In the Days of Queen Victoria Part 14

Few people realized how much severe mental labor the Queen had to endure. Often in the course of a single year many thousand papers were presented to her, and of these there were few to which she did not have to give close thought. For twenty-one years she had discussed everything with Prince Albert, and when they had come to a conclusion, he would, as in the _Trent_ affair, write whatever was necessary.

Then they would read the paper together and make any changes that seemed best. After his death, the Queen had to do all this work alone.

She could wear the Kohinoor diamond, and she could build a million-dollar palace if she chose, but there were few persons in the kingdom who worked harder than she. What belonged strictly to matters of state was more than enough for one person, but besides this there were schools, hospitals, and bazaars to open, prizes to distribute and corner-stones to lay. Then there were entertainments, fetes, receptions, b.a.l.l.s, etc., frequently in behalf of some good object, whose success was sure if it could be said that the Queen would be present. The Prince and Princess of Wales could not lessen the weight of the public business that pressed so heavily upon the Queen, but they could relieve her from the strain of these public appearances, and this they did. They were both beloved by the people, but after the Queen had lived for five years in retirement, some of her subjects began to complain.

"What has she to do," grumbled one, "but to wear handsome clothes, live in a palace, and bow to people when she drives out?"

"Yes," declared another, "she has nothing to do. Parliament makes the laws, and she just writes her name."

"She's good to her cottagers in the Highlands," said a Londoner, "but she ought to care a little for the merchants here in London. Everybody likes the Princess, but the Queen's the Queen, and there never were such sales as when she was giving her fancy-dress b.a.l.l.s."

"She thinks of nothing but her own sorrow," said another. "She has lost all sympathy with the people."

This last speech was made at a public meeting. Mr. John Bright, the "great peace statesman," was present, and he replied to it. His closing words were, "A woman who can keep alive in her heart a great sorrow for the lost object of her life and affection is not at all likely to be wanting in a great and generous sympathy for you."

Little by little the Queen learned the feelings of her people, and she soon published a response which must have made the grumblers feel ashamed. She said she was grateful for their wish to see her, but so much was now thrown upon her which no one else could do that she was overwhelmed with care and anxiety, and did not dare to undertake "mere representation," lest she should become unable to fulfill the duties which were of real importance to the nation. Some months later, she wrote of herself in a private letter: "From the hour she gets out of bed till she gets into it again, there is work, work, work--letter-boxes, questions, etc., which are dreadfully exhausting."

The Queen wished sincerely not only to do what was best for the people, but also to please them. She could not go to b.a.l.l.s and theaters, but early in 1866 she determined to open Parliament in person. The London world rejoiced. They tried to imagine that the old days had come again, and they put on their jewels and their most splendid robes. All the way to the Parliament Building the streets were full of crowds who shouted "Long live the Queen! Hurrah for the Queen!" In the House of Lords there was a most brilliant a.s.sembly. Silks rustled and jewels sparkled as all rose to welcome the sovereign. As she entered, the Prince of Wales stepped forward and led her to the throne. The royal Parliamentary robes with all their glitter of gold and glow of crimson were laid upon it, for the Queen wore only mourning hues, a robe of deep purple velvet, trimmed with white miniver. On her head was a Marie Stuart cap of white lace, with a white gauze veil flowing behind. The blue ribbon of the Garter was crossed over her breast, and around her neck was a collar of diamonds. All the radiant look of happiness with which those were familiar who had seen her on the throne before, was gone. She was quiet and self-controlled, but grave and sad. Instead of reading her speech, she gave it to the Lord Chamberlain. At its close, she stepped down from the throne, kissed the Prince of Wales, and walked slowly from the room.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Houses of Parliament.]

The Queen's two daughters, Helena and Louise, had attended her in opening Parliament. This must have been a little embarra.s.sing for the older one, inasmuch as the Queen's address declared that the royal permission had been given for the Princess Helena to marry Prince Christian of Schleswig-Holstein; but members of the royal family cannot always consult their own feelings. When they rule different countries, it is not always easy for them even to remain friendly. The fact that the Queen, her daughters, and her Danish daughter-in-law were as fond of one another at the end of 1866 as they were at the beginning of 1864 is proof that the English royal family were very harmonious. Trouble had arisen between Denmark and the German states in regard to the duchies of Schleswig-Holstein, and in 1864 war had broken out between the little kingdom of Denmark and the united powers of Prussia and Austria. Both countries were anxious to win the help of England.

Princess "Vicky" and Princess Alice naturally sympathized with the German states; while Princess Alexandra's affection was of course with her own home land, which had now become her father's kingdom. The Emperor of France did not wish to have the German states increase in power, and he was ready to help Denmark, provided England would stand by him. England was willing, but England's sovereign would not hear to any talk of war with Germany, and the Ministers hesitated to act against her decided opposition. Of course the Danish Princess was grieved that the Queen would not consent to help her beloved country.

Bismarck was the German statesman who was pus.h.i.+ng on the war, therefore he was the man who was most abhorrent to the Princess of Wales. There is a story that the Queen had promised the little Beatrice a present, and that when she asked, "What shall it be?" the wee maiden, who had been carefully tutored by her sister-in-law, replied demurely, "Please, mamma, I'd like the head of Bismarck on a charger."

Two years later, there was a still more difficult condition of affairs in the Queen's family, for now that Prussia and Austria held the Schleswig-Holstein duchies, it was a question to which of the two powers they should belong; and to complicate matters even more, Princess Helena had married Prince Christian. Prussia and the north German states held together, and Austria joined the forces of the south German states. Prince "Fritz" belonged to the north and Prince Louis to the south, and therefore the husbands of the two English Princesses were obliged to fight on opposite sides. The war lasted for only seven weeks, but it was an anxious time for Queen Victoria, who shared so fully in the troubles of her daughters. Princess Alice's two little girls were sent to England to be safe in her care, but in the midst of the war, a third little daughter was born. The boom of the distant guns was heard as she lay in her cradle in Darmstadt. Wounded men were being brought into the town, and the residents were fleeing in all directions. By and by the end came, and then the little dark-eyed baby was named Irene, or peace. Never before had a child so many G.o.dfathers, for when Prince Louis said farewell to his cavalry, he delighted them by asking the two regiments, officers and men, to be sponsors to his little girl.

CHAPTER XIII

MOTHER AND EMPRESS

While the German wars were going on the Queen was thinking for her country as a sovereign and feeling for her children as a mother. In the midst of all the claims upon her, she had one aim that she never forgot, and that was to make her country understand and appreciate the talents and character of Prince Albert. She concluded to have a book prepared that should tell the story of his life, for she felt that no one who really knew him could fail to honor him. When the first volume was published, even her children were surprised that she should tell matters of her own private life so fully; but she loved and trusted her people, and she was as frank with them as she would have been with an intimate friend.

The year after this book was brought out, the Queen herself became the author of a book, "Our Life in the Highlands." It is made up of extracts from the journal which she always kept. "Simple records," she calls them, but they often give charming pictures of the merry times at Balmoral. Sir Arthur Helps aided her in preparing the book for the press. "He often scolds me," she said, "because I am careless in writing; but how could he expect me to take pains when I wrote late at night, suffering from headache and exhaustion, and in dreadful haste?"

She arranged to have Sir Theodore Martin complete the life of the Prince, and she spent much time in arranging her husband's papers and letters for him to use. She generally chose the selections to be inserted, and she read every chapter as it was written.

About her own authors.h.i.+p the Queen was very modest, and when she sent a copy of her book to d.i.c.kens, she wrote in it, "From the humblest of writers to one of the greatest." At Sir Walter Scott's home, she was asked to write her name in his journal; and, although she granted the request, she wrote in her own journal, "I felt it a presumption in me."

When Carlyle met her, he said, "It is impossible to imagine a politer little woman; nothing the least imperious, all gentle, all sincere; makes you feel too (if you have any sense in you) that she is Queen."

Her being Queen gave her a peculiar power over the marriages of her children, for they were not legal unless she gave her formal consent.

Early in 1871 she was called upon again to exercise her right, for far up in the hills about Balmoral there was a momentous little interview between the Princess Louise and the Marquis of Lorne. "Princess Louise is so bright and jolly to talk with," one of the Scotch boys had said of her when she was a very young girl, and this Scotch Marquis was of exactly the same opinion.

The Queen had guessed before how matters stood with her daughter and the gentleman whom she had once called "such a merry, independent child." The young man had proved his independence by asking for the hand of the Princess, inasmuch as it was three hundred years since a member of the royal family had married a subject, but the Queen paid no attention to tradition. She felt sure that the Marquis would make her daughter happy, and that was enough. Most of her subjects agreed with her; and one of the newspapers said jubilantly, "The old dragon Tradition was routed by a young sorcerer called Love."

The wedding was celebrated at Windsor. It was a brilliant scene, of course, and if all the gentlemen were arrayed as vividly as the Duke of Argyll, the father of the bridegroom, the ladies did not monopolize gorgeousness of attire. The Duke was a Scottish chieftain, and he appeared in Highland dress. His kilt and the plaid thrown over his shoulders were of the gay Campbell tartan. His claymore, a broad two-handed sword, was at his side, and in front there hung from his belt a sporran, or deep pouch made of skin with the hair or fur on the outside. His dirk sparkled with jewels. Altogether he might have stepped out of some resplendent a.s.semblage of the middle ages. After the wedding breakfast, the bride laid aside her white satin and Honiton lace and arrayed herself in a traveling dress of Campbell plaid. The carriage door was closed, and the young couple drove away for Claremont in a little shower of white slippers, accompanied, according to Highland tradition, by a new broom, which was sure to bring happiness to the new household.

The Queen's daughters were now in homes of their own except the Princess Beatrice, a merry little girl of fourteen, who had been radiantly happy in her new pink satin at her sister's wedding. The Queen was devoted to her children, but it would have been easier for her to pa.s.s through the next few years if she had been all sovereign and not woman. War broke out between France and Germany, and both Prince "Fritz" and Prince Louis were in the field. Anxious as she was for them, she was even more troubled for the Princess Alice, who was really in quite as much danger as if she had been in the army. For several years she had been deeply interested in lessening the sufferings of the poor in times of illness; and in providing trained nurses for wounded soldiers. While this war was in progress, she not only went to the hospitals daily, but she brought the wounded men to her own house and cared for them herself. She was exposed over and over again to typhus fever and other diseases, but she seemed to be entirely without fear. One of her friends describes seeing her help to lift a soldier who was very ill of smallpox.

Princess Alice little thought of what value her skill in nursing would be to her own family, but near the end of 1871, the Prince of Wales was taken ill with typhoid fever, and her help was of the utmost value. It was just ten years before that Prince Albert had died of the same disease, and to the anxious Queen every day was an anniversary. She hastened to the home of the Prince at Sandringham, and when she saw how ill he was, she sent at once for the other members of the family. The days pa.s.sed slowly. One day he seemed a little better, and there was rejoicing, as the telegraph flashed the news not only over England, but to Canada, India, to every part of the world. Then came a day of hopelessness. The Queen mother watched every symptom. "Can you not save him?" she pleaded; and all the physicians could answer was, "You must be prepared for the worst. We fear that the end is near."

Bulletins were sent out to the public every hour or two. All London seemed to tremble with fear and anxiety. Stores were open, but there was little of either buying or selling. Day and night the citizens crowded the streets in front of the newspaper offices. They talked of no one but the Prince.

"He's a good boy to his mother," said one, "and she'll miss him sorely."

"He's living yet, G.o.d bless him, and perhaps after all he'll mend,"

declared another of more hopeful spirit.

"Did you ever hear that when he was a little chap and his tutor was going to leave him, the young man couldn't go into his room without finding a little present on his pillow or perhaps a note from the little boy saying how much he should miss him?"

"It'll kill the Queen," said one man. "The poor woman's had all she can bear, and she'll never go through this."

"And the Prince's boy's but eight years old," declared another.

"There'll be a regent for ten years, and no one can say what harm will come to the country in that time."

So the days pa.s.sed. The fourteenth of December came, the anniversary of the day on which the Prince Consort had died. The Prince breathed and that was all. The people about the offices were hushed. Everyone dreaded to hear the next message, but when it came, it said "Better."

London hardly dared to rejoice, but the Prince continued to gain, and at last the Queen joyfully granted the wish of her people and appointed a Thanksgiving Day. The special service was held at St. Paul's Church, and there were many tears of joy when the Queen walked up the nave between the Prince and the Princess of Wales.

After the religious ceremony was over, the guns roared out the delight of the people, and a wild excitement of happiness began. At night St.

Paul's was illuminated, and everyone was jubilant. The Queen was deeply touched and pleased with the warm sympathy shown by her subjects, and a day or two later she sent a little letter to be published in the papers to tell them how happy they had made her.

Only two days after this letter was written, there was a great alarm, for when the Queen went out to drive a young fellow sprang towards the carriage and aimed a pistol at her. He was seized in a moment and proved to be a half-crazed boy of seventeen whose pistol had neither powder nor bullet. Most of the Queen's personal attendants were Highlanders, and one of them, John Brown, had thrown himself between her and what he supposed was the bullet of an a.s.sa.s.sin. Both the Queen and Prince Albert were always most appreciative of faithful service, and looked upon it as something which money could not buy. She had been thinking of having special medals made to give to her servants who deserved a special reward, and she now gave the first one to John Brown. With the medal went an annuity of $125.

John Brown seemed to have no thought but for the Queen. To serve her and care for her was his one interest. He cared nothing about court manners, and was perhaps the only person in the land who dared to find fault with its sovereign to her face. Statesmen would bow meekly before her, but the Scotchman always spoke his mind. He even ventured to criticise her clothes. The Queen never did care very much for fine raiment, and in her journal where she narrates so minutely as to mention the fact that a gla.s.s of water was brought her, she describes her dress merely as "quite thin things." John Brown thought nothing was good enough for his royal mistress. "What's that thing ye've got on?"

he would demand with most evident disapproval, if a cloak or gown was not up to his notion of what she ought to wear; and this Queen, who knew so well what was due to her position, knew also that honest affection is better than courtly manners, and kept Brown in close attendance. She built several little picnic cottages far up in the hills, where she and some of her children would often go for a few days when they were at Balmoral. There is a story that when she was staying at one of these cottages, she wished to go out to sketch. A table was brought her, but it was too high. The next was too low, and the third was not solid enough to stand firmly. So far John Brown had not interfered, but now he brought back one of the tables and said bluntly, "They canna make one for you up here." The Queen laughed and found that it would answer very well.

One cannot help wondering what Queen Victoria's guests thought of her attendant's blunt ways, but they must have often envied her his honest devotion. In 1872 and 1873 she had several very interesting visitors.

One of them was David Livingstone, the African explorer.

"What do the people in the wilderness ask you?" queried the Queen.

"They ask many questions," he replied, "but perhaps the one I hear oftenest is, 'Is your Queen very rich?' and when I say 'Yes,' they ask, 'How rich is she? how many cows does she own?'"

Other visitors were a group of envoys from the King of Burmah, a monarch with such strict regard for what he looked upon as royal etiquette that he would not allow the British representative to come into his presence unless the indignant Englishman took off his shoes before attempting to enter the audience room. His letter to the Queen began with the flourishes that would be expected from so punctilious a potentate: "From His Great, Glorious, and Most Excellent Majesty, King of the Rising Sun, who reigns over Burmah, to Her Most Glorious and Excellent Majesty Victoria, Queen of Great Britain and Ireland." He sent among other gifts a gold bracelet which must have been of more value than use, for it weighed seven pounds.

The guest who made the greatest sensation was the Shah of Persia. For more than two months he was on his way to England, and the nearer he came, the more wild were the fancies that people had about him. The newspapers were full of stories about his dagger, whose diamonds were so dazzling, they said, that one might as well gaze at the midday sun.

They told amazing tales about the pocket money which he had brought with him, some putting the amount as $2,500,000, others as $25,000,000.

"When he walks about, jewels fall upon the ground," one newspaper declared. "He wears a black velvet tunic all sprinkled with diamonds, and he has epaulets of emeralds as big as walnuts," romanced another.

The curiosity seekers were disappointed when he appeared, though it would seem as if he had enough jewelry to make himself worth at least a glance, for up and down his coat were rows of rubies and diamonds. He wore a scimitar, and that, together with his belt and cap, was sparkling with precious stones, while his fingers were loaded with rings.

The Queen came from Balmoral to welcome him. Whether she gave him the formal kiss that was expected between sovereigns, the accounts do not state, but all sorts of entertainments were arranged for him, a great ball, a review of artillery, an Italian opera, and many other amus.e.m.e.nts. He was much interested in the review, and the troops must have been interested in him, for he rode an Arab horse whose tail had been dyed a bright pink. At this review one of the newspaper stories proved very nearly true, for a member of the Persian suite fell from his horse and really did scatter diamonds about him on the gra.s.s. After a visit of a little more than two weeks, the Shah bade farewell to England. Before his departure there was an exchange of courtesies between himself and the Queen. She made him a knight of the Garter, and he made her a member of a Persian order which he had just inst.i.tuted for ladies. The Queen gave him a badge and collar of the Garter, set in diamonds; and he returned the gift by presenting her with his photograph in a circle of diamonds.

In the midst of this entertainment and display, the tender heart of the Queen was more than once deeply grieved by the death of dear friends.

The cherished Feodore, the Princess Hohenlohe, died; then the Queen lost Dr. McLeod, the Scotch clergyman who had so helped and comforted her in her troubles. Hardly two months had pa.s.sed after his death before heart-broken letters came from Darmstadt. Princess Alice had been away for a short time, counting the hours before she could be with her children again. At last she was at home with them and happy. The two little boys were brought to her chamber one morning, and as she stepped for a moment into the adjoining room, one of them, "Frittie,"

fell from the window to the stone terrace, and died in a few hours. The heart-broken mother longed to go to her own mother for comfort in her trouble, but she could not leave her home, neither could the Queen come to her.