Victoria Victorious: The Story of Queen Victoria

by Jean Plaidy

  Lord Melbourne, who always believed in delaying unpleasant matters, along with his party, wanted to suspend the law for a while until some agreement could be come to. Sir Robert Peel and his Tories were against this, and when the motion was put before the House, it was passed with such a small majority that Lord Melbourne decided that it was quite impossible to continue in government.

  I shall never forget the day he came to me. There was a great sadness about him.

  “Your Majesty,” he said, “you know that for some time it has been difficult for your government to carry on its business in the House because we have such a small majority, and to govern for long in such circumstances is certain to become an impossibility. The Cabinet had decided to stand by this Bill regarding the slaves in Jamaica, but Sir Robert Peel is opposing us in the matter and if he should persist and a majority in the House of Commons agreed with him, it would be impossible for Your Majesty's government to remain in office.”

  “No,” I said. “No. I will not allow it.”

  He looked at me, half smiling. He did not say as much but he was reminding me by the tenderness of his looks that it was not a matter for me to decide.

  He did not remain long. He knew I was too upset and that there was nothing he could say to comfort me.

  Lehzen found me sitting in my chair staring ahead of me.

  She knelt down and put her arms round me.

  “I am afraid,” I said, “that dreadful Robert Peel is going to force Lord Melbourne to resign.”

  “Oh no, my love, not that!”

  “Lord Melbourne has been to see me…to warn me.” Then I burst into tears. “I will not have it, Lehzen. I am the Queen, am I not?”

  “There!” she soothed me. “It hasn't happened yet. Lord Melbourne won't let it happen. He is clever, that one.”

  I tried to believe her. But I could not. Life had changed. Who would have believed that a short time ago I could have been so happy!

  The horrible business of Lady Flora was still in everyone's mind. They were still writing about it in the papers; the people in the streets regarded me with dislike.

  This I could bear—but not the separation from Lord Melbourne.

  IT HAD HAPPENED. The government had resigned. He came to see me looking doleful and I knew that was due to the disruption of our relationship, which had been such a happy one. But for that reason he would not greatly care about resigning the premiership. I think he found managing the country's affairs something of a burden. I knew he would have liked to retire, to be alone, to have more time for reading; he liked good talk and of course he was welcome in the greatest Whig houses throughout the country, where, I heard, the conversation was scintillating and he was always at the center of it.

  No, it was the severance of our close relationship which would be so painful to us both.

  I could not be dignified and royal—not in the face of such misery. “Why all this bother about Jamaica! Those wretched Tory dogs! They are just seizing on it to make trouble.”

  Lord Melbourne's wry smile suggested that he agreed with me.

  “Do not blame Jamaica,” he said. “If it were not there the dogs would find another bone of contention. We happen to think we are right in this matter and they think that they are. Sir Robert Peel is a very fine gentleman. I think you might come to like him very well.”

  “I hate him! He behaves like a dancing master and when he smiles it is like looking at the silver fittings on a coffin.”

  “Have you been gossiping with Charles Greville?”

  “His conversation is very lively.”

  “The description of Sir Robert is his, I believe. But for all that he is a very able man—dancing and coffins notwithstanding—and he will do his best to serve Your Majesty well. Your Majesty, being of sound good sense in spite of your youth, and having a clear determination to do your duty to the state to which God has called you, will understand this change must be. Alas, I fear the time has arrived when you will be obliged to work with a new government. I believe you will make a great success of it…I shall be nearby and I shall watch you with pride.”

  “You will not go away entirely? You will come and dine? I could not bear it if you did not.”

  “Your Majesty is gracious to me, and has given me more affection than I deserve.”

  “What nonsense! You deserve it all… and more. You are my dearest good friend. You always were and always will be my very own Lord M. You know my feelings for you.”

  “I know that you wish me well…Your Majesty has ever been gracious to me; and I trust you will show the same amiability toward Sir Robert, for I assure you he is a very good man.”

  “He has one great fault,” I said, “and for that I can never forgive him.”

  Lord Melbourne looked at me sadly and I went on, “He is not Lord Melbourne.”

  And with that I ran from the room for I could not restrain my tears.

  AND SO I came face to face with Sir Robert Peel.

  I had tried to prevail on the Duke of Wellington to form a ministry, but he would not do so. He was, after all, nearly seventy years of age, and I had to agree that that was rather old to take on the burdens of state.

  Sir Robert Peel, however, was willing and ambitious. I saw him in the Yellow Closet; I was not going to take him to the Blue Closet, the scene of so many happy meetings with Lord Melbourne.

  How I disliked him as he stood there—awkward, graceless, lacking in breeding. How different from my dear Lord M! He was proud and reserved—and very unsure of himself. I rejoiced in that. Let him remain so. He fidgeted, twitching from one leg to the other and I felt like giggling when I thought of Charles Greville's description of the dancing master. The silver fittings on the coffin were only visible when he smiled—and that was rarely.

  I found myself looking at his feet. He pointed his toes as though he were about to dance. Oh yes, it was a very apt description!

  I began by stressing the unfortunate happenings in Parliament that had made it difficult for Lord Melbourne to continue in office and for that reason I was asking him to form a ministry.

  He hemmed and hawed and said he would do so. He seemed to think it was necessary for him to make speeches and talked all around the subject. How dreadfully different from the frank, open, natural, most kind and warm manner of dear Lord M!

  The more I saw of Robert Peel, the more I was reminded of Lord M by the very contrast of the two men.

  He mentioned one or two names to me of those who would hold posts in his ministry. I listened to him vaguely, wondering all the time how I could get rid of him and bring back Lord Melbourne. The Earl of Aberdeen, he was saying. He was one of those who had said that Lord Melbourne ruled the country and that I was wax in his hands, so I was not inclined to favor him; Lord Lyndhurst; he had openly sided with my mother and Sir John Conroy. Sir James Graham; I knew nothing against him, but on the one or two occasions when I had seen him I had thought he resembled Conroy, which was enough to make me dislike him. I felt I was going to loathe Peel's ministers as heartily as I did him.

  Oh, it was a sad and sorry business!

  I was glad when the dancing master bowed himself out. I thought he was going to fall over the furniture as he did so and was disappointed when he did not.

  The next day he called again and we took up the interview where we left off. I remained seated, haughtily watching his gyrations on the carpet. He was really very uneasy. Perhaps I should have been more gracious to him, but I could not forget that he was depriving me of my dear Lord M—and delighting in it.

  “Your Majesty,” he said at length, “there is the matter of your household.”

  “What of my household?” I asked.

  “Your ladies, Ma'am.”

  “What of my ladies?”

  He coughed slightly, nervously, and pointed his toe and lifted his foot for all the world as though he were about to perform in the minuet. He went on, “Ma'am, they are all members of Whig families. In view of the…er… alter
ations in circumstances, it would be advisable if changes were made. Your Majesty will understand…”

  “But I do not understand,” I said firmly. “And I do not wish to have my household disrupted.”

  “Your Majesty does not intend to retain all your ladies?”

  “All,” I said firmly.

  “The Mistress of the Robes… the Ladies of the Bedchamber…”

  I looked at the wretched man and repeated firmly, “All.”

  “These ladies, Ma'am, are all married to Whig opponents of the government.”

  “I never talk politics with my ladies. I believe some of them have Tory relations, which might be a comfort to you.”

  “It is the ladies who hold important posts who must be changed.”

  “This sort of thing has never been done before.”

  “You are a Queen Regnant, Ma'am, and that makes a difference.”

  “I shall maintain my rights.”

  He looked so miserable and helpless that I was almost sorry for him, but I continued to regard him haughtily and he said he thought he should discuss the matter with the Duke of Wellington.

  “Pray do so,” I said, showing my pleasure in his dismissal.

  But when he had gone I was so overwrought that I sat down and wrote to Lord Melbourne.

  The Queen feels Lord Melbourne will understand her wretchedness among enemies of those she most relied on and most esteemed, but what is worst of all is being deprived of seeing Lord Melbourne as she used to.

  In a short time he replied to me, urging me to the necessity of making the best of everything. He stressed the worthiness of Sir Robert Peel and pointed out that I should not condemn him because his outward appearance did not please me. As for the ladies of my household, he did say that I should stand out for what I desired because that was a matter for my personal concern; and he added that if Sir Robert found himself unable to concede the point, I should not refuse to reconsider it.

  I was disappointed. I was not going to submit to tyranny. The dancing master must remember that I was the Queen.

  I wrote back to Lord Melbourne:

  I will never consent to give up my ladies. I think you would have been pleased to see my great composure and firmness. The Queen of England will not submit to trickery. Keep yourself in readiness.

  My spirits were lifted. I saw this matter of the Bedchamber Ladies as a way out of this tragic situation. If I would not give way and Peel would not either, we should have reached an impasse and he would not be able to form a government.

  I was not surprised to receive another visit from the Duke of Wellington.

  “I heard there is a difficulty, Ma'am,” he said.

  “Peel began it, not I,” I retorted.

  He looked at me intently. I wondered if he were comparing me with Napoleon. He would find the little Queen as formidable a foe as the little Corporal. My will was going to prove stronger than Napoleon's military genius; it would stand more firmly than French artillery.

  “Why is Sir Robert so adamant?” I asked. “Is he so weak that even ladies have to share his opinion?”

  That seemed to decide him. He was defeated.

  I immediately wrote to Lord Melbourne to acquaint him with the interview:

  Lord Melbourne must not think the Queen rash in her conduct. She felt this was an attempt to see if she could be led like a child.

  I was not really surprised when Sir Robert asked for another audience. I granted it willingly.

  He came quickly to the point on this occasion. “If Your Majesty insists on retaining all your ladies I could not form a government.”

  I was cool, hiding my exultation. I bowed my head in acceptance of his decision.

  I was delighted to have a letter from Lord Melbourne telling me that he had shown the Whig Cabinet my letters and his advice to me was to break off all negotiations with Sir Robert Peel.

  This I most willingly did and to my great joy recalled Lord Melbourne.

  He came at once and stood before me, tears in his dear eyes. He laughed and said my conduct had been most unconstitutional.

  “Is that important if it achieves the desirable result?”

  “Desirable for whom? Sir Robert Peel?”

  We laughed together and I am sure I showed my gums and laughed too loudly on that occasion; but I did not care. I was so happy. And I reflected sagely that if I had not known such despair, I could never have been quite so joyous.

  Afterward we talked about it in the old cozy fashion. Lord Melbourne reminded me that I had not taken his advice, but when the whole story was laid before his Cabinet they declared that it would be impossible to abandon such a Queen and such a woman. So, hampered as they were by that feeble majority, they decided to come back and attempt to carry on.

  It was a great victory.

  That evening there was a grand ball. I danced into the early hours of the morning. I was very joyous—happier than I had been since the miserable Flora Hastings affair had started.

  THE VISIT OF the Tsarevitch Alexander, Hereditary Grand Duke of Russia, helped me to forget the upset of what was being called the Bedchamber Plot. There was, as was to be expected with the Tories putting their case, a real scandal about this. It was a little different from that of Flora Hastings because I had some supporters this time. There were proPeel and pro-Queen factions. Of course I had flouted the Duke of Wellington's advice, and that was a bold thing to have done.

  However, I was always delighted to have visitors from other countries, because it meant a round of entertainments, including balls, which I loved.

  I found the Russian Duke a very charming man. He was goodlooking and dignified, and I began to think that he liked me as much as I liked him. I was reminded of the visits of the German cousins before I had come to the throne. What fun they had been! And how I had enjoyed them and how desolate I had been when they went away. That brought my thoughts back to Albert a little guiltily. I had liked him so much when we had met and had been reconciled then to the possibility of marriage. I had, in fact, almost welcomed it. But how differently I felt now! It must have been because in those days, when I thought of myself as Mama's prisoner, I was so glad of any excitement, any change… and marriage would have been that. But being the Queen was quite another matter. There was so much happening in my daily existence and even the minor irritations like the Flora Hastings affair and that of the bedchamber women occupied my mind to such an extent that I did not want to think of marriage.

  But now there was this charming young man, and I did find his society amusing.

  He was very Russian, which meant that at times he could assume a very melancholy countenance, and then he would be very merry and light-hearted; which made one a little unsure of how one was going to find him. But that made him interesting.

  He danced divinely. He taught me the mazurka—a lovely dance I had never seen before. It was amusing, for the Grand Duke was so agile that when one was required to run around, one had to be very quick to follow him. Then, when we were close together, he whisked me around in a valse.

  Another dance he taught me was the Grossvater which was a country dance performed a great deal in Germany. The men had to jump over a pocket handkerchief which was very tricky and often resulted in a fall for some of them. I laughed and laughed. I used to stay up dancing until after two in the morning; then I would be unable to sleep for very excitement, lying in my bed, remembering how the Grand Duke leaped and some of the dancers had fallen over. It was very amusing and I was growing more and more fond of the Grand Duke.

  I could not help writing of him to Uncle Leopold who wrote back rather coldly, begging me not to be rash. I knew he was thinking of Albert.

  Lord Melbourne was a little critical too.

  I told him it was good for me to have a little excitement. There had been much to plague me lately.

  “Excitement is not very desirable if one is to suffer for it afterward,” was Lord Melbourne's comment.

  But I continued to dance
the new dances and to stay up until after midnight. I threw myself into a frenzy of excitement. I felt I was half-way to falling in love with the Russian Grand Duke.

  I needed the excitement for underneath it I was still uneasy. I had passed out of that mood of enchantment. I had learned that life could suddenly take an unexpected turn to disaster. Flora Hastings still went about the Palace. Ladies, meeting her in the corridors, said she made them shiver; she was like a ghost from another world; and she looked at them with staring, accusing eyes. She looked, as they said, “like death”; and those who had been most active in stirring up gossip about her, were really afraid of her.

  She hung over me like a dark shadow. There were still reverberations in the Press about the case, and the Hastings family were most dissatisfied; and as they were Tories they would not let the case be forgotten.

  In the House of Lords, Lord Brougham was constantly attacking Lord Melbourne and his Cabinet and making sly allusions to me and my fondness for the Prime Minister. The wicked hypocrites insisted on their loyalty to the Crown while they made their subtle attacks upon the Queen.

  The matter of the Bedchamber Ladies was not allowed to pass into oblivion. It was a very tense situation.

  The Duke of Wellington came to see me about Sir John Conroy.

  “I have long been working to put an end to his case, Ma'am,” he said, “and I am of the opinion that it would be well for all concerned if he were out of the country, and I believe I am working toward a settlement with him.”

  I was so relieved. I had a notion that once I was rid of that man my troubles would be over.

  “We shall be obliged to pay him a pension of three thousand pounds a year and offer him a peerage. Lord Melbourne will make the arrangements and this peerage will have to be an Irish one.”

  “If he has an Irish peerage that will mean he can come to Court. I never want him in my Court. I shall never forget all the mischief he has caused me.”

  “Quite so, Ma'am,” said the Duke. “But it seems likely that the Irish peerage could be long delayed, and it may be that when one does come, there may be a prime minister other than Lord Melbourne, in which case that prime minister would not feel it incumbent upon him to agree to terms made by a former prime minister.”