The Queen's Husband

Chapter XV IN ALBERT’S NATIVE LAND

Life had become more simple. The Queen, once gay, fond of balls and banquets, had become eager to retire from the limelight. Certain members of the Court considered her old-fashioned, rather dowdy and above all, prim. Inspired by Albert, she was taking a very stern attitude towards moral lapses, forgetting that once she had admonished him for his puritanical views. Albert was right in this, she believed, as he was in everything else.

Albert would never be really accepted. He was the foreigner, the German; but the happy family life of the royal couple was an example to all and the majority of people applauded it. Albert’s clearly defined lines of right and wrong embraced so whole-heartedly by the Queen became the law of the Court, and the country was affected by them. Respectability was all important. To sin was to be not respectable and therefore if anyone sinned, they could only expect to be received in society if they were never found out. The Queen who could in no circumstances violate her marriage vows considered that only those who deserved to be outcasts from society would do so, and no one who had been involved in scandal could be received by her. Everyone must lead an exemplary moral life. Marriage was sacrosanct. She and Albert set the pattern – which was of course Albert’s – and everyone must conform to it. A subtle change was creeping over the country. The swaggering days of the Regency were far behind. The age of Victoria and Albert had begun.

The happiest times for the Queen were those when she could escape with Albert and the children to her ‘dear little house’ Osborne on the Isle of Wight. There it was such fun to live quietly without being surrounded by all the trappings of Court life. There the children could enjoy the sea and fresh air and she and Albert could temporarily forget the cares of state and live like an ordinary family.

Albert, however, had plans for rebuilding Osborne. He made sketches of what he would like the house to look like. She was well aware that he was just a little homesick for Germany, which of course was natural, in spite of their happy life together. She knew how she would feel if she had had to leave her home; but secretly she believed she could have been happy anywhere with Albert. He was with her, of course, and it was only rarely that she saw the nostalgia in his eyes. But when he was in the country he could imagine he was back in his Thuringian forests. Dear Albert, he had such a devoted family. And who could wonder at it? Anyone would adore Albert.

Baron Stockmar was in constant correspondence and advised them on almost everything they did. Albert said that later on when Bertie was a year or so older he was going to implore Stockmar to come to England because he did want his advice about the education of the boy. Of all the children he was most concerned about Bertie.

When Parliament was prorogued and it was suggested that she and Albert might visit his family in Germany the Queen was delighted. Sir Robert Peel thought it a good idea and plans were made for the journey.

The Queen told the children of the proposed trip and of course Vicky wanted to go with them. Bertie looked expectant. He was beginning to understand that he was the Prince of Wales and had a position of special importance. Albert had said that they must make sure that he did not become arrogant.

‘How I should love to take darling Vicky with us,’ said the Queen. ‘But she is so young yet and I should not always be able to keep an eye on her.’

Albert was regretful too. He would have loved to show his darling to his family. He admitted to the Queen that he had never seen a child who was so bright for her age.

Vicky cried and pleaded and was a little astonished that her wishes were ignored. Bertie was not sure whether he wanted to go or not. He had an idea that life might be more tolerable for him in the nursery without his parents’ supervision. He was very fond of Lady Lyttleton and found that he did not stammer nearly so much in her presence as he did in that of his parents. So he could regard his parents’ departure with equanimity, which was more than Vicky could. Bertie liked Fat Alice too, who laughed when he tickled her far more than anyone else did, and Baby Affie, as they called Alfred, seemed to like him too.

They were at Osborne where the children were to stay for the summer holiday when the day came for the departure. Vicky sat on the Queen’s bed with Alice beside her while Victoria dressed. Vicky kept asking: ‘Why can’t I go, Mama? Oh, why can’t I go to Germany?’

‘One day you’ll go, my pet. But not this time.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because Papa thinks it best.’

That settled it. Even Vicky knew that what Papa decided must be right. Therefore she must accept the sad fact.

All the children were at breakfast with them – even Baby Affie who, like Alice, was a good placid child.

Vicky sat next to her father, looking very sad; and they all talked in German, which they did often because Papa liked it. Vicky could speak it as fluently as she could English; and even Bertie could mumble his few sentences in German as well as he could English.

When they left, Vicky, Bertie and Alice were all in the doorway with Lady Lyttleton to wave them goodbye. Vicky was almost in tears. Poor brave little Vicky!

‘She was heartbroken,’ said the Queen to Albert. ‘But the dear brave child held back her tears.’

They reached Buckingham Palace later that day, but how desolate it seemed there without the dear children. ‘I shall be glad to start on our journey,’ said the Queen. ‘I miss them so dreadfully.’

Sir Robert called and assured them that they need have no qualms. The political situation was good; there were no troubles looming on the horizon; they could take a holiday without any fears that they might be neglecting their duties.

‘Everything is in such good hands, Sir Robert,’ said the Queen. ‘We know that.’

It was a happy note to leave on and apart from the fact that the dear children had to be left behind the Queen could have been perfectly happy.

The crossing was rather rough, which did not suit dear Albert, but at least he had his wife to look after him this time and when it was over he quickly recovered. How enchanting to be in a foreign country where everything looked so different from how it did at home. The Queen was delighted with the peasant girls in caps and cloaks going to market with their brass jugs. To see these things for the first time was thrilling, but to observe them in the company of her dear Albert, who always saw everything so much more clearly than anyone else, was not only the greatest pleasure but a lesson in observation. Lehzen used to say that she missed nothing but, when they sketched together what they had seen, she was astonished at Albert’s powers of observation.

They were both happy to be met by the King and the Queen of the Belgians at Malines. Uncle Leopold welcomed them warmly to his country and was clearly very happy to see them together. He always reminded them that he had arranged their marriage when they were both in their cradles, and was pleased when Victoria said that they owed their happiness to him, which was true.

After accompanying them to Verviers Uncle Leopold and Aunt Louise took a fond farewell. Victoria wept at the parting but soon they were crossing the Prussian frontier and Albert was in his beloved Germany.

The King of Prussia met them at Aix-la-Chapelle and from then on they were entertained royally. Albert was clearly very happy to be back in Germany and the Queen shared his enjoyment. For the first time he could show her all those beauties which previously he had described to her with his eloquence or his sketch book. There was an elusive fairy-tale quality about these mountains and forests, which delighted her. She was completely happy, and she realised that perfect happiness for her was having Albert to herself. She loved the children dearly; she was going to do her duty by them; but the one person who meant more to her than the rest of the world put together was Albert.

And how pleasant were these dear German relations. She felt so much more at home with them than with the French.

Albert whispered that his heart was set on a Prussian alliance for Vicky. He wanted to see her Queen of Prussia. She agreed that there was nothing she would like better. Their favourite child would grace any throne, and since she could not have Victoria’s this would be the next best thing.

They visited museums and universities. The King was very proud of his kingdom, and eager to show it off; Albert told the Queen that he had already hinted to him that the two houses might be linked in marriage in due course and the King was pleased with the idea.

Albert was deeply moved to visit the places where he had passed such happy times before coming to England. They went to Bonn and met some of Albert’s old friends from his university days; a statue of Beethoven was to be unveiled and there were concerts in honour of the great musician; at the unveiling the Queen was secretly amused because when the statue was uncovered it had its back to her and Albert. Victoria caught Albert’s eye and they exchanged looks of amusement; how they laughed at the incident when they were alone. Albert was not only good, Victoria reminded herself, but also ready to see a joke.

The King gave a great banquet for them and made a charming speech in which he asked everyone to fill their glasses. He recalled the days when the British and the Germans had stood together at Waterloo, brothers-in-arms, and he wanted them to drink the health of Her Majesty, the Queen of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland; he also wanted them to drink to her august consort.

When the Queen, overcome by emotion, rose and kissed the King on his cheek, there was loud applause.

What a wonderful experience to travel through Germany and see Albert’s emotion and delight in his own homeland. How his eyes sparkled at the sight of those forests and mountains, at the charming little castles which were dotted over the countryside. Best of all was arriving at Coburg; and there was Albert’s brother Ernest – now the Duke – waiting to greet them. Dear Ernest who looked so well and happy and whom she hoped was not straying from the paths of virtue as he had once. But this was not the time to think of such a thing. Here he was looking quite handsome – though not nearly so handsome as Albert – in full uniform, having travelled in an open carriage with six horses. Everywhere people lined the roads to cheer them – countrymen and buxom country girls in pointed caps and layers of petticoats. ‘So charming,’ whispered the Queen to Albert.

On the way they again met Uncle Leopold and Aunt Louise who got into the carriage and sat with them. Ernest alighted and a horse was brought for him. He rode along beside the carriage and, the procession following behind them, they came to the palace. As they approached, pretty girls in native costumes threw flowers into the carriage. How good of Ernest to arrange such a welcome!

And what a large family! The Duchess of Kent, who had been visiting her relations, was there to greet her daughter and there were more cousins and aunts than Victoria had ever known she possessed.

What a lot of chatter, embracing, exclamations of delight! The Queen’s emotions were always ready to be aroused; her eyes filled with tears as she kissed the relations who were hers as well as dearest Albert’s.

Ernest said that he had put Rosenau at their disposal because he knew that Albert’s birthplace was his favourite residence.

‘How wonderfully, wonderfully kind,’ cried the Queen.

And she too loved Rosenau. How could she do anything else? It was here that blessed being first saw the light of day. She wrote sentimentally of it in her journal.

How happy, how joyful we were on waking to find ourselves here at dear Rosenau, my Albert’s birthplace, the place he most loves. He was so happy to be here with me. It is like a beautiful dream.

And even as they awoke they were greeted by the voices of singers from the Coburg theatre whom Ernest had engaged to sing below their window.

Her eyes shining with joy, she insisted on Albert’s showing her the little room where he and Ernest used to sleep with their tutor Florschütz of whom Albert had talked to her so often.

‘Albert, what an enchanting view!’

‘I have never seen a finer,’ said Albert.

‘Oh, I can picture you so well … when you were no older than Bertie.’ She frowned slightly. ‘Oh, I do hope and pray Bertie grows up exactly like you.’

‘He shows no sign of it at the moment,’ said Albert grimly.

But they must not talk of unpleasant matters on such an occasion.

‘What are these little holes in the wall paper?’ she wanted to know.

‘Ernest and I made them when we were fencing.’

‘How interesting! And this is the table at which you used to sit. I can picture it all. How happy I am to be here! I was always a little jealous of everything that went before in your life. I wish that I had always been there.’

‘My dear love is inclined to be a little jealous.’

‘I should be terribly, Albert, if you ever gave me cause. Do you remember when I threw Miss Pitt’s flowers all over the floor?’

Albert remembered perfectly well.

‘And I never really have any cause to be jealous, have I?’

‘My dear love, how can you suggest such a thing. Of course you have not. You are my wife so how could I possibly care for any other woman?’

‘Of course not. I am stupid. You never do look at anyone else, but Lord Melbourne once said that men who were perfectly faithful in their youth often became quite flirtatious in middle age.’

‘You did pay rather too much attention to Lord Melbourne at one time,’ chided Albert.

She admitted. ‘I have learned so much … thanks to you, my dear Albert. Poor Lord Melbourne.’

Albert was able to celebrate his birthday at Rosenau.

‘What a happy occasion!’ cried the Queen. ‘It is more than I could have hoped for. To celebrate your dear birthday here.’

Ernest arranged for the singers to begin the great day’s celebrations by chanting below his window and on this occasion there was a band. How wonderful to hear the march and O Isis and Osiris from The Magic Flute; and it was a beautiful day with the sun shining brilliantly. The previous day Victoria with Ernest and his wife Alexandrine had dressed Albert’s birthday table with flowers and laid all the presents on it.

What an enchanting way to begin a birthday with all the presents and the people from the surrounding country calling with flowers to greet Albert, whom they remembered as a boy.

There was one who came forward with a bouquet for Victoria and said when it was presented: ‘I congratulate you on your husband’s birthday and wish that he may live for many and many a year and that you may soon come back.’

With tears in her eyes the Queen said this was her fervent wish too.

What a perfectly happy day! ‘I have never been happier in my life,’ said the Queen earnestly. Then she remembered the children.

If they were here … But she knew in her heart, and she was too honest to pretend, no one no one could ever mean to her what Albert did.

He is my all, she said.

How sad to leave Rosenau! But it was time to begin the journey home. ‘I feel I have shared your childhood with you in some measure,’ she told Albert. ‘It makes me closer to you.’

Albert was deeply touched and called her his ‘dear little wife’.

If they could stay longer, if they need not go back to England and the squabbles between the Tories and the Whigs and the fears that that dreadful Disraeli would behave so badly that he brought his own party down, how happy she would be! It was like living in a paradise.

She sighed. ‘I must be thankful for such a perfect holiday.’

It was not quite at an end. She and Albert with Ernest and Alexandrine paid a visit to the Gräber Insel, an island on which were the family graves. They were taken to it by a boatman which made Victoria shiver a little because, she whispered to Albert, it was like Charon rowing them across the Styx. There were buried members of the House of Saxe-Coburg, and the flowers which grew on their graves were tended by a strange man, very old and gnarled, who lived there all alone.

Victoria gripped Albert’s hand firmly.

‘Are you cold?’ he asked.

‘No. As they would say at home: someone must be walking over my grave.’

‘This makes you morbid,’ said Albert. ‘My dear love is very easily affected.’

‘By death,’ she agreed. ‘I cannot bear to think of anyone I love being dead.’

Albert smiled at her tenderly, but she was glad when they left the Island of Graves.

And how fresh and beautiful the Thuringian forest looked after that sad island. The haymakers came running to wave to them as they passed and again Victoria was loud in her praise of the pretty costumes.

How poor Grandmama Saxe-Coburg wept when they said goodbye. She clung to Albert, calling him Mein Engel’s Kind. Poor, poor Grandma, who must be thinking that it might well be that she would never see Albert again. She was old and it could not be long before she was lying under a flower-covered grave on the Gräber Insel.

Sir Robert had warned them that if they paid a visit to Germany they must on their way back call on the King of France, who was already put out by the Russian visit, and would be more so, if after spending so much time in Germany, they did not call on him too.

At Tréport Louis Philippe was waiting to greet them as before and Victoria was gratified to discover that he had named a gallery in the château in honour of her last visit. In this gallery Victoria saw, among others, Winterhalter portraits of herself and Albert.

‘How very gracious,’ said the Queen.

Because a contretemps had arisen between the French and British governments concerning the marriage of the Infanta of Spain, Lord Aberdeen and Lord Liverpool had joined them in order to have discussions with M. Guizot, the French Foreign Minister. It was all very amicable but not nearly so happy of course as being with the dear German relations.

After a day and a night with the French the royal yacht set sail for England and at noon had arrived at the Isle of Wight. They drove to Osborne and to the great joy of both the Queen and Albert, Lady Lyttleton was standing at the door, Affie in her arms, with Vicky, Bertie and Alice beside her.

The children shouted with joy when they saw their parents and ran forward to fling themselves into their arms.

It was too much to expect that the prosperity with which the year had opened should continue. That summer had been the wettest in Ireland in living memory with the result that the potato crop was ruined. The terrible famine which followed was responsible for acute starvation and many deaths, and it was inevitable that the Corn Laws would have to be reviewed immediately. Lord John Russell announced that he was in favour of repealing the Corn Laws; but knowing that he had insufficient support to bring about the necessary reforms, Peel resigned.

When he called to see the Queen she received him with great sorrow, but even at such a time she remembered that similar occasion when she had feared to lose Lord Melbourne. How impulsive she had been then, how unconstitutional; and how differently she would act now. She did not want to lose Sir Robert and she made that very clear, but she was not childishly stubborn and emotional about it. It was a political issue and she must accept it as such.

Sir Robert suggested that she send for Lord John Russell, asking him to take on the Premiership.

This happened just before Christmas, when she would have been so much happier bringing in the yule logs and showing the children how Christmas was celebrated in dear Papa’s country. She and Albert would do that of course; but there was this tiresome matter to be settled first.

‘And if the government falls and we have the Whigs back we shall doubtless have that tiresome Lord Palmerston back in the Foreign Office.’

Albert agreed with her on that point. Palmerston was a tiresome man who was inclined to patronise Albert and treat him as a boy. Very different from Lord Aberdeen!

It was with relief that she received the news that Lord John declined the offer.

That impish Disraeli had laughingly said (and this was widely reported) that Lord John being in ‘no mood to accept the poisoned chalice handed it back to Sir Robert, who had no alternative but to take it back’.

So Christmas came with Sir Robert still in office. It was so like that other occasion, but how different she was. How much more dignified, how diplomatic and queenly.

There was one she had to thank for the change – that blessed being, Albert.

In the midst of this political upheaval the Queen became aware of the now familiar signs of pregnancy.

‘Oh no, no!’ she cried in irritation. ‘It is far too soon!’

‘It seems,’ she complained to Albert, ‘that I am no sooner delivered of one child than another is started.’

‘It is life, my love,’ said Albert calmly.

‘It is all very well for you to feel so serene about it,’ cried the Queen with a flash of temper. ‘You don’t have to suffer all the inconveniences culminating in that painful ordeal.’

Albert patted her hand and she was immediately contrite.

‘Oh, Albert,’ she said, ‘what a temper I have!’

Albert agreed gravely.

‘But it is tiresome, you must agree.’

‘It is married life,’ said Albert.

Even so, she thought, a queen did have a strenuous life and although it was her duty to give the nation heirs she had already presented that exacting taskmaster with two sons and two daughters. Already the press was commenting on her growing family. There had been cartoons of an impoverished-looking John Bull, with patched coat eating a tiny bloater off a cracked plate shouting: ‘Hurrah. Another royal birth. I can pay for it with my income tax.’

It would have been most desirable to have at least a lapse of a few years now. She was still very young. Besides a family of four was adequate for her satisfaction and the nation’s purse.

She was feeling like this because during those months of pregnancy she was never well. Because she had discovered that she had the perfect husband did not mean that was the end of her violent temper. It still was ready to break out when she was provoked, and to rise in the morning feeling sick and depressed made it very ready to flare out, as her attendants had discovered. The Queen’s pregnancies were almost as much disliked by those around her as by herself.

A few days after Lord John had been unable to form a government and Peel was back in office the Queen invited Lord Melbourne to dine at the palace. He had been much in her thoughts lately because of the similarity of the predicament confronting Peel’s government and that of his own during the famous Bedchamber incident. She had neglected him lately, had not answered his letters for weeks at a time and was rather ashamed of herself.

Poor Lord Melbourne, she must not forget what a great friend he had been to her. Although she, being so impulsive and inexperienced, had attached more to the friendship than was really there, that was not his fault.

Lord Melbourne was delighted to receive an invitation. As he bent over her hand his eyes filled with tears, but somehow they did not move her as they had in the old days. She could only see the difference between this poor pathetic old man and the fine handsome witty Prime Minister who had called on her on the first day of her accession and for four years had seen her every day.

‘Dear Lord Melbourne,’ she said, ‘you are to sit beside me at dinner. I have arranged it.’

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.