But before that there was trouble with Egypt when the Khedive's war minister Arabi Pasha brought about a successful coup and overthrew the Khedive. Egyptian finance was in chaos; France was involved with us but refused to reinstate the Khedive so we had to go ahead single-handed.
I was delighted when we had a decisive victory. I was at Balmoral at the time and ordered that a bonfire should be lighted at the top of Craig Gowan.
But of course I remembered the feeling of my “peace at any price” government and once again I mourned Lord Beaconsfield and wished with all my heart that he was beside me so that we could enforce the strong policies in which we had both so fervently believed.
I WAS ASTONISHED when Leopold came to me and told me that he planned to marry. I had thought he never would. We had always been so watchful of him ever since we discovered he was cursed with that dreadful disease, hemophilia.
He was so careless of himself, which I supposed was natural. He could not be expected to lead a completely sheltered life; after all he was a normal healthy young man in every other respect.
I had heard rumors of his attraction to a certain young woman who was making a stir in London. This was largely due to Bertie. But it was Leopold, so it was rumored, who had seen her first.
She was a certain Mrs. Langtry, the daughter of the Dean of Jersey, who had married a Mr. Langtry. They would not have moved in very exalted circles but it seemed the woman was exceptionally beautiful, had been noticed by a nobleman, and was asked to his house.
There, Leopold had seen her and apparently fallen in love with her. Alas for Leopold, Bertie saw her picture, wanted to meet her, and then decided she was for him.
Such was Leopold's nature, and Bertie's too, that this did not result in any ill feeling between them. Bertie pursued Mrs. Langtry, was seen everywhere with her, and Leopold shrugged his shoulders and decided to take a trip on the Continent.
There he met Princess Helen Frederica Augusta, daughter of the Prince of Waldeck Pyrmont, and decided he wished to marry her.
When I heard I was horrified—not by the thought of whom he had chosen, but because he was contemplating marriage. I feared he was not strong enough. I had lost my dear Alice and that had made my children who were left to me doubly precious; and because of Leopold's weakness I was afraid.
I discussed the matter with Bertie who thought that Leopold must marry if he wished to.
“Do you understand the nature of this terrible thing from which he is suffering?” I demanded.
“I know that if he bleeds he is in danger. But you have to let him live, Mama. He is just as well married as single.”
Of course he was right. I was being fatalistic. Whatever was coming I must be prepared for it.
So Leopold was betrothed and created Duke of Albany.
I WAS ON my way to Windsor Castle and had left the train and taken my place in the carriage, which was waiting for me at the station. The horses were just about to move forward when I heard a loud report, then a scuffle, and Brown, white-faced and anxious, was at the window.
“A man has just fired at your carriage,” he said.
I felt quite ill. This was the seventh shock of this nature that I had had in my life. I should be used to it, but one never is.
“I'm taking ye on to the castle the noo,” said Brown. “I'll soon have ye there.”
Later I learned exactly what had happened. Two boys from Eton School had been in the little group of people near the carriage. They had seen a man lift his hand with the pistol in it, directed straight at the carriage. One of them had knocked it out of the man's hand with his umbrella while the other had hit the assailant with his. Then they had seized him and clung to him until he was arrested.
This was a really serious attempt for the pistol had been loaded.
Mr. Gladstone came down to Windsor, all concern. I must say he did seem very sincere—and indeed, it was hard to imagine Mr. Gladstone ever anything else; but his manner irritated me even when he showed he was upset by the incident.
“The man is mad,” he said. “All those who have made an attempt on Your Majesty's life have been mad. In other countries rulers are attacked for political reasons. It is gratifying that in this country all assassins are madmen.”
“The effect is the same on the victim, Mr. Gladstone,” I said coolly.
“Yes, Ma'am, that is so, but the motive is different; and madmen have not the same power to reason.”
Now I was going to get a lecture on the motives of madmen and the difference in assassins in England and other countries.
I cut him short.
“I shall be relieved to hear more of this matter,” I said.
He told me then about the bravery of the two boys from Eton who had without doubt averted a tragedy.
“I should like to let them know how much I appreciate their actions.”
That, he said, was an excellent idea.
It was arranged that I should receive the whole school—nine hundred boys—and very moving it was to see them assembled in the quadrangle. I spoke to them, commending the two of their number who had so gallantly come to my rescue. Then the two heroes themselves came forward and received my special thanks.
My would-be assailant turned out to be a certain Roderick McLean who was brought to trial and found not guilty but insane.
I was incensed by the verdict. Not guilty when he had aimed a loaded pistol at me, which might have killed me but for the prompt action of two schoolboys with their umbrellas! It seemed to me that people who tried to kill my subjects were guilty of murder, but if they tried to kill me, they were found to be insane.
“There is no doubt of the man's insanity,” said Mr. Gladstone. “In this country it is always the insane who attempt to assassinate the sovereigns.”
The man was detained “during Her Majesty's pleasure.”
It would be my pleasure that he remained as long as I had any say in the matter.
In his ponderous way Mr. Gladstone did see my point and said that he would take up the matter of such cases and see if he could bring about a change in the law.
My popularity soared after the attempt. That was always gratifying; and when one had come unscathed out of these incidents they seemed almost worthwhile for the pleasure of enjoying the people's acclaim.
ABOUT A MONTH after the Roderick McLean affair, Leopold was married. There had been the usual distasteful wrangle in Parliament about his allowance. But at length it was agreed that it should be raised to £25,000 a year. There was the expected outcry in the Press about the money the royal family was receiving from the country, the habitual murmuring about my seclusion, “What does she do with it and is she worth it to us?” was renewed, and forty-two members voted against the allowance being raised. However the majority that passed it was substantial enough.
I attended the ceremony in my black gown and over it I did wear my white wedding lace and veil. I prayed fervently that Leopold would not tax his strength. I greatly feared for him. The blood losses he had suffered all his life had weakened him; and he must realize that such a disease set him apart from normally healthy men. Helen was a very capable young woman, not afraid of stating her own mind—even to me. I had felt a little taken aback at first but soon began to admire her spirit. I was beginning to think she was just the wife for Leopold.
I was buying Claremont for them as a wedding present. It was a house of which I was particularly fond. Uncle Leopold had left it to me for the duration of my life, but I had thought I should like to own it so that I could give it to the newly married couple.