The Widow of Windsor (45 page)

Of all her children the Queen had perhaps relied most on Beatrice since Albert’s death. Beatrice had then been ‘Baby’ and her quaint doings and sayings had diverted the Queen in her misery. As the youngest, Beatrice – still sometimes known as Baby – had been more constantly with her mother than any of the others. She was now the only one left; she was twenty-seven and the Queen had told herself that Beatrice would never marry. For one thing she was very shy; she disliked going to dinner-parties unless she was certain who her neighbours at the table would be and they were old friends. So naturally the Queen had imagined that she would always have Beatrice with her.

Her dismay was great when Beatrice came to her and said: ‘Mama, I have fallen in love and want to get married.’

The Queen almost fell off her chair. ‘In love!’ she said. ‘What nonsense, dearest child. How could
you
fall in love?’

‘It was not very difficult, Mama, and I am sure you will agree with me, when you know it is Henry.’

‘Henry. What Henry is this?’

‘Prince Henry of Battenberg.’

‘It’s quite impossible.’

‘Oh no, Mama, quite possible … if you give your consent.’

‘I should never allow you to be so foolish. My dearest child, you were so desolate when darling Leopold died. And this … Henry came along and you imagined you wished to marry him. Everything will settle down in time. Don’t worry.’

Poor Beatrice! Gone were the days of childhood when her quaintness had made it permissible to disagree with Mama.

She grew pale, wan and listless. She was obedient, but her conversation was dull and confined to ‘Yes, Mama’ and ‘No, Mama’ which was quite boring.

‘What
is
the matter with you, child?’ demanded the Queen. ‘And don’t talk to me about this foolish matter of Henry of Battenberg.’

‘Then there is nothing to be said, Mama,’ replied Beatrice.

Of course the Queen could not stand by and see poor Baby growing pale and thin. She supposed she would have to give way.

At length she said, ‘I had better see this Henry of Battenberg.’

He came; he was charming; he was devoted to Beatrice and to see the change in that dear child made the Queen weep.

Henry said he did understand her reluctance to part with such a treasure and they would reside in England so that their marriage would make little difference to the Queen.

She embraced them both and wished them well; and referred to herself in a letter to Vicky as ‘Poor shattered me.’

Of course it was not a grand marriage and Vicky would not approve of that; but the Queen wondered whether Vicky’s, which had been grand, had brought her much happiness. Beatrice was radiant; and the Queen reproached herself for ever trying to keep such joy from her dearest child.

She embraced her warmly but when Prince Henry and his new wife left for their honeymoon she shivered a little. She hoped poor Beatrice would not suffer
too
much from the ‘shadow side’ of marriage.

A great scandal had broken on London. A Mr Donald Crawford M.P. was suing for divorce and whom should he name as co-respondent but Sir Charles Dilke.

The Queen was very interested when she heard. ‘Oh, these radicals!’ she said to Beatrice. ‘They are so concerned for the rights of this and that, so anxious to look into the purses of other people, when all the time they themselves are not beyond reproach.’

But almost immediately she was anxious on account of Bertie. He did seem to have a habit of being mixed up in public scandals. She would never forget that dreadful Mordaunt case; and then there was that horrible Aylesford affair. And he
was
a friend of Sir Charles Dilke.

Happily Bertie was not involved in this one; and it was a great relief that he was not for it was the most shocking of them all.

The Dilke case was the great
cause célèbre
of the 1880s. It seemed that everyone from the Queen to her humblest subject was following the details as they emerged. The situation was one which could not fail to appeal. The dignified celebrated politician caught up in a very sordid affair and shown in the worst possible light. It appeared that Mr Crawford had received an anonymous letter advising him to ‘Beware of the Member for Chelsea!’ – the Member for Chelsea being Sir Charles Dilke. He had been inclined to think that this was the work of a practical joker until he received a second unsigned letter:

‘The first person who ruined your wife was Sir Charles Dilke. She has passed nights in his house and is well known to his servants.’

Such a letter could not be ignored and when Crawford confronted his wife with it she said that it was her mother who had sent it.

The Crawfords and Dilkes were connected by marriage and had been on visiting terms for years so the fact that Sir Charles called now and then at the Crawford house was not a matter to arouse comment. Mrs Crawford, however, was a somewhat frivolous woman and she had been rather friendly with a Captain Forster of whom her husband had been mildly jealous. If the Captain had been accused of being her lover he would not have been surprised, but this accusation levelled at Sir Charles seemed to him incongruous and when his wife admitted that Sir Charles had in fact been her lover, he was astounded.

Furious, he began divorce proceedings and it was then that incredible codes of conduct were revealed which put Sir Charles in the worst possible light.

There were suggestions that Mrs Crawford’s mother had been Sir Charles’s mistress; and Mrs Crawford claimed that when Dilke had taken her to a house in Tottenham Court Road, a young woman, who had once been a servant in Dilke’s house, joined in their sexual activities.

Sir Charles was not called to the witness box but since Mrs Crawford had confessed, her husband obtained his divorce. However, the case against Sir Charles was dismissed because it could not be proved. The mysterious servant who had joined the Tottenham Court Road frolics could not be found, and there was only Mrs Crawford’s word to go on; but the fact that the divorce had been granted meant that Dilke, although not proved guilty because no one had been found to come forward to testify against him, was not proved innocent.

The Queen avidly read the newspapers and argued with Bertie, who was eager to protect his friend. Bertie would have done that even if he had believed Dilke to be guilty, the Queen was aware, for he was always loyal to his friends. But
what
friends he chose!

‘I cannot help being amused,’ said the Queen. ‘When these virtuous people who stump about doing good are proved to be libertines in private it is very revealing.’

‘I believe that woman is mad,’ said Bertie.

‘She has certainly not put herself in a very good light.’

‘Some people are ready to harm themselves for the sake of revenge on others.’

‘A foolish policy,’ commented the Queen.

‘But, Mama, people are foolish.’

‘Well,
I
do not believe
your
Sir Charles Dilke has come out of this affair very well and I am sure this will be an end to his career.’

‘That’s the wicked part about it,’ said Bertie. ‘Dilke’s a dedicated politician. He might have become Prime Minister.’

‘God forbid!’ said the Queen – though she thought she might just have preferred him to Mr Gladstone.

Mr Gladstone, however, gravely indicated to Sir Charles that he could not include him in his government and Sir Charles, rising fast, had suddenly found himself sliding downhill.

Sir Charles was frantic. He was ready to try anything to clear himself; and when his friend, Joseph Chamberlain, suggested that the Queen’s Proctor should intervene in the granting of the divorce because nothing had been proved against the man who had been accused of being Mrs Crawford’s lover, the case was reopened. It was the worst action that could have been taken.

The suggestion that Sir Charles had been the lover of Mrs Crawford’s mother was raised and Sir Charles refused either to agree that this was so or to deny it. Two housemaids known as Fanny and Sarah whom Mrs Crawford declared had joined in the sexual revels could not be found to come forward and declare Sir Charles innocent. The fact which went more against Sir Charles than anything was that the house in Tottenham Court Road which Mrs Crawford identified was actually run by a woman who had once been a housekeeper of Sir Charles.

The jury of this second hearing decided that Sir Charles had not told the truth and that he was guilty of the assertions brought against him by Mrs Crawford.

Bertie was sympathetic. He had experience of courts and he knew how damaging they could be. He understood perfectly Sir Charles’s predicament. It seemed to him terrible that such a brilliant man should be denied the opportunity of serving his country because his sexual habits might or might not be a little irregular.

He wrote to Sir Charles affirming his friendship. It was great comfort to the stricken man whose political career was of course in ruins, to know that he had the sympathy of the future King of England.

The Queen could not hide her delight. She enjoyed discussing the case in all its details. She regretted that Lord Melbourne was no longer with her. What a wealth of gossip he would have had to bring to her! So would dear Lord Beaconsfield. Those men were so interested in people, which was more than could be said for Mr Gladstone; and who could be absolutely sure that his efforts to rescue fallen women of the streets were all he would like them to be believed? As the Queen said, when these reformers were shown up in a new light it was not only interesting but revealing and, when one considered it, good for the community at large.

While the Dilke case was in progress the Queen had reason to rejoice.

Mr Gladstone’s government had become very unpopular over its Egyptian policy and was defeated on its budget proposals. What a pleasure when Mr Gladstone was forced to resign!

Magnanimously the Queen offered him an earldom which he declined.

She welcomed Lord Salisbury to form a new government. This he did but of what use was it for him to be in office when there was a Liberal majority? Salisbury could only dissolve Parliament and go to the country; the Liberals were still in favour. They held 334 seats against 250 Conservatives; Parnell’s Irish Nationalists holding 86. To the Queen’s disgust Gladstone was once more her Prime Minister.

But it was not easy. His party was split on his Home Rule Bill. Gladstone was convinced that Ireland must have Home Rule; the Queen firmly believed that to give them this was to encourage rebels. Gladstone was defeated on the Bill and back came Salisbury.

Gladstone was now seventy-seven.

‘Poor old man,’ said the Queen. ‘It is time he took a rest.’ But he seemed to be in no mood to do so and he was as prominent as ever as Leader of the Opposition.

But at least she had a Prime Minister whom she liked.

Chapter XXIV

GOLDEN JUBILEE

The Queen’s Ministers reminded her that in this year of 1887 she would have reigned for fifty years. There must be a celebration. The people would expect it; besides it was a glorious occasion. How many other monarchs had reigned for so long? The Queen must waive her objections to pageants. This was an occasion. She sighed and gave way.

There had been a secret anxiety in the family for some months. Vicky’s husband Fritz had developed a throat infection and Vicky was very worried about his health. She feared the worst. The doctors were extremely grave and there was a suggestion that Fritz had a malignant tumour of the throat. Vicky could not bear to contemplate this. Her position in Germany was not a happy one. Bismarck had always disliked her; her father-in-law and his wife had resented her; and worst of all her eldest son, Wilhelm, now married, treated her very badly. Her one friend had been the gentle Fritz, her husband, and as he was the Crown Prince, in spite of his mild nature he had been a powerful one until his illness.

Wilhelm was a cruel young man. His arrogance had grown as he became older; Vicky wondered whether they had made too many excuses for his deformed arm which he cleverly disguised by his uniforms; but he had certainly turned out a very undutiful son. He despised his father for being weak and his mother for being English. He had an obsessional hatred for the English which Uncle Bertie with his
bonhomie
and his extravagance when travelling abroad seemed to have intensified. Uncle Bertie received the full force of his venom. He was the opposite of Wilhelm. Bertie could at times be arrogant when his royalty was assailed, but his good-nature, desire for friendship towards all kinds of people, his generosity, his love of gaiety, his amorous adventures, everything endeared him to the people. Wilhelm’s haughty arrogance, his obsession with the greatness of the German Empire and his manner towards those about him made him very unpopular. He was in awe of his grandmother Queen Victoria. She was one of the few persons he respected; and the fact that Uncle Bertie was her eldest son and heir to a vast and growing Empire filled him with rage. He longed to rule that Empire. He had been influenced by Bismarck whose doctrines he had eagerly absorbed; his grandparents had fostered his desires for the aggrandisement of the German Empire; and Wilhelm now saw his great and mighty rival as the British Empire. His grandmother seemed a fitting ruler; on the occasions when he visited her she could by a look make him feel that he was a boy in the nursery again. Yet she never failed to show him affection and had often told him that her husband the Prince Consort had had great hopes of him, his first grandchild. Yes, Wilhelm could accept Grandmama Victoria as the mighty ruler; but to think of all that glory passing into the hands of frivolous Uncle Bertie drove him into such a fury that he felt he would do anything to prevent its doing so. And his mother was Uncle Bertie’s sister! He hated the English – and it was galling that he was half English himself, though the English half, he consoled himself, was strongly flavoured with German.

With such a son, and a husband whom she feared to be dying, poor Vicky was in great distress.

She wrote to her mother and begged her to send her an English doctor who was known throughout the world to be an authority on cancer. This was Dr Morell Mackenzie. The German doctors wished to operate. Vicky felt this would be fatal and she hoped Dr Mackenzie would disagree with their verdict.

The Queen immediately sent Dr Mackenzie to Germany. To Vicky’s delight he said that Fritz was not suffering from cancer and he thought he might be cured with the right treatment.

‘Oh, Mama, it is
such
a relief,’ wrote Vicky.

Poor child, thought the Queen; and she was glad that Fritz would be able to attend the Jubilee.

The 20th of June 1887. She awoke early. She read through her Journal and remembered that long-ago day – one of the most important in her life, some would say
the
most important, but her wedding day would always be first with her. Mama had come into her bedroom carrying a candlestick to awaken her and she had known immediately. How young she had been – how inexperienced! Eighteen years old and to be a Queen. Lehzen had been there with smelling salts, she remembered; and even then she had scorned the idea. She had meant to be a Queen.

Dear Lord Melbourne had been there to sustain her; she shed a tear for Lord Melbourne. So godlike he had seemed until Albert came along and showed her how weak, how ineffectual all men were compared with Albert.

And now she had been fifty years a Queen.

She thought: And I am alone to celebrate it, for although I have my children I have always been alone since the loss of that dear beloved one.

As she rose, the sun shone brilliantly and she breakfasted out of doors and afterwards drove to the station. Crowds cheered her all the way. The royal train was waiting to take her to Paddington Station; and once more loyal crowds shouted their approval as she rode through the Park to Buckingham Palace.

The streets were already decorated for the great tomorrow. That day she received the visiting royalty and there was a grand dinner-party for the crowned heads of Europe, most of whom had close family ties with the Queen.

She retired early in readiness for the great day.

How magnificent it was! Tears filled her eyes because Albert was not there to share it with her. The thousands who lined the streets shouted their loyal greetings as she came into sight in her open carriage drawn by six magnificent cream-coloured horses; she had especially wanted to be escorted by Indian cavalry, not only as a compliment to her new subjects but also to remind people of the greatness of her Empire.

Behind her rode Bertie, Alfred and Arthur. Alas, there was one son missing, dear Leopold. One thought of these sad losses at such a time. All her sons-in-law were there. It was a great joy that dear Fritz had not been absent as she had feared he might. It was true he could scarcely speak; that fearful affliction of the throat prevented that; but he looked magnificent. How proud Albert would have been to see Germany represented in such a manner and to know the little German States were now one mighty Empire and Vicky would one day be Empress. The German Eagle on Fritz’s helmet brought a frenzy of cheering from the crowd. For the Germans! thought the Queen when she heard it and knew for whom it was intended. They knew how to show their might. All her grandsons were there, including of course Wilhelm, of whom Vicky had complained so bitterly. He would be feeling gratified at the cheers for his father.

What an impressive moment it was when she walked into the Abbey to the sound of a march by Handel! And of course Albert’s own composition must be included in the ceremony; on that she had insisted. He could not be with her in the flesh but his music should be there; the choir sang the anthem which he had written and her eyes were glazed with tears as she listened.

My dearest Albert, how different everything would have been had you been spared to me! she thought. Everything else I could have borne if you had been with me.

But he had been taken and she had her children. Then she thought of Alice and Leopold, the lost ones, and how sad it was that they so young should be gone and she an old woman still here. Then all the grandchildren. How proud Albert would have been of them!

Her bonnet – made of lace and glittering with diamonds – shook a little. She had insisted on bonnets for all the women including herself, although many were shocked at the idea and thought she should have worn the crown. But she had said it should be a bonnet and she was the Queen and if she could not always have her way in State matters, she would over a matter of bonnets.

She felt tired but elated when they returned to the Palace; but of course this was not the end. The great entertainment was about to begin.

She was helped into her dress embroidered with jewels, representing England, Scotland and Ireland, roses, thistles and shamrocks – and then to the great banqueting hall to receive all the visiting royalties and the many guests who had come from all over the world to celebrate her fifty years as Queen.

At last the long day was over and she sank gratefully into bed; but not to sleep, to brood on the past fifty years and through her mind paraded the significant figures of the past – the Uncle Kings, George and William; dear kind Aunt Adelaide; Mama with whom there had been such storms; the well-beloved Lord Melbourne; the at first hated and afterwards deeply respected Sir Robert Peel; dear exciting Mr Disraeli; the heartily disliked Mr Gladstone – still not escaped from, she feared; good faithful John Brown; all her living children – and those dear dead ones; the grandchildren; the family by marriage. So many of them dominated always by the one great figure: Albert.

Oh, Albert, if you had lived to see this day, she kept telling herself, how different everything would have been!

Her Golden Jubilee – fifty years since that long ago June day when they awakened her from her bed; and nearly twenty-seven years since she had lost her love, and therefore her zest for living. And she still mourned him. His was the face that came to her whenever she thought of the past.

‘Albert,’ she cried on this great night, as she had cried so often during the last twenty-six years, ‘why were you taken from me?’