naturally concerned for the safety of his in-laws, but likely uneasy about the security of his throne.  Belgium was a brand new country that had been formed in protest.  Who was to say that the unrest in nearby France could not spread across the borders? 

Leopold’s wife Louise was a somewhat fragile person.  She disliked Belgium and often cried when writing letters home to her family.  Her shy personality did not make her particularly suited to life as a queen, although she was liked at court for her kindness, sweet nature, and concern for the poor.  Leopold did not enjoy quite the love match in his second marriage that he had had with Charlotte, nor did Louise seem to cure his sometime intense sexual passions.  Louise seemed to dislike sex, more or less withdrawing from it after the birth of her last child in 1840.

But Leopold did have affection for her and was concerned by how the bad news from Paris frightened Louise.  The plights of her parents, Leopold said, put his wife in “a state of despair which is pitiful to behold.”  What was more, Louise was still in intense mourning for her paternal aunt Adelaide who had died in January (the two had been very close), making her emotionally overwrought.  Louise clung to her deep Catholic faith, praying when she was not writing letters to determine the whereabouts of her family.    

On February 27, a relieved Louise found out that her parents had made it to Britain.  She wrote to Victoria in relief, asking her to pass on letters and thanks for their survival.  Louise wrote to her niece of what she felt upon hearing of her parents’ safety:

In the hours of agony we have gone through I asked God only to spare the lives, and I will ask still nothing else…What has happened is unaccountable, incomprehensible, it appears to us like a fearful dream.

Meanwhile, Victoria continued to field letters from other monarchs concerned about their positions.  Friedrich Wilhelm of Prussia sent Victoria a long letter urging her to join him in supporting the new France as it had the monarchy – while simultaneously assuring their own people that they knew how to rule appropriately, of course.  (Friedrich Wilhelm and Prussia had their own problems during the 1848 revolution.)  Victoria also continued to receive and send notes to her advisors with more information on the situation in France as it became available.

But Louise grew nearly inconsolable in the meantime, as she was unable to find out exactly where her parents had landed.  Indeed Victoria herself didn’t seem to know as of March 1, although she believed they were in Britain.  Victoria had received word that her cousin Victoire (married to one of Louis-Philippe’s sons) had made it to Jersey, and she assured Louise and Leopold that she was doing everything she could to find Louis-Philippe and Maria Amalia.  On March 3, Viscount Palmerston (then Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs) confirmed that the former French King and Queen had arrived in Britain that morning.  They had spent the preceding week and a half slowly making their way to the coastal city of Le Havre, hiding along the way. 

Although British-French relations had had their ebbs and flows over the years, the British (with the help of the Belgians) welcomed their French guests with open arms.  Leopold arranged for Maria Amalia and Louis-Philippe to occupy Claremont, his home in Britain.  Victoria and her family visited Louis-Philippe and Maria Amalia periodically.  The couple was fairly content for the most part, and both Louis-Philippe and Maria Amalia spent the rest of their lives at Claremont, dying in 1850 and 1866 respectively. 

Louise, driven to exhaustion over her parents’ situation, fell into ill health after the fall of the Orleanist monarchy.  The distance between Louise and her husband grew greater, and Leopold began more or less openly living with his chief mistress during this time.  Louise developed tuberculosis in 1849, and her father’s death the following year seemed to sap her spirits and will to live.  Louise died on October 11, 1850, at the age of 38. 

Of all of the countries affected by the 1848 revolutions, France was one of most affected.  Some victories were claimed by the lower classes in Austria-Hungary, and constitutional monarchy began in Denmark.  Germany also saw some temporary changes to its monarchy, and protests in Italy drove out the Bourbon monarchy for a short time.  Britain saw some small, localized riots that did not amount to a larger movement.  Britain instead became the oasis for one of its former rivals, moving fully into the Industrial Age, increasing its power as a future empire.  And at its head: Victoria.

Helena and the 'bad thing'

Princess Alice to Queen Victoria

Darmstadt, February 19, 1873

My best thanks for your dear letter! That I forgot to thank you at once for dear Grandmama's very beautiful print came from my having the lithograph of that picture in my room always before me, and, though the print far surpasses it, I am so fond of the lithograph, that I forgot the print at the moment I was writing to you. Before that dear picture, the painting of which I recollect so well, my children often sit, and I tell them of her who was and ever will be so inexpressibly dear to us all. In the schoolroom, in my sitting-room, in the nursery, there is with the pictures of you and dear Papa always one of dear Grandmama, and, in my room and the schoolroom, the Duke of Kent also.

My sitting-room has only prints and lithographs, all Winterhalters, of the family: you and Papa, your receiving the Sacrament at the Coronation, Piaphael's Disputa and Belle Jardiniere, and the lovely little engraving of yourself from Winterhalter's picture in Papa's room at Windsor.

Vicky is coming here on Wednesday. The Grand Duke of Weimar has kindly allowed Mr. Ruland to join us as cicerone: which for galleries, &c., is very necessary, and we take no courier. Pome is our first halting-place in Italy, and for years it has been my dream and wish to be in that wonderful city, where the glorious monuments of antiquity and of the Middle Ages carry one back to those marvellous [sic] times.

I am learning Italian, and studying the history and art necessary to enable me, in the short time we have, to see and understand the finest and most important monuments. I am so entirely absorbed and interested in these studies just now, that I have not much time for other things. My father-in-law, perhaps Princess Charles too, will be with Aunt Marie of Russia at Sorrento then. William will probably join us at Rome; he is quite a connoisseur in art, and a good historian, quite at home in Rome, about which he raves. I must say that I look forward immensely to this journey; it opens a whole new life to one.

Kanne has made all arrangements for us at Rome. We shall leave here about the 18th of March.

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Queen Victoria to the Crown Princess

Windsor Castle, February 19, 1873

I am sorry Alice and Louis mean to take W. Ruland a trois with them to Italy.  He is not the man to be treated with familiarity, that I know to my cost and before Alice married Louis took great exception to him, and considering his conduct to me about what you know, they ought not to take him.  Can’t you still advise against it?  Believe me it is a bad thing.  I wonder how Alice can wish to do it. 

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Ooooh!  Ooooh!  Ooooh!  I was initially befuddled when I went looking for a topic for today’s post.  I found Alice’s letter above and figured I’d focus on the arrangements for her trip to Italy, which she was taking with her brother Alfred as sort of a chaperone/facilitator during his courtship with Maria Alexandrovna of Russia.  Then I happened to be flipping through the letters between Vicky and Victoria from around that time and found a letter of Victoria’s on the same subject  - and a good one at that!  So we’re doing lots of new things today – we have our first post that covers material discussed in two letters, we get to talk about some rather juicy and somewhat salacious (well, for Victoria’s family anyway) family gossip, and we get to discuss one of Victoria’s children of whom we’ve only briefly mentioned until now. 

Carl Ruland was a Frankfurt native first appointed as the librarian for Prince Albert in 1859 on the recommendation of Baron Stockmar, a longtime advisor and friend to the Saxe-Coburg-Gotha family.  Ruland had several duties with the Prince Consort, including acquiring new books and maintaining the current selection, performing minor secretarial work, and tutoring Bertie on reading and writing in French and German. 

Ruland stayed on with the family after the Prince Consort’s death, as Albert had spoken highly of Ruland’s work.  Ruland was touched by the gesture, feeling that the work he did for the family was the most fulfilling of his life thus far.  Several of the royal children also developed a rapport with Ruland, who was someone from outside their immediate family (the royal children were rarely allowed to interact with anyone of the sort) and young enough to relate to them as sort of an elder cousin rather than as a parental figure. 

But there was one royal child who seemed to take to Ruland a bit better than the others – Helena, Victoria’s third daughter. We haven’t spoken much of Helena up until now, the daughter whom never quite stood out like her better-known siblings.  By all accounts however, Helena was quite intelligent but had the misfortune of being adept at skills that were not well appreciated among women of the time.

Helena was born at Buckingham Palace on May 24, 1846.  Victoria and Albert were accustomed to their large family at this point, and with two daughters and two sons already thriving, neither Helena’s sex nor even her existence seemed to warrant much cause for celebration.  The birth was evidently a difficult one for which Victoria required a lot of rest afterward.  Helena fit in particularly well with her brothers, becoming closest to Alfred, her next eldest sibling.  She enjoyed rough and tumble play more than her sisters Vicky and Alice, and was thought of as sort of the family tomboy. 

Helena drew well and played piano quite proficiently from an early age, although her talents were shadowed by her more artistic and musical siblings.  She also had a distinct interest in engineering, loving nothing more than to watch the machinery on a ship.  Her daughter Marie Louise would later say that Helena had an excellent head for business.  Of course, few of these more practical gifts were useful for a royal woman in Victorian times.  Helena was unique among Victoria’s children in that she actively sought out (and maintained) as many friendships as she could with girls outside court, craving some independence from her sometimes-suffocating family.

As Helena began adolescence, she was often compared unfavorably to her sisters.  Her looks in particular got a bad name, as Helena was considered plain, plump, and lacking in distinction.  With all of the excitement over the engagements and weddings of Vicky, Bertie, and Alice, few seemed to wonder where Helena’s marital fate lay.  Albert’s death when Helena was fifteen threw the family into excessive mourning, in which Helena (who was close to her father) seemed to be adrift.

But Victoria needed her at that time.  It was Alice who guided Victoria through her darkest days just after Albert’s death, and although Helena had some trouble adjusting as well, Victoria was soon able to rely on her third daughter completely.  Helena did not appear to have a disobedient bone in her body, a quality to which Victoria took notice.  Helena was pliant enough to perhaps serve as her mother’s private confidante and unofficial secretary.  And what more rewarding career could an otherwise unremarkable girl hope for than as the right-hand (wo)man of the most powerful Queen in the world?

But even the seemingly dull and dowdy Helena found a life of her own away from her mother.

It is unknown when or exactly how Ruland and Helena made their connection, but it likely happened when she needed an objective friend amid the confusion and despair in the house after Albert’s death.  Perhaps Ruland and Helena bonded over their shared love and respect for the Prince Consort, or found an author whose work both enjoyed.  Whatever brought them together, Helena and Ruland were soon writing flirtatious letters back and forth to one another, a surprising development between the Prince Consort’s loyal librarian and the Queen’s plain jane daughter. 

Just as the sexual escapades of young royal and noblemen with prostitutes and other common women was mostly seen as par for the course, many princesses carried on minor flirtations with soldiers, equerries, and courtiers.  They were mostly seen as innocent; princesses were watched closely to protect their reputations.  Most of these relationships did not progress past a few coy glances, quick notes, or perhaps a kiss or two that typically did not progress into anything more deep or physical.  But Victoria, still in her deepest phase of mourning, was simply unable to brush off Helena’s relationship with Ruland and harmless. 

It is unknown how Victoria discovered the Helena-Ruland flirtation, but her feelings about it were very clear.  Ruland had deceived the Queen and had gone behind her back with Helena – something that could have ruined the girl’s reputation!  And from Helena, her uncomplicated, obedient, plain daughter?  Victoria could not accept that Helena was acting on her own interests, and dictating the pace of her own life.  Ruland was dismissed immediately from his service as librarian in late 1863, although he did receive a pension for his trouble.  He did return briefly in 1864 and 1865 to clear up some ongoing work on Prince Albert’s art collection, but Victoria’s trust in Ruland was never restored.

Suddenly realizing that perhaps Helena would not be content as her mother’s unmarried companion and secretary, Victoria honed her skills on a new plan.  Helena needed to be married to avoid this sort of controversy again.  While Victoria couldn’t bear the thought of Helena going abroad, there was no reason she could not marry and remain in Britain.  After some examination of various German princes, one was found who was penniless, had little ambition, and was content to live in Britain.  Although it caused a considerable rift within the family, Helena happily married Christian of Schleswig-Holstein, landless prince fifteen years her senior, in 1866.  The marriage didn’t provide her with a throne or much of a geographical separation from her mother, but at least Helena had some privacy and autonomy from her suffocating mother.   

At the time these letters were written, Ruland was back in Germany working as the administrator of the art collection of the grand duchy of Saxe-Weimar.  He married actress Marie Schulze in 1872 and was well-respected in Weimar.  I could find no further mentions of Ruland and the trip to Italy; he either did not go according to the Queen’s wishes, or he did accompany Alice and no one said anything more to Victoria.  My guess is that it was the latter, as in April 1873, Victoria gave strict instructions to her family that Alice was to have nothing more to do in facilitating Alfred’s engagement.   Alice always seemed to be on Victoria’s bad side during this time.

Helena must have truly meant something to Ruland, as he kept her letters and sketches to him for many years.  The two met up again short after Victoria’s death to exchange the letters, only for Ruland to forget about them completely until after the visit.  Although he requested his letters be burnt after his death in 1907, Helena’s letters survived and were sent to the Royal Archives following World War II.  It is a rather dignified end of an innocent passion that so enraged the Queen.

(Top picture - Carl Ruland during his time in Britain, photo credit National Portrait Gallery; bottom picture - Princess Helena before her marriage, photo credit avictorian.com)