“He is no ordinary servant.”
“You are right,” I retorted. “Indeed he is not. He understands me as some of my family fail to, or perhaps do not take the trouble to.”
“We are all concerned.”
“I think, Bertie, that the family is more concerned about you than about me. I am sure Alexandra is quite sad about the manner in which you carry women.”
“Oh Mama!”
“You were always a trial to us, Bertie. Your beloved Papa had many an anxious hour worrying about you. Why, at the end of his life he went to Cambridge in that dreadful weather…I often think of what might have happened if he had not gone.”
It was the sure way to subdue Bertie. He lifted his shoulders and after a while took his leave.
I was annoyed with him and that wretched Tomahawk. How dared they print such libelous nonsense when all I wanted was the comfort of a good and faithful servant
* * *
ALEXANDRA WAS PREGNANT again. Really, it seemed as though she was going to have one child after another, as I had done. It would have been so much better for her not to have them so close. She was a very good mother—adored by her boys. She was very fond of her family and took their troubles to heart. I shall never forget how almost demented she was at the time of the Schleswig-Holstein affair. Now her sister, Dagmar, had had a disappointment. Her fiancé, Nicholas of Russia—a marriage that would have brought much glory to the Danish family—had died of tuberculosis; but Nicholas had a brother, Alexander, and Dagmar was to have him instead. I shuddered and pictured myself losing Albert and having to take Ernest in his place. It was rather absurd to say that she found she loved Alexander after all, but it was what they always said in such cases.
Now Dagmar was to go to Russia, and Bertie and Alexandra wanted to go to the wedding.
As Alexandra was pregnant and her first child had been born prematurely, the doctors said she was unfit to go. She was very upset but I forbade it. Bertie, however, was eager to go. I was very sad for Alexandra. How different Albert would have been! He had hated to be separated from me and would not have wanted the superficial glitter of such occasions. Not so Bertie. I told him that as Alexandra could not go he had a very good excuse for not going either. Bertie was sly. He went to the Prime Minister to ask his advice, and both Derby and Disraeli thought that Bertie should go since the Russians could believe that the absence of both Bertie and Alexandra could be construed as an insult.
So Bertie went, and I insisted that he call in at Prussia either on his way out or on his return. He was reluctant to do this. Vicky was so censorious, he said. She thought he was her little brother still.
He went to Paris as well. He was very fond of Paris and had always maintained a friendship with the Emperor with whom he was a great favorite since he had, so disloyally, told him that he wished he were his father. Vicky wrote that there were rumors throughout the Continent about his behavior. He was very popular, there was not a doubt of that, but he was very much given to entertaining and being entertained by people of not the finest character—and particularly women.
I expected such letters from Vicky, but when I heard from Alice that there was scandal about Bertie I felt it was really grave.
If only Albert were here! I thought. I tried to imagine what he would have done. It was different now. Bertie was no longer a boy; he was in fact building up his own Court—men like himself, fond of gaiety and reckless living. Of course he was popular, far more than Albert had ever been—even at the time of the Great Exhibition. The government seemed to approve of him too. They called him a good ambassador; and if I raised any objections to his behavior, I was met by oblique references to my own seclusion.
We were very anxious about Alexandra because she now began to suffer from pains in her limbs that mystified the doctors. She could scarcely walk. Eventually they diagnosed rheumatism. This was very worrying as she was about to have a child.
When her child was born she was very ill indeed. Bertie was away and the doctors, fearing she was going to die, sent for her parents. I hurried from Windsor to Marlborough House and when I arrived there, I found Alexandra's mother at her bedside and was told that her father would come as soon as he could.
I was rather annoyed. My permission had not been asked; but when I saw the tenderness between Queen Louise and her daughter, I softened. I was so fond of Alexandra and she told me it had done her so much good to see her mother and she was feeling better every instant since her arrival.
I then told Louise how glad I was that she had come, and how dearly I loved my daughter-in-law. And because she knew I was speaking the truth, we liked each other a little better.
Alexandra had given birth to a little girl—Louise, Victoria, Alexandra; I was so relieved that she had come through that ordeal; but she was still in pain.
The doctors said she had rheumatic fever and that and the pregnancy had impaired her health considerably. She hobbled about on sticks, poor child, and still suffered a lot of pain. I told Bertie that it was due to the life they led and that Alexandra needed more peace. “Your Papa and I liked nothing better than to be alone, to read to each other and play duets. That was so restful. Papa did not care for dancing—ever—and he would not have been so foolish as to gamble.”
“It is impossible for everyone to be like Papa,” he said.
“That is true,” I retorted. “Least of all, it seems, you, Bertie. You are his son. You should be proud of that and try to be like him.”
Bertie had a way of appearing to listen when I guessed his thoughts were far away.
In time, Alexandra improved a little, but she walked with a limp. She was so pretty and dressed so charmingly and had such a natural air of elegance that nothing could deter from her attractiveness. Some of the ladies copied her walk. They thought it was very charming.
They called it the Alexandra Limp.
* * *
THERE WAS FURTHER trouble in Europe.
Although I was still on very friendly terms with Louis Napoleon, I did wonder what he was secretly planning. Napoleon's family were natural fighters; and he was hinting that owing to the new Prussian supremacy in Europe his frontiers were threatened by the Duchy of Luxembourg, which the Prussians were fortifying right on his border. He was in conference with the King of Holland suggesting that the Duchy should now be part of France—or Belgium might have it if they gave him a strip of territory in exchange for it.
Prussia, flushed with victory, was not in the mood to agree.
We must keep the peace, I declared.
As a result there was a meeting in London and it was decided that the independence of Luxembourg should be guaranteed and the fortress dismantled.
Napoleon was then a little cool toward me. He wanted territory and he thought that, in my efforts to avert war by calling a conference, I had thwarted him.
I was appearing in public a little more at this time. I had laid the foundations of the Albert Hall, which was to be built in honor of Albert; that ceremony had been very moving. But I had to do it for it would not have been seemly for anyone else to.
There were still scurrilous comments about my relationship with John Brown and I was not going to let myself be persuaded to send him back to Scotland, which I think some of them would have liked.
I had given way to pleadings for me to review the troops in Hyde Park. I would ride in my carriage, and naturally John Brown would be on the box. In view of all the publicity John Brown had received, the crowd would, no doubt, turn out to see him and me together.
Lord Derby called on me and told me that it would be unwise for John Brown to be present.
“But why?” I demanded. “His place is there. He is my Highland servant.”
“Ma'am, as you know there have been a number of scurrilous cartoons and articles in the papers.”
“Destined to destroy the character of a good and honest man …and their Queen. I know. I have no respect for such people. They should be punished severely.”
/> “There has to be freedom of the Press, Your Majesty, and sometimes that can be unfortunate. But I think it would be wise in the circumstances if John Brown did not appear at the review.”
But I was not going to give way. That would be weakness and I should despise myself if I did. My relationship with John Brown was that of a queen and her servant—a respected servant, it was true, but nevertheless a servant. And I would not give way to sensation-seeking scandalmongers.
I said firmly, “John Brown shall go to the review.”
But it came about in a strange way that he did not.
A few years before, Napoleon had persuaded the Austrian Emperor's brother, the Archduke Maximilian, to accept the Imperial Crown of Mexico, which the French were setting up in that republic. There was a close connection between the Archduke and myself because he had married Charlotte, Uncle Leopold's daughter, so it was another of those family affairs. The Mexicans, however, would not accept the Archduke as their Emperor and Napoleon was asked to withdraw his troops and the Archduke to resign his title. Charlotte came to Europe to rally help for her husband; but meanwhile the Mexicans restored the republic and the Archduke was shot by order of a court-martial.
I was very angry with Napoleon who had set up the Archduke and failed to support him. But the fact of the Archduke's assassination meant that the Court was in mourning, and there was no review in Hyde Park. I think Lord Derby was secretly relieved. He had been afraid that if John Brown had gone to the review the mob might have become dangerous.
While all this was happening, Napoleon was holding a great exhibition in Paris and heads of various states were invited there—Bertie among them.
Bertie was his usual gregarious self and his visit was considered to be a great success. When he was there he met the Sultan of Turkey and invited him to pay a visit to England sometime, to which invitation the Sultan responded with alacrity, and decided to come immediately.
I was not at all pleased because I could not remain in retirement while such visitors were in the country.
Alice and Louis were with me. Poor darlings, they were very sad, and still resentful over the Prussian War—such a disaster for them. However, I was glad to have Alice with me; she understood me better than any of the others did.
“The Prince of Wales invited the Sultan,” I said. “He is Bertie's responsibility and he must do the honors.”
That would be an excellent idea, said Lord Derby; but there would be occasions when it would be necessary for me to be present. We did not want to offend the Sultan.
So Bertie did the entertaining and, knowing Bertie, I hoped it was not too disreputable.
I went to Osborne and received the visitors there. The Sultan was charming, and as I had been warned that I must be friendly toward him, I offered to bestow the Order of the Garter upon him.
He was delighted when Bertie explained what a great honor it was and told him that it was rarely bestowed. Bertie's sense of the theatrical prevailed and it was decided that the Sultan should receive the Order on board the royal yacht.
Alice and her husband naturally must be present on such an occasion. It was July but the sea was choppy and it soon became clear that the Sultan was not feeling very well. Bertie said that perhaps it had not been such a good idea to have the presentation at sea—even so close to land and in July—and it would be as well to proceed as quickly as possible with the ceremony.
I had John Brown with me. He stood close beside me as always with that amused expression on his rugged honest face, which suggested that if anyone attacked me it would be the worse for them. I had often reproached him, told him I was in no danger, and that although I appreciated his care, on some occasions it was not necessary to show such bellicosity.
Bertie was right. We must get on with the ceremony as quickly as possible before the Sultan was ill.
I held out my hand for the ribbon—and then it became quite farcical. The first equerry turned to the second and said in a loud whisper, “The ribbon.” The second equerry whispered back in agitation that he thought the first equerry had it. I could see that someone had forgotten to bring it.
Prince Louis was standing close to me, and he was wearing the ribbon I had bestowed on him. Then I heard John Brown, “Stop mithering. Ye've nae brought the ribbon. This one will have to do.”
I saw his strong hand stretching out to take the ribbon Louis was wearing.
“Give him this one,” said Brown to me. “He'll nae ken the difference.”
I hesitated for half a second. Then I took it and gave it to the Sultan. Poor man, he was feeling too queasy to notice the little hitch.
I almost laughed aloud…something I rarely did then; and whenever I did it was usually due to something John Brown had said or done.
And so thanks to the ingenuity of my Highland servant, that little matter was satisfactorily concluded.
* * *
LORD DERBY WAS getting very old and I had noticed for some time that he was looking far from well, so I was not surprised when he came to me and told me he could no longer continue.
I understood perfectly, I said. The office of Prime Minister was scarcely a rest cure. He told me that he thought I should send for Benjamin Disraeli.
I did so with pleasure. So Mr. Disraeli came to Osborne to kiss my hand in the formal way and take on the Premiership. I felt an immediate response to him. There was something in his manner that appealed to me; he behaved as though he were spellbound, enchanted, not only by my position but by me personally. He was so gracious that he made me feel young again.
I knew certain things about him because I had made it my business to find out. I could not help comparing him with Lord Melbourne. Lord Melbourne had been an exceptionally handsome man and that had made him immediately attractive to me. I am afraid that in those days I was rather frivolous and impressed by a little wickedness. That was before Albert had changed me.
Benjamin Disraeli was different. One could scarcely call him handsome. His skin was sallow, his eyes heavy-lidded, his nose prominent. I had always thought big noses were a sign of strength until Lord Melbourne had assured me that they were not. Disraeli had rather greasy hair that some said was dyed. What was so attractive about him was his manner, his way of expressing himself. He knew how to use words; he was gallant. Perhaps that was it. He made me feel that I was attractive, which I fear at that time of my life I was not. He knew just how to say the words that would make me feel that I was rather clever as well as attractive. It was a gift and Benjamin Disraeli certainly had it.
He was a good deal older than I. He had been born in '04—so that would make him some fifteen years my senior. He told me later that he was the second child of Isaac d'Israeli—Jewish, of course, and in comfortable circumstances—whose father had been an Italian Jew who had owned a prosperous business making straw bonnets. He said his family had been expelled from Spain by the Inquisition in 1492.
All this he told me as though he were unfolding a dramatic story; and I must confess I found it enthralling.
His father Isaac was, he told me, a Voltairean Freethinker, and he broke with Judaism, which meant that all his children were baptized into the Church of England.
“It was important to me, Ma'am,” he said, “though I did not realize it at the time. If I had remained a Jew, I could not have become a Member of Parliament at the time when I took my seat. It was not until '58, when I had been a Member for more than twenty years, that Jews were permitted into the House.”
That was what made conversation with him so absorbing. He introduced facts like that in such a way that one remembered them.
“I have always been impatient, Ma'am. I did not want to wait for fortune to come to me. I wanted to reach out and snatch it. When I was twenty years old I was appalled by my lack of success. I constantly reminded myself that Pitt was Prime Minister at the age of twenty-four. ‘And where is Disraeli?’ I would demand of myself. ‘Nowhere.’ ”
“But your success was inevitable, Mr. D
israeli,” I said.
“Your Majesty is gracious. I tried to make a fortune on the Stock Exchange and all went well for a time. Then I tried publishing a newspaper. That was a disaster. Then I decided to be a novelist. Vivian Grey, my first, had a fair success. But I offended a lot of people with that book.”
“People are always ready to be offended. I think they were probably jealous of your success.”
That was how our conversation ran. It was so much more interesting than that of most of my Prime Ministers had been. It reminded me so much of the chats I had with Lord Melbourne.
I knew Disraeli had mistresses before his marriage; but, of course, we did not discuss that side of his life, though he did tell me about his friendship with Wyndham Lewis and how when he had been his protégé, he had become friendly with Wyndham Lewis's wife.
“It was not love at first sight,” he said, “but it grew to deep love. Mary Anne once said that although I married her for her money, now I would marry her for love.”
“And did you marry her for her money, Mr. Disraeli?”
“I confess I considered her fortune.”
“Oh, how mercenary!” I found myself laughing. Since Albert's death I laughed so rarely. John Brown could make me smile; but I was actually laughing with Mr. Disraeli.
He loved to talk of Mary Anne and I began to feel that I knew her well. He told me how devoted she was and how she sat up when he was late at the House and had a cold supper waiting for him, no matter what time he came in.
They were friends as well as lovers.
“I understand so well,” I said sadly.
“Ma'am we have had something very rare in common—a happy marriage.”
How right he was!
He gave me a copy of Sybil, which I thought was very good indeed. I gave him a signed copy of Leaves.
He was constantly referring to me as a fellow author, which I had to admit I quite liked. I looked forward to his visits. It was like going back in time. I was remembering more and more of the days when I used to anticipate Lord Melbourne's visits with such pleasure. Now I looked forward to those of Benjamin Disraeli.
Victoria Victorious: The Story of Queen Victoria Page 56
