by Jean Plaidy
I was delighted. I liked him very much. Indeed, I believe I should have liked anyone after Gladstone. Lord Salisbury was the first of my Prime Ministers to be younger than I was. I supposed that was a reminder of how old I was getting.
That little respite did not last long. At the elections, the Liberals were back in power and I was once more faced with Mr. Gladstone.
What a trial that man was! He was now intent on bringing Home Rule to Ireland and had sprung his intentions of doing so on me and the country without giving anyone time for thought. I did not believe the country wanted it. As for myself it would mean I should break the oath I had taken at the coronation to maintain the union of the two kingdoms. I was unconvinced by his arguments.
I was delighted when quite a number of Liberals decided to vote against Gladstone's Home Rule Bill and it was rejected by the Commons.
It was a great relief when the government was once more defeated and Lord Salisbury called in.
I found Lord Salisbury a delight after Gladstone.
Salisbury was really an old friend. I had known him well as an associate of Lord Beaconsfield—and although it was not the same as having that dear man back again, it did in a measure give me some comfort. He was very knowledgeable in foreign affairs of which, in my opinion, Mr. Gladstone was totally ignorant.
I wanted him to sit for a portrait and when it was completed I had it placed in my own apartments, which, I told Lord Salisbury, was the highest compliment I could pay anyone.
I was thankful that the bogey of Home Rule was set aside. Postponement was sometimes so helpful.
A VERY UNSAVORY scandal shook the political world at this time as well as filling the papers and having the whole country agog for more distasteful details.
I could not help being amused—disgraceful as it was—because it concerned my old enemy Sir Charles Dilke. It was extraordinary that those people who posed in public as being so concerned for the welfare of the people—wanted to abolish the monarchy and so on—were all the time behaving in their private lives in a manner that was far from exemplary.
It all blew up when a certain Mr. Crawford started divorce proceedings against his wife. Mr. Crawford was a member of Parliament and he had an attractive and somewhat frivolous wife. Dilke was connected with the Crawfords by marriage and was a frequent visitor to their home; and in view of the family relationship this caused no comment.
Mrs. Crawford had been having a flirtation with a certain Captain Forster and Mr. Crawford accused him of being her lover. The wife, when confronted, told her husband that not Forster but Sir Charles Dilke was the lover.
Then the unsavory details about that defender of the rights of the underprivileged began to emerge. Apparently he had been Mrs. Crawford's mother's lover; and Mrs. Crawford betrayed revelations about orgies concerning Dilke, herself, and female servants.
The servants did not come forward, but as Mrs. Crawford had confessed to adultery, the divorce was granted.
I must confess to a certain satisfaction; and a great relief that Bertie was not involved in this one! Whenever I heard of a case of this nature in a certain circle—and Dilke was a friend of Bertie's—my immediate thoughts were: Please God don't let Bertie be discovered!—which shows the fear that was in my mind; and that was natural after all the anxieties I had suffered on his account.
Of course Dilke's career was ruined.
I discussed it with Bertie and as was to be expected, he was on Dilke's side.
“It is disastrous for him,” he said. “He was a great politician.”
“He was certainly skilled in living a double life,” I retorted. “He might have been Prime Minister.”
“Then I am indeed glad this has happened. The idea of my being asked to receive such a man!”
“Mama, I believe that woman was exaggerating.”
“The court did not seem to think so.” I looked at him sadly. “I am surprised, Bertie, that after all your father did for you, you do have some strange ideas. This man is a republican. He has clearly spoken against us … and you make him your friend!”
“Mama, he is clever, witty…He has ideas.”
“Ideas of destroying us! Very gratifying!”
That was not the end of the affair. Dilke, of course, could not be included in the government—it was Mr. Gladstone's government at this time because it had happened just before Salisbury came into power.
Joseph Chamberlain, who was a friend of Dilke and was eager for him to remain in the House, wanted the Queen's Proctor brought in to stop the divorce, pointing out that Dilke had not been proven guilty. He had not gone into the witness box—otherwise I was sure he would have been.
So the scandal flared up again. It proved to be the worst thing that could happen to Dilke. In the course of the inquiry which followed, it was discovered that the house that Mrs. Crawford had mentioned as the setting for the sexual orgies that had taken place between Dilke, Mrs. Crawford, and two housemaids, was owned by a woman who had been housekeeper to Dilke. That appeared to explain a good deal.
There was another trial out of which Dilke came badly, for the jury decided that Mrs. Crawford had been telling the truth.
That was the end of Dilke.
I could not help experiencing a certain satisfaction. He had called himself a reformer. Let him begin by reforming his own life.
I thought about him a great deal and I began to feel a twinge of pity for him; and he had posed as such a virtuous man, which made it all the worse for him. I wondered how an ambitious man felt to see his career in ruins.
I should rejoice. Another of my enemies brought to the dust. I did really feel a little suspicious after that of people who acclaimed so publicly their desire to do good.
That set me thinking of Mr. Gladstone and his nightly peregrinations. Was that one of the reasons why I disliked him so intensely?
At least it made him a little human.
No, I could not—much as I should like to—believe that Mr. Gladstone was such another as Sir Charles Dilke.
The Dilke affair added to the government's unpopularity over Egypt and the rejection over the budget proposals was certainly a factor in bringing it down.
In any case I was grateful to have Lord Salisbury as my Prime Minister.
Jubilee
THE TIME WAS APPROACHING WHEN I SHOULD HAVE BEEN ON the throne for fifty years. It was a fact that should be brought home to the people, said Lord Salisbury, for they must realize that it was an occasion for rejoicing.
I felt tired at the prospect, but, of course, he was right. Such anniversaries should not be allowed to pass unnoticed.
I had very worrying news from Vicky. Her husband, Fritz, was suffering from a terrible throat infection—which it was whispered was cancer. Vicky was very anxious because she lived uneasily at the Prussian Court. Her parents-in-law had been far from kind to her, and Bismarck was her enemy; her son treated her atrociously; and she had to endure reproaches for everything she did; she was condemned because of her English blood.
I knew all this and when the telegram came, in cypher, I guessed the position was very grave.
The deciphering of the message revealed that the German doctors wished to perform an operation, but she wanted, first of all, to consult one of our doctors, who was said to be a leading authority on such matters. This was Dr. Morell Mackenzie. Vicky begged me to send out Dr. Mackenzie at once. She was against the operation and she thought that Dr. Mackenzie might persuade the German doctors not to do it.
I immediately sent for my doctors to ask their opinion of Dr. Mackenzie. They said he was indeed skillful, but he was very eager to amass money, and for that reason should be watched.
I told this to Vicky.
The situation was very tense. The Emperor himself was in a low state of health and not expected to live long; if he died that would mean Fritz would be Emperor, and if he died, the mantle would fall on my grandson Wilhelm, who was no friend to his mother.
That was the state of
affairs when the day of celebration arrived.
On the previous day I had awakened to a sunny morning and had my breakfast out of doors at Frogmore. One could not be private out of doors at the castle.
Crowds had gathered to see me drive to the station and there were loyal cheers, which were gratifying. And when I alighted at Paddington, I drove through the Park to Buckingham Palace where I received more loyal acclaim.
How wonderful it was to be surrounded by my dear children! I thought how really remarkable it was that I had been for fifty years on the throne and been sustained through so many trials and sorrows.
The flowers were magnificent, for the growers had vied with each other to send their products to me. Among them was one bouquet four feet high, and on it were the letters V.R.I. picked out in scarlet blooms.
We had a dinner party with all the family that evening and what pleased me most was to have them all with me.
The next day, the twenty-first, the real celebrations began. I had refused to wear a crown and the State robes, for although this was a grand occasion I wanted it to be as simple as possible. The family was most put out. They thought it should be completely ceremonial. Alexandra was sent by the others to try to persuade me to wear my crown, but I told her it was not her affair and I would not be coerced. Lord Halifax was very irritated. He said the people wanted a gilding for their money, which I thought was rather a coarse way of expressing his views; and that interfering Joseph Chamberlain said a sovereign should be grand. I had decided to wear a bonnet. It should be very attractive—one made of white lace and diamonds—but still a bonnet.
Lord Rosebery said that an Empire should be ruled by scepter and not bonnet. But I was adamant and commanded that all the ladies wear bonnets and long high dresses with mantel.
I thought as I always did on such occasions: If only Albert could have been there how proud he would have been!
I left the Palace in an open landau drawn by six cream horses with an escort of Indian cavalry. Next came the men of the family—three sons, five sons-in-law, and nine grandsons.
Poor Fritz was suffering so much and yet putting on a bold appearance. His voice was almost nonexistent and it really was very brave of him to have come. He drew perhaps the loudest of all cheers for he did look magnificent in white and silver with the German eagle on his helmet. One could trust the Prussians to attract more attention than anyone else.
Following the family and myself were the processions in which Europe, India, and the colonies were represented. There were four kings from Europe—Saxony, Belgium, the Hellenes, and Denmark—with the Crown Princes of Prussia, Greece, Portugal, Sweden, and Austria.
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 th
at 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.”
