Within two years of Albert’s death a violent disturbance in foreign politics put Victoria’s faithfulness to a crucial test.  The fearful Schleswig-Holstein dispute, which had been smouldering for more than a decade, showed signs of bursting out into conflagration.  The complexity of the questions at issue was indescribable.  “Only three people,” said Palmerston, “have ever really understood the Schleswig-Holstein business—­the Prince Consort, who is dead—­a German professor, who has gone mad—­and I, who have forgotten all about it.”  But, though the Prince might be dead, had he not left a vicegerent behind him?  Victoria threw herself into the seething embroilment with the vigour of inspiration.  She devoted hours daily to the study of the affair in all its windings; but she had a clue through the labyrinth:  whenever the question had been discussed, Albert, she recollected it perfectly, had always taken the side of Prussia.  Her course was clear.  She became an ardent champion of the Prussian point of view.  It was a legacy from the Prince, she said.  She did not realise that the Prussia of the Prince’s day was dead, and that a new Prussia, the Prussia of Bismarck, was born.  Perhaps Palmerston, with his queer prescience, instinctively apprehended the new danger; at any rate, he and Lord John were agreed upon the necessity of supporting Denmark against Prussia’s claims.  But opinion was sharply divided, not only in the country but in the Cabinet.  For eighteen months the controversy raged; while the Queen, with persistent vehemence, opposed the Prime Minister and the Foreign Secretary.  When at last the final crisis arose—­when it seemed possible that England would join forces with Denmark in a war against Prussia—­Victoria’s agitation grew febrile in its intensity.  Towards her German relatives she preserved a discreet appearance of impartiality; but she poured out upon her Ministers a flood of appeals, protests, and expostulations.  She invoked the sacred cause of Peace.  “The only chance of preserving peace for Europe,” she wrote, “is by not assisting Denmark, who has brought this entirely upon herself.  The Queen suffers much, and her nerves are more and more totally shattered...  But though all this anxiety is wearing her out, it will not shake her firm purpose of resisting any attempt to involve this country in a mad and useless combat.”  She was, she declared, “prepared to make a stand,” even if the resignation of the Foreign Secretary should follow.  “The Queen,” she told Lord Granville, “is completely exhausted by the anxiety and suspense, and misses her beloved husband’s help, advice, support, and love in an overwhelming manner.”  She was so worn out by her efforts for peace that she could “hardly hold up her head or hold her pen.”  England did not go to war, and Denmark was left to her fate; but how far the attitude of the Queen contributed to this result it is impossible, with our present knowledge, to say.  On the whole, however, it seems probable that the determining factor in the situation was the powerful peace party in the Cabinet rather than the imperious and pathetic pressure of Victoria.