Alix and Bertie had gone with the children to Abergeldie for the autumn holiday and they were there when news reached them that the Empress Eugénie had escaped from France and landed in England.
Bertie was horrified. ‘To think of that charming lady in flight. It’s terrible. We’ll have to make her see that we welcome her.’
Alix agreed. She was very sad because once more the Prussians had been victorious.
At first they had had no idea where the Empress Eugénie was and they were being entertained at Dunrobin Castle when the news came that she and her son, the Prince Imperial, were in Chislehurst.
Bertie immediately wrote to her and told her that his house in Chiswick was at their disposal.
Lord Granville, who had taken over Lord Clarendon’s post at the Foreign Office, was worried. The Prince and Princess of Wales were too impetuous; their sentiments did them credit but they did not seem to realise that they were out of their element when they dabbled in politics. The Prussians were victorious; the Emperor was deposed; and here were they, representatives of a foreign power, showing sympathy with the fallen enemy.
The Queen had been very uneasy when she heard that Eugénie was in England. They had entertained each other and professed friendship, but she, unlike Bertie, realised the political implications.
Lord Granville came to see her, accompanied by Mr Gladstone. It was most unfortunate, they declared.
The Queen replied that she considered it presumptuous of the Prince and Princess to have acted as they had; and while they were wondering how the impulsive couple could be extricated from the difficulty in which they had placed the government, Eugénie replied to the Prince thanking him for his gesture but telling him that she had already been presented with Camden House at Chislehurst, so she had no need to avail herself of their generous offer.
While the Queen was sighing with relief more news came to her from Germany that her old governess, the Baroness Lehzen, had died. Deeply moved, she took out her journals and read of those long ago days when Lehzen had meant so much to her and had in fact been the most important person in her life. She thought of the early days and the dolls Lehzen had dressed for her. How they had loved those dolls! At that time she had thought that she would need Lehzen for ever and ever and that she would always be the most important person in her life. And then Albert had come – and he and Lehzen had disliked each other and Albert had shown her that Lehzen must go and now she believed that that had broken poor Lehzen’s heart.
I owed her so much, she thought, and however misguided she was, she adored me.
So the Queen wept and thought of the past and how sad it was that poor Lehzen was no more.
Mr Gladstone was disturbed by what he referred to as the royalty question.
There was now a republic in France and Germany was united as one great Empire under Prussian hierarchy. This had been proclaimed in the Hall of Mirrors at Versailles – the more to stress the defeat of France.
‘The point is,’ said Mr Gladstone to his Foreign Secretary, Lord Granville, ‘it is always dangerous for Royalty in general when a royal crown is lost. This would not have been so important a few years ago when the monarchy in this country commanded great respect. There were complaints against Albert as the German who wanted to rule this country, but there was no doubt in any mind that he was a sober-minded religious man, determined to do all in his power for what he believed to be right. He might have been called a dull man but everyone knew he was a good one.’
Lord Granville grasped the point.
‘Yet if we have lost one Emperor we have gained another.’
‘Power-crazy Germans,’ said Mr Gladstone. ‘And in place of a monarchy across the Channel we have a republic. Republics are catching. As I said, a few years ago the monarchy had a certain popularity. That has been lost over the last few years. The Queen’s insistence on remaining in seclusion is in a large part responsible. The scandal about her relations with John Brown another. She is defying the people. They want her to appear in public. They want a Queen to be a Queen. The Prince of Wales compensated in some respect, but since this disastrous Mordaunt affair, his popularity has waned a great deal. He is often hissed at when once he was cheered. Pity is expressed for the Princess because of the way in which her husband treats her. The Queen is never seen and the people have no respect for the Prince of Wales. That is the sad state of affairs and so we have a royalty question.’
Lord Granville could only agree with everything the Prime Minister said. If the Queen would rouse herself a great deal of good could be done.
But the Queen refused to rouse herself. She could only find consolation in the Highlands with John Brown in attendance. She arrived at Balmoral for the autumn holiday and while she was there a very interesting event took place.
The hills were looking particularly beautiful and there was so much to remind her of the old days when she and Albert had loved to walk across this very grass. The Lord Chancellor, Lord Hatherley, was with them; he was very solemn and she did wish he would not reproach her about her seclusion, though very mildly of course which was as much as he dared to: but Beatrice was there and she was always pleasant company. On this occasion Louise had gone for a walk with the Marquis of Lorne and some other friends so there were two parties.
The Queen talked to Lord Hatherley about the manner in which Albert had described the countryside and how he had revelled in it, seeing a resemblance to his native forests and mountains. It was such a pity they had cut down so many of the trees. Why did people have to spoil everything? she demanded.
Lord Hatherley murmured that the timber would no doubt be put to very good use. The Queen said that she would like to call at the little inn Brown talked so much about. He had worked there once for a while before coming into the royal service.
They called at the inn in which the Queen was very interested and kept smiling to herself, imagining Brown in such a place.
It was when they returned to Glassalt Shiel that the significance of the day became apparent. Louise came to her room and before the dear child spoke she knew.
‘My dear child, you look very happy,’ she said.
‘Oh, Mama, I am. Lorne has proposed and I have accepted him.’ Louise looked anxiously at her mother. ‘I knew you would approve.’
‘I shall pray that you will be happy, my child.’
‘I told Lorne that you would not withhold your consent.’
The Queen sighed. ‘I would never wish my dear children anything but their happiness. Of course I am going to miss you. I am losing all my children, one by one.’
‘We are not lost, Mama.’
‘But it seems that you grow away after marriage. Think! Beatrice is the only daughter I have left now and I suppose she will soon be thinking of leaving me.’
‘At least, Mama, I shall not leave the country.’
‘That is a great comfort to me, my dearest child. And I am fond of Lorne. He is a good young man. This will be the first time that a Sovereign of this country gives consent for a royal Princess to marry outside royalty since the days of Henry VIII when he allowed his sister Mary to marry the Duke of Suffolk.’
‘I know, Mama, and so does Lorne. We appreciate your goodness and we shall endeavour to show our gratitude all through our lives.’
‘My dearest, all I shall want is to be shown that you are happy.’
They embraced fondly and the Queen said how sad it was that Dearest Papa was not here to see his daughter’s happiness.
There was no point in delaying the marriage and six months later Louise and the Marquis of Lorne, heir to the Duke of Argyll, were married in St George’s Chapel, Windsor. Giving way a little to pressure the Queen allowed the marriage to be celebrated with a certain amount of pomp and although she would not wear a dress of any other colour than black she did make a concession by ornamenting it with glittering jet and wearing diamonds and rubies.