Victoria Victorious: The Story of Queen Victoria (56 page)

When I look back on that period that followed Leopold's birth I think that I was overwrought; I
had
to flare up; I wanted a quarrel and a quick making-up, and being happier than ever because we were reconciled.

We went to Balmoral in the autumn. It was not yet completed and I think Albert was rather glad of that. He did so love the work. When it was finished it would be magnificent with its one-hundred-foot tower, its gables and turrets. The views were splendid—mountains, forests, and the River Dee. We had designed tartans to hang everywhere. My design was the Victoria Tartan, Albert's the Balmoral; and these were hung side by
side with the Royal Stuart. I loved the fresh air and the dear simple honest people. I felt so much better there among those natural people like my special favorite, John Brown, who always held my pony when we went for mountain rides.

But I could not be free of my ministers even at Balmoral. Not that I wished to be far from Lord Aberdeen—that most charming man; he enjoyed Balmoral and threw himself whole-heartedly into the local customs. He wore a kilt and danced a reel with me—which was most amusing.

I could have done without the presence of Lord Palmerston. I noticed that his eyesight was not good and he was showing signs of age. He played billiards with Albert, who managed not to show his dislike of the man.

Lord Palmerston said there was trouble brewing in the East. We did not take much notice of it then.

W
HAT
I
HAD
always feared more than anything had come to pass.

I knew that there was a certain uneasiness, but I had hoped that with Lord Aberdeen's reasonable policies we should keep out of it.

Russia had invaded Turkey's principalities on the Danube, and Turkey was England's friend—a weak one, but nevertheless a friend.

I was at Balmoral when I heard that the British fleet had entered the Dardanelles. It was Palmerston's gunboat policy again; and Palmerston had persuaded Aberdeen to allow this action to be taken in my absence.

By October that year Turkey had declared war on Russia. Palmerston immediately demanded that we support the Turks with France as our ally. Lord Aberdeen was for peace; it was Palmerston who urged action. I was torn between the two of them. I did not believe that Aberdeen could bring the Emperor of Russia to see reason, and yet the idea of siding with Palmerston was obnoxious to me.

Aberdeen came to me one day in a state of anger against Palmerston who, unknown to him, had been in direct touch with our ambassador in Constantinople.

“Surely,” I said, “that is treason.”

Aberdeen shrugged his shoulders. He was determined to keep us out of war, but his mild nature was no match for Palmerston. I swung over to Aberdeen's side.

“The Emperor must be victorious,” I said, “and if the Russians are
magnanimous and the Turks reasonable, perhaps that could be an end to this disagreeable matter.”

Then Lord Palmerston resigned.

That was the sign for the people to show their feelings. Mr. Gladstone was of the opinion that Palmerston should be called back to government. Lady Palmerston was working indefatigably to make everyone aware that the country needed her husband at this time and Lord Aberdeen was nervous. He thought the government would fall, which would be a disaster, and he did not see how he could survive unless Palmerston was recalled. Palmerston came back.

Then we heard that Russia had sunk the Turkish fleet.

Palmerston was the hero of the day. His prophecies had been correct. He had been warning the government of the impending trouble for months but they had preferred to shrug aside his warnings. The people thought we should be at war—as we should be now, they said, but for Palmerston's being pushed out.

With one accord the people named the scapegoat, and it was Albert.

Palmerston was the national hero; Albert the villain.

Articles about him appeared in the Press. Slogans were written on walls. People carried banners demanding that he go back to Germany where he belonged. Nothing was too bad to say about Albert. I could not believe that the Exhibition and all the good he had done could be so quickly forgotten.

Why had we not gone to the defense of poor little Turkey? Why indeed? Because Albert did not wish it. German Albert! The Queen had not wanted us to go because she was governed every time by Albert. Who ruled the country? German Albert. Who wanted England handed over to his German relations? He was related to the Russian royal family; he was a traitor to this country. He spoke English like a German; he didn't even look like a man… not an Englishman. He was too pretty; he never laughed; he was cold, aloof, disdainful of the people. He was smug.

On the other hand was that gay debonair brilliant Pam. He had been something of a libertine in his youth. Of course he had. He was a man. A man who would laugh at life and enjoy it, and at the same time guide the affairs of the country in the way that they should go. He had always known how to subdue our enemies when he had been in power. Why? Because Lord Palmerston wanted to keep England for the English and not turn it over to a lot of goose-stepping, rapacious, smug Germans. Down with Albert!

Cartoons, caricatures and verses appeared everywhere. There was one of the latter which ended:

This gave rise to the rumor that Albert was being taken to the Tower and crowds assembled at the Traitor's Gate to jeer at him.

This was the state of hysteria to which the country was reduced.

I wept with rage and frustration and I railed against the stupid mob. “How dare they?” I cried. “Action must be taken.” I was not the only one who thought this.

Mr. Gladstone turned out to be a good friend to us. He wrote an article in the
Morning Post
that made a deep impression; the subject was brought up in the House and the accusations against Albert were laughed to scorn, and many spoke in a most complimentary fashion for the Prince—including Mr. Disraeli. Lord John Russell made a magnificent speech in which he said the hysteria must be stopped for it was utter nonsense.

This fortunately did have a calming effect on the people but there were fears in certain quarters that there might be an attempt on Albert's life. I was, after all, not a stranger to assassination attempts, and I was terrified for Albert.

When I opened Parliament, Albert was with me, and the Prime Minister insisted that every precaution should be taken and we rode through the streets heavily guarded. He was right; there were cheers for Lord Palmerston and hisses for Albert and me.

I was so wretched when the people showed their disapproval of me and at such times remembered how, as a little Princess, I had gone among them while they cheered me, shouting my name and their good wishes.

How sadly life changed!

Lord Aberdeen was loath to go to war but Palmerston threatened to resign unless a stronger line was taken, and the people were firmly behind Palmerston. War had a great appeal for them perhaps because it was so far away, and I could see that the country was inevitably drifting toward it.

In February an ultimatum was sent by our government to the Russians:
Unless they retired from the Danube Principalities before the end of April, we should declare war. They did not reply and we were at war.

We could only attack Russia from the sea; our fleet sailed into the Baltic under Admiral Napier and in September landed in the Crimea. There were twenty-four thousand English, twenty-two thousand French, and eight thousand Turks. Our object was to capture Sebastopol.

From the balcony of Buckingham Palace, I watched the troops march past on their way to war. I wanted them to see me and know that my heart was with them. Later I went to the wharf to see them. I remembered Lehzen's lessons about that queen, of whom I had never really been very fond during my childhood.
She
had gone to Tilbury to
her
troops; she had made a fine speech about being a weak woman and having the heart of an English king. I might not have been so gloriously articulate as she was—but I did want them to know how much I cared.

How I hated war! It dominated my thoughts. I hated the thought of all that death and destruction; and my subjects being at the heart of it.

Lord Palmerston was letting everyone know that had he been in power the war could have been avoided. It was the foolish policy of appeasement which was the cause of many a war. If Russia had not believed that England would stand aside, if we had not had a vacillating government, they would never have dared to take action.

I was beginning to think that Palmerston must be right.

I can hardly bear to think of that time and the terrible hardships endured by my people. The disaster of Balaclava, the empty triumphs of Alma and Inkerman, the terrible epidemics which raged through the armies and killed more men than the guns.

I was proud of Miss Florence Nightingale, who went out with her nurses to look after them. She was magnificent working under the most fearful conditions.

Albert was at his desk for hours; he was continually thinking up improvements for the army which were presented to the government; and almost all of them were adopted. He insisted that we needed more men; we needed a more efficient commissariat; we needed improvements everywhere. The government was weak; he was finding himself more and more in agreement with Palmerston. And in time the inevitable happened. Palmerston had to be there, at the head of affairs. The people believed he was the only man who could end this wretched war. I think we all knew it too.

In due course Palmerston came to the Palace; he kissed my hand in accordance with tradition and set about forming a government with himself as its Prime Minister.

There was fresh hope everywhere. People were dancing in the streets. “Palmerston is back,” they cried. “Soon we shall be victorious now.” And although there were no miracles, events did take a turn for the better. Palmerston, energetic, positive and constructive, had the people behind him. He and Albert were agreeing on many important matters and I felt my antipathy toward the man fading a little.

He was certain that he was right and determined not to sway for anything—not even his own position. I suppose that was an inherent honesty. The only people who were against Palmerston at that time were certain politicians. It has always amazed me how petty they can be; I suppose they are so ambitious for themselves, so eager not to miss the slightest chance of their advancement, that they cannot bear to see others leaping ahead. Mr. Disraeli was very disappointed. I believed he had set his heart on the premiership for himself; he resorted to personal abuse, calling Palmerston “an old painted pantaloon, very deaf, very blind, with false teeth that were constantly threatening to fall out of his mouth.” Such items had nothing to do with winning the war and this was blatant envy. Palmerston
was
old; he was seventy, I believe; he may have touched up his cheeks; but I suspected Mr. Disraeli himself dyed his own hair. Mr. Disraeli had outstanding gifts, and it amazed me—as it has on many occasions—how men who are truly great can be so bemused by jealousy as to betray their baser side so childishly.

I received the news of the death of Tsar Nicholas with mixed feelings. There was great rejoicing. This was just retribution, it was said. The man who had been the cause of the deaths of thousands was now taken himself. I could only remember the man I had known, with his wild eyes and eccentric habits. He had really been rather charming.

But the war continued without him.

Albert crossed to France for a conference with the Emperor. He came back with copious notes and said he thought the Emperor was rather indolent. However, the visit improved relations with France and I was sure Albert had made a good impression.

We were now so friendly with the Emperor that he and his wife paid us a return visit. I was most interested to meet them. Louis Napoleon was a very charming man, but quite small in stature, and his wife was very tall
and slender. We made a striking contrast, I being so short and, I have to admit, inclined to plumpness, whereas Eugénie was so tall and willowy. On the other hand, Albert's tall figure called attention to the Emperor's lack of inches—so as far as appearances went we were an incongruous quartette.

I took them to Windsor which impressed them as it did all visitors.

I found them delightful, which was a surprise because I had been expecting the Emperor to be something of an upstart. He was very complimentary to me and he had a soft gentle voice; he really knew how to charm women, and I noticed his eyes following some of our more spectacular beauties. Albert was inclined to suspect such men but I admit to a weakness in myself inasmuch as I did enjoy their company. And thus it was with the Emperor.

We took him to a review of the troops in the Park. He rode a magnificent chestnut and bowed so charmingly to the onlookers that he was loudly cheered. He told me that years ago when he had lived humbly in England he had once been among the crowd to watch me ride by. That had been fourteen years before. “A sight so impressive, so touching in its dignity,” he said. “I never forgot it…or you.” He was a very charming man. The Empress was delightful too.

When they were introduced to the children Vicky was overawed by her—not so much by her dignity as her beauty and the lovely clothes she so elegantly wore. The two of them were so natural with the children, which was rather delightful in persons of their position, and I was pleased to see that the Emperor took a special interest in Bertie. Bertie's response was immediate. He was so accustomed to being put in the shade by his brilliant sister that he responded to attention like a flower opening to a spell of rare sunshine.

He chattered away to the Emperor and I was glad Albert was not present or he would have restrained him, but I thought it would do Bertie no harm, and I could see that the Emperor was enjoying the boy's questions. Bertie wanted to know about the French army, the guns, and the uniforms.