He said nothing about one other matter that was worrying me. Alfred, it seemed, was going the same way as Bertie. There was a scandal about his relations with a young woman whom he had met when stationed at Malta.
I wished to know more of this, but I found it very hard to discover the facts. Bertie, of course, considered it a natural occurrence—commonplace, in fact. All young men had these affairs. They passed. They were not of any real consequence. I mentioned the matter later to Lord Palmerston who shrugged it aside with equal nonchalance.
“There will always be these rumors about royalty, Ma'am. Do not concern yourself with them. The people are indulgent. In fact, they like their princes to be human.”
How blasé they were, these men! How different from that incomparable being!
* * *
IT WAS AUTUMN—and Albert had always said that was the best time for Balmoral. At first I wondered whether I could endure to be there, but I liked to do exactly what we had done in the past. It seemed that Albert's spirit was close to me in that dear country.
Alice and her husband were with us. More than anyone Alice understood my grief. She had always been so gentle—I think the best loved of all my daughters. She was not clever, like Vicky, but Vicky had often irritated me by the way in which she monopolized Albert. Alice had always been my girl. I was sorry in a way that she had married and wished, selfishly, that I could have kept her with me; but I often had to remind myself of my poor mad grandfather who had ruined the lives of his daughters because he loved them so much that he could not bear to part with them—and most of them had lived frustrated lives. I would never be like that. However it was a comfort to have Alice with me.
They had decided, all of them, to come to Scotland for a holiday.
I had talked with Vicky and Fritz who were uneasy about the rise of Bismarck. King William, under the spell of Bismarck, had disagreed with his parliament and offered to abdicate. If he had done so Vicky and Fritz would have been Queen and King; but after a while the King decided against that, kept the throne and made Bismarck his chief minister. Vicky and Fritz were so openly opposed to Bismarck, whom the people supported, that they became very unpopular throughout Prussia. Bismarck's slogan was “Blood and Iron,” which meant that his aim was to see Prussia the dominant power in Europe.
I had known for some time that this was going on and asked myself what Albert would have done. Prussia was pitting itself against Austria who was the leader of the German states. What Bismarck really wanted was a unification of all the German states, presumably led by Prussia— which meant Bismarck.
It was pleasant to think that Vicky could have a brief respite here in Scotland, but what a tragedy that Albert was not here to solve Prussia's problems.
We had left Vicky and Fritz with their children at Abergeldie. They would join us later at Balmoral; and one morning Alice came to me and said, “Let us go to Clova. You know how you love it, Mama.”
I smiled at her sadly. “So many memories, my love.”
“I know. But they are everywhere. Do come. It will do you so much good.”
“Very well. If you wish it.”
“Just Lenchen, you, and I, Mama.”
I nodded. “Tell Brown to make some of that broth of his. Your father used to say that he had rarely tasted anything as good as Brown's broth in the Highlands.”
It was rather a hazy morning when we set out. Old Smith was driving the carriage. He was getting rather old and had been in our service for thirty years. Brown said he was getting unfit to drive the carriage, but Albert had said that he was a good man and I like to keep about me the old servants of whom Albert had approved.
By about half-past twelve we had reached Altnagiuthasach and Brown set out the picnic in his usual efficient way, warming the broth and cooking the potatoes. He chided me in his bluff way for not eating enough. “You should eat something, woman. Ye've no more appetite than a wee birdie.” I took some more broth like an obedient child, and I could not help smiling because of the way he spoke to me. He did not think of me as the Queen. Alice and Lenchen were a little shocked—although after all this time they should have been used to it. I could not explain that it comforted me to be bullied a little. Moreover it showed Brown's concern for me, which was genuine—far more so than all the gracefully worded sympathy I received in London.
After the picnic had been cleared away, we rode, as we used to, up and over Capel Month. It was snowing a little and the view was magnificent. We had always paused at this spot with Albert so that he could point out the beauties of the scenery. He taught us to appreciate so much. The weather made progress rather slow, and the sun was beginning to set as we came to Loch Muick. I was very tired and sad and not at all sure whether it was good to revive so many memories of happier days.
Back at Altnagiuthasach we stopped and Brown made tea, which was warm and refreshing.
By this time it was dark and as we moved on it seemed to me that Smith was driving the carriage somewhat erratically. Brown was on the box behind and we had gone about two miles out of Altnagiuthasach when the carriage seemed to turn up on one side.
“What is happening?” I demanded.
“Oh Mama,” cried Alice, “I believe we are turning over.”
She was right. I am not sure what happened but the next moment, I found myself lying face downward on the ground. The carriage was lying on its side and the horses were down. It was frightening.
Then I heard Brown's voice, “The Lord Almighty have mercy on us. Who ever did see the like of this before?”
He came to me and lifted me up.
“I thought ye were all killed,” he said. “Are ye all right?”
I found I was not badly hurt though my face was scratched and my right thumb was throbbing painfully.
“Brown,” I said, “help the others.”
Poor Smith stood by, confused and helpless. Poor old man. Brown was right. He was past it.
Brown extricated Alice and Lenchen from the wreckage and though they were bruised and their clothes torn, they were not really hurt. Efficient Brown cut the traces and soon had the horses on their feet. I was greatly relieved to see that they were not harmed either.
“What do we do now?” I said. “Here we are stranded on a lonely mountain.”
“I'll send Smith back with the horses,” said Brown. “And they can send another carriage.”
“Do you think he'll be all right? He's very shaken. He is so… old.”
“He has to be all right. I'm not leaving ye here … you and the young women.”
I felt it was wonderful to have a strong man to take charge. Dear Brown! Albert had been right—as always—to see in him an excellent servant.
And so we waited. Brown found some claret, which was comforting; and Willem, Alice's black serving boy who had been on the box, held the lantern so that we were not completely in the dark.
So we waited and waited.
“Your father always said we must make the best of what cannot be altered,” I told the girls.
“How right he was!” said Alice.
“He was always right,” I said firmly. “Oh dear, how I should love to tell him of this.”
“He knows it,” said Lenchen.
“Yes,” agreed Alice. “I believe he was watching over us. We have all been so lucky.”
About half an hour later we heard the sound of horses' hooves. It was Kennedy, a very favorite groom of Albert's. He had thought we were late and had come to see what had happened to us. He had brought ponies for us. Gratefully we mounted them, for we should have been waiting by the roadside until ten o'clock for the carriage to come. John Brown walked, holding my pony and Alice's. I protested because the poor man had hurt his knee when he jumped out of the carriage. He silenced me. He was in charge and had no intention of letting me ride on the rough road for fear there would be another accident.
Dear good faithful servant!
We progressed for some time in this way and in due course met Smi
th with the carriage to take us back.
What a fuss there was when we arrived! Fritz and Vicky had heard and came over. Louis was waiting anxiously. Brown said I must go to bed at once and ordered soup and fish to be sent to my room. I was shocked to see my bruised face and my thumb was swollen to twice its size. It was not broken, though, which I felt it might be.
What a day that had been! But I was not sorry, for in spite of my bruises and painful thumb, I had had yet another example of what a good and faithful servant I had in John Brown.
* * *
I KNEW, OF course, that the trouble over Schleswig-Holstein had to erupt sooner or later.
A few weeks after the carriage accident, King Frederick of Denmark died and Alexandra's father became King. This was the signal for the trouble that had been threatening to break out. Both Germany and Denmark laid claims to the two Duchies, and with Bismarck at the head of affairs something was bound to happen.
There had been a conference in '52, under English guidance, when a compromise had been arranged and this was to preserve peace over this dangerous issue for eleven years, with the Danes holding the Duchies under German supervision.
Recently, as the time laid down at the conference was running out, Frederick of Denmark had laid claim to the Duchies and since his death, King Christian made it clear that he intended to carry on with Frederick's policy in this respect.
Now the Germans, with the help of Austria, were threatening to expel the Danes; the plan being that when the Danes were overcome, Germany and Austria should hold the territory until some plan was agreed on. There was another claimant. This was Duke Frederick of Schleswig-Holstein-Sonderburg-Augustenburg who was a German and claimed hereditary right to the Duchies. So there were three contestants—Prussia with Austria, Denmark, and Duke Frederick.
I could see a very embarrassing situation emerging. Naturally my sympathies were with the Germans. Albert had been a German and I felt that that was where his heart would have been; but on the other hand, Bertie had married into Denmark and his wife's own father was right in the center of the strife.
I was very upset when pleas for help came from Duke Frederick and Denmark. I was so deeply involved on all sides, for Duke Frederick was the husband of Feodore's daughter Adelaide and there was Bertie's wife— the daughter of the King of Denmark.
It was an impossible situation. If only Albert were here! He would be able to talk to them all, to make them see reason.
It was a war not only in Europe but within the family. They were all taking sides. There was Vicky hating Bismarck but certainly supporting Prussia; there was Feodore writing vehemently in support of her daughter's husband; and of course there was Alexandra who was fiercely for her father. She was expecting a baby and was very worried over the matter.
There were fierce arguments at the dinner table. I could see the family involved in such bitter quarrels that I forbade the subject of SchleswigHolstein to be mentioned at the table.
There was great excitement throughout the country. People were naturally on the side of Denmark. “Little Denmark” the Press called her; and an impression was given of a brave little country being threatened by bullies.
Moreover the Princess of Wales had won the hearts of the people and she and Bertie were appearing everywhere.
“We should be thankful to the Prince,” Palmerston had said slyly. “He is keeping the people aware of the monarchy.”
A dig at me, of course. But I would not be dictated to by an old man who dyed his whiskers and colored his cheeks and pranced about like a dandy at his time of life, even if he was Prime Minister.
Christmas came—a cheerless one, as all Christmases must now be, but this was an anxious one as well. The Schleswig-Holstein trouble hung over us all like a dark, dark cloud; and particularly over Alexandra, who was wan with anxiety. This was bad for her in her condition.
It was just after Christmas. Alexandra and Bertie were staying at Frogmore. I believed Bertie preferred it to Windsor and he was within reach of the castle. Bertie did not know the meaning of grief, and I was sure he had never appreciated his father. I knew that he lived a very merry existence and that he had taken a great fancy to the social side of his life. Lord Palmerston never failed to let me know this, and he applauded Bertie for it. There was a similarity between him and Bertie; they had both shrugged off Alfred's affair in Malta, and made light of it as though it was a cause for amusement rather than shame.
There were merry parties at Frogmore. I deplored this. How different the atmosphere there from that in the castle. Many of Bertie's friends were, in my opinion, raffish—the kind of whom Albert would never have approved.
Virginia Water was frozen over and I heard that Bertie and his friends organized skating parties. There were late nights, of course, and Alexandra should have been living quietly. The birth of the child was only two months away and the poor girl must be feeling exhausted, what with keeping up with Bertie and his exuberant friends, pregnancy, and all her anxieties about that wretched Schleswig-Holstein.
It happened during one of Bertie's skating parties. Alexandra had gone out with a few of her ladies to watch the skaters. I was glad to hear she was not so foolish as to try to skate. She had felt cold and had retired to the house. No sooner was she there than her pains started.
A messenger came over to the castle with the news, and I left for Frogmore immediately. I was glad to see that Dr. Brown was there for Albert had had a great regard for him.
Very soon after my arrival Dr. Brown came to me. I feared the worst, for Alexandra's child was not due for two months.
Dr. Brown said, “Your Majesty, I am happy to tell you that the Princess is well. She is exhausted but that can be remedied. The child is fragile, but he will live.”
“A son! A seven months' child. But the Princess is well.”
“I am happy to say so, Ma'am. The birth was quick. It was all over in an hour.”
“Thank God she was spared much suffering!” I said with feeling, thinking that there had been many times when I had been less fortunate.
“Your Majesty would like to see the child?”
Most babies were repulsive with their froglike faces—more like little old men about to leave the world than young things just born into it; and naturally this child, being premature, was even more ugly than most.
I went to see Alexandra. She looked frail but beautiful and she was very happy to have produced a son.
I kissed her tenderly. Poor child! She was learning something of the shadow side of marriage.
Later, when I saw Alexandra and Bertie together, I brought up what the child should be called.
Bertie said, “I want him to be called Victor.”
“Victor!” I cried. “There has never been a King Victor and don't forget this child is in line for the throne. He'll come immediately after you, Bertie.”
“Why should we go on in the same mould all the time,” said Bertie. “Don't you think, Mama, that a change is sometimes refreshing.”
I said, “I wish him to be called Albert.”
Bertie sighed.
“Albert Victor,” I went on. “He should be named after his grandfather. It will remind people of all that he did for the country. People are so ungrateful…so forgetful…”
Bertie looked stubborn. I think he resented his father. I suppose one does when one has done a person a great wrong. Perhaps Bertie could not forget that his misconduct had taken Albert to Cambridge, and so hastened his death. To have that on one's conscience must be terrible. One would not want to be reminded. But then sometimes I thought Bertie had no conscience.
Alexandra, the peacemaker by nature, said, “Albert Victor. I think that is rather good.”
I smiled warmly at her, the pretty creature.
“That,” I said firmly, “seems an admirable choice.”
Bertie was not inclined to argue. I believe he was anxious to get back to his merry friends.
In spite of his premature birth the baby prog
ressed. He was christened in St. George's Chapel, and I planted a tree at Frogmore to commemorate the occasion.
* * *
THE SCHLESWIG-HOLSTEIN matter was getting really acute, Alexandra was in despair. Her father wrote to her begging her to get help from her new country. Vicky was writing, blaming Bertie and Alexandra for playing for the sympathy of the British public and working to get the Press on their side. I reproved Vicky for daring to dictate to me and a coolness sprang up between us. Alexandra was reproachful because we did not help Palmerston and Lord John hinted that I was showing favor to Prussia and it would not do. The government favored Denmark, and I said we must not become involved in war and if the cabinet decided on declaring it, I should feel impelled to dissolve parliament.
I was amazed how strongly I could feel. I was trying to think all the time of what Albert would have done; and because Albert was not there, to act on my own initiative. I knew he would have been on the side of Prussia and would have fought hard against allowing England to go to war with Germany.
Meanwhile the Prussians had gone into action; they were invading Schleswig-Holstein and Fritz was with the army fighting against Alexandra's father.
Rarely had I felt so frustrated and miserable. The Crimean War had been much worse; we were fighting in that and our men were dying; but at least the family had been at one. There had not been this terrible disunity.
The Prussians with their allies, the Austrians, were having success after success. Palmerston pointed out that they were determined on conquest and, he thought, not only of the two Duchies in question. If some effort was not made, they would soon take Denmark itself. Since the rise of Bismarck, this had been their aim.
Lord John said it was what Bismarck meant by Blood and Iron. He wanted a Europe under German domination. He must be shown that Britain would not countenance that.
Lord Palmerston said, “I have told the Austrian ambassador that if the Austrian fleet goes into the Baltic, they will find the British fleet meeting them there.”
Victoria Victorious: The Story of Queen Victoria Page 53