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Reine Marie-José d’Italie

La reine Marie José d’Italie demeure l’une des dames les plus emblématiques des familles royales d’Europe. Pourtant, beaucoup en savent peu sur sa vie, en particulier au-delà du glamour tel qu’il était dépeint autrefois. Comme cet article (ci-dessous) le révèle, il y avait bien plus à cette personne pragmatique, mais ayant un esprit démocratique.

En mai 1946, une grande dame aristocratique passait la journée à aider les sans-abri dans la région de Cassino. Cependant, lorsque un assistant l’a appelée ‘Votre Majesté’, l’individu a soudainement réalisé qu’elle était devenue Reine d’Italie. La dame en question était Marie-José, la fille du feu Roi Albert I des Belges et de sa femme Elisabeth. Mais comment cette situation avait-elle pu se produire?

Marie-José quand elle était enfant.

La princesse Marie-José est née à Ostende en août 1906. Elle était la benjamine des enfants du roi Albert Ier des Belges et de sa consort, née duchesse Élisabeth de Bavière. Par celle-ci, elle était petite-nièce de l’iconique impératrice Élisabeth d’Autriche (‘Sisi’). La princesse a d’abord été élevée au château de Laeken à Bruxelles, avec une maison de campagne à Ciergnon. Alors que les batailles de la Première Guerre mondiale se déroulaient en Europe continentale, elle a passé de nombreuses années de primaire en Angleterre où elle a fréquenté l’Ursuline Convent High School à Brentwood, Essex. Une influence particulière était Mademoiselle Hammersley, une femme anglaise raffinée qui s’occupait de sa protégée. En 1917, Mademoiselle Hammersley accompagnerait Marie-José en Italie où la princesse fréquenta l’Istituto Statale della Santissima Annunziata à Florence. Les cours étaient traditionnellement enseignés ici en italien, anglais et allemand.

Marie-José avant son mariage

Avec l’arrivée de la paix, la princesse Marie-José retournerait à Bruxelles où, en 1919, elle s’inscrivit à l’Institut Sacré-Cœur à Linthout sous la direction de la Mère Supérieure Jacquemin. Elle y resterait jusqu’à l’âge de dix-huit ans et bénéficierait d’une éducation catholique de bonne qualité.

Un visiteur au port d’Anvers en Belgique à l’automne 1922 était Umberto, le Prince de Piémont et héritier du trône d’Italie. Il est arrivé à Anvers à bord du navire Ferruccio pour représenter officiellement l’Italie à l’inauguration d’un nouveau canal. Il a été accueilli par Marie-José et ses frères. La princesse a ensuite été montrée sur le navire par Umberto (qu’elle avait rencontré plusieurs années auparavant en Italie) et a été impressionnée par son apparence bronzée, ses cheveux d’un noir jais et son élégant uniforme militaire blanc. Ce fut une brève rencontre, au cours de laquelle les visites du Prince de Piémont à Rhodes, Benghazi et Tripoli ont été discutées. Il devait y avoir une étincelle suffisante entre eux, car le septembre suivant, la famille royale belge a été invitée pour une visite d’un mois au château de Racconigi près de Turin. Bien que des devoirs militaires et officiels aient signifié qu’Umberto n’a fait qu’une seule brève apparition, cela a donné à Marie-José un aperçu de la vie au sein de la Maison de Savoie. Cette visite a également dû s’avérer fructueuse car l’année suivante, la mère d’Umberto, la reine Elena, a écrit pour dire à une amie en Belgique qu’elle continuait à espérer une union entre son fils et la princesse Marie-José.

Ainsi, en janvier 1930, à la suite d’une longue romance, la princesse avait épousé Umberto, le prince de Piémont, dans la chapelle historique Paolina du palais du Quirinal à Rome. Au départ, Marie-José et Umberto vivaient au palais royal de Turin. Cependant, contrairement à son mari plus respectueux (qui appelait toujours son père, le roi Victor Emmanuel, ‘Majesté’), la princesse belge était beaucoup plus une âme libre. Elle préférait organiser des soirées musicales passionnantes et travailler avec la Croix-Rouge plutôt que d’observer une étiquette de cour stricte. Dès le départ, Marie-José était également passionnée par l’étude de l’histoire de la Maison de Savoie, dans laquelle elle s’était mariée.

Le prince et la princesse de Piémont le jour de leur mariage

Cependant, un déménagement à Naples, en novembre 1931 (où Umberto avait été nommé Commandant de la 25e Infanterie), devait s’avérer fortuit. Le couple pouvait échapper aux confins du Palais Royal de la ville pour des week-ends de détente à la Villa Rosebery dans la banlieue balnéaire de Posillipo. Marie-José se sentait également plus émancipée parmi les Napolitains heureux et détendus : elle jouait au tennis trois fois par semaine à la Villa Communale et avait établi un Réfectoire Public pour nourrir les pauvres de la ville. Épanouie et amoureuse, elle décrivit plus tard cette époque comme ‘les meilleures années de notre mariage.’ L’apogée de sa joie fut la naissance d’une fille bien-aimée, Maria Pia, le 24 septembre 1934.

Pourtant, c’était aussi une période difficile. Le père de Marie-José, le roi Albert, est mort dans un accident d’escalade pendant sa grossesse et on lui a conseillé de ne pas voyager en Belgique pour les funérailles. Puis, en août 1935, sa chère belle-sœur suédoise, la reine Astrid, a été tuée dans un horrible accident de voiture en Suisse. Toujours en arrière-plan, il y avait aussi les machinations troublantes du gouvernement d’extrême droite de Mussolini, ou plus précisément son invasion de l’Éthiopie en octobre 1935. Bien que la Princesse ait de graves réserves sur les actions et les politiques d’Il Duce, elle s’est débrouillée en essayant d’être d’une utilité pratique. Marie-José a été formée comme infirmière et a suivi un cours en médecine tropicale. Son travail à l’hôpital lui vaudra bientôt le titre de ‘Soeur Marie-José.’ Lors d’une tournée des troupes italiennes en Afrique en 1936, la Princesse a été troublée par les mauvaises installations et le moral bas des troupes. Elle était également indignée par la machine de propagande de Mussolini, qui la décrivait de manière provocante, mais inexacte, comme l’ ‘Impératrice de Éthiopie ‘

Avec le passage du temps, Marie-José déplorait la proximité croissante d’Il Duce avec Hitler. Cela entraînerait finalement une confrontation, lorsque la Princesse décida que les bénéfices de ses concerts de collecte de fonds à Naples devraient être donnés à son ‘Fonds de travail de la Princesse de Piémont’ plutôt qu’au ‘Fonds national de travail’ du Fasciste. Un des principaux bénéficiaires de la générosité de son Fonds était ‘l’Association nationale pour le sud de l’Italie’, une région plus pauvre, qui était supervisée par l’éminent archéologue et anti-fasciste, Umberto Bianco. Le régime fasciste à Rome était furieux. Ils n’étaient pas non plus enchantés par l’association de Marie-José avec des ‘libéraux’ tels que l’archevêque de Naples, le cardinal Alessio Ascaresi et le philosophe Benedetto Croce, dont la maison fut perquisitionnée par des soldats fascistes.

Marie-José en tant que Princesse de Piémont

En février 1937, la princesse de Piémont a donné naissance à un fils, Vittorio Emanuele. Elle n’a pas été très heureuse d’apprendre que le Grand Conseil fasciste avait le pouvoir de délibérer sur la capacité d’un héritier à régner et a confronté Mussolini à ce sujet. Il a été déstabilisé par son approche directe, si différente de celle de son beau-père, le roi, que Marie-José considérait comme complaisant dans ses relations avec les fascistes. ‘Un monarque’, a reproché Marie-José à son mari Umberto, ‘doit être là pour tous ses peuples.’ Une rencontre avec Hitler à Naples n’a guère dissuadé son point de vue ‘démocratique’. En effet, en septembre 1938, la princesse a rencontré le héros de la Première Guerre mondiale, le maréchal Pietro Badoglio au château de Racconigi pour discuter d’un plan visant à évincer Mussolini et à persuader le roi Victor Emmanuel ‘discrédité’ d’abdiquer, ouvrant ainsi la voie à un gouvernement anti-fasciste. Cependant, l’accord de Munich du 29 septembre a court-circuité cette tentative.

Lorsque l’Italie a déclaré la guerre à la Grande-Bretagne et à la France, en juin 1940, Marie-José a informé une dame d’honneur que la monarchie en Italie était ‘finie’. Elle était déjà sous le choc des nouvelles de l’invasion de sa patrie, la Belgique, par les forces nazies le 10 mai. En effet, la princesse avait été ‘prévenue’ des intentions de l’Allemagne par un Pape Pie sympatique le 6 mai. Cependant, les tentatives de Marie-José pour alerter le gouvernement belge ont été contrecarrées par l’ambassadeur belge à Rome qui a rejeté l’avertissement comme une ‘rumeur ennemie’.

Quelles que soient ses émotions personnelles, la princesse se concentrait désormais sur l’aide aux personnes dans le besoin. Après la naissance de son troisième enfant, Maria Gabriella, elle passa l’été 1940 à travailler avec la Croix-Rouge sur le Front occidental et organisa même un train-hôpital pour transporter les blessés du Front. En septembre, Marie-José rendit visite à Bruxelles pour des discussions avec son frère, le roi Léopold III, qui avait décidé de vivre l’occupation allemande avec son peuple. Il demanda à sa sœur bien-aimée de rencontrer Hitler pour demander la rapatriement des prisonniers de guerre belges et solliciter des denrées alimentaires indispensables. Encore une fois, la princesse mit de côté ses sentiments individuels pour le bien de sa patrie et rendit visite au Führer à Berchtesgaden le 17 octobre. Il semblait désintéressé, bien que Marie-José persista avec détermination et lui parla des ‘nombreuses souffrances infligées au peuple belge.’ Elle encouragea également son frère à engager un dialogue avec Hitler sur les différentes questions.

Marie-José en uniforme de la Croix-Rouge.

Lorsque l’Italie a déclaré la guerre aux États-Unis, en décembre 1941, la princesse avait déjà conclu que sa patrie adoptive ne pourrait pas gagner la guerre. Elle a de nouveau tenté de contacter le Maréchal Badoglio pour lui faire comprendre la nécessité d’éliminer les fascistes et de mettre fin à la guerre. Les événements allaient soutenir son point de vue : à la fin de 1942, l’Italie souffrait de revers militaires en Libye et en Russie. Le Maréchal, cependant, attendait un signal du Roi ‘constitutionnel’ qui, à son tour, cherchait un signal du peuple!

Sans se laisser décourager, la Princesse poursuivit son travail dans les hôpitaux et parmi les sans-abri et les dépossédés, dont le nombre avait considérablement augmenté en raison des bombardements alliés. Marie-José était également touchée par les manifestations d’affection du peuple envers elle lors de ses visites dans ses réfectoires à Rome et Naples. Déjà enceinte de son quatrième enfant, Maria Beatrice, la Princesse cherchait parfois refuge dans des maisons locales lors des bombardements, où elle se voyait offrir du café et, à une occasion, un bouquet de fleurs du jardin.

En revanche, Mussolini semblait distrait et marqué par le souci. L’arrogance avait disparu alors que les défaites de l’Italie s’accumulaient. Lorsque les Alliés ont envahi la Sicile le 10 juillet 1943, le roi Victor Emmanuel, d’habitude indécis, a enfin décidé d’agir et, le 25 juillet, lorsque le Duce est venu à la Villa Savoia du roi pour une audience, il a été arrêté. Il est révélateur que le Duce ait crié : ‘C’est la Princesse de Piémont [le titre royal officiel de Marie-José] qui sera heureuse.’ Il est clair que Mussolini réalisait que cette princesse ‘démocratique’ de Belgique était l’une de ses plus grandes ennemies.

À la suite de la capitulation de l’Italie face aux Alliés le 8 septembre 1943, un officiel de la Maison Royale a rendu visite à Marie-José à son emplacement actuel au Château de Serre dans la vallée d’Aoste et a demandé qu’elle se rende en Suisse. C’était probablement pour sa propre sécurité, alors que les forces allemandes envahissaient désormais l’Italie et occupaient les zones centrales et nordiques. La Princesse et ses quatre enfants se sont d’abord installés à l’Hôtel Excelsior à Montreux, puis ont déménagé à l’Hôtel Montana, à Oberhofen. Son ennemi, Mussolini, avait entre-temps été ‘libéré’ par les Allemands et avait établi la ‘république marionnette’ de Salò. Le Roi et d’autres membres de la famille royale italienne sont restés à Naples, qui a été occupée par les Alliés le 11 octobre. L’Italie a déclaré la guerre à l’Allemagne le 13 octobre.

Bien que Marie-José souhaite désormais rejoindre les forces partisanes pour combattre les forces nazies dans le nord de l’Italie, elle a réalisé que si sa participation était découverte, il pourrait y avoir des représailles pour la population locale. Au lieu de cela, la princesse s’est contentée de faire passer des armes à la frontière suisse pour une utilisation de l’autre côté en Italie. C’était très risqué car elle était sous surveillance constante des autorités suisses et aussi des agents ennemis.

Le 23 janvier 1944, le diplomate italien Gallarati Scotti a rencontré Marie-José à Oberhofen. Il a discuté d’un plan pour installer la princesse comme régente pour son fils, Vittorio Emanuele, et espérer rapprocher la monarchie du peuple. Marie-José était, après tout, considérée comme une démocrate, sans liens avec Mussolini ou son régime fasciste de droite. Cependant, ceux qui étaient actuellement au pouvoir décidèrent que l’autorité royale future devrait plutôt reposer sur son mari Umberto, qui fut nommé Lieutenant-Général du Royaume en juin 1944, avec tous les pouvoirs royaux, suite à la libération de Rome par les Alliés. Ce n’est qu’à la fin avril 1945 que Marie-José retourna en Italie, traversant les Alpes à pied depuis la Suisse, escortée par deux guides de montagne. Des combattants de la résistance communiste lui firent ensuite escorte jusqu’au Château de Sarre. Émouvant, sa présence ultérieure à un Te Deum dans la cathédrale voisine d’Aoste fut accueillie par des applaudissements chaleureux de la part des autres fidèles.

En mai 1945, la princesse déménagea à Turin et ouvrit une cantine de la Croix-Rouge pour aider les sans-abris. Enfin, elle arriva à Rome, voyageant par avion depuis Turin, le 16 juin, pour une réunion tant attendue avec Umberto qu’elle n’avait pas vu depuis deux ans. Pourtant, elle était également hantée par la vue des ruines des villes autrefois vibrantes qu’elle survolait en route. En août, les enfants royaux (qui avaient séjourné à Glion où, à un moment, Maria Pia et Maria Gabriella avaient toutes deux succombé au typhus) rentrèrent également chez eux à Rome. Pendant ce temps, Umberto avait ouvert une aile du Quirinal pour accueillir les sans-abris, alors Marie-José vendit des bijoux pour aider à fournir des fonds nécessaires à l’ouverture d’une autre cantine, ainsi qu’un atelier pour que les femmes locales puissent confectionner des vêtements. Néanmoins, il y avait beaucoup de ceux qui s’opposaient à Umberto, estimant qu’il n’avait pas suffisamment résisté à Mussolini. Umberto décida alors qu’un référendum devrait être organisé sur l’avenir de la monarchie. Celui-ci devait avoir lieu en juin 1946.

En attendant, le roi Victor Emmanuel a abdiqué le 9 mai et est parti en exil à Alexandrie en Égypte. Umberto était désormais roi d’Italie et Marie-José était sa reine consort. Mais pour combien de temps ?

Ironiquement, au moment où l’auxiliaire mentionné ci-dessus, à Cassino, faisait référence à Marie-José en tant que ‘Sa Majesté’, la nouvelle Reine se préparait déjà mentalement à l’exil. Son pressentiment était juste, car après le référendum (au cours duquel elle vota dans une école locale, en soumettant un bulletin de vote blanc), Marie-José fut informée en privé que 54 % des électeurs avaient voté en faveur d’une république. Le Roi ordonna maintenant à sa femme de partir immédiatement pour le Portugal. Mais d’abord, elle s’assura de téléphoner aux responsables de toutes ses œuvres de charité, en soulignant que leur travail devait se poursuivre sous une république.

Le 5 juin, Marie-José et les enfants prirent l’avion de Rome à sa chère Naples et à la Villa Rosebery. Elle demanda à quiconque voulait l’entendre : ‘Pourquoi ne puis-je pas rester ici en tant que citoyenne ordinaire ?’ Cependant, le lendemain matin, elle et sa famille embarquèrent à bord du navire, à destination de Lisbonne. Alors qu’elle regardait la côte italienne disparaître au loin, l’ancienne reine réfléchit : ‘Pour la première fois, je suis libre de toute la fausse apparence et de l’hypocrisie qui m’ont entourée.’ Soudain, son ‘règne’ de moins d’un mois était terminé. Elle devint désormais connue pour la postérité sous le nom de La Regina di Maggio (La Reine de Mai).

Après la confirmation des résultats du référendum, Umberto a ensuite rejoint sa famille dans un domaine à Sintra, la Quinta de Bella Vista. Lui et Marie-José ont trouvé la vie ensemble difficile. Elle a plus tard exprimé sa plainte en disant que ‘Umberto était angoissé, accablé par une souffrance intérieure qu’il ne pouvait pas partager. Cela a commencé à me perturber et m’a mis mal à l’aise dans ma propre maison.’ La fille du couple, la Princesse Maria Pia, a souligné que ses parents étaient des caractères ‘très différents’. Umberto était ‘très sérieux et conscient de son rôle’ tandis que sa mère, ‘aimait rire et marcher seule dans la rue. [Mon père] n’aurait jamais fait cela.’

La reine Marie-José dans les années 1950

Les choses dans le mariage sont devenues tendues lorsque Marie-José a reçu une transfusion du mauvais groupe sanguin lors d’une opération de l’appendicite. Elle est tombée immédiatement dans le coma et, lorsqu’elle a repris conscience, il a été découvert que sa vue était gravement altérée en raison d’hémorragies rétiniennes. La Reine s’est rendue en Suisse pour suivre un traitement sous la direction de l’ophtalmologiste Adolphe Franceschetti. Cependant, les dommages se sont révélés permanents et étaient tels que si elle regardait vers le bas, elle ne voyait rien. Marie-José restait désormais éternellement méfiante face aux escaliers. Malheureusement, il s’avérait politiquement inapproprié pour Umberto de suivre sa femme en Suisse et Marie-José, déconcertée par l’apparente incapacité de son mari à réagir à sa situation, supposait qu’il désirait la solitude.

En temps voulu, la Reine acheta un petit château, Merlinge, près de Gy. Son fils Vittorio la rejoignit là-bas, tandis que ses autres enfants lui rendaient visite à intervalles réguliers depuis le Portugal. Elle parlait désormais rarement du passé mais avouait regretter la chaleur de Naples. Ses journées étaient consacrées à des recherches sur la Maison de Savoie, dont elle écrivit plusieurs livres. Un autre intérêt était la musique, ce qui l’amena à établir le Prix International de Composition Musicale Reine Marie-José. Les voyages étaient également une attraction et, accompagnée de sa mère, la Reine Elisabeth des Belges, Marie-José se rendit en Inde (où elle rencontra Nehru) et en Chine.

Dans les années 1980, l’âge rattrapait à la fois Marie-José et Umberto. Ce dernier est décédé en mars 1983, après une longue et douloureuse bataille contre le cancer. Lui et sa femme avaient toujours gardé contact et la Reine le visitait souvent à l’hôpital. Marie-José a continué à se battre, souvent avec douleur et utilisant une canne : En mars 1988, elle a effectué sa première visite en Italie depuis 1946, visitant Aoste pour assister à une conférence historique suivie d’une visite du Palais Royal de Turin et des Archives d’État. Lorsqu’on lui a demandé ce qu’elle pensait des monarchistes italiens, elle a habilement répondu : ‘Je suis une Reine, mais je ne suis pas une Monarchiste.’

À un âge avancé, Marie-José est tombée amoureuse du Mexique lors de ses visites à sa fille Maria Béatrice à Cuernavaca. Elle a ensuite acheté une villa là-bas avec une piscine, dans laquelle elle se baignait tous les jours. La Reine a accueilli une large gamme de visiteurs, y compris son neveu, le roi Albert II des Belges. Bien que le corps de Marie-José puisse maintenant la lâcher, son esprit n’était certainement pas affecté. Maria Béatrice se souvenait de l’esprit ‘jeune’ et de la ‘manière de penser moderne’ de sa mère.

En 1995, dans un esprit réfléchi, Marie-José entreprit une visite en Belgique. L’année suivante, elle décida de retourner vivre en Suisse, cette fois avec son fils, Vittorio Emanuele. Ce dernier organisa une fête en plein air pour célébrer le 90e anniversaire de sa mère le 4 août 1996, un anniversaire qu’elle partageait avec la reine mère du Royaume-Uni, Elizabeth, qui avait six ans de plus. En 1999, Marie-José visita Florence pour recevoir la liberté de la ville et l’année suivante, elle reçut une invitation pour assister aux célébrations du 100e anniversaire de la reine Elizabeth à Londres. Malheureusement, elle était trop fragile pour accepter.

Reine Marie-José dans un âge avancé

Sa Majesté la Reine Marie-José d’Italie, Princesse de Belgique, est décédée le 27 janvier 2001 à l’Hôpital du Canton de Genève, à l’âge vénérable de 94 ans. Elle avait reconnu des membres de sa famille jusqu’à la fin. Lors de ses funérailles à l’Abbaye de Hautcombe, le 2 février, son cercueil, drapé avec le drapeau belge et les armes de sa chère Maison de Savoie, a été porté par des membres de la famille et des royalties européennes. Son cher chœur Alpini a chanté quelques chansons favorites et l’hymne sarde, ‘Conservat Deu Su Re Sardu’ (chanté à son mariage) a résonné dans l’Abbaye. C’est un témoignage de la personne que, au fil des ans, la Reine est toujours rappelée avec grande affection.

La reine mère Hélène rentre en Roumanie 2019

Lors d’un matin sombre à l’aéroport international de Genève, un cercueil, recouvert d’un drapeau royal, a été chargé à l’arrière d’un avion de transport militaire roumain. Le cercueil contenait les restes mortels de Sa Majesté la Reine Mère Hélène de Roumanie, Princesse de Grèce et du Danemark et la Princesse grecque senior de sa génération. Hélène est la dernière (et probablement l’une des dernières) membres d’une famille royale d’un ancien pays du bloc de l’Est dont les restes ont été rapatriés.

Hélène Princesse héritière de Roumanie

Au moment de sa mort le 29 novembre 1982, la reine mère Hélène vivait dans un appartement à Lausanne. Étant donné que la Roumanie était alors dirigée par un dictateur communiste, Nicolae Ceaușescu, qui n’aurait certainement pas permis l’inhumation d’un membre de l’ancienne famille royale du pays dans son fief, une parcelle avait été achetée au cimetière de Boix-de-Vaux à Lausanne comme lieu de repos pour Hélène. Pourtant, elle ne devait pas être seule : le mari de la cousine d’Hélène, la princesse Olga, le prince Paul de Yougoslavie, y avait déjà été inhumé après sa mort en 1976 comme avaient été les restes mortels de son fils le prince Nicolas qui était mort dans un accident de voiture en Angleterre en 1954 (son corps avait été amené du cimetière près de la maison de feu sa tante, la princesse Marina, à Iver et réinhumée à Lausanne à la demande de la princesse Olga). En 1997, la princesse Olga a elle-même été enterrée au Bois-de-Vaux à la suite de sa mort à l’âge de 93 ans.

Cependant, suite à la ‘réhabilitation’ du prince Paul par la Haute Cour serbe en 2011, lui, Olga et les corps de Nicolas ont été exhumés et enterrés à nouveau, avec grande cérémonie, dans la crypte du Mausolée royal Karageorge à Oplenac en Serbie, le 6 octobre 2012.

Pendant ce temps, depuis la chute du régime Ceausescu en décembre 1989, la popularité de l’ancienne famille royale prenait de l’ampleur en Roumanie. Une grande partie de cela peut être attribuée à l’implication dévouée de la plus ancienne petite-fille de la reine-mère Hélène, Margareta (qui vivait désormais à Bucarest) et de sa Fondation Princesse Margareta de Roumanie. En effet, dès 2003, les restes mortels de l’ex-mari d’Hélène, le roi Carol II, avaient été rebaptisés dans sa patrie (de leur lieu de repos original dans le Panthéon de Bragance à Lisbonne) dans une chapelle latérale de la cathédrale de Curtea de Argeș dans les Carpates. Le 16 décembre 2017, son fils le roi Michel Ier a également été enterré à Curtea de Argeș, bien que dans un mausolée royal nouvellement construit, à côté des restes de sa défunte épouse, la reine Anne, qui est décédée en août 2016.

Reine Mère Hélène et Roi Michel de Roumanie

Pourtant, tout cela se passait alors que les restes mortels de la reine-mère Hélène languissaient encore à Lausanne. Cependant, début septembre 2019, il a été annoncé que le corps de Sa Majesté allait être rapatrié en Roumanie et réinhumée à Curtea de Argeș. Ce qui me ramène à l’aéroport international de Genève le matin du 18 octobre : Après avoir obtenu l’autorisation de vol nécessaire, l’avion militaire roumain a atterri à l’aéroport d’Otopeni, à Bucarest, où le cercueil de Sa Majesté a été reçu, juste après 11 heures, par une garde d’honneur composée de la 30e brigade de la garde, et soigneusement sorti de l’avion précédé d’une grande croix en bois portant l’inscription ‘Elena-Regina 1896-1982’. Regardaient la scène le Gardien de la Couronne de Roumanie (Margareta), son mari le prince Radu et deux d’autres petites-filles d’Hélène (les princesses Sophia et Maria). Étaient également présents une pléthore de politiciens et de représentants des dénominations religieuses roumaines et, particulièrement pertinent, de l’Église orthodoxe grecque.

La dépouille de la reine mère Hélène de retour en Roumanie

À la suite d’un bref service religieux, le cercueil de Sa Majesté a ensuite été transporté au Palais Elisabetha, où il a été exposé pendant un court moment dans la Salle du Roi. Le cortège funèbre s’est ensuite dirigé vers le nord, vers Curtea de Argeș, arrivant en fin d’après-midi pour être accueilli chaleureusement par une grande foule. Le cercueil – toujours drapé de l’étendard royal – a ensuite été placé sur un catafalque à la Vieille Cathédrale. Le public a ensuite été autorisé à présenter ses respects. Émouvant, le président de la Roumanie, Klaus Iohannis, a publié une déclaration décrivant la Reine Mère Hélène comme ‘un puissant symbole de dignité, d’honneur et de courage, et une figure spéciale de conduite morale dans le sombre vingtième siècle.’

Juste avant midi le 19 octobre, des membres de la famille royale roumaine et des représentants de maisons royales étrangères (le comte de Rosslyn représentait le prince de Galles, maintenant Le Roi Charles III) se sont réunis dans la vieille cathédrale pour le service religieux. Par la suite, le cercueil de la reine mère Hélène, contenant ses restes mortels, a été porté par des soldats jusqu’au nouveau mausolée royal à proximité. Sa Majesté est enterrée aux côtés de son fils bien-aimé, le roi Michel, et de la reine Anne. Les restes de son ancien mari, le roi Carol II, reposent également à proximité, ayant été transférés au nouveau mausolée royal au printemps.

King George VI, Queen Elizabeth and VE Day.

King George VI and Queen Elizabeth greet the people on VE Day 1945

As they emerged onto the balcony of Buckingham Palace on 8 May (Victory in Europe Day, foreshortened to VE Day) to receive a tumultuous accolade from the British people, the King and Queen had every reason to reflect on a job well done. Together they had shared the trials and hardships of their subjects: Buckingham Palace alone was attacked on six occasions by enemy bombers; the chapel destroyed and the Queen’s private apartments wrecked by a bomb hit. Furthermore, there was hardly a window left in the cavernous building where repairs were largely piecemeal until the relevant building materials became available again.

Winston Churchill joins the King and Queen and the Princesses Elizabeth and Margaret on VE Day

As VE day was a Tuesday, the King had lunched as usual with Churchill at the Palace and they ‘congratulated each other on the end of the European War.’ The King further confided to his diary, ‘No more fear of being bombed at home & no more living in air-raid shelters.’ It is worth remembering that as recently as 27 March, London had received a hit from a V2 rocket. These lethal machines caused around 2700 deaths in that city alone.

The King, in particular, was also still deeply affected by the death of President Roosevelt only a few weeks previously, noting ‘ I had hoped that the Roosevelts would have paid us a visit here this summer, but it cannot be.’ Both the King and Queen had attended a Memorial Service in St Paul’s Cathedral on 17 April.

The real countdown to VE Day began on 4 May, when the King and Queen received the ‘wonderful news’ via telephone from Winston Churchill himself, that all enemy forces in the Netherlands, North-West Germany and Denmark had surrendered. The following afternoon the King was informed that General Eisenhower was expecting to receive a delegation of German top brass and soon hoped to arrange the final surrender of all German land forces. The Allied Supreme Commander anticipated he would be in a position to report to the three Allied governments by Sunday evening, 6 May, that hostilities were over. The King and Queen therefore returned to London on that day from Windsor in anticipation of Victory in Europe being officially celebrated the following day, 7 May; this was also the date the King anticipated giving his Victory speech over the radio. The sight of loud speakers and floodlights being put into place along the Mall did little to dissuade the royal couple from believing that peace was only hours away. Their Majesties were, meanwhile, buoyed up by the news that the King’s nephew George Harewood and the Queen’s nephew John Elphinstone had been ‘safely picked up’ from their German prisoner-of-war camp by the US 7th Army and were now in Paris, awaiting a flight to London.

However, the VE Day arrangements did not quite go to plan, as the Germans were stalling signing the surrender documents in an attempt to allow as many as possible of their people to flee west to escape the Russians. Finally, at 2.41 am on the morning of 7 May the first instrument of unconditional surrender of all the German forces was signed in a schoolhouse in Rheims by Admiral Doenitz (the successor to Hitler who had committed suicide on 30 April). The cessation of hostilities was agreed for 8 May. As the public waited throughout 7 May for an official announcement, a fair size crowd amassed in front of the Palace in the vain hope of seeing the King and Queen. Following an evening cabinet meeting, it was announced over the radio at 9pm that Mr Churchill would broadcast to the nation at 3.00 pm the following day, 8 May. This was to be celebrated as VE Day.

The King and Queen and the Princesses Elizabeth and Margaret on the Palace balcony.

Following the Prime Ministers’ broadcast on 8 May, crowds started to gather on the streets of London, Piccadilly Circus and Buckingham Palace being particular points of focus. The King had kept busy, holding an investiture earlier in the day. It was only following Churchill’s broadcast that the King and his family first appeared on the balcony. Meanwhile, short services were taking place hourly in Westminster Abbey. The ovation accorded the King and Queen during that first appearance on the Palace balcony with the Princesses Elizabeth and Margaret, was tremendous. All were visibly moved.

The King makes his VE day speech 8 May 1945

At 9 pm it was the turn of the King to take to the airwaves. He had worked hard on this speech for some time, with the help of his Private Secretary, Sir Alan Lascelles and further input from Winston Churchill. He spoke of the fallen: ‘Those who will not come back, their constancy and courage in battle, their sacrifice and endurance in the face of a merciless enemy’; and of those who would return-‘the great host of the living who have brought us victory’; and asked his listeners ‘on this day of just triumph and proud sorrow’ to return to their work again ..’and to make the world such a world as they [who died for us] would have desired, for their children and for ours.’

The King and the Queen continued to be called onto the balcony by the crowds outside the Palace and would later note that ‘we went out 8 times altogether during the afternoon and evening. We were given a great reception.’ In between the various balcony appearances, the King had held audiences with the War Cabinet and the Chiefs of Staff. His Majesty was at his most ebullient when he told them, ‘You have brought this country-I may say you have brought the whole world-out of deadly peril into complete victory.’ It was after midnight when the King and Queen made their final appearance together on the balcony, the princesses Elizabeth and Margaret having been permitted by the King to leave the Palace and enjoy the atmosphere on the surrounding area of St James Street and Piccadilly. They both cheered their parents on the balcony from outside the railings of the Palace, having previously sent in word, through an aide, that they were patiently waiting there.

Nonetheless, the King was far from complacent, noting in his diary, ‘But there is still Japan to be defeated and the restoration of our country to be dealt with, which will give us many headaches & hard work in the coming years.’ Furthermore, the royal couple were both tired and exhausted from five-and-a-half years of constant strain during which the King had left Britain on five occasions to make trips to his troops in the field, including a never-to-be-forgotten day trip to the besieged, bombed, battered but brave island of Malta which was awarded the George Cross ‘For Valour’. In Britain, together or separately, they had visited hundreds of factories, toured bomb sites, visited air stations and naval docks and narrowly escaped being killed by a V2 rocket!

Yet still there was to be no respite for them. On both 9 and 10 May the King and Queen undertook State Drives through the North East and South East of London. The crowds remained thick on the ground; thus, over several evenings, Their Majesties were again summoned onto the balcony of the Palace. On 13 May, the King and Queen were joined by Queen Mary (who came up from her wartime home at Badminton) and their daughters at a National Service of Thanksgiving held in St Paul’s Cathedral during which the Archbishop of Canterbury urged ‘united discipline and hard endeavour’ to help overcome post-war problems. Many of the foreign royalties still remaining in London also attended, having lunched beforehand with King and Queen at the Palace. Their Majesties then travelled overnight to Scotland for a similar service at St Giles Cathedral in Edinburgh on 16 May.

The King and Queen return to Buckingham Palace following the Thanksgiving Service at St Paul’s Cathedral.

After earlierreceiving ‘loyal addresses’ from both Houses of Parliament, the King made his response in the Royal Gallery on 17 May, during which he happily acknowledged the fortitude and courage of the British people in wartime. However, his focus was also very much on his ‘helpmeet’, the Queen. He observed, ‘I have done my best to discharge my royal duty as the constitutional sovereign of a free people, and in this task I have been unceasingly helped by the Queen, whose deep and active sympathy for all my subjects in pain or peril and whose intense resolve for victory has comforted my heart never more than in our darkest hours.’ The King’s Private Secretary, Sir Alan Lascelles, thought the event ‘a great triumph’ for the Sovereign. Churchill led those attending in ‘three cheers’ as the King departed.

On 24 May, an Empire Day Garden Party for 1,750 returned military men and Red Cross volunteers was held on the lawns of the Palace. Thereafter, the King and Queen travelled to Balmoral for a short break, returning to London at the beginning of June. His Majesty reflected in his diary that, ‘We have been overwhelmed by the kind things people have said over our part in the War. We have only tried to do our duty during these 51/2 years.’

The work continues: The King and Queen and Princess Elizabeth visit Belfast in July 1945.

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Wartime Royal Visit to Malta.

Following the Allied victory in North Africa in May 1943, Britain’s King George VI was to pay a morale-boosting visit to British military forces stationed there. However, His Majesty was also desirous of making a visit to the island of Malta, from where British air and sea forces had mounted successful attacks on enemy ships transporting vital supplies and Axis troop reinforcements from Europe to North Africa. Yet, it was not just this strategic role that had brought Malta to the King’s attention; he had also been most impressed by the gallantry of the military, as well as the courage and sufferings of the local population throughout a sustained bombing campaign by the German and Italian air forces, the aim of which had been to bomb or starve the island into submission. Indeed, His Majesty had already acknowledged the ‘Island Fortress’ of Malta’s role, in April 1942, by awarding it his own decoration, the George Cross, ‘to honour her brave people…..[and] to bear witness to a heroism and devotion that will long be famous in history.’ The locals were proud of this touching act and soon took to referring to Malta as the ‘King’s Island.’

The King’s highly secret visit to North Africa and Malta, (known as ‘ Operation Loader’) commenced on the morning of Saturday, 12 June, when His Majesty (travelling as ‘General Lyon’) landed in a York Transport Aircraft in Algeria. That evening, over dinner in a villa in Algiers, the King broached the subject of his visit to Malta (which although already agreed to in principle by Churchill still required to be signed off locally for reasons of safety and security) with Admiral Sir Andrew Cunningham, the Naval Commander-in-Chief, Mediterranean, who was impressed by the strength of George VI’s arguments and needed little further persuasion. For good measure, the determined monarch also discussed the matter with Air Marshal Arthur Tedder, who informed his boss in London that ‘the King insists on going to Malta’.

Thus, at 8.15 am on a sunny Sunday June morning, King George VI, dressed in naval whites, hand at the salute, stood on a specially-constructed platform atop a turret of the heavily camouflaged British Royal Navy frigate, HMS Aurora (under the command of Commodore W. G. Agnew and flying the Royal Standard) as it entered Valetta’s Grand Harbour, having sailed the 200 miles overnight from Tripoli, escorted by the destroyers Eskimo, Jervis, Nubian and Lookout. The King’s visit had been kept so secret that local officials had not learned of it until three hours beforehand, for it must be remembered that there were enemy air bases situated a mere 60 miles away in Italy. Nevertheless, all the local vantage points were filled with cheering loyal Maltese civilians and British servicemen. When His Majesty landed by the Customs House, at 9.30am, the bells of local churches filled the air. The King later described this as ‘a very moving moment for me.’

George VI’s first port of call, in his open-topped car, was the Palace where he held a Council and presented John Gort, the Governor, with a Field Marshal’s baton. He also inspected the George Cross awarded to the island. The King then proceeded onto the Palace balcony and received a rousing ovation from the populace in the square below. Thereafter, His Majesty travelled to the Naval Dockyard. As most of the structures above ground had been decimated in the bombings, the King was shown over the underground workshops by Rear-Admiral Mackenzie. These were housed in a complex of tunnels, many of which had been excavated by hand.

His Majesty subsequently journeyed to the nearby area of Senglea which in truth, like the dockyard was, he later noted, but a ‘mere shell.’ Accompanied by Canon Emmanuel Brincat, the Archpriest of Senglea, he walked through the narrow streets, including the aptly-named Victory Street, and saw first-hand the ruined houses which had once provided shelter to the local inhabitants who, nonethless, turned out in droves to greet their Sovereign with flags and banners and confettti.

The King later travelled to the Verdala Palace, the current residence of the Governor, to partake of lunch, enjoy a brief rest and greet a party of 20 staff officers. George VI, accompanied by Gort, then visited Mosta, which had suffered heavy attacks as it was in the vicinity of Ta Qali Aerodrome. It was during his afternoon tour of the military aerodromes that the King knighted the New Zealander, Air Marshal Keith Park, who had overseen the air defence of the island. As the King’s car passed through local villages en route, flowers were thrown into the vehicle and although His Majesty was touched by the gesture, the fastidious monarch subsequently observed that this had been ‘detrimental to my white uniform.’

After dining with the Governor, the King embarked HMS Aurora which set sail at 10 p.m. for the return passage to Tripoli. It is worth noting that George VI’s visit was the first time a Sovereign had landed in Malta since 1911 and, as he reflected on it, His Majesty noted that it had been ‘a very strenuous day but a very interesting one to have spent.’ To Queen Mary, he described it as ‘The real gem of my tour.’

Today the Maltese still celebrate St George’s Day with parades through the streets. The links with the Crown remained strong as the future Queen Elizabeth II (when still The Princess Elizabeth, Duchess of Edinburgh) spent a considerable amount of time here when her husband was stationed on the island.

Crown Princess Märtha Eludes Nazi Regency plot.

In the early hours of 9 April, Crown Princess Märtha and her husband Olav were awakened by a phone call from an aide, bringing the devastating news of an invasion by German military forces. With her mind in a whirl, Mårtha immediately awakened her three children, instructing them to dress for a mountain hike. Ragnhild, the eldest, would later recall that ‘the clearest sign that something was wrong was that it was our parents themselves who woke us up.’ After eating a hasty breakfast, at around 6 a.m. Märtha , Olav and their three children (Ragnhild, Astrid and Harald) set out from their home, some twenty kilometres to the west of Oslo, for the Royal Palace in central Oslo, in a convoy of three cars. The Crown Prince was at the wheel of his own car, his wife and children beside him. Olav-who was driving at great speed-had already decided that if anyone tried to stop him, he would run them down.

German troops march down Karl Johan Gate, the Royal Palace clearly visible behind.

On arrival at the Royal Palace, everything was in a state of flux. The royal family departed the royal residence at 7 a.m. travelling in the direction of the Østbane railway station in order to take a special train to Hamar to avoid capture. The members of the Norwegian parliament, the Storting, were also on board the train. The group was led and organised by the Storting President, Carl Joachim Hambro. It had been at his suggestion that the royal family accompanied the parliamentary group. Just as the train passed through Lillestrøm, the town was bombed, although the focus was fortunately on the nearby airport at Kjeller. The entourage travelled onwards towards Hamar with German soldiers and aircraft in hot pursuit.

By the early evening, the royal party had settled at an estate at Sælid, a few kilometres outside of Hamar, where they were just sitting down to dinner when word was received from the local police chief of the impending arrival of several busloads of German troops. The little group immediately set out by car towards Elverum, to rendezvous with members of the government who had fled there from Hamar. It was also at Elverum that the Storting gave the King and government the authority to govern the country for as long as the war lasted (“The Elverum Mandate”). However, with so much uncertainty prevailing, a decision was made to send Crown Princess Märtha and the royal children over the border into neutral Sweden, for reasons of safety. Among those accompanying them were Olav’s trusted aide, Major Nicolai Ramm Østgaard (who would almost immediately return to his duties with the Crown Prince), his wife Ragni and their ten-year-old son Einar. Also in the royal entourage was Signe Svendsen, Prince Harald’s nurse; as well as Ragnhild and Martha’s Swedish governess Maja Thorén. Another Swedish national, the Crown Princess’s maid, Edla Norberg completed the party. The royal convoy, consisting of three cars, crossed the border into Sweden from Trysil at 00:50 hours on 10 April.

The events surrounding the party’s crossing into Sweden are the subject of debate. There are two versions:. In Brita Rosenberg’s biography of Princess Astrid, the latter recounts that Swedish border guards did not want to raise the border barrier and only did so at the last minute when their Norwegian driver indicated that he would drive straight through unless they did so.

Einar Østgaard, in his 2005 book about Crown Princess Mårtha, which makes use of his father’s notes and journals, takes issue with this account: ‘The claim that Crown Princess Märtha was denied access to Sweden was printed for the first time over forty years after crossing the border on the night of 10 April 1940.’ He is of the opinion that this version must be due to a misremembering. The author also cites his mother Ragni, who served as the Crown Princess’s Lady-in-Waiting, later describing an undramatic border crossing: ‘None of us had passports, but at the Swedish border station, Nikko (her husband, Nikolai Østgaard) was out explaining who it was, and there was no difficulty in getting past.’

Either way, the convoy continued to the winter resort of Sälen to stay at the well-known Högfjällshotellet, arriving at half past three in the morning. As it was a glorious sunny day and the royal children spent most of the time skiing on the nearby slopes, while their anxious mother remained at the hotel glued to the radio for news of events in neighbouring Norway. What she heard could hardly have lifted her spirits. On 10 April, the King had met with the German Minister Kurt Bräuer in the High School at Elverum. Bräuer set out the demands of his masters in Berlin: the legitimate Norwegian government must resign, and the King must appoint Vidkun Quisling of the right-wing Nasjonal Samling (National Unity) party as Norway’s Prime Minister and approve the formation of a pro-German government led by him. King Haakon subsequently presented these demands to officials of the legitimate Johan Nygaardsvold government during an extraordinary Council of State held in nearby Nybergsund (where they had relocated). The King made it clear that they must decide what course of action they wished to take, but added that he would not bow to these German demands and if the government decided to agree to them, he would abdicate. The government, in turn, fully backed the King. King Haakon’s “no” and the government’s approval thereof were formulated as a Royal Decree and signed by the King, the Prime Minister and Minister of State Bredo Rolsted.

When the Germans learned of this decision, they were infuriated. The following day, Heinkel 111 bombers of the German Luftwaffe bombed both Elverum and Nybergsund, where the King and Crown Prince were sheltering, killing dozens of people. Crown Princess Märtha was subsequently relieved to learn from newly-arrived Norwegian guests at the hotel that, although shaken, both the King and Crown Prince Olav were uninjured. This news was corroborated by the hotel manager who had been in Nybergsund at the time of the attacks, in an attempt to obtain information on behalf of the Crown Princess. From first-hand reports carried in the Swedish press, it became clear that King Haakon was the key target. At one stage, he and his son Olav were forced to take shelter in a ditch to avoid being fired on by the low-flying Heinkel bombers.

King Haakon (2nd left) and son Crown Prince Olav (extreme left) literally run for their lives at Eleverum on 11 April 1940

An early visitor to Sälen was the Storting President Carl Joachim Hambro, who was en route to Stockholm. He recalls in his memoirs arriving in time for breakfast and apologising to the Crown Princess for ‘being so unkempt and not having had time to shave.’ Märtha, clearly having maintained her sense of humour merely laughed and replied, ‘Me neither.’ He brought with him a letter written by King Haakon at Nybergsund addressed to his sister (and Märtha’s mother) Princess Ingeborg. The latter arrived at the winter resort a few days later, visibly tired and looking somewhat older, according to Ragni Østgaard. Yet, Ingeborg was also ‘filled with a glowing hatred of the Germans’ for her homeland of Denmark had also recently been occupied. Märtha’s mother was also deeply concerned for the welfare of her brother, King Haakon (formerly Prince Carl of Denmark until his accession to the throne of Norway in 1905) and her son-in-law (and nephew) Olav.

The Swedish authorities were by now growing increasingly nervous of the presence of Norwegian royalty in an area so close to the border. What if, they reasoned, the Germans accidentally bombed the hotel due to a “navigation error” or if a kidnapping attempt was made to seize the royal party? The Swedish county governor decided to act and asked the royal party leave the hotel. In order not to attract attention, on 18 April, the royals and their entourage departed in the middle of the night, and headed southwards by car (which almost upturned in a snow drift) towards Uppsala. Thanks to Princess Ingeborg making use of family connections, it was arranged that the royal party could take temporary residence at Count Carl Bernadotte of Wisborg’s home at Rasbo. They would remain there for ten days, before proceeding to Stockholm and Drottningholm Palace.

At Drottningholm, King Gustav proved to be welcoming host but made it clear, through an adjutant, that there would be no discussion of the war at the dinner table. This was interesting, as otherwise Gustav had taken a keen interest in developments throughout Europe, with maps spread out over a billiard table nearby. However, it was noticeable that there was none pertaining to Norway. This particular map had been removed, prior to the arrival of the Norwegian contingent, perhaps out of tact. The Crown Princess tried to distract herself with games of gin rummy and bridge. Meanwhile Norwegians in Sweden were told not to openly celebrate their National Day on 17 May.

So how did the Crown Princess now continue to obtain news of what was happening across the border? Märtha acquired a quality radio set and each evening she and Ragni Østgaard would listen to the late night news bulletin from London. Perhaps Märtha even managed to tune in to the National Day service broadcast from the Norwegian Seamen’s Church in London, as King Haakon and Crown Prince Olav managed to do in a holiday chalet in Northern Norway? She also had the services of the Norwegian diplomat Jen Bull, who acted as a liaison between Märtha and the Norwegian Legation in Stockholm. Bull had previously served (1925-1931) as a Counsellor in the Norwegian legation in Berlin, rising to the rank of Under-Secretary of State at the Foreign Office in Oslo in 1939.

In due course, the Crown Princess was informed that King Haakon and Crown Prince Olav had departed Norway (from Tromsø) on the evening of 7 June, following a cabinet meeting held in the Bishop’s Palace, in order to continue the fight from Norwegian democracy from London. The war in Norway aside, Crown Prince Olav’s chief concern was now for the safety of his children and wife in Sweden. He had written to President Franklin D Roosevelt from Trangen, Langvatnet, as early as 10 May, mentioning an offer which Roosevelt had made, in late April 1939, during the Crown Prince and Princess’ weekend stay at the President’s country home at Hyde Park, ‘to take care of the children’ if the war should reach Norwegian shores.

After observing the 82nd birthday celebrations for ‘Uncle Gustav’ the previous day at Drottningholm, on 17 June, the Crown Princess and her children moved to Ulriksdal Palace. This allowed for some more privacy, and the children were able to relax with games, picnics and boating on the inlet. Furthermore, young Harald took the opportunity to learn to swim under the instruction of Signe Svendsen. Nonetheless, there was always a watchful Swedish policeman in attendance. Interestingly, the move to Ulriksdal coincided with King Haakon learning that the Germans had informed the Administrative Council, an interim body appointed by the Norwegian Supreme Court to deal with matters of civil administration in Norway, that he should abdicate the throne. This move on the part of the German occupiers seems to have hit a raw nerve with King Gustav of Sweden who, most unusually, became involved, sending a telegram to Adolf Hitler stating that ‘I consider it my duty to personally emphasize to you, Herr Reich Chancellor, that such a measure would elicit serious disapproval among the broadest circles of the Swedish people and throughout the whole of Scandinavia. I wish therefore, before irrevocable decisions are made by you, to draw your attention through this telegram…to urge you, Mr. Chancellor, to proceed with all the moderation that can be considered possible in relation to Norway, its king and people.’ Did he now fear for his own throne?

Prince Harald of Norway in April 1940. This picture was used for his passport.

In the interim, Berlin had appointed Josef Terboven as Reichskommissar in Norway. Despite the initial refusal of the Administrative Council to comply with the abdication request, negotiations were continuing with Terboven, who was currently focused on the formulation of a future political framework for use in Norway during the occupation. Furthermore, despite King Gustav’s aforementioned telegram, there was a genuine possibility that a powerful Germany, aided by sympathetic Norwegians, could, if necessary, use leverage against Sweden, both diplomatically, economically, and militarily, to arrange for Märtha to be returned to Norway with her son and a Regency formed until Harald came of age. A number of prominent Norwegians who visited Stockholm advocated for such a solution. This idea also had its supporters within Per Albin Hansson’s Swedish government. For instance, the Swedish Justice Minister (and one-time Foreign Minister), Karl Westman, wrote in his diary as early as 19 June, mentioning his attendance at a government meeting: ‘I reiterated my question about why the friends of the Norwegian dynasty do not put the Norwegian crown princess and [prince] Harald on a plane and send them… to Oslo.’ He was writing this at a time when many Swedes believed that Märtha’s presence threatened to undermine Sweden’s neutrality when Germany was on the ascendance: Only a few days earlier German forces had entered Paris unopposed and the French were on the point of signing the surrender at Compiègne. Time Magazine would subsequently report that Crown Princess Märtha had indeed been offered ‘a regency in the name of her son, Prince Harald.’ Meanwhile, some Norwegians even harboured the-not unrealistic-suspicion that Prince Harald could be kidnapped and taken to Oslo by force.

On 27 June, the Presidential Council of the Storting, under pressure from the occupiers and recognising the need to establish a provisional government, responded tentatively to Josef Terboven’s proposal to establish a Council of the Realm to act as a collaborative body with the occupiers. In order to progress matters, they now asked the King to abdicate, giving him until 12 July to ‘renounce his constitutional functions for himself and his house.’ However, King Haakon refused to comply and, on 8 July, announced his rejection of the abdication request via a BBC radio broadcast from London, as well as formally placing his response in writing. What would this mean for the future of Norway and the monarchy going forward?

In Stockholm, Märtha, under the impression that her Swedish family (i.e. King Gustav) and Hitler were conspiring to remove King Haakon and set up a Regency, was feeling the pressure and sent a telegram to London as early as 24 June warning her husband that attempts were being made to ‘induce her’ to return with her three children to Oslo. Indeed, rumours had been circulating of a cipher telegram having been sent on 21 June by King Gustav to King Haakon to advise him to abdicate in favour of his grandson as ‘a means of saving the Norwegian people from unnecessary difficulties’. It also appears that the contents of King Gustav’s earlier telegram to Hitler may have been misconstrued or misreported for, on 22 June the British Minister in Stockholm indicated that King Gustav had telegraphed Hitler directly personally recommending the Regency option to him. Thus, London (and the Crown Princess) now believed that Gustav was the principal protagonist in this matter. Indeed, such was the fury in London that it caused Britain’s King George VI to sit down and write a very stern letter to the Swedish King. Fortunately, this was not forwarded by the British Legation in Stockholm to King Gustav, when it became clear that the meddling Swedish king had instead urged Hitler to show the utmost possible moderation in his dealings over Norway. Some commentators have taken the view that Gustav intervened simply because he believed that if the matter was not resolved soon Germany would abolish the monarchy in Norway.

Despite the strong political pressure placed on her, according to Einar Østgaard’s book, Crown Princess Märtha did not particularly want to travel to the United States. However, King Haakon and Crown Prince Olav, fearing for Märtha and the children’s safety, seemed keen that this should happen. In late June, the Crown Prince had written again to President Roosevelt from Buckingham Palace pressing him to make good on his offer of sanctuary to his children, but this time he also included a request on behalf of his wife. Olav also made an approach to the US Secretary of State via the US Ambassador in London, Joseph Kennedy, entreating ‘if there is anything you can do in a hurry to get the [Crown] Princess out [of Sweden].’ On 12 July, the US Secretary of State sent a message to the US Minister in Stockholm saying that President Roosevelt was arranging for a naval transport vessel to be sent to Finland to evacuate the Crown Princess and her family, along with a group of ‘stranded’ US citizens.

On 17 July, the Norwegian Government-in-exile addressed a letter to the Storting Presidential Council, in which cautious appreciation of the work done by the Administrative Council was combined with a plain warning that ‘everything which is agreed or done at this time in respect of government in Norway must have the clear stamp of temporariness, if nothing is to be lost for the future of the country.’

On 18 July, Märtha received a telephone call from the Norwegian Minister in Washington, Wilhelm Thorleif von Munthe af Morgenstierne. He informed a somewhat nonplussed Crown Princess (who seems to have been in the dark about Crown Prince Olav’s recent correspondence with Roosevelt) that an American warship was being sent to Finland to transport her and her children to the United States. But would she go? On 20 July, Märtha received the US Minister to Norway, Mrs Florence Harriman, who was now ensconced temporarily at the United States Legation in Stockholm. Having had time to reflect on the efforts being made on her and her children’s behalf, both in London and Washington, the Crown Princess indicated to the American that she would be happy to accept President Roosevelt’s kind offer. Nevertheless, Märtha was keen to emphasise that she wanted to enter the United States ‘as quietly as possible’ and that she ‘would not be required to meet reporters or a reception committee’. Naively, the Crown Princess even expressed the hope that the date of her arrival should be kept confidential. King Gustav, on hearing of the “American plan”, telegraphed King Haakon, on 24 July, stating that he objected to the American trip as it might undermine the future of the Norwegian monarchy, a viewpoint Haakon, who deeply resented Gustav’s meddling, was quick to dismiss. Some sources also have Crown Princess Märtha and “Uncle Gustav” having a robust exchange of views on this matter in Stockholm.

However, events were already moving apace. On 22 July, Mrs Harriman had been informed by the US State Department that a naval transport, the USS American Legion, was about to leave for the Finnish port of Petsamo (now Petsjenga, Russia) and should reach there around 5 August. It was also made clear that there was ‘no possible way’ the Crown Princess’ arrival in the United States could be kept confidential. Indeed, just as Märtha was setting off from Ulriksdal Palace, on 12 August, the Norwegian Legation released a statement to the press, also broadcast over Radio Sweden, stating that the Crown Princess and her three children ‘will leave for the United States in the next few days to visit President Roosevelt’ who had issued ‘a personal invitation’ to the Norwegian royals.

The Crown Princess and her children on their long drive through Finland, August 1940

That same day, the Norwegian party departed Stockholm’s Central Station. Both Märtha’s father, Prince Carl and Princess Ingeborg were distressed to take leave of their beloved daughter and grandchildren. Princess Ingeborg presented Märtha with a case of jewels, including the emerald tiara that had once belonged to Empress Joséphine, the wife of Napoléon Bonaparte. This was a form of financial insurance in difficult times. King Gustav also came to the station to see them off, despite his grave reservations. They were, after all, his relations too. The plan was for the Norwegian royal party to travel by train to Haparanda, on the Swedish/ Norwegian border, with the rest of the journey, through Finland, being undertaken by cars provided by the Finnish authorities. The local Haparanda newspaper Haparandabladet soon reported on the Crown Princess’s arrival there, prior to her setting off on the second stage of the journey northwards to Petsamo. This second stage was undertaken in a convoy of four vehicles and included stops and overnight stays in Rovaniemi and Inari (Enare). A Finnish military officer, Major Carl Gustaf Wahren, accompanied the royal entourage and was responsible for security. He very kindly allowed the amiable Swedish policeman Artur Pfeiffer, with whom the children had developed a good relationship since their arrival in Stockholm, to accompany the party on this Finnish leg of their journey. Petsamo was reached on 15 August.

The Crown Princess and her children now joined the nine hundred passengers, mostly United States citizens, aboard the American Legion, bound for New York. Märtha appeared on the ship’s manifest as “Mrs Jones” and was given the use of the Captain’s cabin. Others in the royal party included the Crown Princess’s Chief of Staff, Peder Anker Wedel Jarlsberg; Lady-in-Waiting, Mrs Ragni Østgaard; the latter’s son Einar and Prince Harald’s nurse, Signe Svendsen. Touchingly, Harald was pictured clutching his beloved teddy bear. Yet, the Norwegian royal party were still very much in danger. Germany refused to guarantee the ship safe conduct and according to Time magazine, in a ruthless last-minute display of audacity, had tried to delay the sailing with a dispute over the route. It was said that the Germans preferred a more northern passage where the American Legion could be waylaid by a submarine, and Martha and her son kidnapped.

Meanwhile, King Haakon broadcast to the Norwegian people on 26 August, informing them ‘to avoid everything which is inconsistent with our national dignity; remain Norwegian in mind and thought…’ A majority of the Storting members in Oslo eventually voted for the suspension of the monarchy rather than acceptance of the original German demand for the abdication or deposing of the Royal House and negotiations continued. However, Terboven, keen to stamp his authority, eventually abandoned plans for a Council of the Realm and power rested, for the moment, with the Reichskommissariat.

Despite all the melodrama of the last few months, the Crown Princess and her entourage finally sailed into New York on 28 August. She and her three children would eventually settle in a largish brick house set in substantial grounds in Pook’s Hill, Maryland. Märtha would soon become part of President’s Roosevelt’s inner circle and was thus ideally placed to obtain first-hand knowledge of the comings and goings at the White House and in Washington’s political circles. She was also able to use her position to advance Norway’s cause in the United States.

The Crown Princess and her family on their arrival in New York.

The author of this blog takes a keen interest on the fate of royalty during World War II. He examines the wartime adventures of Princess Olga (the onetime Consort of the Prince Regent of Yugoslavia) in Africa (and much else besides) in the biography Princess Olga of Yugoslavia: Her Life and Times published on 1 April 2021 by Grosvenor House Publishing.

Yugoslav Royals’ ‘Private’ Visit to London 1939.

As the volatile political situation in Europe throughout the spring and early summer of 1939 threatened to escalate into war, Prince Regent Paul of Yugoslavia, whose Balkan Kingdom was already under threat both from Italian expansionist desires and an increasing economic dependence on Germany, was feeling decidedly unsettled. A recent State Visit to Berlin, which included a massive military display, had only served to increase his disquiet. Worryingly, he also confided to his old friend, Infante Alfonso, Duke of Galliera, that Hitler was ‘mad’.

It must have been somewhat of a relief to receive a telegram from his friend, King George VI (‘Bertie’) asking him to pay a visit to London for ‘important, though informal, discussions with British Ministers’. Paul was the supreme anglophile: he had been educated at Christ Church, Oxford and counted the British aristocrats (and fellow Oxford graduates) Walter, the 8th Duke of Buccleuch and Robert, Viscount Cranborne (‘Bobbety’) as close friends. Furthermore, the British Queen Consort (formerly Lady Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon) had often entertained Prince Paul at her childhood home, Glamis Castle, near Forfar and counted him as a member of her ‘inner circle’. However, the Prince’s most recent link with England was through his wife, Princess Olga. The latter’s youngest sister, Marina, had married Britain’s Prince George, the Duke of Kent, less than five years previously. It also happened that King George VI was godfather to both fifteen-year-old King Peter of Yugoslavia and to Paul and Olga’s (British-born) eldest child, Alexander.

On 17 July, the Prince Regent and Princess Olga arrived at Victoria Station for a two-week visit. The Kent’s were waiting to greet them, as was Alexander, who was currently attending Eton. Although the visit was not a ‘State’ but a ‘private’ event, the royal couple’s strong links to the British monarchy ensured that they were quartered in great comfort in Buckingham Palace’s ground-floor Belgian Suite. The British press were suitably kind to the Regent noting that in Yugoslavia, ‘Prince Paul is bearing a burden a heavy burden and bearing it exceedingly well.’ Furthermore, as the senior ‘trustee’ of the Yugoslav crown, they observed that, ‘his policy is that nothing should be done which will jeopardise the position of King Peter when he attains his majority in two years’ time and will then take over the responsibilities of government.’ The press, nevertheless, praised Paul for ‘striving for peace within and without the country’ and acknowledged it had been ‘an exceedingly difficult task to hold the balance evenly between the [Orthodox] Serbs and the [Roman Catholic] Croats’ whilst also having to ‘resist the overtures’ of Italy and Germany.

On 18 July, Paul and Olga joined the King and Queen on the front stalls of the Little Theatre to watch the musical revue “Nine Sharp” starring the Australian actor, Cyril Ritchard. Next day, the Prince lunched and held talks with the British Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain at his residence, 10 Downing Street. Lord Halifax, the Foreign Minister was also present, as were various British military chiefs and the President of the Board of Trade. Paul was at pains to point out that Germany and Russia were in talks with a view to signing a non-aggression pact. If Britain did not consummate a deal with the Russians then Germany would. Later, the King invested Prince Paul as a Knight Companion of the Most Noble Order of the Garter, Britain’s oldest (and most prestigious) order of chivalry. In the evening, Bertie and Elizabeth hosted a ball attended by 800 at which the Prince Regent and Princess Olga were the guests of honour. This would be the last major event to be held at the Palace until after the Second World War.

Yet, despite this lavish display of royal hospitality, the British press later seemed surprised that the Yugoslavs maintained such a ‘living sentiment’ for all things British which went beyond simple royal family ties, even although Britain had failed to offer Yugoslavia similar aid or guarantees as those offered to its neighbour Greece. Indeed, Lord Halifax, appeared slow to appreciate Dr Ivan Subbotic’s, [the Yugoslav Minister in London] recent entreaties for armaments and improved trade terms. This situation had continued despite the fact that the British Minister in Belgrade, Sir Ronald Campbell, had pressed his Foreign Office masters in London, prior to Prince Paul’s visit, for ‘more substantial assistance to this country.’ Campbell’s intervention was driven by a sense of embarrassment exacerbated by the Prince Regent’s oft expressed ‘surprise that we do nothing practically to help [Yugoslavia].’ Campbell was also aware that despite the lack of British military aid, Halifax had tried to press the Regent into making some sort of declaration as to what Yugoslavia intended to do should Germany invade Romania. Paul was furious at such a crass display of diplomacy, fearing that such a declaration would antagonise the Germans at a time when his country was short of arms and unprepared militarily. Furthermore, it remained a delicate time in Yugoslav internal politics, as the Prince was involved in trying to obtain an agreement (Sporazum) between the Serbs and the Croats. (This would eventually be achieved in late August.)

Meanwhile, in late July, following a weekend stay at the Duke and Duchess of Kent’s home at Coppins, near Iver, the Prince Regent entered a London nursing home for three days for an operation by orthodontist Mr Bowdler Henry on a wisdom tooth. He and Princess Olga departed for their summer home in Slovenia on 2 August. The couple’s loyal friend, Henry ‘Chips’ Channon waved them off at Victoria Station. However, the presence of 100 policemen, who formed a tight security ring around the Prince Regent (there had been numerous death threats against Paul over the years), somewhat unsettled Chips and caused him to take ‘a gulp of misery’ while wondering what the future held for his friends. Prince Paul, for his part, was left with the distinct impression that Britain had little interest in coming to Yugoslavia’s aid.

On 22 August it was announced-as Prince Paul had predicted to British officials in London-that Germany and Russia had signed a Treaty of Non-Aggression. The British press succinctly noted that ‘Nazi-ism and Bolshevism… are now shaking hands’. Worryingly, the Treaty had a secret protocol appended to it which divided eastern Europe into German and Soviet spheres of influence and gave the green light for further German advances, particularly into Poland. Indeed, within weeks, Germany would be at war with both Great Britain and France.

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Order of Canada.

As today is Canada Day (formerly Dominion Day) I thought it worth mentioning the history of this great order. In days gone by, Canada-as with the other Dominions- received a quota of honours through the British ‘imperial’ honours system. However, as each of the Dominions forged a stronger sense of nationhood, it seemed inevitable that they should adopt their own honours system. Canada (always the most sparing in the use of imperial honours) led the way with the establishment of the Order of Canada (Ordre du Canada) on 1 July 1967. This date marked the centenary of Canada’s elevation to the status of a Dominion within the British Empire.

Canada’s highest civilian honour recognises ‘ a life of outstanding achievement, dedication to the community and service to the nation’, and has as it’s motto in Latin, Desiderantes Meliorem Patriam (They Desire a Better Country). The insignia of the Order is a stylised snowflake of six points, with a red annulus at the centre bearing a stylised maple leaf circumscribed with the motto of the Order.

The Order has three levels: Companion (post-nominal: CC), Officer (OC) and Member (CM). Companions are restricted to 165 at any given time (although up to five extra Honorary Companions may also be appointed). Up to 64 Officers and 136 Members may be appointed annually. The Order has precedence over all Canadian Orders excepting the Victoria Cross (VC) and the Cross of Valour (CV). Recipients are recommended to the Governor-General (Her Majesty’s representative in Canada) by an independent advisory council, chaired by Canada’s Chief Justice, from nominations submitted by the public. The Queen of Canada is the Sovereign of the Order; the Governor-General is Chancellor and Principal Companion. Interestingly, the constitution of the Order of Canada states that the insignia remain the property of the Crown. It also requires that any member of the order must return their original emblem to the Chancellery should they be upgraded to a higher rank.

Royal Charity Event.

Every year Princess Olga of Yugoslavia organised and presided over charitable sales of work in Belgrade. These events were organised to raise funds for the many causes of which the Princess was Royal Patron, with the focus being on the welfare of mother and child. Olga was very ‘hands on’ and set up her own stall for the event, with items often sourced in London by her childhood nanny, Kate Fox (‘Nurnie’). In the accompanying image we see the Princess (on the left) preparing to sell her wares once the event has been declared opened by Queen Marie of Yugoslavia (pictured centre). To the right is Olga’s youngest sister, Princess Marina of Greece, a frequent visitor to Belgrade prior to her marriage to Prince George, the Duke of Kent.