by Jean Plaidy
Oh, what a comfort she was! Far more so than she had been when she was at home with us. She alone understood the depth of my grief.
I went over all the letters I had, my journals, everything. I would brood over the pictures of our wedding. Baby would sit on my lap and look with me. She was a little put out because there were no pictures of her in the early photographs.
“What a pity,” she said, “that I was not old enough to go to your wedding, Mama.”
Alice smiled fondly at her. Dear Baby! She did help so much.
Albert had made plans for Bertie to pay a visit to the Holy Land. He thought the sight of so many relics and sanctified places might have a sobering effect on his character.
I wrote to Vicky about it. She was so sound in her judgment having spent so much time with Albert. She understood so well my grief over Bertie's shortcomings, but she was inclined to be rather lenient with him.
Bertie was weak. He would never be as clever as she was; but he had some good points and he was popular with the people. Vicky believed that if he were married to a suitable wife he would settle down.
Her favorite lady-in-waiting had been the Countess Walburga von Hohenthal who had married Augustus Paget the ambassador to Denmark, which meant that Walburga had become very well acquainted with the Court of Denmark. She had given Vicky glowing reports of Alexandra the daughter of Prince Christian. She was seventeen, beautiful, and unaffected—for of course the family was very poor. They inhabited the Yellow Palace in Copenhagen through the bounty of King Christian. Alexandra would be so good for Bertie, and although it was not exactly a brilliant match there were so few eligible princesses in Europe.
Vicky thought a meeting should be arranged between them. Albert had always said that Vicky was a shrewd diplomat, and I was very glad to take her advice. I felt it was almost like Albert speaking.
Bertie's visit to the Holy Land was planned but before he went Vicky invited him to Prussia. Vicky was a born matchmaker and she arranged a visit to Speier Cathedral, which Bertie could not have contemplated with any great enthusiasm for his interests were not for art and higher things. But when he was at the Cathedral he came face to face with Alexandra who Vicky knew would be there. They were introduced and, according to Vicky's reports, quite taken with each other.
“The first step,” commented Vicky.
After that he went to the Holy Land—as relieved to get away as I was for him to go. Whenever I saw him I was reminded of that visit to Cambridge, and I believed he could not forget it either.
Albert would have said that everything must go on as before. I dreamed of him and in my dreams he would sometimes remind me sternly of my duty.
I could not emerge from my mourning because I knew it was going on for the rest of my life.
Alice's wedding day had been fixed for July. It was only seven months since Albert's death—but I supposed it could not be postponed.
Alice was eager for it to take place. I could understand that. The poor child was in love. Perhaps she wanted to escape from this house of mourning. One could not expect the young to feel as I did.
Bertie was back. It would soon be his turn. Albert had said he needed marriage; and it seemed certain that Princess Alexandra, though not a great match, was very suitable in herself.
There could be no great celebrations, no rejoicing. When should we ever rejoice again? Alice should be married quietly at Osborne.
The dining room was made into a chapel. Bertie was back and was with us, trying to look sad when he caught my eye but I could see that he was rather pleased with himself. The prospect of marriage was by no means repulsive to him.
The Archbishop of York, who was to perform the ceremony, was a most sympathetic man. I felt especially drawn to him because three years before he had lost his wife. We talked of the deaths of our dear ones and how one went on mourning for the rest of one's life. I was very glad that he was officiating.
I wore my heavy black and my widow's cap and I thought how different it would have been if Albert had been alive. I could picture his leading his daughter to the altar.
How sad it was! How sad my life was going to be right to the end!
So Alice was married.
She and her bridegroom were having a short honeymoon at Ryde before they left England.
So now my little Alice had become the Princess of Hesse-Darmstadt and she would no longer be there to give me that very special loving attention.
I turned to Lenchen and Louise.
IN MAY I paid my first visit to Balmoral without Albert. I did not know how I should feel in that place that owed so much to him. There were too many memories. But I was given a warm welcome and sincere sympathy. Those good people accepted the fact that I was in mourning and some of them like Annie MacDonald, who acted as my personal maid there, and John Brown, the gillie who was taking on more and more important duties, rather hinted that I had to stop indulging in my grief and take an interest in life. The dear creatures, nothing on Earth would have made them say what they did not mean.
To my surprise I felt happier in Balmoral than I had anywhere else. I found Scotsmen and Scotswomen much less artificial than those people whom I met in the South. They were frank and spoke from the heart. I had long ago discovered this and made a point of choosing Scots for my servants at Balmoral—and they seemed to become my personal friends. They were much less courteous—indeed a little rough in their manners, but I liked that. John Brown especially appealed to me. He was the son of a farmer on the estate and had been an outdoor servant since 1849, but I soon recognized his worth and he was in constant attendance. Albert had approved of him so I knew my trust was not misplaced. All his brothers had been found posts about the household and I was beginning to look upon John Brown as my personal friend.
I had been delighted to hear that the trouble about the Trent had been satisfactorily concluded. The Americans, after receiving the courteous note drafted by Albert, had acceded to the request by the British government, which they would almost certainly not have been able to do without humiliation if that first somewhat bellicose note had been sent.
When Lord Palmerston brought me the news, I reminded him that this peaceful issue of the American quarrel was due to Albert's work. I told him how ill he had been, so feeble that he could scarcely hold a pen, when he had sat up writing.
Palmerston nodded in agreement.
“Your Majesty,” he said, “the tact and judgment and power of nice discrimination of the late Prince has always excited my constant and unbounded admiration.”
I smiled sadly. That was one of the occasions when I liked Lord Palmerston.
At Balmoral I laid the foundation stone of a cairn inscribed with the words:
To the beloved memory of Albert the Great, Prince Consort, raised by his brokenhearted widow.
The children were with me during the ceremony and their initials were carved on the stone.
I remembered so well Albert's delight when he had shown me his home; and I felt a desire to go there once more, to walk through the woods where I had walked with him, to see Rosenau and listen to the birds, and see the room where he had learned his lessons and fenced with Ernest.
It was agreed that a visit would be an excellent idea. The children thought it would help me, and Palmerston had hinted that my period of mourning should be coming to an end and that I should be showing myself to my subjects. How insensitive people were! Did they think my mourning would ever come to an end? The people wanted to see my grief, no doubt, but that was my private affair.
I took Lenchen and Louise with me. They were taking over Alice's place. They were good girls, both of them, and eager to help me forget my grief—an impossible task!
I wanted to see Uncle Leopold so that we could mourn together. Somber in my widow's weeds I arrived at his Palace of Laeken. I threw my arms around him and burst into weeping; he wept with me.
I said to him, “Here, Uncle, you see the most desolate creature in the world.”
/> “I suffer with you,” he told me. “I share your grief.”
We talked for a long time about our sainted angel.
“At least,” said Uncle Leopold, “you had twenty years of felicity with him. I lost my Charlotte very early and now Louise is gone.”
I knew he had suffered too, but nothing could really compare with the loss of Albert.
Uncle Leopold was very bent. I thought his wig was too luxuriant to match the rest of him. He told me he suffered greatly. His rheumatism plagued him, and he had so many ailments that when one subsided a little there was another to take its place.
He told me he had a surprise for me. Prince Christian of Denmark and his family were coming tomorrow, and he trusted I would allow him to present them to me. “They are such a simple, pleasant family,” he said. “They are having a little holiday in Belgium. It would have been discourteous not to ask them.”
“I suppose they have their daughter with them?” I asked.
“Why yes, they have. I should like you to meet her. She is a beautiful, charming girl with exquisite manners and such good taste.”
I did understand, of course. Uncle Leopold had arranged this. A Danish marriage would be good for Belgium. Some of the European States were getting uneasy about the intentions of Prussia. A certain BismarckSchönhausen was making his presence felt throughout the continent. His plan was the aggrandizement of Prussia, which he wanted to see equal with Austria. He had visited London and talked to Lord Palmerston and Mr. Disraeli, who thought he was a man who would have to be watched.
When such situations arose it made an awkwardness for me because I was related to the heads of so many countries. There was Vicky who had become a Prussian and now Uncle Leopold was regarding Bismarck with suspicion.
There was no doubt that Uncle Leopold wanted the Danish alliance. He mentioned to me that Albert had been in favor of it for it had been brought forward before this calamitous event that had robbed the world of its greatest man and the only one who made life agreeable for me.
I was feeling overwrought. My talks with Uncle Leopold had brought back my grief in full spate. I was living it all again, that day when he had looked at me with those dear haggard eyes and told me he must go to Cambridge and I had tried to dissuade him. Oh, if only he had listened to me!
I wept and sat in my room thinking about it.
Lenchen came to me and said, “Mama, they have arrived. Alexandra is lovely and they are all very nice.”
“My dear child, I cannot join them.”
“Oh but Mama, they are all waiting for you.”
“My dear, I cannot do it. You must understand that my loss is too recent. I cannot receive them. I do not want to eat. The thought of food nauseates me.”
“But, Mama, Uncle Leopold has arranged it so wonderfully.”
I shook my head.
I could not join them. I just sat in my room. The luncheon must proceed without me.
I sat there brooding and after an hour or so there was a gentle tap on my door. I did not answer it. I had no wish to see anyone. The door opened slightly and a face appeared. It was Walburga Paget—a girl I had always liked very much. She was very beautiful and I was susceptible to good looks.
“Your Majesty, may I come in?”
“Yes do, Wally.”
She ran to me and knelt beside me lifting her eyes to my face. I saw that they were full of tears. “Dear child!” I murmured.
“Oh, Your Majesty, how you have suffered!”
I nodded.
“I thought of you so much, but there is nothing I can say. No one can say anything that is adequate. No one can understand your terrible suffering.”
I stroked her beautiful hair.
“He was the most wonderful of men,” she said.
“They don't appreciate him, Wally… none of them. They talk… but they forget.”
“Your Majesty will never forget.”
“Never!” I said vehemently. “My dear child, it is good of you to come and see me.”
“I wanted to ever since I heard you were here.”
“You came with Prince Christian and his family?”
“Yes, they are very agreeable.”
“So I have heard.”
“Your Majesty, I believe it was his wish that there should be a match between the Prince of Wales and Alexandra.”
“He had it in mind. He had so much in mind.”
“He would wish you to be happy about this match. He would wish you to see the Princess.”
“Yes, I think he would wish that.”
“I think he would have approved of her. She has such exquisite taste…as he had. She is good and gentle…as he was…”
I nodded.
“Perhaps Your Majesty would wish to see the Princess now that you are both in this palace. It is such an opportunity. It seems as though it is God's will…as she is here… and you are here…”
God's will, I thought. And Uncle Leopold's.
I suppressed the thought. That was more the sort of thing Lord Melbourne would have said rather than Albert.
But I supposed Albert would have wished me to see her.
I said, “Very well, I will see them. You may conduct me to them, Wally.”
She smiled radiantly. She seemed to be very fond of Princess Alexandra.
They were presented to me. The Prince was handsome in a Nordic way—not beautiful as Albert had been, but tall and fresh looking, rather like a sailor with blue, farseeing eyes. Where would that family be but for the benevolence of King Christian who, Albert had told me when we were discussing the suitability of Alexandra, had given the man a commission in the army and the Yellow Palace for a home. Louise, his wife, was the daughter of the Landgrave of Hesse-Cassel; and the Landgravine was King Christian's sister. Hence the King's kindness to this rather impoverished family.
Alexandra, in view of all this, was hardly suitable to be the bride of the Prince of Wales. After all, Uncle Leopold had put her at the bottom of the list, but there was an urgent need to get Bertie married.
I did not greatly care for Christian's wife. She was a little hard of hearing and her complexion was not natural. Painted cheeks! I wondered what Albert would have thought of that! He did so hate any form of artificiality. But the girl was charming. She was all that Wally had said she was. How different from her mother!
I thought there was no point in pretending that the subject that was uppermost in our minds did not exist. I said to Christian and his wife, “Everything will depend on the Prince of Wales. I do not know how affectionate he will feel toward your daughter.”
They looked taken aback, and so did Leopold; but he brought Alexandra forward. Such a pretty girl, and modest too. She raised her beautiful eyes to my face as she knelt, and I could feel the sympathy in them.
Then I turned to Leopold. I think he was not very much at ease. I suppose the meeting had not gone as he had hoped.
I did not join them for dinner, I could not face that, but I went down afterward. Alexandra was wearing a black dress, which was rather conspicuous among the others. She looked at me rather tremulously and I understood. What a delightful gesture! I was in mourning; she wished to respect that mourning and to share in it. I warmed to her from that moment.
They might be impoverished, they might be of little account but this girl was charming and I felt pleased that there was to be a match between her and Bertie.
I smiled at her and in that moment a bond was formed between us.
AFTER LEAVING UNCLE Leopold, I traveled to Coburg. There I visited the scenes of Albert's childhood. I recalled all that he had told me of them; it brought him back so vividly.
I was very disappointed in Ernest. He had been upset when Albert had died but I feared his feelings did not go very deep. When I thought that I might have married him, I thanked Fate for my lucky escape. But, of course, it had been my choice and I should never have chosen him.
I suspected him of all sorts of immorality. Who would not afte
r the disgraceful affair that had so upset Albert. I guessed he was cured of that… physically… but nothing would stop his being the man he was. He was ambitious and very grasping.
He had no children and it had been Albert's wish that on Ernest's death Alfred should have the dukedom. It would go, of course, to Bertie, but Bertie would eventually be King of England and it was therefore suitable that the Dukedom of Saxe-Coburg should go to his brother.
Now a crisis had arisen in Greece. The popular assembly of that country had driven Otho, their King, from the throne and had offered the crown to Alfred.
At first I thought this was a very good proposition but I was finally convinced by Palmerston and Lord John that it was not practical. I was reminded that it had been Albert's wish that Alfred should have the Dukedom of Saxe-Coburg on Ernest's death.
When the offer was declined for Alfred, it was given to Ernest. I had thought this was a good idea for Ernest could go to Greece and Alfred could take over Saxe-Coburg without delay. But Ernest wanted the Greek crown and to retain his hold on Saxe-Coburg. He thought Alfred might go there as a kind of caretaker under his jurisdiction.
“That would not do,” said Palmerston. “It would mean that Ernest would still control the Duchy and Alfred might well be held responsible for Ernest's misrule and the mountain of debts he has managed to pile up.”
There was a great deal of discussion between us on the matter and it spoilt my visit to Coburg, which I had intended should be dedicated to the memory of Albert.
I was glad to leave.
I DECIDED THAT Alexandra must come to Osborne. I must know more of this girl who might well become Bertie's wife. If she were, she would be Queen of England, and that meant she must be entirely suitable.
I already liked her. She had shown sensitivity when I had met her at Laeken, so the invitation was sent and Alexandra arrived at the Isle of Wight with her father. Christian was to stay with the Cambridges and leave Alexandra with me.