by Jean Plaidy
It was pathetic to see his happiness. One thing which had not changed was his devotion to her.
As the meal progressed they talked of the past. Lord Melbourne recalled little incidents which she had forgotten and she could see that he was enjoying it immensely which pleased her. But it was inevitable that the conversation should turn to politics and the great issue of the moment was the repeal of the Corn Laws.
Lord Melbourne seemed to have forgotten that he was no longer Prime Minister; and it was very likely that if Lord John Russell had been able to form a government there would not have been a place for Lord Melbourne in it, for he was now far too sick a man for office. He talked of the Corn Laws and Peel’s sudden change of opinion with regard to them.
‘It’s a damned dishonest act, Ma’am,’ he declared vehemently.
The Queen laughed uncertainly and tried to change the subject, but Melbourne seemed to have forgotten that they were seated at a dinner table in the company of others; he appeared to have an illusion that they were alone in the blue closet when he was allowed the privilege of interrupting the Queen and repeated his assertion against Peel.
‘Lord Melbourne,’ said the Queen regally, ‘I must beg you to say nothing more on this subject now.’
There was a silence. The old man was crestfallen. The glories of the past had slipped away and left him exposed to the indignities of the present. The Queen was overcome with pity. She had loved him and she was not of a nature to forget old friends.
She said gently: ‘I shall be glad to discuss the matter with you at any other time.’
Melbourne looked at her gratefully. She had helped him salvage his dignity.
Tears shone in his eyes; and after that she thought of him as Poor, poor Lord Melbourne; and, remembering past glories, so did many others.
With the new year the political crisis worsened.
It was an unusual situation with Sir Robert standing out against the rest of his party determined to bring about the repeal of the Corn Laws – a very strange situation with a Prime Minister supported by his Opposition and his own party against him.
Albert took a great interest in these matters and insisted that the Queen did too, although with the irksome period to be lived through and all the discomforts which beset her, she found it difficult. A woman at such a time should be able to devote herself to domestic matters, she complained.
There was strong criticism of Albert because he was firmly behind Sir Robert and visited the House of Commons when the debate on Free Trade was in progress. The press raised a torrent of abuse. The House of Commons was no place for foreigners, said the press; nor was it proper for the Queen’s husband to show his approval of a measure by putting in an appearance during a debate. Moreover it was something which would not be tolerated. Albert was made to realise that he must not set foot in the House again.
Sir Robert was abused daily in the press; he was a ‘turncoat’ and a ‘traitor’ to his party, said his enemies, and they were men of his own party. The most virulent attacks came from the rebel Disraeli who, it was perfectly clear, had an eye on the premiership and was never going to forgive Peel for not giving him a place in the Cabinet.
In early June the Queen’s fifth child was born. It was a girl and she was christened Helena.
‘Two boys and three girls,’ she whispered to Albert when he came to sit beside her bed. ‘We have quite a large family now, Albert.’
Albert said this made him very happy, in such a way that she felt it was all very well worth while.
‘And what is going to happen about Sir Robert?’ she asked.
‘That, my love,’ replied Albert, ‘remains to be seen.’
Well, she thought, whatever happens, I have dear Albert and five children, and when one is so blessed in one’s home life, providing the country is safe, politics must seem less important than the family.
Sir Robert remained firm in his endeavour; the bill was passed in all its stages through the Commons and was sent to the Lords where it sailed through. Peel had repealed the Corn Laws, but on the very day when the bill was finally passed, Peel was defeated on the Irish Coercion Bill; his government fell and on this occasion Lord John Russell was able to form a government.
The Whigs were back in power.
Chapter XVI
BERTIE IN TROUBLE
Bertie was once more in disgrace. Since the coming of Alfred, who was now of an age to take notice, he had begun to speak fluently and to take an interest in his brother. Alfred applauded most things Bertie did and quite clearly admired him, so Bertie began to have quite a good opinion of himself. He could not compete with clever Vicky of course but in the little boys’ world he shared with Alfred he was supreme.
He would shout at Alfred, push him or pull his hair; but whatever he did Alfred bore stoically and gazed at him with admiration.
It was different during lessons because then he must sit with Vicky and hear her recite her French poetry or almost always come up with the right answers to sums. He felt it was no use trying to compete and so much more fun to think up some new game to play with Alfred and Alice too, who admired him. He might not be the favourite with his parents but he was with his younger brother and sister.
Miss Hildyard, one of the governesses, said that as he was not attending he had better stand in a corner.
He shook his head. ‘I won’t stand in the corner,’ he said truculently. ‘I am the Prince of Wales and Prince of Waleses don’t stand in corners.’
‘It’s not Waleses,’ said clever Vicky, ‘Because there’s only one Wales.’
‘That is right, Vicky,’ said Miss Hildyard, ‘and Bertie will go and stand in the corner.’
‘I won’t,’ declared Bertie.
And as Miss Hildyard tried to seize him he cried: ‘Don’t dare touch the Prince of Wales.’
Vicky burst out laughing and said he had a temper as bad as Mama’s and wouldn’t Mama be in a temper when she heard how naughty Bertie had been. ‘Because you will tell her, won’t you, Miss Hildyard?’
Miss Hildyard said she was sorry to have to complain of Bertie’s naughtiness and if he would be a good boy and go and stand in the corner until his fit of naughtiness had passed she would say nothing to His Royal Highness Bertie’s father, nor to Her Majesty Bertie’s mother.
Bertie considered this but Vicky was watching him so he picked up a book and threw it at the window. There was a cracking as the glass splintered. Vicky said: ‘Oh!’ Bertie stared at what he had done; and when they had all recovered from the shock Miss Hildyard said that now she would have no alternative but to report Bertie’s wickedness (he noticed with alarm the different description of his conduct) to his father.
So there was Bertie standing before his father, and in the latter’s hand was a long thin cane. Bertie knew from experience that this would soon be applied to him and he dreaded the ordeal, but he was not sure which was worse, the actual sting of the cane or the lecture which preceded it.
Bertie, said his father, was a great anxiety to his parents. He had no sense of responsibility. If he grew up into a good man (which his father feared was very unlikely) he might if his mother died be the King of England.
Bertie had heard this before but he listened to it every time awestruck. Somehow Papa managed to imply that if Mama died it would somehow be his fault because he would then be the King.
Because he was the Prince he owed it to God, his country and his parents to be more than ordinarily good, but alas, his wicked nature prevailed and he was more than ordinarily bad; and because this was so it was his father’s painful duty – which hurt him far more than punishment could hurt Bertie – to administer a more than ordinarily severe beating. Bertie would now place himself across the chair which was waiting to receive him and suffer the full force of his father’s blows.
Bertie had no recourse but to obey and as the blows descended his cries were loud and protesting.
At last the Prince seemed satisfied and Bertie was sent to his
room, there to remain until he was in a sufficiently penitent mood to say he was sorry to Miss Hildyard, to Mama and to his father for the great grief he had made them suffer.
Bertie lay face downwards on his bed sobbing. It was too uncomfortable to lie the other way.
The door opened and he knew it was Mama. She sat by the bed.
‘Bertie, I hear you have again been very wicked.’
Bertie did not answer.
‘You have been rude to Miss Hildyard; you have broken a window; and worst of all you have grieved Papa.’
Bertie was moved to stutter: ‘He … he didn’t have to …’
‘What do you mean, Bertie? Do you think Papa would shirk his duty? You, by your wickedness, have forced him to beat you. You know how that must have hurt him.’
‘He hurt me,’ said Bertie fiercely.
‘Then how much more do you think Papa has been hurt?’
‘He wasn’t beaten.’
‘Oh, Bertie, will you never understand anything? There are things that hurt more than canes. You have the best, kindest, dearest Papa in the world and you have made him unhappy by making it necessary for him to beat you.’
Bertie thought it wiser to sob.
‘I am going to leave you to think about this. But you must be a better boy. Remember how you have grieved your Papa and me and I am sure that when you think of that and how you love him and me you will be very sorry for what you have done and turn over a new leaf.’
With that she left him.
He didn’t believe Papa was more hurt than he was because nobody could be. He started to cry again. And he didn’t love Papa. He didn’t love Mama much either.
This was a startling discovery to make but at least it made him stop thinking of his smarting body.
The Queen was discussing the problem of Bertie with the Prince.
‘Something will have to be done about him, Albert.’
‘I have given him a caning which he will remember for some time.’
‘Poor Albert. It was courageous of you. I know how you must have felt about that. But it had to be done and it was best that you should do it. I’m afraid a tutor’s caning would have little effect on Bertie. Now he realises that you are angry with him he will understand that he must mend his ways.’
‘I was not angry, my love. I was hurt that our son could behave so badly.’
‘I know, Albert.’
‘Someone must take a firm hand with him. These tutors and governesses are aware that he is the Prince of Wales and can’t forget it. Bertie knows this. He can be shrewd enough; it is only where his lessons are concerned that he is stupid. Something will have to be done.’
‘If only you could teach him, Albert, that would be the best thing possible, but of course you are so fully occupied. My dear Albert, I fear you are overworked already.’
Albert said that his great desire was to help the Queen and this meant keeping up to date with everything that was going on. But he had an idea.
‘I shall write to Stockmar and explain our predicament to him. I shall implore him as he loves us both – which I know he does – to come at once. After all the education of the heir to the throne is as important as anything can be.’
The Queen thought that an excellent idea.
‘Trust you, Albert,’ she smiled, ‘to hit upon the right solution.’
Politics were soon claiming the Queen’s attention. Some politicians, she remarked to Albert, seemed determined to plague her. There was for one, that dreadful man with the greasy dyed hair, Mr Disraeli, who had made everything so difficult for dear Sir Robert; another man whom she detested was a Mr Gladstone. He had recently resigned because he objected to the government’s proposal to increase a grant to an Irish college where men were trained to become Roman Catholic priests. ‘What a dreadful man to make such a fuss over such a matter,’ declared the Queen. She had seen him once or twice and taken an immediate dislike to him, although he did have a charming wife. But perhaps the chief nuisance was Lord Palmerston.
In the days when Lord Melbourne had been Prime Minister she had enjoyed Lord Palmerston’s company. She knew that he had led a rather shocking life and this, she regretted to think nowadays, had then attracted her. She had thought him interesting and had been amused when Lord Melbourne had told her that he was nicknamed Cupid, for reasons which were clear to all. Later she had heard that when visiting Windsor he had been seen making his way along the corridors to certain ladies’ bedrooms during the night. Very, very shocking. Albert was aware of this side of Lord Palmerston’s nature and had he been the best of Ministers could never have liked him because of it.
Within the last few years Lord Palmerston had settled down. After being a very gay bachelor for fifty-five years, he had suddenly married; and the lady he had chosen to be his wife was a widow three years younger than he was, who happened to be Lord Melbourne’s sister. Emily Lamb had been married when she was very young to Lord Cowper and rumour had it that Lord Palmerston and she had been very great friends for some years. The friendship was perhaps too intimate for propriety; in any case when Lord Cowper died Palmerston married his widow.
Fanny, Lady Cowper’s daughter by her first marriage, who was lady-in-waiting to the Queen, did not like the idea of her mother’s marrying an old roué like Lord Palmerston; the Queen now heartily agreed with her; as she said to Albert, there was something very unpleasant about widows’ remarrying … In the event of the direst possible tragedy of which she could not bear to think for one moment, she could never bring herself to act in such a way.
And now that Lord John Russell was the Prime Minister, Lord Palmerston was once again Foreign Secretary; poor, poor Lord Melbourne having no place in the Cabinet. He said, with that generosity which she remembered so well, that of course it was quite right that he should not be offered one, for he was too infirm to hold it, but it seemed so hard when one remembered the past.
Lord Palmerston seemed to respect no one. He managed whenever possible to devise a course of action for himself and then explain it after he had carried it out. It was wrong, but he could always shrug himself out of any difficult situation, pretending that it was of no great importance.
The Queen suspected him of withholding state papers from her. She resented his attitude towards Albert which was that the Prince was merely a pleasant young man who must not be allowed to think that his opinions carried any weight.
A matter which had for some time been considered one of international importance had become a crisis. The question was the marriage of the young Queen Isabella of Spain and her sister. Louis Philippe had long had an eye on Spain. Before he came to the throne it had been an ambition of the French that Spain and France should be one. This might be brought about by the marriage of the King’s son to the young Queen of Spain. This was something which would never be permitted and Louis Philippe knew it. But he had a plan. As it would never be accepted by the rest of Europe that the son of the King of France should marry the Queen of Spain he would not press this. Instead his son, the Duc de Montpensier, should marry the young Queen’s sister, the Infanta Fernanda, while the Queen married her cousin, the Duke of Cadiz.
Before any objection could be made to this, the marriages had taken place. It was then discovered why Louis Philippe and Guizot, that wily Foreign Minister of his, had made the arrangement. The Duke of Cadiz was impotent; therefore the Spanish throne would go to the heir of Fernanda and Montpensier and thus Louis Philippe would achieve the influence he had hoped for.
When the Queen realised what had happened she raged against Louis Philippe.
‘What a sly old man! And when you think how he pretended to be such friends with us and gave the children those lovely presents.’
‘We should be wary of people when they give us presents,’ said Albert.
‘But these were such lovely presents and Vicky loved her doll. It had eyes that opened and shut and had real eyelashes; and Bertie’s soldiers were beautiful.’
‘If our
foreign service had been more efficient we should have seen this coming,’ said Albert.
‘I never did like that man Palmerston and why Little Johnny wanted to give him the Foreign Office I can’t imagine. Of course Johnny married a widow in the first place. Lord Melbourne told me that Johnny, on account of his size, used to be called the Widow’s Mite.’
Albert did not smile; he did not appreciate such jokes. She supposed they were not really very funny but she did remember laughing immoderately at the time.
‘Then of course there was that sad affair of his wife’s death. It upset me so much and then he married again and they are very happy together … not a widow the second time.’
‘It is a pity,’ said Albert, ‘that he brought Palmerston into the Cabinet.’
It was not long before there was a big difference between the royal pair and the Foreign Minister. Lord Palmerston had such odd ideas. There was Civil War in Portugal and one would have thought that in such a conflict he would have been on the side of the royalists. Not so; his sympathies were with the people.
‘I consider Lord Palmerston to be a most dangerous man,’ said Albert.
So of course the Queen agreed.
Stockmar, in answer to the entreaties of the Queen and Albert, arrived in England. He was warmly greeted and carried off to Windsor for conferences with the anxious parents of the Prince of Wales.
‘We are very worried about Bertie,’ announced the Queen. ‘He refuses to learn and is so high-spirited that it is sometimes difficult for his tutors and governesses to control him.’
‘I have forced myself to cane him many times,’ said the Prince. ‘It was distressing but necessary.’
‘It may well be that he is being pampered by people in the nurseries and schoolroom,’ said the Baron. ‘That could be responsible. And if he says he won’t learn he must simply be made to learn.’ Stockmar’s dry old face twisted into a reluctant smile. ‘I think you may well have been a little soft with the child.’