For Vicky, the plan worked perfectly. Having inherited her father’s brilliant intellect, she relished the hours spent in study, and delighted in impressing Prince Albert, who was thrilled by her achievements. By the age of three, she could read and write and was already fluent in English, French and German, leading her proud father to state, “I hold her to be exceptionally gifted even to the point of genius.”[8]
Sadly, the same could not be said of Bertie. With little aptitude for book-learning, study bored him and he found the isolation from his peers frustrating. While his parents despaired of his lack of intellect and his failure to apply himself to his lessons, he rebelled against the oppressive regime with rages and tantrums, culminating in his being occasionally beaten and, more often, banished to his room.
“The systematic idleness, laziness – disregard of everything is enough to break one’s heart, and fills me with indignation,”[9] wrote the Queen as Bertie approached adulthood.
In an attempt to understand the children’s behaviour, a prominent phrenologist, George Combe, was invited to examine their skulls in order to diagnose any innate character flaws which might be remedied through appropriate education. Unfortunately for Bertie, Combe concluded that his intellectual organs were only ‘moderately well developed’, which prompted still more intensive programmes of study.
Much has been made of the supposed cruelty of such a stringent regime but in the nineteenth century it was common practice to beat unruly children; and, even if the attempt to mould Bertie into an ideal prince was both fruitless and futile, his parents genuinely had his best interests at heart. They might have mistakenly sought to turn him into someone he could never be, but they did so with the highest intentions, believing it would benefit him and the country. Having been self-effacing enough to seek guidance from Stockmar, they believed – initially at least – that it was important to implement his instructions, which, though they might appear astounding today, were viewed at the time as the most appropriate and beneficial methods of child-rearing.
By the time of the birth of their third child, Alice, however, Queen Victoria and Prince Albert had gained confidence in their own abilities as parents and relied less on Stockmar and more on their experience and intuition. They recognised the importance of creating a loving environment for their children, and, unlike many of their contemporaries, realised that this could be best achieved by spending time with them.
“The greatest maxim of all,” wrote the Queen, “is that the children should be brought up as simply as possible; that (not interfering with their lessons) they should be as much as possible with their parents.”[10]
True to her word, the Queen bathed her own babies, and, when organising her suite at Windsor, specifically arranged for the schoolroom to be adjacent to her audience chamber and sitting room so that she could be close to them. Despite her alleged dislike of babies, her diary entries and letters reveal the pleasure she took in her growing family and her enjoyment of spending time with the children.
So it was that Queen Victoria’s second daughter, Alice, was born into a more stable family than her elder siblings had been. The disputes which had led to many stormy scenes in the early months of her parents’ marriage had given way to a delightful contentment; Lehzen was gone; Melbourne had retired from politics; and Prince Albert was beginning to employ his gifts to the full. By now, Queen Victoria had formed a close bond with her mother, who often accompanied the Royal Family on their travels; and she had come to admire and adore her devoted husband, whose brilliance she relied upon in everything. Unsurprisingly, therefore, as Alice’s letters would later reveal, she could not have hoped for a more idyllic childhood.
Chapter 2
What a joyous childhood we had!
Princess Alice, ‘a pretty and large baby’, was born in Windsor Castle at four o’clock on a lovely spring morning, 25th April 1843. Although it was a relatively easy birth, the Queen, as was customary, did not appear in public for over a fortnight following her confinement but during her recuperation she found time to write excitedly to her uncle, King Leopold of the Belgians:
“Our little baby, who I really am proud of, for she is so very forward for her age, is to be called Alice, an old English name, and the other names are to be Maud (another old English name and the same as Matilda) and Mary, as she was born on Aunt Gloucester’s[b] birthday.”[11]
What the Queen did not mention was that, with Prince Albert’s agreement, ‘Alice’ was chosen partly as a kindness to Lord Melbourne who had once mentioned that this was his favourite name.
In spite of a few grumbles from various ministers that the child was not male (the spare to the heir), Prince Albert was delighted by the new addition to his family and set about using her christening to ameliorate the relationship between the Queen and her unpleasant uncle, Ernest, King of Hanover.
Prior to the Queen’s accession, cantankerous Uncle Ernest made no secret of the fact that he considered a mere girl unfit to inherit the throne, and it was widely rumoured that he intended to lead a coup against – or even murder – his niece in order to proclaim himself king. Naturally, Ernest denied the allegations but he relished any excuse to denigrate the young Queen and, the death of his brother, Augustus, Duke of Sussex, four days before Alice was born, provided him with a perfect opportunity for criticism. Queen Victoria had been particularly fond of Uncle Augustus and readily acquiesced to his request to be interred in Kensal Green Cemetery rather than the family vault at Windsor. Uncle Ernest complained bitterly that such a thing was unheard of in royal circles, and – amusingly, considering his own reputation – claimed that by agreeing to such a request, the Queen was demeaning the monarchy. The dispute was compounded by a disagreement about a collection of jewels left by his late mother, Queen Caroline, which, Uncle Ernest believed were rightfully his as the next male heir. Queen Victoria, on the other hand, insisted that they belonged to the Crown and irked him immensely by wearing them in his presence.
Ever eager to heal disputes, Prince Albert sought to placate Uncle Ernest by inviting him to act as Alice’s godfather. Somewhat grudgingly, he accepted, but, as the small congregation gathered in the private chapel of Buckingham Palace on 2nd June 1843, he showed his contempt by arriving ‘just in time to be too late’.
Fortunately, the other godparents – Albert’s elder brother, Ernest of Coburg (represented at the ceremony by the Grand Duke of Mecklenburg-Strelitz), the Duchess of Gloucester, and the Queen’s half-sister, Feodore[c] (represented by her mother, the Duchess of Kent) – were far more accommodating and, as the Queen told the King of the Belgians:
“Our christening went off very brilliantly...; nothing could be more anständig [respectable], and little Alice behaved extremely well. The déjeuner was served in the Gallery…and there being a profusion of flowers on the table, etc., had a beautiful effect…Pussy [Vicky] and Bertie (as we call the boy)…appeared after the déjeuner… and I wish you could have seen them; they behaved so beautifully before that great number of people, and I must say looked very dear, all in white, and very distingués; they were much admired.”[12]
After such a cheerful welcome, baby Alice could now begin the serious business of growing up as a member of one of the most privileged families in the world.
Surrounded by beauty, attended constantly, and doted upon by her family, the world was a thrilling place to the infant Alice. As yet uninhibited by her elder siblings, and blissfully unaware of her family’s status and responsibilities, she thrived, becoming so podgy that her mother spoke of her as ‘good, fat Alice’, while her doting father nicknamed her ‘Fatima’. She was a quick and lively child, and it was not long before the Superintendent of the nursery, Lady Lyttelton, reported that she was beginning to show ‘forwardness’ and “clasps her fat hands so beautifully when asked to say, ‘Up so high!’”[13]
Making little distinction between servants and kings, Alice was undaunted by the stream of foreign royalties passing through the palace in the first eig
hteen months of her life. Her great uncle, King Leopold of the Belgians, was a regular visitor; and in the early summer of 1844, the unassuming King Frederick Augustus II of Saxony – who was to die a decade later when a horse stepped on his head – arrived, to be followed the next day by Tsar Nicholas I of Russia.
Queen Victoria had anticipated the Tsar’s visit more with trepidation than with excitement. Her mistrust of Russians would not fully develop until the Crimean War but already her natural reticence left her anxious about entertaining so powerful an autocrat, particularly one who, in her opinion, came from one of the most opulent and decadent courts in the world.
To the Queen’s relief, the Tsar was far more congenial than she had expected. For a man of such wealth, his simplicity was astounding – he asked that no bed be prepared for him as he always travelled with a ‘long leather bag stuffed with hay from the stables’, which served as a mattress; he was extremely civil and courteous to members of the household; he paid kindly attention to the royal children; and, most importantly to the Queen, he spoke highly of Prince Albert – ‘Nowhere will you find a handsomer young man; he has such an air of nobility and goodness,’[14] he told one member of the household; and in conversation with Robert Peel,
“…The Emperor spoke with extraordinary warmth and praised Prince Albert with tears in his eyes. He said that he knew that people considered him as playing a part, but that really he was a thoroughly honest man.”[15]
There could be no better way to win the Queen’s heart than to esteem her husband, and, although she considered the expression in the Tsar’s eyes quite formidable, she wrote in wonder to the King of the Belgians that:
“He is very easy to get on with. Really, it seems like a dream when I think that we breakfast and walk out with this greatest of all earthly Potentates...”[16]
Fourteen-month-old Alice shared none of her mother’s awe. The mighty autocrat was simply another adult whom she approached, holding out her ‘fat hands’ until her picked her up in his arms and allowed her to kiss him ‘de son propre accord.’[17]
For his part, the Tsar was enchanted by Alice and her siblings, commenting to Lady Lyttelton that he was,
“…very much pleased with the royal children, especially their footing with their parents, and the affection and care shown to them.”[18]
Not long after the Tsar’s departure, the Prince of Prussia arrived; and in the autumn the aged King Louis Philippe was warmly received by the public as the first French King to undertake a State Visit to Britain. Queen Victoria so enjoyed his company – not least because of his high regard for Prince Albert – that she would soon be preparing for a return visit to France.
Shy herself, Queen Victoria was relieved that her children were so comfortable in the presence of illustrious visitors but she and Prince Albert were keen to prevent their confidence from escalating into arrogance. Most of the time, the children were kept away from the business of the court, to the extent that many members of the household claimed never to have seen them; and their parents did their utmost to create as normal a family life as was possible for people in their position. Hanoverian extravagance was replaced by a modest frugality; the children’s meals were plain (‘only a bit of roast beef and perhaps a plain pudding’, according to one of their nursery maids): no new baby linen was bought for Alice when there were perfectly adequate hand-me-downs from Vicky and Bertie; and even amid the grandeur of Windsor and Buckingham Palace, the children were expected to show deference to their elders, whether they were the doctors who came to attend them, or the lowliest members of the household. On one occasion, when Vicky dropped a handkerchief, which she had been coquettishly waving through a carriage window, Queen Victoria stopped the footman who stooped to pick it up, and insisted that Vicky should retrieve it herself.
It was clear to Prince Albert, however, that if he were to raise his children simply, he would need to find a more homely setting than the ancient, rambling Windsor Castle or the very conspicuous and overcrowded Buckingham Palace. Moreover, the heart of London was hardly the healthiest place in which to raise children. At the height of the Industrial Revolution, the air was thick with the smog of the burgeoning factories, which pumped their waste into the Thames where it combined with the outfall of slaughterhouses and public sewage to create a flowing cesspit. It was estimated that over four hundred thousand tonnes of sewage flowed into the Thames each day, and the stench became so intolerable that in the ‘Great Stink’ of 1858, Parliament had to be suspended. Predictably, throughout the 1840s and 1850s, the insanitary conditions and lack of clean water led to frequent cholera and typhoid epidemics; infant mortality rates were rising rapidly; and the average life expectancy for an upper class man was forty-seven years old and for a tradesman only twenty-seven.
More accustomed to the clean air of Schloss Rosenau, Prince Albert went in search of a healthier environment for his children, and shortly before Alice’s first birthday, his quest took him to the Isle of Wight where Lady Isabella Blatchford had recently offered her property, Osborne House, for sale. Instantly enraptured by the view across the Solent, which reminded him of the Bay of Naples, he recognised the estate’s potential and was eager to share his discovery with the Queen. A few months later, she accompanied him back to the island and was equally enchanted by the prospect of owning an island retreat, far enough from London to provide privacy from the public gaze but close enough to facilitate contact with her ministers.
The sale was eventually finalised and, in the spring of 1845, Queen Victoria wrote delightedly to Lord Melbourne that it was:
“…impossible to imagine a prettier spot – valleys and woods which would be beautiful anywhere; but all this near the sea (the woods grow into the sea) is quite perfection; we have a charming beach quite to ourselves. The sea was so blue and calm…and then we can walk about anywhere by ourselves without being mobbed.”[19]
It soon became clear that, while the eight-hundred-acre estate was beautiful, the house was inadequate for the needs of the royal suite. Various ideas were mooted about renovating and extending the original building but eventually it was decided that it would be less expensive to demolish the old house and replace it with an entirely new structure.
At once, Prince Albert’s imaginative instincts came to the fore as, working closely with the architect Thomas Cubitt, he set about creating an Italianesque mansion which would not only meet all the requirements of his growing family but would also be self-sufficient and provide work for the local population. Unlike Buckingham Palace and Windsor Castle, this was to be a private family home where as much care went into the design of the nurseries as into the relatively few State Rooms. The estate, much of which had been neglected, could be transformed into profitable farmland alongside beautiful Italian-style gardens, leading down to the private beach where the royal children could benefit from the healthy sea air and learn to swim. Prince Albert personally oversaw the plans, taking care to ensure that the labourers were released from the site in late summer to bring in the harvest, with the promise that work would be available if they wished to return afterwards.
Little by little, the house took shape and, in September 1846, three-year-old Alice and her siblings made the crossing to the Isle of Wight to spend their first night in their new home.
“Everything in the house is quite new, and the dining-room looked very handsome.” Lady Lyttelton wrote. “The windows, lighted by the brilliant lamps in the room, must have been seen far out at sea. After dinner we rose to drink the Queen’s and Prince’s health as a house-warming and after it the Prince said very naturally and simply, but seriously, ‘We have a hymn’ (he called it a psalm) in Germany for such occasions. It begins…’ and then he quoted two lines in German which I could not quote right, meaning a prayer to ‘bless our going out and coming in’. It was dry and quaint, being Luther’s; but we all perceived that he was feeling it. And truly entering a new house, a new palace, is a solemn thing to do.”[20]
The Queen and P
rince Albert’s love affair with Osborne reached its zenith on summer evenings when Albert delighted in imitating the nightingales and waiting for them to respond. In so romantic an atmosphere, he had a special lock fitted to his and Victoria’s bedroom door, which could only be opened from the inside. In the mornings the royal couple would take breakfast on the terrace amid the magnolias and jasmine.
Even once the house was completed, there was still plenty of work to do on the estate, and Alice enjoyed helping her father as he joined the workmen in their labours.
“I, partly forester, partly builder, partly farmer and partly gardener, expect to be a good deal on my legs and in the open air,”[21] he wrote cheerfully before one visit to the island.
One afternoon each summer, a garden party was held in the grounds for the workers of the estate and the crew of the royal yachts. Luncheon was served in marquees, after which there was country dancing to the accompaniment of military bands, and the royal children joined the labourers in noisy games of blind-man’s-buff, leapfrog, cricket, dunking-oranges, three-legged races and all kinds of other lively fun. The festivities continued until the evening, when the workers departed and the children returned to their nursery.
“This rural retreat,” wrote Lady Canning, “…perfectly enchants the Queen and Prince, and you never saw anything so happy as they are with the five babies playing about them.”[22]
For the children, this was a magical holiday home where they learned to ride and swim, and where there were woods to explore and beaches on which to gather shells, stones, fossils and leaves which were stored in their own museum alongside souvenirs of their travels. Years later, one of Queen Victoria’s granddaughters described her memories of Osborne:
Alice, The Enigma - A Biography of Queen Victoria's Daughter Page 3