Victoria Victorious: The Story of Queen Victoria (65 page)

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 progressed. He was christened in St. George's Chapel, and I planted a tree at Frogmore to commemorate the occasion.

T
HE
S
CHLESWIG
-H
OLSTEIN
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.”

“This is almost like an act of war,” I cried.

“Necessary, Ma'am,” said Palmerston. “And in the name of the government I must ask Your Majesty not to show preference for the Prussians.”

I stared at him in dismay. How dared he tell me what I must or must not do—that gouty old man and Lord John with him! They should have retired long ago. They were two dreadful old men. And here they were, reproaching me, telling me what I ought to think, what I ought to do for the sake of the country!

“The Prince Consort was of the opinion that we should keep out of war unless it was of the absolute necessity to make it. He would never have agreed to make war on the Germans.”

“The Prince was a German, Your Majesty,” replied Palmerston. “He was naturally devoted to his own country. But we, Ma'am, are English… and equally devoted to ours.”

The insolence! None but Palmerston would dare!

“War never did anyone any good.”

“It seems to be doing something for the Prussians. They will have Schleswig-Holstein—and Denmark, too, if they are allowed to. We cannot stop their taking the Duchies, Ma'am, and there are some who say they have a claim to them; but they must not be allowed to walk into Denmark.”

I was glad when they left. I had really felt very angry. But I had impressed on them that if they decided to declare war I should dissolve Parliament.

Palmerston did not want to go to war. He was wise enough to know the folly of that. But his sympathies were with Denmark.

“We want more than sympathy,” said Alexandra pathetically.

But we were not in a position to give more. Palmerston would send
the fleet to the Baltic, much as he had sent out his gunboats, and that would prevent Prussia's invasion of Denmark, for no country would seek confrontation with the British fleet. Palmerston had hoped Napoleon would intervene. After all, geographically he was nearer to the area than we were. If Napoleon had gone in to help Denmark, we might have done so. I was glad he did not, for that would have meant our fighting against Vicky and Fritz.

What a dreadful state of affairs!

The matter was settled by April. The war was over. Prussia had taken Schleswig-Holstein. Alexandra was very unhappy and Bertie was sympathetic to her. Vicky and Fritz were triumphant; and once again I had to admit that Palmerston's methods had kept us out of war in spite of the exhortations of my family on all sides and the thoughtless urgings of the Press and people.

True, all along I had asked myself: What would Albert have done? But I had acted without his advice. I felt a certain gratification; and it was possible that my grief had lifted a little.

T
HERE WERE CONTINUAL
complaints about my seclusion. I could not bear to be in London. In the winter I was at Osborne and in summer in Scotland. Palmerston was constantly telling me of the people's discontent, and what great good luck it was that the Prince of Wales was so socially inclined.

I said I thought the Prince led rather a rackety life at which the Prime Minister smiled as though it was a very laudable thing to do.

He came down to Osborne with a piece of paper on one occasion. This, he said, had been attached to the gates of Buckingham Palace and he thought he ought to show it to me.

He smirked as he handed it to me.

“These Premises to be let or sold in consequence of the late Occupants declining business.”

“What impertinence!” I said.

“It shows what the people are thinking, Ma'am. We should always be grateful when they let us know what is in their minds.”

“Don't they understand?”

“Oh yes, Ma'am. They understand Your Majesty needs a period of mourning. What they are hinting is that it is of rather long duration. It is
not wise for sovereigns to hide too long from the public. However, as I have said, we are fortunate in the Prince of Wales who is doing Your Majesty such a service.”

I could imagine them—Bertie and Alexandra—riding through the streets and all the gossip about Bertie's flamboyant life, which seemed to please the people. It was ironic when one thought how suspicious they had been of Albert who had done so much good for them with so little appreciation. But Bertie with his card parties and his fast friends…oh, he was a hero! And there was Alexandra, now sad and claiming their sympathy because we had failed to come to her family's aid and had allowed the Prussians—always hated—to take Schleswig-Holstein.

Uncle Leopold wrote. He seemed to know everything that was going on, and he had heard of the popularity of the Prince and Princess of Wales.