The Queen's Husband

Chapter IX IN-I-GO JONES

The baby was to be named Victoria after her mother, and the names Adelaide Mary Louise were added. The Dowager Queen was delighted that the child was called after her; she was so happy, she told the Queen, that she had experienced the blessing of motherhood. Poor Adelaide, how she had always longed for a child of her own; but being of the sweetest of temperaments she would not grudge anyone else the happiness which she had missed.

‘Aunt Adelaide will be ready to spoil the child,’ said Victoria to Albert.

‘That must not be allowed,’ replied Albert. He was determined to be a good father and that did not include spoiling his offspring.

It was rather awkward that she had the same name as her mother, but Albert had wished it – ‘Such a delightful compliment,’ said the Queen – and she herself had thought it appropriate, so the child was Victoria.

‘She is like a little kitten,’ said the Queen and from then on the child was called Pussy and sometimes, to vary it, Pussette.

Victoria discovered that although she had enjoyed racing up and down the corridors of Buckingham Palace with the Conyngham children or those of the John Russells, she was not so fond of little babies. She was delighted, of course, to be a mother and so quickly to have produced a child (it was only nine months since her marriage) but that did not mean that she wanted to spend all her time in the nursery. She was no Aunt Adelaide.

A wet nurse was procured with other nurses and the Baroness Lehzen decided that the nursery was a place in which she should reign supreme. Victoria was delighted that dear Daisy should superintend the baby’s domain and returned to her everyday life.

The oriental situation had taken a turn for the better. Mehemet Ali had given up his claims to Syria on the intervention of the allied fleet and stated that he would relinquish the Ottoman fleet if the allies would give him possession of the Pashalik of Egypt.

‘A very happy end to the year,’ commented Victoria to Albert. ‘The crisis over and a baby in the nursery.’

Uncle Leopold was delighted that she had proved herself able to bear healthy children. It was always a fear in the royal family that this might not be the case. George III had had far too many but his sons, George and William, had not followed his example; and now at the age of twenty-one, after less than a year of marriage, the Queen had produced a child. There would of course be more, as Leopold implied in his letter.

I flatter myself, he wrote, that you will be a delighted and delightful

Maman au milieu d’une belle et nombreuse famille

.

Indeed! thought Victoria when she read it. The idea of going through all that again to produce a large family did not please her. Of one thing she had made very sure. If she had another child – and she did not intend to for some little time – she would arrange that the child was born before any of the dignitaries were summoned to the palace.

‘For I will not have a public birth again,’ she confided to Lehzen.

‘I should think not,’ said the Baroness. ‘I had thought that the Prince might have realised your wish for privacy when Pussy was born.’

‘It’s the old tradition, Lehzen. Remember the baby in the warming-pan rumour? They think someone might smuggle in a spurious child.’

‘What nonsense! But I shall insist that my dearest love does not suffer that again. And I hope that the next occasion will be postponed for at least two years. I know you look blooming, but you do need time to recover from having the child.’

Victoria wrote a little tersely to Uncle Leopold. He did like to interfere just a little too much. He had tried to tell Lord Melbourne and Lord Palmerston how to conduct the Turko-Egyptian matter and he was constantly criticising Lord Palmerston.

I think, dearest Uncle, you cannot wish me to be the ‘

Maman d’une nombreuse famille

’ for I think you will see with me the great inconvenience a

large

family would be to us all, and particularly to the country, independent of the hardship and inconvenience to myself; men never think, at least seldom think, what a hard task it is for us women to go through this

very often

.

No, she would certainly wait a few years. Lehzen was quite right about this.

Poor Dash was showing his age. He no longer leaped up barking and wagging his tail when a walk was mentioned. Instead he was rather inclined to hide himself so that he didn’t have to go out. He slept in a basket by the royal bed; he used to be very fierce and at the least sound would waken everyone near by.

But on that early December morning Dash slept on while the door handle of the Queen’s dressing-room was slowly turned and silently opened.

Mrs Lilly awoke and looked about her.

‘Is anyone there?’ she whispered.

There was no answer so she sat up, listening.

Another sound. There was no doubt about it. Someone was prowling about the Queen’s dressing-room.

She went to the door, listening. An unmistakable sound. Yes, someone was in there. She locked the door and called one of the pages.

He came rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

‘What is it?’ he asked.

‘When I unlock this door,’ said Mrs Lilly, ‘you will go in and bring out whoever is in there.’

The man stared at her. ‘Someone …’

‘Do as I say.’

‘Me! Why? Suppose he’s got a gun?’

A figure with a candle had appeared in the corridor. It was the Baroness Lehzen.

‘What is happening here?’ she demanded. ‘You will awaken the Queen.’

‘Oh, Baroness,’ said Mrs Lilly, ‘I’m sure I heard someone in the Queen’s dressing-room.’

‘Mein Gott!’ cried the Baroness. ‘And you stand here. The Queen may be murdered.’

She pushed them aside, unlocked the door and strode into the dressing-room like an avenging angel. Her precious darling in danger and these fools standing about doing nothing. She was thinking of the madman who had taken a shot at Victoria on Constitution Hill. So were the others, but this had the opposite effect on the devoted Lehzen.

She looked round the room. She could see no one. The only place where anyone could be hidden was under the sofa. Thrusting the candlestick into the hands of Mrs Lilly she pushed the sofa to one side.

There was a gasp. Cowering under the sofa was a small boy, his clothes ragged, his face dirty, his eyes wide with astonishment.

Who was the boy? He had been some days in the palace, he told them. He had hidden under the sofa on which the Queen and Prince Albert had sat and had lain there listening to them talking together; he had been to the throne room and sat on the throne; he had been in the nursery and heard the new baby Princess cry.

He loved Buckingham Palace. He confessed to having been there before. Last time had been in 1838 when he had spent a week there and he could not resist paying another visit.

People remembered the excitement of two years earlier. Of course he was the Boy Jones. Someone had waggishly christened him In-I-go Jones.

It was considered to be an amusing incident. The boy had done little harm. He had merely been curious.

The Queen laughed when she heard of it, but Albert took a different view.

‘My dear love,’ he said, ‘it alarms me that people could so easily get into the palace.’

‘It was only a boy,’ said Victoria.

‘Only a boy this time. But if a boy can get in so easily how much more easily could someone enter who might wish to do harm.’

‘He came before,’ said Victoria; ‘fancy that.’

Albert was thoughtful.

Albert had been making an investigation of the manner in which the household was managed. He was determined to find out how it was possible for a boy to get into the palace and spend several days there unobserved.

In one of the kitchens he found a broken pane of glass.

‘How long has that been broken?’ he asked.

The kitchen hand to whom he addressed the question scratched his head. ‘Well, Your Highness, it were done last Saturday week. I know for sure.’

Another kitchen hand came up and said the window had been like that for a month.

‘Whose duty would it be to see that it was repaired?’ the Prince wanted to know.

They didn’t know, but they would call the chief cook.

‘It’s like this, Your Highness,’ said the chief cook, ‘I’d write and sign a request to have the glass put back, but the Clerk of the Kitchen would have to sign it too.’

‘And did you?’

‘I did, Your Highness, two months ago.’

‘Send me the Clerk of the Kitchen,’ said Albert.

The Clerk of the Kitchen remembered signing the request but then it had to go to the Master of the Household.

The Master of the Household had signed so many requests that he did not remember the pane of glass in particular, but his duty was to take it to the Lord Chamberlain’s office and there it would await attention.

‘And what happens there?’ asked the Prince.

‘The Lord Chamberlain would sign and then it would go to the Clerk of the Works, Your Highness.’

‘Mein Gott!’ cried the Prince breaking into German, as he did when seriously disturbed. ‘All this for a pane of glass! And meanwhile people can break into the palace and, if they have a mind to, murder the Queen.’

His orderly Teutonic soul was outraged. He was certain that this was not the only anomaly. The servants’ domain was a little kingdom on its own. He could see that there was no discipline whatsoever. Servants absented themselves when they thought fit, or brought in their friends and entertained them at the Queen’s expense.

He was horrified.

His questions quickly aroused suspicions which were deeply resented. The Baroness Lehzen, who was in charge of the keys, although she had no special title, never bothered them. She had other matters with which to concern herself than what went on in the kitchens. As long as she had her caraway seeds served with every meal, and when there was a state banquet or a dinner party food appeared on the table, that was all that mattered.

The servants grumbled together that they wanted no meddling German coming to their quarters to spy on them.

The Prince’s investigations were reported to the Baroness, so she was ready for him.

He came to her room one day and told her about the pane of glass which had been missing for months because the inefficiency of the system had made it impossible for the request to reach the right person.

‘I did not know Your Highness would concern himself with such a little thing.’

‘It is of great concern. That boy got into the palace. How?’

‘Not through that broken window surely?’

‘He was in the palace because there is a lack of security.’

Lehzen said: ‘As soon as I heard a commotion near the Queen I was out of bed. I have looked after her for years. The slightest sound … and I am there.’

‘That is not the point,’ said the Prince patiently.

The Baroness broke into German. He followed. It was easier for them both. The Baroness was trying hard to control her anger; she had to remember that he was the Queen’s husband. He found it easier to remain calm. He must not quarrel with her. She would distort what he said and carry tales to the Queen.

But in those moments there was one fact which was clear to them.

There was not room for them both in the palace.

Albert said: ‘My love, I want to talk to you about palace security.’

‘Oh, Albert, are you worrying about the Boy Jones?’

‘It has started me thinking, and I have been looking into these matters. Really, there are some strange things going on in your household.’

‘What do you mean, Albert?’

‘Well, for one thing it takes months to get a pane of glass repaired.’

‘Does it?’

‘All because of stupid mismanagement. I want to go into all the details of the household management. I think we could dismiss several of the servants who are of no use at all.’

‘Dismiss them! Oh, but Albert, where would they go?’

‘To some households which could find work for them. There is not enough here for so many.’

‘It has been going on for years, Albert.’

‘All the more reason why it should go on no longer. I want the keys of the household.’

‘Lehzen has them.’

‘Well, they must be taken away from her.’

‘Must, Albert?’

‘Yes, since she mismanages everything in this way.’

‘Albert! I couldn’t possibly take the keys away from Lehzen. She would be so hurt.’

‘Then hurt she must be. You should tell her that I am not satisfied with the way in which she allows the household to be run.’

‘But I am satisfied, Albert.’

‘How can you be?’

‘Because it has been running for years and I never heard any complaint before. Besides, it is not for you to run the household.’

‘I disagree.’

She was tired and the baby was always crying and not such fun as she had thought a baby would be. She was worried about Dash, who wouldn’t eat anything and looked at her with sad mournful eyes. And Albert plagued her about the household!

‘I shall certainly not speak to Lehzen,’ she said. ‘And Albert, I must beg of you not to interfere when I do not wish you to.’

Albert clicked his heels and bowed. Now he was going to be tiresome. He was going to retire to his room and be very calm and behave as though nothing had happened. How maddening calm people could be! Every minute she was getting nearer to an outburst of anger.

It was coming.

‘You forget that this is my household. If I am satisfied that is all that matters. You are not the ruler of this country though sometimes I think you imagine you are.’

Albert was at the door.

‘I wish I had never married,’ she shouted. ‘I wish I had never allowed myself to be persuaded.’

Albert had gone.

She stared at the door.

Oh, dear, dear Albert, she thought. Whatever had made her say such a silly thing!

Albert was gently forgiving but when he showed signs of raising the matter of the household he saw the danger signals in her eyes. He decided to wait. He had made some advance and his position had greatly improved in the last months; he was sure that if he were patient eventually he would bring Victoria to a logical point of view, and then she would be able to see that Baroness Lehzen was doing a great deal of harm.

So Albert began planning for Christmas, which should be spent at Windsor; and the Queen, who loved festivities and was only too delighted to have Albert friendly and appearing to have forgotten their differences, listened excitedly.

She was happy sitting beside Albert as the carriage rolled along, the nurses following behind with Lehzen and dear Pussy.

Albert was telling her about Christmases at Rosenau and how he and his brother had gone into the forest and brought home the yule logs. All the presents had been arranged on tables under the Christmas trees and each member of the household had his or her own table.

It had been very similar in Kensington Palace, said Victoria. After all Mama had come to England from Leiningen and had brought the same family customs to Kensington.

‘I want this to be a very happy Christmas,’ said Victoria, feeling contrite about the terrible thing she had said to Albert. She took his hand, and laughing added: ‘I shall try to control my terrible temper and then I shan’t say things I don’t mean and for which I am so sorry afterwards.’

Albert pressed her hand and said he loved her generous heart.

So she was very happy driving along the frosty roads and she shared Albert’s pleasure at the sight of the stately castle and could scarcely wait to step within its ancient walls.

It was a wonderful Christmas. Albert threw himself wholeheartedly into the task of decorating the apartments. He ordered many trees to be cut and between them he and the Queen adorned them with candles and little gifts which could be tied on. Beneath them were the surprise parcels and Victoria could scarcely wait for Christmas Day when the packages should be unwrapped amid cries of pleasure and delighted amazement.

It was all rather as it had been when she was a little girl and she remembered how different Mama had been on such occasions. In fact Mama, who was with them at Windsor, had changed a great deal since the departure of her Comptroller of the Household, Sir John Conroy, and the arrival of Albert, who always referred to her as Dearest Mama. As for the Duchess, she was very fond of Albert and this had meant that relations between Victoria and her mother had changed.

Again the trouble was the Baroness, who had thought the Duchess had treated Victoria harshly when they were all at Kensington and they would never really get on.

So there were the Duchess and Albert ranged against the Baroness. Victoria frowned. Whatever happened, she had told herself, no one – simply no one – was going to turn her against her dearest Lehzen.

But Christmas was not a time for conflict. They must all be happy together and because she was sorry for her outburst Victoria had agreed to a quiet Christmas. There would be no grand ball, just an evening when they might dance a little or play games and Albert would leave his beloved double chess and play a round game in which everyone could join. Mama could have her whist which would keep her awake and satisfy her; and even Lehzen fell in with the general view because she said she did not want Victoria to be exhausted. It was too soon after her confinement and she must take care.

She and Albert rode out in the morning and what fun it was galloping down the long avenue to Snow Hill where the statue of her grandfather George III had been erected.

‘He was always quarrelling with Uncle George,’ she said, ‘but at least Uncle George had that statue put there to his memory.’

‘It would have been better to have tried to please him while he was alive than to erect a statue to him when he was dead.’

‘You are right, Albert,’ she said solemnly.

They galloped through the Great Park and she told Albert the legend of Herne the Hunter, one of the keepers who was said to have hanged himself on an oak tree and now haunted the forest. If he appeared to anyone it meant they would die.

Albert was reminded of the legends of the Black Forest and recounted some of them.

She listened avidly. How beautifully Albert told his stories; how handsome he looked on horseback; and how happy she was to have such a husband! There should never really be any differences between them. If only she had not such a violent temper; if only Albert were not so maddeningly calm; if only he and Lehzen could get on together; if only he would realise that after all she was the Queen and, although he was her dearly beloved husband, he was not a king and only a consort and she must have the final say in everything …

But why disturb such a lovely frosty morning with such thoughts.

Albert drew up his horse to admire the perpendicular Gothic architecture of St George’s chapel. Albert knew a great deal about architecture and was able to make her see buildings as she never had before. But then Albert knew a great deal about so many things – music, literature, art.

He said on that Christmas morning: ‘The Court could be more interesting if you invited intellectual people to dinner now and then and perhaps to pay visits.’

‘Intellectual people?’

‘I meant writers, artists, scientists … people like that.’

The Queen was pensive. ‘There would be a lot of clever talk, I daresay, which I shouldn’t understand.’

‘You would in time.’

She was silent. She was certainly not going to have people talking over her head at her dinner parties. But she did not wish to spoil this morning by saying so.

She started to gallop and Albert followed; they rode side by side for a few minutes in silence.

Then she cried: ‘Oh, Albert, what a pleasant ride. How I am enjoying it!’

They sang duets; they played the piano; they sketched the view from the windows because it was too cold to sketch out of doors. ‘My hands get so red,’ said the Queen.

What a happy Christmas that was.

But sadness followed. Going to Dash’s basket one morning she found him dead.

She wept bitterly. Lehzen said: ‘He was old, my love, and he didn’t enjoy the last months. It was rather sad to see him.’

She threw her arms about the Baroness. ‘Do you remember when he came? That odious Sir John Conroy gave him to Mama but he was my dog from the first.’

‘He took one look at you and loved you.’

‘Darling, darling Dashy. He was always so faithful. He used to come to the blue closet when I was with my Prime Minister. Lord M was fond of him and he liked Lord M. All dogs like Lord M and one understands why. But Dashy loved him. He was always licking his boots.’

Lehzen said it was no use grieving as it was all for the best. She must think of poor Dash whose legs were getting stiff with rheumatism and was now out of his pain.

She agreed and felt much better. Then Albert suggested that Dash be buried at Adelaide Cottage, which he had particularly loved, and designed an effigy. Beneath it the beloved body was laid and a plaque was put up to extol his virtues, his selflessness and fidelity.

Victoria knew that every time she visited his grave she would remember the dear companion of her childhood.

The sojourn at Windsor was marred only by the death of Dash and that had been imminent for some time now. She was finding that she enjoyed the country life far more than she had thought possible.

She told Albert that she was changing her mind about the country and when she saw how this pleased him she enlarged on the subject.

‘In the past I could not wait to get back to London,’ she said, ‘and I was always quite wretched to leave it. But now I am married I am quite unhappy to leave the country.’

Albert was delighted. She was coming his way; he had every hope of success; he would wean her from her pleasure-loving ways; he would make her the serious docile companion he longed for.

He pressed her hand.

‘No regrets of your marriage?’

‘Dear Albert, how could I have been so wicked!’

‘You wicked, my love? Never. It is just that ungovernable temper of yours. It is like an old troll of the mountains who puts words into your mouth which your loving heart could never have conjured up.’

‘That is true, Albert. How clever of you. I often think how happy I am, and what a poor sort of existence mine was before I was married.’

‘Go on thinking so, my love, I beg of you.’

‘You are so good and so patient.’

‘Together we will fight that old troll of a temper, eh?’

She laughed delightedly. ‘Then if you will fight it with me, Albert, we shall surely conquer it.’

‘I am so happy that you are growing to love the country more.’

‘Well I am beginning to see things differently. You know I couldn’t tell the difference between a blackbird and a thrush and I didn’t know wheat from barley or gorse from hawthorn. It makes such a lot of difference when you know.’

‘Of course it does. That is why I think you would enjoy having interesting people at the palace.’

Her lips tightened a little. ‘I shouldn’t want a banquet to become a sort of lesson, I fear.’

The danger signals. He must remember that too much haste would impede progress.

She went on: ‘And although I do enjoy the country that does not mean that I dislike London and the amusements we have there.’

‘Of course not,’ said Albert calmly. He changed the subject. ‘Have you decided on the date for Pussy’s christening?’

‘An idea came to me. What do you think of the tenth of February?’

‘That,’ said Albert, ‘is a very important date to me.’

‘It is the most important date in my life,’ replied the Queen

fervently. ‘So, dearest Albert, Pussy’s christening day shall be on the anniversary of our wedding.’

Harmony continued at Windsor.

Mr George Anson called on Lord Melbourne to discuss the progress of the royal couple.

Lord Melbourne listened intently to Mr Anson’s account of the Prince’s dissatisfaction with the company which the Queen kept around her.

‘The Prince,’ said Mr Anson, ‘would like more literary and scientifically minded people to be entertained.’

‘Understandable,’ said Lord Melbourne.

‘But Her Majesty does not wish this. She fears that she would be at a loss with such people.’

Lord Melbourne nodded. ‘She would want to take her fair share in the conversation and would not care for it to go over her head. A pity something wasn’t done about her education. Oh, I know she speaks German, Italian and French – not only speaks them well but writes them. She has a smattering of Latin. If she were not a queen she would be an accomplished young lady, but there has been lack of more cultured tuition. She has a naturally shrewd mind and is quick to pick up information. She is musical, but she has read very little I fear and has hardly any knowledge of the classics. It is a great lack.’

‘The Prince naturally finds the evenings dull,’ said Mr Anson. ‘He is bored with his double chess every evening and now of course he is drawn into the round games which seem positively childish to him.’

‘It is to be hoped that he doesn’t look for excitement in dangerous places,’ said Lord Melbourne.

Mr Anson looked surprised.

‘Well, my dear fellow, there are some very beautiful ladies at Court. I have often felt the Queen was ill advised to choose her ladies for their beauty, which she appears to have done. She loves beauty – particularly in the human form.’

‘The Queen is delighted with the Prince’s utter indifference to other ladies.’

‘It’s early days yet,’ said the Prime Minister. ‘I told her this and she was very indignant. But, if he is going to be bored in the evenings, she should take care. The Prince has been very successful so far. Oh, I know there have been some stormy scenes. I know well that royal temper. But his success has been remarkable. It may well be that very soon you will be seeing the company at the palace becoming literary and scientific and far more intellectual, but the Prince must be wary.’

‘He knows that very well, Lord Melbourne.’

‘And the Daisy lady?’

‘Still reigns.’

‘A battle royal will take place there one day. And until it is won our Prince should walk very carefully. I have no doubt of the outcome. Albert is a very good chess player. He’ll know the strategy. His danger is impatience.’

‘He is a very patient man, Prime Minister.’

‘He needs to be. Let him remember that and he’ll be the victor. I’ll prophesy that if he is clever enough he’ll clear the palace of his enemies and be master in his house.’

Lord Melbourne was a little sad, thinking of the days when he was the most important one in the Queen’s life. What a happy time that had been! He had lost his cynicism and had felt like a young man in love. But he had not been a young man and the object of his devotion was a young girl – a queen – to whom he could never speak of love.

But there was love between them – on his side an enduring love. That was why he wanted above all things to see her happy.

And she would be of course, and he would know that she was when Albert became master in the house. A long battle lay before the Prince. He, the Prime Minister, hoped that he would live long enough to see that battle won, for only if the Prince was the victor could Victoria be happy.