Tag Archives: Prince of Wales

A Royal Wedding Dress, Remodeled? How Princess Alexandra of Denmark Got It Right

When Princess Alexandra of Denmark married the Prince of Wales, in 1863, to judge from the photograph, she looked a bit like a wedding cake. The silk satin dress was festooned with tulle and specially made Honiton lace which featured English roses, Irish shamrocks and Scottish thistles. It was all very fitting for the 18-year-old who was marrying the son and heir of Queen Victoria. The dress’s train was 21 feet long and required eight bridesmaids to carry it. The photo above, Public Domain, was taken by John Jabez Edwin Mayall. Alexandra was the first royal bride to be photographed wearing her wedding dress.

I recently saw that very dress in a special exhibit at the Costume Museum in Bath, England. But wait, what happened? According to the placard, the original dress was designed by Mrs. James of London for the wedding, then remodeled that same year by Madame Elise, also of London. If I had rented the audioguide, I would probably know more about why and how this happened.

I assume that even a princess in those days might be practical and frugal enough to remake a fancy dress so as to get more use out of it. To a modern eye, the remodeled dress is much more elegant. The skirt must have been made more sleek, and some of the royal crinolines packed away for another time. (I’d cheerfully wear this dress if I were invited to a grand enough occasion. Go ahead, invite me!) This will definitely not happen with Meghan Markle’s dress after her marriage to Prince Harry. Royal wedding dresses these days cost several hundred thousand dollars, and they go straight to preservation and later display.

Princess Alexandra was known for her elegance and style. (In fact, she was so avidly followed that when an illness left her with a limp, all the stylish ladies hobbled around with the Alexandra Limp). She reportedly favored slimmer, simpler silhouettes than her new mother-in-law, Queen Victoria. That’s Alexandra above, in a portrait now in Fredericksburg Castle in Denmark. It’s by Edward Hughes, 1904. (This would be after her husband, Prince Albert Edward, became King Edward VII, and she became Queen and also Empress of the British Empire).

Here’s another of Alexandra’s dresses, elegant in its comparative simplicity.

This gown was most likely made and worn for a visit to Holyrood, the royal residence in Edinburgh.

Then as now, royals dressed carefully for visits. If I were invited to a formal dinner in Scotland, I’d cheerfully wear tartan taffeta.

After she became Queen, Alexandra added more sparkle to her gowns with elaborate beading. But the silhouette became even more sleek.

The arrival of Alexandra for her wedding was a grand occasion, painted by Henry Nelson O’Neil: “The Landing of H.R.H. the Princess Alexandra at Gravesend,” March 7 1863, Public Domain.

The marriage seemed to be a happy one, although even after he became King, Alexandra’s husband enjoyed the company of a string of mistresses. They had six children.

In her homeland of Denmark, Alexandra sponsored the building of a very English-looking church for British residents, 1885-7. It’s St. Alban’s Anglican in Copenhagen, pictured above. (Photo is by Blake Handley, Creative Commons Attribution 2.0).

I was lucky enough to take in a Christmas concert at St. Alban’s last December, and admired a memorial plaque honoring Alexandra.

Alexandra’s wedding took place in St. George’s Chapel on the grounds of Windsor Castle. It’s one of the most beautiful and evocative churches I’ve ever been in, but photos are not allowed inside. I’m sure the excitement ahead of the royal wedding is intense, but then again this is a real parish church with everyday business to attend to.

As on most evenings, Evensong is probably happening–a small, intimate service which I highly recommend. (Many Anglican churches have either Evensong or Evening Prayer–a restful end to a tourist’s day). The evening I attended at Windsor, I was disappointed that I missed the Boys’ Choir. But a choir of girls had been invited instead. No photos were allowed inside, but excited girls in blue dresses, and their parents, had a once-in-a-lifetime experience–and the girls sang beautifully.

Will I be watching the royal wedding on May 19? Oh, yes! I’m looking forward to seeing a bit of the pomp and pageantry. I’ll be with two of my granddaughters, explaining to them why Britain still has royalty and why this marriage is significant. To honor the occasion properly, I stopped at the local Dollar Store to get tiaras for us all to wear, plus crepe paper and such to decorate the living room. We’ll be wishing Harry and Meghan a long and happy life together. (And drinking tea and eating scones warm from the oven, of course–the wedding is at 6:00 am where I am in the USA).

Postscript, post-wedding: Meghan Markle was a breathtaking bride in a classically sleek wedding gown by Claire Waight Keller of Givenchy.

Here are some more of my excited screenshots. It sounds as though this royal bride will make social consciousness and public service her life’s work now. In my opinion, this is what makes all the pomp and pageantry of royalty worthwhile in today’s world. I wish her the best.

Join me next time for more explorations in the art, culture and history of Europe, Scandinavia and the British Isles!

Lady Emma Hamilton: Wild Times and a Sad End

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Portrait of Emma, Lady Hamilton, George Romney, c 1782-84, from History Today article cited

Emma Lyon was born to working-class parents in 1765. She grew up to be breathtakingly beautiful–and wild. Early in her life, she worked as a maid, but she soon left dustcloths far behind. She herself joked about her “giddy ways.” She was a popular dinner guest in certain aristocratic circles. Small wonder: she was fond of dancing naked on the dining-room table.

At Uppark, a country home in England, I actually saw one of those dining room tables where Emma frolicked long ago. No photos were allowed. I looked closely for scratches and there were none; Emma must have been light on her ((bare) feet.

Coronation Portrait, George IV, Sir Thomas Lawrence, 1821, Public Domain

In the raffish household of the owner of this particular house, the Prince of Wales, who later became George IV, was a frequent guest. He was the ultimate playboy. So there were plenty of aristocrats more than happy to dally with the beautiful Emma. She bore an illegitimate child to a gentleman at age 16.

One Charles Francis Greville took Emma into his home, educated her, and introduced her to society painters such as George Romney and Joshua Reynolds. They loved painting her portrait.

Eventually Greville passed Emma on to his elderly uncle, Sir William Hamilton. She married him when he was 60 and she was just 26. He was Ambassador to what is now Sicily, and in Naples the couple were popular in high social circles. Still beautiful, charming and uninhibited, she delighted men in particular by appearing in flimsy mythological costumes.

Lord Nelson, John Hoppner, Public Domain

In 1791, Emma met Horatio Nelson, and he fell head over heels for her. Her husband, Sir WIlliam, didn’t mind; in fact the three of them lived happily together, although Nelson had a wife living elsewhere. Emma bore Nelson’s daughter, Horatia in 1801.

Sadly, Lord Nelson was killed in action at Trafalgar.

Emma’s life was all downhill from there. She inherited a little money from Hamilton, but his brother held on to most of her money. By this time, she was an alcoholic–from way too many champagne toasts in her wild youth. She eventually was able to move across the Channel to Calais, where she died at age 49, poor and ill. But out of respect for Lord Nelson, the captains of many English ships attended her funeral.

I love English country homes. I feel they’re inhabited by the ghosts of people living their colorful lives long ago. There are always volunteer docents happy to tell stories of the past.

http://historytoday.com/richard-cavendish/emma-lady-hamilton-dies-calais

What are Plus Fours Anyway?

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Photo from Daily Mail article cited below

The media coverage of the late 11th Duke of Marlborough’s death made much of the fact that his pallbearers were Palace gamekeepers, or maybe groundskeepers, dressed in “traditional plus fours.” I looked at the photos and all I saw was short pants worn with knee-high socks that seemed to slightly clash with the pants. It turns out “plus fours” have a very specific definition: pants that are carefully tailored exactly four inches below the knee.They’ve been worn by British sportsmen since about 1860. The Duke himself very likely wore them when out hunting on his lands.

During his visit to America in 1924, the raffish Edward, Prince of Wales, famously wore plus fours. (He later briefly became Kind Edward VIII, until he famously abdicated in order to marry the divorced American socialite Wallis Simpson). His short pants gave him a sort of free-wheeling look that fit right in with the Roaring Twenties. After Edward made his way back home across the pond, his stylish short pants caught on, especially with golfers and with anyone else who wanted to flout convention. (I can well imagine F. Scott Fitzgerald sporting a pair).

I generally expect pallbearers to be close friends or relatives of the deceased. It seems that having one’s groundskeepers perform the task must be a privilege and mark of very high status. After all, how many of us even have extensive grounds, let alone uniformed groundskeepers to tend them? There’s also the implication that the Duke’s relatives are above any sort of menial task.

I’m reminded of the custom that shocked Consuelo Vanderbilt when she arrived as a young American bride at Blenheim, freshly married to the 9th Duke of Marlborough. A carriage met the newlyweds’ train in Woodstock. Approaching Blenheim, men from the estate unhitched the horses and pulled the carriage through the grand palace gates. Things like that didn’t happen where Consuelo came from.

Photo from Daily Mail article cited below

Anyway, the Duke’s employees seem a very happy lot. When I was in Woodstock last month, all the palace employees I encountered seemed extremely cheerful–and that is not always the case with people who attend the high and mighty. I think the late Duke was a hands-on sort of man, genuinely loved by many.

As an American, I don’t suppose I’ll ever fully understand the subtleties of the British class system. I do appreciate certain little perks. For example, the late Duke’s name was John George Vanderbilt Henry Spencer-Churchill. But his title gave him the right to use a most elegant signature: he simply signed his name “Marlborough.” Now that’s class.

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2806349/Flag-half-mast-Blenheim-Palace-Mourners-line-route-funeral-cortege-11th-Duke-Marlborough-died-aged-88.html

What’s Up with the Garter?

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Now that the new heir to the throne of England has arrived and been named George, we will probably hear more about the Order of the Garter. Why? The Order has been dedicated to the patron saint of England, St. George, since its founding in 1348. Next to becoming a Peer or receiving the Victoria Cross or the George Cross, the Order of the Garter is the highest honor anyone can achieve in England. Deciding where to bestow it is one of the very few personal and absolute privileges still left to the King or Queen. It’s a very exclusive club, including only the King or Queen, the current Prince of Wales, and a maximum of 24 handpicked members, who are called Companions. New members are always announced on April 23, St. George’s Day in England.

Arms of the Most Noble Order of the Garter; image from Wikipedia

I don’t quite understand why the date is so definite, when the origins of the Order are lost in the mists of time. The most entertaining legend is that a high-ranking lady was dancing at court when her garter fell off–a mildly erotic event which provoked knowing smirks from bystanders. Supposedly King Edward III picked it up and gallantly said, “Honi soit qui mal y pense,” (“Shamed be the person who thinks evil of it.”) This event took place (if it took place) in France, in the port of Calais, which the English at the time controlled. I have to assume that the King subsequently decided the words would be a good motto for his own particular in-crowd, his trusted friends and advisors who would never snicker at the King.

Another legend, not as much fun, claims that King Richard I, fighting in the Crusades, decided to have his knights wear garters somehow related to St. George the Martyr into battle. They won. And yet another explanation is that the words actually refer to the ever-problematic claims of the English King to the French throne. Very likely all these explanations are somehow related.

Garter Day occurs in May, at Windsor Castle. The lucky members and inductees wear elaborate outfits, meticulously preserved and recreated from medieval times. They wear actual garters, of course.

A story about the 2013 Garter Ceremony appears at http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-2343223/Beaming-Queen-flanked-Charles-William-Order-Garter-today-Duke-Edinburgh-recovers-home.html, along with photos of the occasion.

I read recently that Prince Charles actually has a footman apply toothpaste to his toothbrush every morning. Some time ago, I read that Prince Philip thinks nothing of having the bathroom repainted in his favorite color each time he visits one of the castles. I also read that Princess Diana insisted on nothing but pure linen sheets, carefully pressed, for her bed. And the sheets had to be changed even if she only took a short nap. I have no real way of knowing whether these stories are true or not. But reports like these make anti-Royalists call for an end to the monarchy. I personally hope that the new generation of royals is able to shed the more ridiculous aspects of royal privilege. I’d like to continue seeing the elegance of truly historic traditions like the Order of the Garter.

Join me next time for more explorations into the art and history of Europe and the British Isles.