Victoria Victorious: The Story of Queen Victoria

by Виктория Холт

  There could not have been a more glittering assembly; even the Pope sent someone to represent him. We passed through Constitution Hill, Piccadilly, Waterloo Place, and Parliament Street to the Abbey for the thanksgiving service; and I walked into the Abbey to the sound of a Handel march.

  I had insisted that Albert's Te Deum and his anthem Gotha—his own composition—should be part of the service, and when I heard it I was deeply moved, and it was almost as though he were there beside me.

  We went back to the Palace via Whitehall and Pall Mall and I felt quite exhausted; but it was not the end of the day. There was luncheon at four and then I was on the balcony watching the blue-jackets march past. In the evening there was a dinner party. I could hardly keep awake. But it had been wonderfully stimulating—a day to remember.

  * * *

  LORD BEACONSFIELD HAD aroused my interest in India and since I had become Empress I had wanted to know more about it. I should have liked to visit it but that seemed impracticable at this time.

  With the party that had come to England to take its place in the Jubilee celebrations, were two Indians who attracted my attention. They were Abdul Karim who was about twenty-four years old and whose father was, I believed, a doctor, and Mahomet who was much older, rather fat, and constantly smiling.

  I engaged them to work in the royal household close to me so that I could learn more about them and their country. Karim was very intelligent but his grasp of English was not very good, so I engaged a tutor to teach him.

  The tutor came eagerly, thinking he was going to teach one of the princes and when he realized his services were required for a servant— and a dark-skinned one at that—he was extremely put out.

  I was irritated. I would not have people despised because their skin was a different color from our English ones; and of course the foolish tutor dared not offend me.

  I was most amused when Karim offered to teach me Hindustani and I agreed to the plan at once. I was fascinated and loved to be able to address Karim and Mahomet in their own language.

  Karim cooked for me—hot Indian foods—which I thoroughly enjoyed. I felt much happier than I had since John Brown had died. My Indian servants soon became devoted to me.

  It was good to have people like that about me.

  * * *

  WHILE FRITZ WAS in England he had several sessions with Dr. Mackenzie and he was much better. He believed that Dr. Mackenzie could cure him and that lifted his spirits considerably. It was wonderful to see the change in him.

  Vicky was delighted. Fritz was very important to her for he had stood beside her against all those who had been so unpleasant to her. I was well aware of what she had to endure from Fritz's family and particularly from young Wilhelm who, she believed, was so hard-hearted and ambitious that he was really longing for the deaths of his grandfather and father so that he could wear the Imperial crown.

  He was a most unpleasant creature. He did nothing to stem the cruel rumors that his mother had a lover and that she had prevented her husband's operation because she wanted to keep him alive until after his father's death so that she might become Empress, after which Fritz could depart, leaving her with the Imperial pickings and her lover.

  The wickedness of that young man infuriated me. I often thought of how proud Albert had been of her grand marriage. And what happiness had it brought her? Whereas Alice had been so happy with her Louis, and Beatrice had been the same in her even more humble union with Henry of Battenburg.

  Poor Vicky, so clever, so proud! And what must be the hardest to bear was the unloving attitude of her own son.

  It was Bismarck and his grandparents who had ruined him, and perhaps that withered arm had embittered him.

  In February of the next year, Fritz was operated on and a few weeks afterward the Emperor died. Fritz was now Emperor of Germany and Vicky Empress.

  It was wonderful to think of Vicky as an Empress. It was what Albert had wanted for her. He had loved her so much and been so proud of her. If only he had lived. Perhaps he could have guided Wilhelm.

  I was worried about Vicky, because I knew, in my heart that Fritz was going to die. I wanted to see them both. I traveled abroad and spent a short time in Florence, which I found most enjoyable. Albert had stayed in Italy at one time and it was very moving to visit the house in which he had stayed. I was greeted effusively everywhere and people were most gracious to Karim and Mahomet, thinking they were Indian princes. It was most amusing.

  When Bismarck heard that I was going to see Fritz and Vicky he was most indignant; but in Berlin I had a meeting with this man who was feared throughout the whole of Europe. I must say that I could not dislike the man, in spite of everything he had done and all I had heard of him. He was strong and I liked strong men. I had an idea that he was rather impressed by me; so oddly enough, that meeting, which might have been quite acrimonious, went off very well indeed. I felt we were both agreeably surprised and in the future we should have more respect for each other.

  I was grieved to see poor Fritz, for he was shrunken and looked so ill and was unable to speak. I knew he could not live long; but at least he had made Vicky Empress. I saw Wilhelm too—a very arrogant young man, but I did subdue him a little and I told him I was most displeased by his conduct and asked him to promise to mend his ways, which—very much to my surprise—he did.

  I left Vicky telling her that she must always call on me if she needed me. I would even come to Berlin if necessary.

  When I returned home I summoned Dr. Mackenzie and asked for the truth about Fritz's condition. He told me he could not live more than three months.

  It was June when that dreaded and not unexpected message came.

  Fritz was dead.

  I sent a telegram to Wilhelm—now Emperor of Germany—telling him that I was heartbroken and commanded him to look after his mother. I signed myself Grandmama V.R.I.

  * * *

  BERTIE WENT TO Berlin for Fritz's funeral and came back in a state of smoldering fury. I had rarely seen him so enraged, because, although like me he could have sudden bouts of temper, he soon recovered from them. But Wilhelm had really upset him—more than that he had disturbed him.

  He wanted me to understand the true nature of my grandson.

  “I do not believe, Mama,” he said, “that he is at all unhappy about the death of his father. In fact I would go so far as to say he rejoices in it, because it has given him the Imperial Crown.”

  I replied that that did not surprise me for the envoy whom he had sent to me to announce his father's death had done it with an air of triumph that I had thought quite disgraceful.

  “Germany is now a force to be reckoned with,” said Bertie. “I believe that Wilhelm has big ideas for expansion. He was particularly disagreeable to me. I had an idea he was almost baiting me, implying that I was only heir to a throne while he was an Emperor. His manner to Vicky is really unforgivable. He is jealous of you. Even he knows that Germany is of less importance than Britain and he does not like that. I really believe he will seek to change it. I think he would like to turn you from your throne and take it himself.”

  “Bertie, that's impossible!”

  “Impossible for him to do such a ridiculous thing, yes. But to have such ideas, no. He has Bismarck behind him. Wilhelm's youthful vanity might give him foolhardy ideas, but Bismarck is a seasoned warrior, Mama. We ought to recognize that. He seeks to better me in every way. He is trying to point out all the time that he is a better man than I am. He called me Uncle in a way to suggest that I am ancient and he is on the threshold of life.”

  “I can see we shall have to be watchful of our little Wilhelm.”

  “Yes, indeed. He asked me to give him a kilt and everything that goes with it. It was to be in the Royal Stuart for a fancy-dress ball. I had this sent to him. I saw a picture of him, wearing it, and below he had written: ‘I bide my time.’ The picture was distributed throughout Germany.”

  “This is outrageous.”

  “Wilh
elm is outrageous.”

  I was so disturbed by that conversation that I took up the matter with Lord Salisbury who said that there was obviously an antipathy between the Prince of Wales and the Emperor of Germany; but the latter was very young to have come to such an exalted position and Salisbury believed that in time he would settle down.

  It was a family quarrel and that must not be allowed to become discord between nations.

  * * *

  VICKY CAME TO stay with us for a long visit. Both Bertie and Lord Salisbury thought it was unwise to invite her in view of the situation with Germany, but I upbraided them for their lack of feeling. Vicky was my daughter and she had just lost her husband; I was not going to allow her to be subjected to even more unhappiness than she was enduring through her son and Bismarck.

  We had many long conversations during which I learned more of the hard times through which she had passed during the whole of her married life; and how it was only Fritz who had stood between her and even greater humiliation from her parents-in-law and now her son who was dominated by Bismarck.

  I said that Wilhelm should be made to understand that he could not behave so to his mother. She begged me to invite him for a visit so that I could discover for myself the way in which he was going.

  Rather reluctantly I agreed that he should come for a short stay in the summer.

  To my surprise Wilhelm accepted the invitation with enthusiasm and said how happy he was to be allowed to come to the dear old home at Osborne. How should he come? Might he wear the uniform of a British admiral? I said that he might and I had a delightful letter from him that was almost humble. “The same uniform as Lord Nelson,” he wrote. “It is enough to make one feel giddy.”

  That was a good beginning.

  I was amazed when he came. He was quite charming, calling me “dear Grandmama” and treating me with great respect and only rarely showing glimpses of the great Emperor.

  Was it after all just a natural antipathy to Bertie? Did he perhaps think Bertie was a little frivolous—which in a way he was? Was Vicky a little overbearing? She had always been a little too sure of herself. Albert had spoiled her and refused to see it.

  I remembered how thrilled Albert had been by his first grandchild. Wilhelm had always been his favorite.

  I told Wilhelm this; he liked to hear stories of his babyhood and listened attentively when I talked of Albert.

  Strangely enough, the visit I had dreaded was a very pleasant one; and when Wilhelm left I felt much happier than I had since Fritz's death.

  * * *

  MY ABDUL KARIM was most amusing. He was a dignified creature—as some Indians are—and he had very graceful bearing. As a servant he had to wait at table and he did not like that at all. He claimed that in Agra he had been a clerk—what was called a Munshi; and the tasks he was asked to perform here were not in keeping with his dignity.

  Those about me laughed at the arrogance of the young man but I did not. I understood the meaning of dignity and whoever felt theirs affronted must be treated with consideration. I said he was not to wait at table but he should be known as the Munshi; and when business arose appertaining to India, if a simple reply was needed, I gave it to him to deal with.

  He was very happy after that—and devoted to me.

  People were saying, “Is he another John Brown?”

  That was not so. There could never be another like him.

  There was a certain amount of prejudice, which had to be overcome. I forbade anyone to talk of Indians as blacks, for the term was used with a certain amount of contempt. I was getting on with my Hindustani lessons and could now address Indians in their native tongues, which was a great help.

  I was Empress of India. Therefore I had a responsibility to that country.

  * * *

  MY RELATIONS WITH Bertie had improved a good deal in the last years. He seemed to be so much more responsible—and so affectionate toward me. It was very gratifying. I thought he was learning to understand the tremendous tasks which lay ahead of him.

  And then there was trouble again—with the scandal of Tranby Croft.

  It was not women this time but almost equally as bad.

  Bertie was the guest of honor at the house of a wealthy shipowner named Wilson who lived at Tranby Croft; and as Bertie was known to enjoy gambling, that was the feature of his visit.

  One member of the company was Lieutenant-Colonel Sir William Gordon Cumming of the Scots Guards, and while they were playing baccarat Sir William was suspected of cheating.

  After the company had retired there was a conference between the others to decide what action should be taken and the result was that they confronted Sir William who was naturally indignant. However, five members of the company said they had seen him in the act. He said he would leave the house and never speak to his accusers again.

  Bertie was sympathetic as he always was to people in difficulties—no doubt having been in so many himself—and he was not sure whether to believe Sir William or those who said they had seen him cheat.

  The evidence against Sir William seemed very strong; and Bertie, recklessly as it turned out, took charge of the investigation. True, he was a member of the party, and naturally they looked to him to do what was to be done; but he should have shown more discretion.

  Between them they decided that Sir William could never be allowed to play baccarat again and that he should be made to sign a document agreeing to this.

  Bertie said that naturally he would add his signature with the others. He had not, even at this time, learned the danger of putting anything in writing.

  Sir William at first refused to sign and said that if he did so it would be tantamount to admitting his guilt. There was a great deal of argument and Bertie threw himself whole-heartedly into the dispute and eventually they did succeed in persuading Sir William to put his name to the paper.

  That should have been the end of the matter; but these things have a habit of leaking out—through servants, I suspect—and there were the usual exaggerations. Great sums of money were mentioned as the stakes that had been played for at Tranby Croft. The papers took it and the extravagance of the Prince of Wales was the main topic. As for Sir William he was exposed as a man who cheated at cards and what had been a private matter was now a public cause.

  Sir William decided that he had no alternative—if he were not going to be completely ruined—but to bring an action for slander against his accusers.

  Bertie was horrified. He had had experience of a court before and he wanted no more; and the fact that he would almost certainly be called as a witness would give the case that publicity that they had all tried to avoid.

  Sir William's military career was in jeopardy and he contemplated resigning from the army. Bertie wanted to prevent his doing this for if the case was tried in a military court it could be held in secret. Sir William's advisers wanted heavy damages which could only be won in a civil court.

  When I heard how far matters had gone I was angry. Just as I had thought Bertie was becoming more aware of his responsibilities this had happened! He was no longer young enough to be excused for youthful follies.

  It was most disturbing when he was subpoenaed to appear in court to give evidence. Whatever could have induced him to sign that paper! It was the utmost folly. And now here he was—for the second time— appearing in court to give evidence.

  One would not have believed that the central figure in the case was William Gordon Cumming. It was the Prince of Wales who filled the papers. And even when the case was decided against Gordon Cumming in such a manner that there could be little doubt of his guilt, it was Bertie whom the Press pilloried.

  The future king, said the Press, is given to gambling, horse-racing, and other activities… not concerned with matters of state. His income was clearly too large. There were other causes on which the money could be better spent. There had been a time when Mr. Gladstone had induced the Prince to take up some charitable work and he had become a member of
the Royal Commission on the Housing of the Working Classes.

  Bertie, for all his faults, had a kind heart and he had been horrified at some of the conditions in which the poor lived; he had made his views widely known. This gave the Press the opportunity of accusing him of hypocrisy. Here was the man who had been outraged by the misfortunes of others. He could do something about it. He could spend some of his vast income on helping the poor, but he preferred to play for large stakes at baccarat. Was this the man who would one day be King? He was given to pleasure. Of what use was he to the nation?

  It was hard to believe that when he had been on the point of death they had mourned for him; and when there had been that triumphant journey to the cathedral to give thanks for his return to health they had cheered him so loudly. This was the mob.

  One of the papers very alarmingly pointed out that it was conduct such as this that had brought about the French Revolution.

  Wilhelm pretended to be infuriated. When Bertie had been in Prussia, Wilhelm had made him an honorary Colonel of the Prussian Guard. My grandson now wrote to me pompously stating that he was deeply put out that one of his colonels should behave in such a manner as to become involved in scandal.

  I laughed contemptuously at the arrogant fellow and wished he was with me so that I could give him a piece of my mind. Bertie was outraged and the hatred between him and his nephew had become even greater than it was before.

  We heard from Vicky that Wilhelm blew up the matter out of all proportion and that it took up a lot of space in the German Press.

  One German paper—obviously inspired by Wilhelm—said that the Prince of Wales had a new motto: Ich Deal.

  Poor Bertie! In spite of the fact that I deplored his way of life, I could feel almost sorry for him.