It was so different; one could not escape from the consequences of the war.
Dagmar’s fiancé, Nicholas the Czarevitch, had died of tuberculosis and she was very unhappy; but he had a brother Alexander and everyone was sure that Dagmar would have no difficulty in falling in love with him, so although she had lost her prospective bridegroom there was another waiting for her and his position was just as glittering as that of his brother. In fact it was exactly the same position.
It was all faintly depressing. Poor Dagmar felt that too.
And then they must go to Coburg where the Queen was unveiling the statue.
Victoria was in no mood to enjoy the occasion. She could never be in Coburg without thinking of dearest Albert and the happy holidays they had spent there. All her children were to be present because for any one of them to be absent would be an insult to dearest Papa. Albert’s brother Ernest would be there too. How strange that he who had led a somewhat wicked life should still be alive and Albert, who was younger, should have died! She remembered the occasion when she and Albert had witnessed the unveiling of a statue to Beethoven and how they had laughed because when it was unveiled it had its back to them. What good old days – how different from these sad and tragic times!
While in Germany they met Prince Christian of Schleswig-Holstein, Sonderburg-Augustenburg, the younger brother of the man who had aspired to Schleswig-Holstein, and whose family had now been robbed of their estates by the Prussians and Austrians. He and Lenchen became very interested in each other and as Lenchen was the next daughter for whom she must find a husband, the Queen saw no reason for not agreeing to their betrothal. As far as her daughters were concerned she always remembered the sad case of her aunts who had never been allowed to marry. There had been scandals about some of them and some of them had been very bitter. But then of course poor old Grandpapa George III was always very odd.
Lenchen seemed very happy at the prospect of marriage and she could go home and think about it very carefully because the marriage could not take place for a while.
Vicky was of the opinion that it would be a good match. Vicky herself was in a very difficult position. Her husband was the Crown Prince of Prussia but Bismarck was not at all fond of her and she told the Queen that he had said she was pro-English.
‘What an unfeeling man,’ cried the Queen, ‘to imagine you could ever forget your native land!’
It had been a difficult life in Germany for poor Vicky in that dreadful haunted schloss with her mother-in-law who resented her, and that dreadful Bismarck who was really responsible for the terrible reputation Prussia was getting for being the menace of Europe. And besides that, of course, she was very worried about little Wilhelm with his poor sad arm and all the treatment they were trying to give him.
The Queen was glad when it was time to leave. She was very much looking forward to being at Balmoral. She smiled to think how pleased Brown would be.
Alix was very uneasy. How she hated being in Germany! To have been at Rumpenheim with her sad relations who had lost so much and then to be expected to be friendly with their enemies was unendurable. She was angry when a message arrived for her and Bertie to the effect that the Queen of Prussia would come to Coblenz to greet them as they passed through. It would be a brief meeting fortunately, said Bertie. For form’s sake really.
He was unprepared for Alix’s stony silence. He tried to change the subject but she burst out: ‘Do you think I am going to be polite to the Queen of Prussia when the King and Bismarck have done everything possible to ruin my father, my home and my family?’
‘I know it’s hard to meet them,’ soothed Bertie. ‘But it’s just to greet them and then pass on. They understand it’s a little awkward. That’s why it’s been arranged like this. It’ll be over in an hour.’
‘It will not,’ said Alix.
‘Oh yes, it will,’ murmured Bertie.
‘It will not be over in an hour,’ repeated Alix fiercely, ‘because it is never going to begin.’
Bertie stared at her.
‘My dear,’ he said, ‘do you realise that the Queen of Prussia is coming to Coblenz expressly to see us.’
‘Yes, I do,’ said Alix, ‘and there is one thing you must understand, Bertie, I am not going to see her.’
‘It would be an insult.’
‘My parents have been worse than insulted by Prussia.’
‘Alix, I know this, but we couldn’t possibly refuse to see them.’
‘I could,’ she said, ‘and I shall.’
Bertie was reminded of the time when she had had the flag hauled down from the mast. This was a new Alix. She had seemed so easy-going; she did not question him when he stayed out all night. He was aware that she knew of his friendships with other women and she accepted this as necessary to his extreme virility. Dear Alix, such a good wife, he had always thought. So pretty and so accommodating.
But this was different. He now recognised that determination, and knew that he could not ignore it.
He tried pleading with her. ‘What can we do? What excuse can I make?’
‘Excuses! Do we have to make excuses? These people have murdered Danes; they have stolen our territory. Do we have to make excuses because we don’t fall on their necks and kiss them?’
‘We have to remember that this is the Queen of Prussia.’
‘It is precisely because I remember that that I will not see her.’
‘Mama will be displeased.’
‘I am sorry, but if she is that must be so.’
‘Alix, consider …’
But her lips were tightly pressed together and there was a hard glitter in her eyes. She would not leave the train to meet the Queen of Prussia.
Bertie was in a dilemma. He must go alone, which he did.
The Princess of Wales, he explained, was indisposed. Perhaps she had taken the journey too soon after the birth of little George.
The Queen of Prussia coldly agreed that this might be so, but she knew of course that the Princess of Wales had insulted her; she had been fully informed of the incident of the flag.
The little Danish Princess gave herself airs which was extraordinary considering she had never been of great importance and but for the fact that the Prince of Wales had married her would have been even less so after the defeat of the Danes.
She would have to learn that she could not insult Prussia with impunity.
The Queen broke her journey on the way back at Ostend in order that she might see Uncle Leopold.
Poor Uncle Leopold, he was getting very old now. She remembered sadly how beautiful he had seemed when she was a child and she had called him her second father. There was still something very impressive about him. She could see the paint very clearly on his wrinkled cheeks. Poor dear man, striving to look well, and she remembered how when he had been young he had loved to talk of his ailments. He said his rheumatism was crippling him then; it wasn’t, of course, but it was just that he enjoyed imagining himself a martyr. She had heard him and old Baron Stockmar talking of their ailments with almost as much excitement as they did politics.
And now he was rather a sad sight, still in his built-up shoes to give him height and his wig which somehow called attention to his ageing face. But he was as warm and affectionate as ever.
She was still his dearest child and he still attempted to advise. Now he was lecturing her on her love of seclusion. ‘It is not wise, my dearest child. The people want to see you. We can’t afford to shut ourselves away. We have to think of the people all the time.’