Victoria Victorious: The Story of Queen Victoria

by Jean Plaidy

  “Like postilions,” he said with a smile. “And they do not stop to consider the bad consequences this can have. They are less calm than you English. But war…no…no… no! France cannot make war on England, the Triton of the Seas… not on England who has the greatest empire in the world.”

  I basked in such talk and thought how pleasant it was to be able to deal with matters of state in such a civilized manner.

  So the King dismissed the Tahiti affair.

  “I would fain see it at the bottom of the sea,” he said. “All they want from it is the whalers. I hope to get rid of it altogether.”

  We showed him the surrounding country and took him to Hampton Court; and the King had an understandable desire to see the house in which he had stayed during his exile. So we drove there and afterward to Claremont.

  When we returned to Windsor a crowd was waiting and they shouted loyal greetings. I was glad the people bore no animosity to Louis Philippe and cheered him generously.

  I invested him with the Garter.

  It was a really most successful visit. Sir Robert was delighted and I felt gratified that it had gone off so well. What really pleased me most was Louis Philippe's feelings for Albert whom it was clear he admired very much.

  “He will do wonders,” he said to me. “He is so wise. He does not push himself forward. He grows so much upon acquaintance and will always give you good advice.”

  Fervently I agreed, and I told him that I had received a very similar comment from the Emperor of Russia.

  I glowed with pleasure as I always did when people showed appreciation of my beloved Albert.

  At last the visit was over and it was time for the King of France to leave us. Albert and I went with him to Portsmouth but when we arrived there the rain was teeming down and the gales blowing so hard that it would have been dangerous for the King to have embarked.

  Albert thought it would have been better for him to have made the shorter crossing from Dover to Calais, and ascertaining that the weather was better there, in his usual efficient manner, he made all the arrangements for the switch; and considering the King's entourage and all that had to be done on the spur of the moment, this was no mean feat.

  But then Albert was so wonderful at all organization.

  There was great disappointment at Portsmouth naturally, but everyone realized that this was for the best.

  “It is only in this admirable country that such a thing could be brought about with so little bustle,” said the King of France.

  “Albert never makes difficulties,” I said proudly. “He calmly does what others think is impossible.”

  “He is the finest of young men. He deserves you and you deserve him.”

  That was a charming thing to say and it sealed the success of the visit for me.

  I went aboard the ship and delighted the French by proposing the King's health and the friendship between our two nations.

  Then he sailed away.

  There was no doubt about it—the people were pleased with me, far more than they had been since the unfortunate death of Flora Hastings. I did believe that they had taken me back completely into their favor.

  Kind and flattering comments were made in the papers. They said no sovereign was more loved than I was. I was sure that was due to my happy domestic life.

  I said to Albert, “It is an example to them all.”

  And he agreed.

  This was the time of visits and there followed the most exciting of them all. I had rarely seen Albert so thrilled. He was taking me to see his homeland. Albert had so many happy memories of his childhood. I believed he would never think any trees as beautiful as those of the Thuringian Forest, no mountains to compare with those he had known in his youth.

  We left the children at Osborne. They loved the sea and always seemed to benefit from the beautiful air. They were sad that we were going. Vicky had desperately pleaded to come with us and at one point I had thought that Albert was on the point of relenting; but he decided that she was too young for all the traveling there would have to be; and in spite of her entreaties we decided to leave her with the others.

  Vicky and Alice were with me on that August morning as I dressed.

  Then we had breakfast with the four children, and Lady Lyttelton and I had a last talk about them. I knew I could leave them safely in her hands for she was so devoted to them; the only thing was that Albert feared she would spoil Bertie toward whom she had taken up a kind of protective attitude; sometimes almost as though she were sheltering him from us! Good woman that she was, Albert said she was over-sentimental, and did not entirely understand the need for discipline, especially in the case of a child by nature rebellious.

  We went from Osborne to Buckingham Palace, which seemed quiet without the children. Sir Robert called to assure us that we need have no qualms about the state of the country. His measures with the Irish were proving effective; and there was nothing to worry about.

  We had a rough passage and poor Albert suffered somewhat; but I was sure my presence was a comfort to him, and the crossing was not really of long duration.

  Unfortunately when we arrived at Antwerp the rain was teeming down but the people, who were determined to welcome us, had set up triangular illuminations on tall poles, which made a fine show.

  We awoke next morning to driving rain, and even as we left the yacht for the royal carriage, which Uncle Leopold had sent for us, we were almost swept off our feet.

  I was reminded of my visit two years before.

  “It looks so different from home,” I said to Albert; and indeed it did. I watched the women in their hats and caps and cloaks with their brass jugs going to market; and I wished I had my sketchbook handy. I should have liked to put them on paper.

  What joy to find Uncle Leopold and Aunt Louise waiting for us at Malines! We embraced with emotion and there was so much to discuss. They were to accompany us to Verviers, and Uncle Leopold had arranged that a great welcome should be given us in all the towns through which we passed.

  Uncle Leopold was proud of his country and it was wonderful to be with him and Aunt Louise. We talked endlessly and Uncle told us once more how delighted he was to see Albert and me living together in such obvious contentment.

  “Never forget,” he said, “that I worked for your union from the day both of you were born. I have seen a dream come true.”

  I told him that Albert and I could never be grateful enough.

  I felt sorry for those occasions when I had thought that Uncle Leopold was interfering and trying to make me act against the advice of my ministers. I could never have done that and he must know it; but he had been very persuasive and sometimes a little hurt. And although I was sorry I knew it had been inevitable; and I should be eternally grateful to him for bringing Albert and me together.

  It was sad, as always, saying goodbye to them and after we had done so we were met at Aix-la-Chapelle by the King of Prussia and members of his family.

  How I loved Germany! In some measure perhaps this was because of Albert's feeling for it. It was his homeland.

  The King of Prussia was determined that we should be impressed by his country, and arrangements had been made for our entertainment.

  From the Palace we watched the splendid Zapfenstreich, the tattoo in which five hundred military musicians took part, the scene being illuminated by torches and lamps of colored glass. I was delighted when they played, “God Save the Queen.”

  We had to see the magnificent surrounding country, the view of Kreuzberg, a convent high on a hill, and the seven mountains, the Sieben Gebirge. It gave me a wonderful feeling of exultation; and I saw that Albert was deeply moved by my reaction to his country.

  One of the highlights was the banquet at which the King gave a most stirring and heartening speech.

  “Fill your glasses,” he said. “There is a word of inexpressible sweetness to British as well as to German hearts. Thirty years ago it echoed in the heights of Waterloo from British and German
tongues, after days of hot and desperate fighting, to mark the glorious triumph of our brotherhood in arms. Now it resounds on the banks of our fair Rhine, amid the blessings of that peace which was the hallowed fruit of the great conflict. The word is Victoria. Gentlemen drink to the health of Her Majesty the Queen of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland and to that of her august Consort.”

  I was so moved that I turned to the King and kissed him. It was an impulsive action but it resulted in ringing applause.

  It was a truly great occasion.

  Being in Germany there was a great deal of music to be enjoyed, which was acceptable both to me and to Albert; and when we arrived in Bonn the Beethoven Festival was being celebrated.

  There was a concert—but alas not so much Beethoven as I should have liked. There was only a part of one of the symphonies brought into a cantata by Liszt, and the overture to Egmont. There were many students present, long-haired and bearded with dashing mustaches, many of them sporting the Säbelhiebe, the sword cut in their faces of which they were so proud as these were an insignia of their exploits in the art of dueling.

  But what Albert was looking forward to with the greatest pleasure, and naturally I shared his feelings, was the arrival at Coburg. At the frontier there were flags and crowds of cheering people; and there was Ernest, now the Duke, looking splendid in full uniform waiting to greet us.

  After an emotional reunion between the brothers, Albert and I got into an open carriage, drawn by six horses, to begin our drive.

  The women were all dressed in costumes with pointed caps and numerous petticoats, and the men wore leather breeches. The girls carried wreaths of flowers. It was charming.

  With Ernest we went to Ketschendorf which had been the residence of our dear dead grandmother, of whom Albert had been so fond. To our great joy Uncle Leopold and Aunt Louise were there.

  We rode to the palace. There girls in white, wearing green scarves, were waiting for us with flowers and complimentary verses; I was introduced to someone who was of special interest to me—Ober-superintendent Genzler—because he had officiated at the marriage of my parents and had christened and confirmed Albert and Ernest.

  To be in that beautiful country—Albert's country—to see his emotion, to listen to tales of his childhood, that seemed to bring us closer together. I did a great deal of sketching during those halcyon days; I felt I wanted to catch every important detail and hold it forever. The weather was perfect—long hot days merging into each other. Albert's birthday came and we were so happy to celebrate it, not only in his country, but in the actual place of his birth, Rosenau. Albert had talked of it so much that I felt I knew it before I saw it. It was twelve years since he had spent a birthday there. There was so much to show me: the forest where he had hunted; the room where he and Ernest had studied; the holes in the wallpaper where they had pricked it while fencing—relics of a childhood of which I felt faintly jealous because I had not been there to share it.

  It was a marvelous birthday. The band played in the morning to welcome the day. It was wonderful to listen to a Chorale and Reveil and O Isis and Osirus from The Magic Flute.

  Helped by Ernest and Alexandrina I had arranged the table dressed with flowers on which I had placed the presents. Mama was there. She had been visiting relatives in Germany so she joined us. In the old days that would have thrown a damper over the proceedings. Not now. Albert was delighted to see her and so was I.

  The birthday celebrations continued during the morning, and both Albert and I were glad when they were over to leave us free to go for a walk alone.

  How we talked! He told me that it was a dream of his that Vicky should marry into Germany.

  I said, “I believe you love Vicky more than me. You talk of her constantly.”

  Albert was a little shocked. “She is our daughter!” he said reproachfully.

  “Of course. Of course. Stupid of me. But then you know how I am. I say the first thing that comes into my head.”

  Albert smiled and patted my hand. “As long as you know it, my dear, you can overcome it. I was saying I want Vicky to marry into Germany. I want her to be Queen of Prussia.”

  I glowed with pleasure. What a wonderful man he was! His thoughts were always for his family.

  “I sounded out the King,” he went on. “He is interested.”

  “She is young yet.”

  “It is never too soon to think of these matters. There must be a meeting between her and young Frederick.”

  “It is looking far ahead. I want to enjoy this moment. You and I alone, Albert … in your beloved forest.”

  He smiled at me indulgently.

  Oh, that was a perfect day, one I shall remember for the rest of my life—a perfect day, with perfect weather, in perfect surroundings, with the most perfect of men.

  How sad I was to leave Rosenau and Germany! There were tears and pleadings that there should be more meetings. Poor Grandmama SaxeCoburg was almost prostrate with grief.

  On the way home we must visit the King of France. Sir Robert had impressed on us that that was of the utmost importance. France would be well aware of the trip to Germany, and as we had seen the Russians, there must be an even balance of these visits. I was not a young woman visiting her relatives; I was the State.

  So at Treport we met Louis Philippe and we were joined there by Lord Aberdeen and Lord Liverpool; and the Prince de Joinville and Monsieur Guizot were with the King.

  We were taken to the château and with a certain pride were shown into the Galerie Victoria which had been adorned with pictures including one depicting the King's visit to Windsor and two beautiful Winterhalter portraits of myself and Albert. For my special pleasure, knowing my love for music, he had brought the ninety-four members of the Opéra Comique from Paris to entertain us. They performed Boïeldieu's one-act opera Le Nouveau Seigneur and Grétry's Le Roi Richard, which were most amusing and entertaining.

  The following day Lord Aberdeen and I had an important conversation about Spanish affairs which were giving some concern to England; and the King was most agreeable and friendly which Lord Aberdeen thought very satisfactory.

  On the next day we sailed for home. It was a wonderful finale, for the sea was exquisitely blue and as calm as a lake.

  It had been a most exhilarating experience: I had enjoyed every moment; but what a joy it was to embark on the dear familiar beach near Osborne!

  Lady Lyttelton was at the door with all the children waiting to greet us.

  Vicky ran straight into Albert's arms; and then we fondly embraced them all.

  They looked so fat and well—and above all, happy to have us back.

  DEAR OSBORNE! WHAT a joy it was to be there! I looked forward to lazy days with drives and alfresco meals with the children and talks with Albert. I told him that there were many times when I wished I were not a queen and that he were merely a country gentleman so that we could live a family life without onerous duties.

  They were wonderful days which followed the visit. We talked to the children and Albert described to Vicky the beautiful mountains and forests and the dear kind German people; and how one day he was going to take her to Rosenau and show her his childhood home. He would take her to visit the Prussian royal family of whom he was very fond, and he was sure she was going to be fond of them too.

  Such halcyon days could not remain so for long and we were soon plunged into trouble.

  It had been a disastrous summer. The rain had spoiled the crops and particularly the potatoes in Ireland. There was great famine there.

  Sir Robert Peel was in a dilemma. The Corn Laws had remained unaltered since 1842, but Sir Robert's mind was changing. He no longer believed in protection for agriculture and was convinced that the experiment had been a failure. Corn must be exported to Ireland, he said, to take the place of the potato crop; but unfortunately the English harvest had been poor. Sir Robert believed that the Corn Laws should be suspended and he would never be a party to their being reimposed.
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  He said firmly, “The remedy is the removal of all impediments to the import of all kinds of human food—that is, the total and absolute repeal for ever on all duties on all articles of sustenance.”

  There was much discussion. It was a quite extraordinary situation, for Peel stood against his own party. He wanted to introduce a measure involving the ultimate repeal of the Corn Laws.

  I was very sad when Sir Robert came to me and said he must tender his resignation and once more I was reminded of that occasion when Lord Melbourne had come to me with the same story. I was older now, more in command of my feelings, thanks to Albert who had made me so much more restrained; and in any case, much as I admired Sir Robert as a very great statesman—greater I had to admit than Lord Melbourne—I did not have the tender feelings for him that I had had for my first Prime Minister.

  Sir Robert told me that I should ask Lord John Russell to take his place.

  I was afraid the government would fall and the Whigs come back. How strange that I had once thought of the Whigs as my government!

  I was pleased when Lord John Russell refused and Sir Robert remained in office. But our troubles were by no means over. The Tories were against their leader. He stood alone among them fighting for the Repeal of the Corn Laws—with the Opposition firmly behind him.

  Albert said there never could have been such a case before, and Albert stood with Sir Robert, as I did.

  I had now confirmed what I had suspected and I must say that my mind was rather taken up with my own problems for I was pregnant once more. The fact made me irritable and very quick-tempered.

  I complained bitterly to Albert, and although he was sympathetic, I fancied he was not at all displeased. He delighted in his growing family which, I pointed out, was all very well for him. He did not have to endure those wretched months of discomfort culminating in an excruciating ordeal.

  He said that it was one of the duties that God had ordained women should carry out. At which I said, most irreligiously, that God was obviously of the male gender, which reminded me of Lord Melbourne, for it was the kind of remark he would have made; and then we should have laughed together. But Albert was deeply shocked—and somehow he made me feel ashamed. So I grew calmer and said that my temper was as bad as ever, to which Albert replied that he did believe that, under his guidance, the outbursts occurred less frequently.