If he is spared...

From the Crown Princess to Queen Victoria

Berlin, February 12, 1878

Waldy poor little man – in his uniform seemed rather uncomfortable!  The Emperor insisted on appointing a military Governor to my utter despair.  You know what a disagreeable and unnecessary thing it is, besides most embarrassing for us who are quite satisfied with Waldemar’s tutor!  However we succeeded in obtaining from the Emperor that Colonel Mischke, Fritz’s former Aide de Camp and now head of the Staff, was the person appointed, and he will not interfere with the education so it will not be so bad in practice as in theory, and will only last till Waldemar goes to school which alas will be in a couple of years!  Still the interference with one’s children is a thing most hard and irritating to hear.

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(Vicky's beloved son Waldy as a young child.  Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Vicky is speaking of the education of her youngest son, Joachim Frederick Ernest Waldemar.  He was known by the last of his given names, or by his nickname of Waldy.  Waldy had celebrated his tenth birthday just two days before the writing of this letter, which was probably the occasion for the military uniform.  The Prussian love of all things military never made much sense to Vicky; the fact that her two eldest sons had taken to it so readily made her fight it all the more when it came to her youngest.

Waldemar came the closest to replacing the ill-fated Sigismund in Vicky’s heart as her favorite son.  When she was still pregnant with Waldy, Vicky explained to her mother that the Prussian people were hoping for another boy for the country.  Vicky added sadly that it was unfortunate that the third (Sigismund) had been lost.  It was thus a happy occasion when Vicky did indeed give birth to another little boy.

Whereas Vicky wrote off Wilhelm and Henry as wayward or unintellectual, Waldy seemed different from the start.  She fussed over his name, declaring her dislike for Joachim but relenting when her father-in-law said it must be included.  At Waldy’s christening a few weeks after his birth, Vicky said proudly that the baby “behaved very well on the whole and was much admired.”  Victoria long had a soft spot for Waldy as well, given that he was born on her 28^th wedding anniversary.  She never lost her affection for him, even when he released his pet crocodile in her study once during a visit to Britain. 

Waldy gave his mother a scare in 1869 when he came down with croup.  The experience frightened Vicky, who had watched Sigismund fall ill with meningitis while she was powerless to help him.  Vicky stayed up all night with Waldy, giving him a hot bath, wrapping him in hot towels, and giving him syrup of ipecac (standard treatment at the time) to treat him until a doctor to come.  She later wrote to her mother of the anxiety Waldy’s illness had caused her, and how relieved she was when he recovered. 

Vicky praised what she believed to be Waldy’s superior intellect early on.  In 1874, she declared Waldy and her second daughter Victoria (known as Moretta) as the brains among her children.  Two years later, it was clear that she really had a kinship toward her youngest son.  She described to her mother the good and the bad of Waldy’s personality, but clearly found him to be a delight.

Waldy learns so well, and is such a nice boy to teach, with such a good memory.  He is by far the most gifted of the boys, and has the most spirit and energy, he is very unruly sometimes – and headstrong, but he has such an open honest nature, and is so sensible and independent, that I trust he will make a real man someday, if he is spared.

The following year, Vicky said much the same praises for Waldemar’s character.  “He is such a dear child, and although rather more spirited than is easy to manage [perhaps Vicky is referring to the crocodile incident?], he is so trustworthy an honest…If Heaven spares him I am sure he will be liked and trusted everywhere.”

Those words proved sadly ironic in March 1879. 

Waldy’s Hessian relatives had been hit by a diphtheria epidemic a few months before; the disease had sickened nearly the whole family, killing Vicky’s sister Alice and her four-year-old-daughter Marie.  The deaths had devastated Vicky and her British family, and even the Prussians sympathized with the loss (the Emperor was known to be very fond of Alice).  Alice’s death in particular was rough for Vicky; she was just 2 ½ years younger than Vicky and the two had had much in common. 

Although Vicky had been banned from Hesse while diphtheria was present, it somehow made its way to the Prussian court, striking Waldemar.  Vicky threw all of her knowledge of nursing into caring for Waldemar.  She covered her face and clothes when she went to look in on him, boiled his clothing and linens, and kept the windows open to let fresh air in for him to breathe.  Vicky tried to remain as confident in Waldy’s survival in her letters, certain that with excellent care her son would be spared. 

But Waldy’s condition did not improve.  On March 25, Vicky wrote to her mother that although Waldy’s state was not dire, “he suffers much, poor dear, from all the accompanying wretched discomfort and pain.  His tonsil is as large as a walnut, he can hardly swallow at all or shut his mouth.”  Victoria tried to be sympathetic and encouraging, urging Vicky to keep her informed. 

Waldy took a turn for the worse the following day.  By 9:00 on the night of March 26, Vicky was summoned as Waldy’s breathing became more labored.  The false membrane that typically choked victims of diphtheria was beginning to cover his throat.  Shortly before midnight on March 27, Vicky’s favorite son died.  

Fritz and Vicky were understandably devastated.  A private memorial service was held for Waldy with the household staff, his tutors, and some of his school friends in attendance.  Waldy was buried at the Church of Peace in Potsdam with his father’s handkerchief and one of his mother’s dressing gowns. 

In the months that followed, Vicky came very close to assuming the state Victoria was in immediately after Albert’s death.  Even the birth of her first grandchild (Feodora, by her daughter Charlotte) did little to improve her dark moods.  Her in-laws seemed to pass the tragedy rather easily (Augusta was all about planning her fiftieth wedding anniversary celebrations, despite the fact that she and the Emperor had been effectively separated for years), which sent Vicky spiraling into a deep depression.  A prolonged trip to Italy in the winter of 1879-80 improved Vicky’s mental state, but she felt the pain of Waldy’s death deeply for the rest of her life.

Vicky found it difficult to take comfort in her two remaining sons.  Neither seemed to match up to the magnificence of Waldy in her eyes.  When Henry visited his mother on a break from his naval assignment in 1880, Henry mentioned how much he felt Waldy’s loss.  This certainly softened Vicky to Henry, to whom she was not quite as critical and cruel as Willy.  But in a letter to Victoria shortly after the visit, Vicky described Henry as “good and affectionate.  I wish I could make him a little prettier, and I wish still more I could give him more brains.  That, alas, is not in my power!”

Henry indeed must have been quite affected by Waldy's death, as he named his eldest son Waldemar in his brother's honor.  Born in 1889 to Henry and his Hessian cousin Irene, Waldemar was a sufferer of hemophilia.  Unlike fellow sufferers within the family, Waldemar married and lived to a relatively old age of 56, dying in World War II due to the lack of ability of blood for a transfusion.