Victoria Victorious: The Story of Queen Victoria (68 page)

There was even a rumor that I had married him! But that was so absurd that I could only dismiss it as ridiculous. Memories of long ago came back to me. Ascot and that insidious and wicked murmur of “Mrs. Melbourne,” simply because a beautiful friendship had existed between us. Now they were turning their crude thoughts to John Brown…and me! They seemed to have forgotten that I was the Queen.

I tried to think what Lord Melbourne would have said if he could have heard these rumors. Or Lord Palmerston even. They were ridiculous, too absurd—and yet they persisted.

“Mrs. John Brown,” they were calling me. How dared they. And they were so blatant.
Punch
had published an imaginary Court Circular headed Balmoral.

“Mr. John Brown walked on the slopes. He partook of a haggis. In the evening Mr. John Brown was pleased to listen to a bagpipe.”

A scurrilous paper called the
Tomahawk
was publishing pieces that were all insolent and defamatory. There was one cartoon with a caption: “Where is Britannia?” The robes of state were depicted draped over a throne with a crown perched precariously on the top of them, and obviously in a position soon to topple over, which I presumed was meant to be significant. “It is so much more exhausting to entertain people of one's own rank than gillies and servants!” was printed below it.

How dared they! Had they no sympathy for bereavement? They were the victims of their own depraved minds.

It was amazing how little details seeped out to the Press. I had always known that John Brown liked what he called “a wee dram,” which meant that he was rather partial to Scotch whiskey; and naturally there were occasions when he did not realize how much he had taken. Then he would be in a state which he described as “a wee touch of the bashful,” I rarely saw him when he was thus, for he would always keep away from me then and confess to me next day that he had been “bashful” on the previous night.

I found this rather endearing and so honest.

There was another matter that caused a great deal of trouble. Prince Christian, who was staying with us, was apt to sit up late; he would sit smoking and talking until the early hours of the morning. John Brown mentioned to me that this kept him up late and I asked my equerry, Lord Charles Fitzroy, to drop a hint to Prince Christian that the smoking room should be closed at midnight.

This leaked out. Servants will talk. It caused a great deal of amusement. Royalty must bow to the wishes of Mr. John Brown. Why? Because Mrs. John Brown said it should be so.

There was one cartoon entitled “A Brown Study,” published in the obnoxious
Tomahawk
. It depicted John Brown, sprawling close to the throne with his back to it, a glass of whiskey in his hand.

Bertie came to see me one evening. Brown barred his way and said, “Ye canna see the Queen now. She's resting.”

Bertie hated Brown in any case, and he was furious.

“The Prince of Wales will see the Queen,” he said.

“It's your eldest,” called Brown. “I've told him ye're too tired to see him the night.”

“Thank you, Brown,” I said.

I could imagine Bertie's fury, but I would not have him rude to Brown.

The following morning Bertie came to me waving a paper in his hand. I knew at once that it was “A Brown Study.”

“This is disgraceful, Mama,” he said.

“I ignore such scurrilous nonsense.”

“It is an attack on you…on the crown. It should be considered. Mama, Brown must go. He was abominably rude to me. He was rude to Christian. He is quite impossible. It is all becoming a laughing stock.”

“He is my servant, Bertie. I will choose my own servants.”

“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

A
LEXANDRA 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.

T
HERE 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.”