CHAPTER XIII
MOTHER AND EMPRESS
While the German wars were going on the Queen was thinking for hercountry as a sovereign and feeling for her children as a mother. In themidst of all the claims upon her, she had one aim that she neverforgot, and that was to make her country understand and appreciate thetalents and character of Prince Albert. She concluded to have a bookprepared that should tell the story of his life, for she felt that noone who really knew him could fail to honor him. When the first volumewas published, even her children were surprised that she should tellmatters of her own private life so fully; but she loved and trusted herpeople, and she was as frank with them as she would have been with anintimate friend.
The year after this book was brought out, the Queen herself became theauthor of a book, "Our Life in the Highlands." It is made up ofextracts from the journal which she always kept. "Simple records," shecalls them, but they often give charming pictures of the merry times atBalmoral. Sir Arthur Helps aided her in preparing the book for thepress. "He often scolds me," she said, "because I am careless inwriting; but how could he expect me to take pains when I wrote late atnight, suffering from headache and exhaustion, and in dreadful haste?"She arranged to have Sir Theodore Martin complete the life of thePrince, and she spent much time in arranging her husband's papers andletters for him to use. She generally chose the selections to beinserted, and she read every chapter as it was written.
About her own authorship the Queen was very modest, and when she sent acopy of her book to Dickens, she wrote in it, "From the humblest ofwriters to one of the greatest." At Sir Walter Scott's home, she wasasked to write her name in his journal; and, although she granted therequest, she wrote in her own journal, "I felt it a presumption in me."When Carlyle met her, he said, "It is impossible to imagine a politerlittle woman; nothing the least imperious, all gentle, all sincere;makes you feel too (if you have any sense in you) that she is Queen."
Her being Queen gave her a peculiar power over the marriages of herchildren, for they were not legal unless she gave her formal consent.Early in 1871 she was called upon again to exercise her right, for farup in the hills about Balmoral there was a momentous little interviewbetween the Princess Louise and the Marquis of Lorne. "Princess Louiseis so bright and jolly to talk with," one of the Scotch boys had saidof her when she was a very young girl, and this Scotch Marquis was ofexactly the same opinion.
The Queen had guessed before how matters stood with her daughter andthe gentleman whom she had once called "such a merry, independentchild." The young man had proved his independence by asking for thehand of the Princess, inasmuch as it was three hundred years since amember of the royal family had married a subject, but the Queen paid noattention to tradition. She felt sure that the Marquis would make herdaughter happy, and that was enough. Most of her subjects agreed withher; and one of the newspapers said jubilantly, "The old dragonTradition was routed by a young sorcerer called Love."
The wedding was celebrated at Windsor. It was a brilliant scene, ofcourse, and if all the gentlemen were arrayed as vividly as the Duke ofArgyll, the father of the bridegroom, the ladies did not monopolizegorgeousness of attire. The Duke was a Scottish chieftain, and heappeared in Highland dress. His kilt and the plaid thrown over hisshoulders were of the gay Campbell tartan. His claymore, a broadtwo-handed sword, was at his side, and in front there hung from hisbelt a sporran, or deep pouch made of skin with the hair or fur on theoutside. His dirk sparkled with jewels. Altogether he might havestepped out of some resplendent assemblage of the middle ages. Afterthe wedding breakfast, the bride laid aside her white satin and Honitonlace and arrayed herself in a traveling dress of Campbell plaid. Thecarriage door was closed, and the young couple drove away for Claremontin a little shower of white slippers, accompanied, according toHighland tradition, by a new broom, which was sure to bring happinessto the new household.
The Queen's daughters were now in homes of their own except thePrincess Beatrice, a merry little girl of fourteen, who had beenradiantly happy in her new pink satin at her sister's wedding. TheQueen was devoted to her children, but it would have been easier forher to pass through the next few years if she had been all sovereignand not woman. War broke out between France and Germany, and bothPrince "Fritz" and Prince Louis were in the field. Anxious as she wasfor them, she was even more troubled for the Princess Alice, who wasreally in quite as much danger as if she had been in the army. Forseveral years she had been deeply interested in lessening thesufferings of the poor in times of illness; and in providing trainednurses for wounded soldiers. While this war was in progress, she notonly went to the hospitals daily, but she brought the wounded men toher own house and cared for them herself. She was exposed over and overagain to typhus fever and other diseases, but she seemed to be entirelywithout fear. One of her friends describes seeing her help to lift asoldier who was very ill of smallpox.
Princess Alice little thought of what value her skill in nursing wouldbe to her own family, but near the end of 1871, the Prince of Wales wastaken ill with typhoid fever, and her help was of the utmost value. Itwas just ten years before that Prince Albert had died of the samedisease, and to the anxious Queen every day was an anniversary. Shehastened to the home of the Prince at Sandringham, and when she saw howill he was, she sent at once for the other members of the family. Thedays passed slowly. One day he seemed a little better, and there wasrejoicing, as the telegraph flashed the news not only over England, butto Canada, India, to every part of the world. Then came a day ofhopelessness. The Queen mother watched every symptom. "Can you not savehim?" she pleaded; and all the physicians could answer was, "You mustbe prepared for the worst. We fear that the end is near."
Bulletins were sent out to the public every hour or two. All Londonseemed to tremble with fear and anxiety. Stores were open, but therewas little of either buying or selling. Day and night the citizenscrowded the streets in front of the newspaper offices. They talked ofno one but the Prince.
"He's a good boy to his mother," said one, "and she'll miss himsorely."
"He's living yet, God bless him, and perhaps after all he'll mend,"declared another of more hopeful spirit.
"Did you ever hear that when he was a little chap and his tutor wasgoing to leave him, the young man couldn't go into his room withoutfinding a little present on his pillow or perhaps a note from thelittle boy saying how much he should miss him?"
"It'll kill the Queen," said one man. "The poor woman's had all she canbear, and she'll never go through this."
"And the Prince's boy's but eight years old," declared another."There'll be a regent for ten years, and no one can say what harm willcome to the country in that time."
So the days passed. The fourteenth of December came, the anniversary ofthe day on which the Prince Consort had died. The Prince breathed andthat was all. The people about the offices were hushed. Everyonedreaded to hear the next message, but when it came, it said "Better."London hardly dared to rejoice, but the Prince continued to gain, andat last the Queen joyfully granted the wish of her people and appointeda Thanksgiving Day. The special service was held at St. Paul's Church,and there were many tears of joy when the Queen walked up the navebetween the Prince and the Princess of Wales.
After the religious ceremony was over, the guns roared out the delightof the people, and a wild excitement of happiness began. At night St.Paul's was illuminated, and everyone was jubilant. The Queen was deeplytouched and pleased with the warm sympathy shown by her subjects, and aday or two later she sent a little letter to be published in the papersto tell them how happy they had made her.
Only two days after this letter was written, there was a great alarm,for when the Queen went out to drive a young fellow sprang towards thecarriage and aimed a pistol at her. He was seized in a moment andproved to be a half-crazed boy of seventeen whose pistol had neitherpowder nor bullet. Most of the Queen's personal attendants wereHighlanders, and one of them, John Brown, had thrown himself betweenher and what he supposed was t
he bullet of an assassin. Both the Queenand Prince Albert were always most appreciative of faithful service,and looked upon it as something which money could not buy. She had beenthinking of having special medals made to give to her servants whodeserved a special reward, and she now gave the first one to JohnBrown. With the medal went an annuity of $125.
John Brown seemed to have no thought but for the Queen. To serve herand care for her was his one interest. He cared nothing about courtmanners, and was perhaps the only person in the land who dared to findfault with its sovereign to her face. Statesmen would bow meekly beforeher, but the Scotchman always spoke his mind. He even ventured tocriticise her clothes. The Queen never did care very much for fineraiment, and in her journal where she narrates so minutely as tomention the fact that a glass of water was brought her, she describesher dress merely as "quite thin things." John Brown thought nothing wasgood enough for his royal mistress. "What's that thing ye've got on?"he would demand with most evident disapproval, if a cloak or gown wasnot up to his notion of what she ought to wear; and this Queen, whoknew so well what was due to her position, knew also that honestaffection is better than courtly manners, and kept Brown in closeattendance. She built several little picnic cottages far up in thehills, where she and some of her children would often go for a few dayswhen they were at Balmoral. There is a story that when she was stayingat one of these cottages, she wished to go out to sketch. A table wasbrought her, but it was too high. The next was too low, and the thirdwas not solid enough to stand firmly. So far John Brown had notinterfered, but now he brought back one of the tables and said bluntly,"They canna make one for you up here." The Queen laughed and found thatit would answer very well.
One cannot help wondering what Queen Victoria's guests thought of herattendant's blunt ways, but they must have often envied her his honestdevotion. In 1872 and 1873 she had several very interesting visitors.One of them was David Livingstone, the African explorer.
"What do the people in the wilderness ask you?" queried the Queen.
"They ask many questions," he replied, "but perhaps the one I hearoftenest is, 'Is your Queen very rich?' and when I say 'Yes,' they ask,'How rich is she? how many cows does she own?'"
Other visitors were a group of envoys from the King of Burmah, amonarch with such strict regard for what he looked upon as royaletiquette that he would not allow the British representative to comeinto his presence unless the indignant Englishman took off his shoesbefore attempting to enter the audience room. His letter to the Queenbegan with the flourishes that would be expected from so punctilious apotentate: "From His Great, Glorious, and Most Excellent Majesty, Kingof the Rising Sun, who reigns over Burmah, to Her Most Glorious andExcellent Majesty Victoria, Queen of Great Britain and Ireland." Hesent among other gifts a gold bracelet which must have been of morevalue than use, for it weighed seven pounds.
The guest who made the greatest sensation was the Shah of Persia. Formore than two months he was on his way to England, and the nearer hecame, the more wild were the fancies that people had about him. Thenewspapers were full of stories about his dagger, whose diamonds wereso dazzling, they said, that one might as well gaze at the midday sun.They told amazing tales about the pocket money which he had broughtwith him, some putting the amount as $2,500,000, others as $25,000,000."When he walks about, jewels fall upon the ground," one newspaperdeclared. "He wears a black velvet tunic all sprinkled with diamonds,and he has epaulets of emeralds as big as walnuts," romanced another.
The curiosity seekers were disappointed when he appeared, though itwould seem as if he had enough jewelry to make himself worth at least aglance, for up and down his coat were rows of rubies and diamonds. Hewore a scimitar, and that, together with his belt and cap, wassparkling with precious stones, while his fingers were loaded withrings.
The Queen came from Balmoral to welcome him. Whether she gave him theformal kiss that was expected between sovereigns, the accounts do notstate, but all sorts of entertainments were arranged for him, a greatball, a review of artillery, an Italian opera, and many otheramusements. He was much interested in the review, and the troops musthave been interested in him, for he rode an Arab horse whose tail hadbeen dyed a bright pink. At this review one of the newspaper storiesproved very nearly true, for a member of the Persian suite fell fromhis horse and really did scatter diamonds about him on the grass. Aftera visit of a little more than two weeks, the Shah bade farewell toEngland. Before his departure there was an exchange of courtesiesbetween himself and the Queen. She made him a knight of the Garter, andhe made her a member of a Persian order which he had just institutedfor ladies. The Queen gave him a badge and collar of the Garter, set indiamonds; and he returned the gift by presenting her with hisphotograph in a circle of diamonds.
In the midst of this entertainment and display, the tender heart of theQueen was more than once deeply grieved by the death of dear friends.The cherished Feodore, the Princess Hohenlohe, died; then the Queenlost Dr. McLeod, the Scotch clergyman who had so helped and comfortedher in her troubles. Hardly two months had passed after his deathbefore heart-broken letters came from Darmstadt. Princess Alice hadbeen away for a short time, counting the hours before she could be withher children again. At last she was at home with them and happy. Thetwo little boys were brought to her chamber one morning, and as shestepped for a moment into the adjoining room, one of them, "Frittie,"fell from the window to the stone terrace, and died in a few hours. Theheart-broken mother longed to go to her own mother for comfort in hertrouble, but she could not leave her home, neither could the Queen cometo her.
Warm, tender words of sympathy came from England, from a Queen motherwho well knew what sorrow meant. "Can you bear to play on the pianoyet?" she asked some three months after the accident; for it was longafter the death of Prince Albert before she herself could endure thesound of music. Princess Alice replied, "It seems as if I never couldplay again on that piano, where little hands were nearly always thrustwhen I wanted to play. Ernie asked, 'Why can't we all die together? Idon't like to die alone, like Frittie.'"
While the heart of the Queen was aching with sympathy for her daughter,she had also to attend to arrangements for the marriage of her sailorson "Affie," now Duke of Edinburgh, with the daughter of the Emperor ofRussia. She herself could not go to the wedding at St. Petersburg, butshe asked Dean Stanley to go and perform the English ceremony; for asthe bride was a member of the Greek Church, there was a double rite. ToDean Stanley's wife she sent a mysterious little parcel containing twosprigs of myrtle, and with it a letter which asked her to put them intowarm water, and when the wedding day came, to place them in a bouquetof white flowers for the bride. The myrtle had grown from the slip inthe bridal bouquet of the Princess Royal, and in the five marriages ofroyal children that had preceded this one, each bride had carried a bitof the bush.
When the bride reached Balmoral, a company of volunteers in kilts werewaiting to receive her. Just beyond were the tenants on the Queen'sestate, all in their best clothes. The pipers were present, of course,and the best clothes of the Queen's pipers were well worth seeing. Thekilt was of Stuart plaid, and the tunic of black velvet. Over theshoulder was a silver chain from which hung a silver powder horn. Thebag for the pipe was of blue velvet. Ornaments were worn wherever therewas a place for them, but the only jewels were cairngorms, and theywere always set in silver. The shoes had heavy silver buckles. Thebride and all her royal friends drove to the castle, where their healthwas drunk by a merry company. The end of the Queen's account of thisreception of royalty sounds delightfully simple and homelike. "We tookMarie and Alfred to their rooms downstairs," she says, "and sat withthem while they had their tea."
In so large a family as that of the Queen there was always a birth or amarriage, a coming or a going. Not long after the marriage of hisbrother Alfred, the Prince of Wales left England to spend some monthsin India. This journey was not a pleasure trip, it had a state purpose,and that was to pay honor to the native princes who had aided theEnglish in their
efforts to govern India. The Prince was wellaccustomed to being received with cheering and the firing of guns, buthis Indian reception was something entirely new. At one placetwenty-four elephants painted in different colors trumpeted a greeting.In another, which was ruled by a lady, the sovereign met him, but shecould hardly be said to have made her appearance, for her face wasthickly veiled. At still another he was carried up a hill in a superbchair made of silver and gold. There was a boar hunt, an antelope hunt,and an elephant fight; there was a marvelously beautiful illuminationof surf; there were addresses presented by people of all shades ofcomplexion and all varieties of costume, often so magnificent that someone called the wearers "animated nuggets."
This visit of the Prince of Wales was followed by the Queen'sassumption of the title of Empress of India. There was a vast amount oftalk about the new title, for many English thought that it was foolishand childish to make any change. On the other hand, "Empress" was theproper title for a woman who ruled over many kings, even kings ofIndia. There were stories afloat that one reason why the Queen wishedto become an Empress was because the Russian Princess, who was thedaughter of an Emperor, had claimed precedence over the EnglishPrincesses, who were only the daughters of a Queen. However that maybe, the title was formally assumed in 1876. It was proclaimed in Indiawith all magnificence. Sixty-three princes were present to hear theproclamation. There were thousands of troops and long lines ofelephants. A throne that was a vision of splendor was built high upabove the plain; and on this sat the viceroy of the Queen, who receivedthe honors intended for her.
Queen Victoria was much pleased with the new title, and soon began tosign her name "Victoria, R.I.," for "Regina et Imperatrix," to alldocuments, though it had been expected that she would affix it to hersignature only when signing papers relating to India. Another titlewhich she enjoyed was that of "Daughter of the Regiment." The Duke ofKent had been in command of the "Royal Scots" at the time of her birthand therefore they looked upon her as having been "born in theregiment." In the autumn of this same year she presented them with newcolors, and there was a little ceremony which delighted her because itwas evidently so sincere. There was first a salute, then marching andcountermarching, while the band played old marches that were herfavorites, among them one from the "Fille du Regiment," to hint thatshe belonged especially to them. Then there was perfect silence. Twoofficers knelt before her, and she presented them with the new colors,first making a little speech. The Royal Scots were greatly pleased,because in her speech she said, "I have been associated with yourregiment from my earliest infancy, and I was always taught to considermyself a soldier's child." In spite of her many years' experience inmaking short speeches and of her perfect calmness in public in herearlier years, the Queen was never quite at ease in speaking to anaudience after Prince Albert died, and she said of this occasion, "Iwas terribly nervous." She never ceased to miss the supporting presenceof the Prince, and she wrote pitifully of her first public appearanceafter his death, "There was no one to direct me and to say, asformerly, what was to be done."
The Queen was soon to feel even more lonely, for late in the autumn of1878 there came a time of intense anxiety, then of the deepest sorrow.Princess Alice's husband and children were attacked by diphtheria."Little Sunshine," as her youngest daughter was called in the home,died after three days' illness. The mother hid her grief as best shecould that the other children should not know of their loss. Threeweeks later, she too was taken with the same disease, and died on theseventeenth anniversary of her father's death. Little children and poorpeasant women of Hesse were among those who laid flowers on her bierand shared in the grief of the sorrowing monarch across the Channel.
The Queen had built a cairn at Balmoral in memory of the PrinceConsort. Others had been built from time to time, one rising merrilywith laughing and dancing to commemorate the purchase of the estate;others erected to mark the date of the marriage of the sons anddaughters of the house. To these a granite cross was now added to thememory of the beloved daughter, "By her sorrowing mother, QueenVictoria," said the inscription.
So it was that the happy circle of sons and daughters was first broken;so it was that the years of the Queen passed on, full of the joys andsorrows that seemed to come to her almost hand in hand.
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