The Queen's Husband

Chapter XXII CRIMEA

The Queen was in despair. That which she had always dreaded was threatened. War! She believed fervently that at all costs the country must keep out of war and there was one man who was trying to drag them into that unhappy state: Palmerston.

Palmerston was the man of the moment. The eyes of all Europe were on him. He was the strong man, not afraid to state his views, to offend the Queen and her husband, nor to give up office if need be. The people were convinced that Palmerston was the man to lead England.

No sooner had Sir John Russell insisted on his resignation than England’s enemies were exulting, and Nicholas, Emperor of Russia, threatened to annexe Turkey. Lord Malmesbury, the new Foreign Secretary, had had little experience of foreign affairs and his great desire was to fall in step with the Queen and Albert; Aberdeen’s policy was peace at any price. Only Palmerston, with the bulk of public opinion behind him, saw that the only way to prevent war was to take a firm hand and threaten it. If Russia believed that England would stand aside – which Palmerston fervently believed she could not without great damage not only to her prestige and status but to her commercial interests – Russia would swallow up Turkey and command not only the Black Sea but the Mediterranean.

Ever since the enforced resignation of Palmerston, Russia had been creeping nearer and nearer to Turkey and was poised ready to spring. The British lion stood up and growled at these onslaughts and then settled down again.

A climax came when Russia destroyed the Turkish fleet. Palmerston resigned, but the vacillating Aberdeen, while referring to Palmerston as ‘that obnoxious minister’, had at last seen that the policy Palmerston had suggested must be followed. Palmerston then withdrew his resignation.

Meanwhile the public, led by the press, had become aware of its weak government and Palmerston was the national hero.

Punch summed up the situation with a caricature of the Russian Emperor stuffing a Turkey into his pockets and saying: ‘I don’t mean any harm,’ while policemen representing France and England stood by watching.

Why, asked the press, was England remaining aloof, blind to her own interests? Because the Queen was against it. And who guided the Queen and was trying to rule the country through her? The Queen’s German husband.

If Palmerston had become the hero of the drama, Albert was chosen for the villain.

Cartoons, lampoons and libellous articles were published and all were directed against German Albert. He wanted to hand England over to his German family; that was why he wanted to see her brought low. He was in sympathy with Russia because he was related to the Russian royal family. He might be the Queen’s husband but he was the country’s enemy.

The people had always disliked Albert. He was a German; he spoke with a guttural accent; he was cold and aloof and there was no humour in him. How different from Lord Palmerston, who in his most serious moments could never resist a joke. Albert was a virtuous husband it was true, but how colourful was Lord Palmerston. There were stories about his gay past when he had been involved in many an amorous scrape, and then in later life he had married Lord Melbourne’s sister with whom it was said he had been in love for years and now he had settled down to a life of domestic felicity with a wife whose sole purpose in life was to care for her husband and further his career.

The anger against Albert was great. It was said that he had a key to the Queen’s Despatch Box and opened it before it came into her hands. He altered the Foreign Secretary’s dispatches and sent them to their destinations without further reference to the Queen or the Foreign Office. On Christmas Day he had dined off turkey and had drunk the health of the Russian Emperor. In short, Albert was a traitor.

The Queen was aghast at such perfidy. She wept with rage. It was only a short time ago that Albert had given them that wonderful Exhibition. Everyone had applauded it and said that there had never been such a clever, artistic and brilliant display. They had known that it was Albert’s creation; and the very same people who were telling these lies about Albert were talking of Palmerston as though he were a hero whom she and Albert hated because he was the great patriot of the age. But there was nothing she could do to prevent the hysteria which was rising against the Prince.

A rumour was started that the Prince was to be sent to the Tower of London and crowds collected by the Traitor’s Gate. When he did not arrive they dispersed, grumbling that he had tried to make the Queen share his fate and she had refused and that he had forced her to have the charges against him withdrawn.

The situation was becoming so ridiculous that responsible persons like Mr Gladstone realised that it must be stopped without delay or the mob would be so incensed that they might even attempt to assassinate the Prince. Mr Gladstone wrote to the Morning Post explaining the groundlessness of the accusations and the matter was brought up in the House of Commons where Lord John Russell so effectively defended the Prince and showed the calumnies against him to be so ridiculous and false that it halted the streams of abuse. But a great deal of gossip about the subversive activities of the Prince persisted: and when the Queen went to open Parliament the crowd hissed her and great precautions were taken because Albert was with her.

The French exiles were still at Claremont and this was another matter which was brought against the Queen and her husband. The French under Napoleon III were involved with England in the obligation to go to the aid of Turkey and the fact that the French royal family had found refuge in England was taken to indicate that Albert and Victoria were the enemies of Napoleon III, since they befriended the exiled King and Queen.

All these troubles had their effect on the Queen’s temper, and when Albert said that he thought it unwise for them to visit Claremont her anger flared up.

‘Let’s wait until this storm has blown over,’ said Albert.

‘But don’t you see, they will think you are not going because you are guilty?’

‘I think it unwise to go,’ said the Prince firmly.

‘What will those poor exiles think if you don’t?’

‘My dear love, we have to think of our position.’

‘It is cruel. So unjust!’

‘Of course we know it is, but it doesn’t help us to say it. We have to think and act wisely and with caution.’

‘I think we should defy them and go.’

‘I think we should not.’

She stamped her foot. She was the Queen. Who would believe that, by the manner in which her people treated her – or the manner in which Albert treated her!

She faced him defiantly and suddenly she saw how tired and wretched he looked and she began to cry.

He was all tenderness immediately, and she was comforted. Her determination was as strong as ever, but it had been diverted. It was not to go to Claremont but to make sure that Albert was appreciated by the people. They must be made to recognise his great good qualities. She would never rest until they did.

A few weeks later England had no choice but, with France as her ally, to declare war on Russia.

The Queen could think of nothing but the war. How could it be carried on to the best advantage, what could she do to help her brave soldiers? She longed for it to be over because the thought of death and destruction was abhorrent to her, but she was eager for the glory of her country and she was now convinced that war was the only action possible in the circumstances. The Tzar Nicholas had become the villain. He alone was responsible. Palmerston in the background was murmuring that the right action a year before could have prevented the war. It was because the Russians had believed that England was ineffectually governed – which it was – by short-sighted men – which they were – it could take advantage of the situation – which it had.

The people in the streets were enthusiastic for the war. It was far away; it was fought on foreign soil and they had not yet begun to realise what misery was involved. They began to call for Palmerston who stood by awaiting the moment to come forward. At least, he said, the country was taking some action now. It was belated but at last the Russians had been shown that we were not going to stand aloof.

Albert worked for long hours; he was indefatigable, said the Queen; when he came to bed red-eyed and weary she would tell him how anxious she was for his health and that he must not exhaust himself. But his sense of duty was strong. He had been reviled – he still was – but he saw his duty clearly and he would perform it at no matter what cost.

News was coming in of disasters at the front. The greatest killer was disease. Cholera raged; dysentery and fever were commonplace; there was only salt pork to eat and not much of that; the weather was bitterly cold and the men’s moustaches froze to their faces. The hardship was terrible; there was the disaster of Balaclava and the terrible anxiety of waiting for good news which did not come. Men were dying in the Crimea and Miss Florence Nightingale had gone out to nurse them.

The war was no longer glorious and everyone was longing for its end.

England’s government was weak. That much was certain. Lord Aberdeen had no stomach for war; he was almost ready to put into practice his policy of peace at any price. What the country needed was a strong man and it looked to Palmerston, who had prophesied that the war was inevitable months before the government had realised it, who had reiterated that had he been at the Foreign Office a firm line would have been taken with the Russians and war would have been avoided. He was a prophet; he was the strong man; the country called out for Palmerston.

Lord Aberdeen resigned and the Queen sent for Lord Derby but he could not form a government. Then she sent for Lord John Russell.

Lord John Russell shook his head. ‘Your Majesty,’ he said, ‘it will have to be Palmerston.’

‘No!’ cried the Queen. ‘Not … that man.’

Lord John lifted his shoulders. ‘The people will only be satisfied with Lord Palmerston.’

She dismissed Lord Russell and went to Albert. She told him what Russell had said. Albert shook his head wearily.

‘Albert, we could be firm. We could stand out. We could refuse.’

‘We could,’ said Albert, ‘but we dare not.’

‘Albert, I am the Queen.’

‘Yes, my love, you are the Queen, but sovereigns rule by the will of the people, as the French royal family discovered. The country is desperate; the war is not going well, and the people want Palmerston.’

‘They do not understand. He is an old man. I believe he paints his face to give himself a good colour. He is seventy-one and he has lived a very immoral life.’

‘It is not only that the English want him. The rest of Europe fears him. If he were at the head of affairs there would be a change in opinion of us and that would be reflected in the progress of the war.’

‘Albert, you too!’

‘And you too, my dear. This is too big an issue for personal prejudices. You and I cannot like or admire this man but the world has made up its mind that he is the one to lead this country to victory.’

The Queen saw that she had no alternative. She was forced to sink her pride and send for Lord Palmerston.

He arrived jaunty as ever, knowing full well why she had sent for him and what it had cost her to do so.

‘Lord Palmerston, I have called you to ask if it is possible for you to form a Ministry.’

Palmerston was confident. ‘Why yes, Ma’am,’ was his answer. ‘I could undertake with a fair prospect of success to form an administration which will command the confidence of Parliament and effectually conduct public affairs in the present momentous crisis.’

The news was out. Newsboys shouted it; the people in the streets called to each other, ‘Have you heard?’

The cry went on: ‘Palmerston is in. The war will now soon be over.’

They were right. Palmerston was the man who was needed. By the end of the year negotiations to end the war were in progress and a conference was being arranged to take place in Vienna to discuss them. This proved to be abortive but the change in the situation since Palmerston had taken over was apparent to all. The war dragged on but there was a new spirit of optimism. Cartoons showed Palmerston as a boy with a broom energetically sweeping away disorder. ‘This is the greatest mess I ever saw at anybody’s house,’ ran the caption. And everyone believed this to be a fair comment. It was only people like Benjamin Disraeli – who had hoped for the premiership himself – who expressed dissatisfaction. He called Palmerston an imposter, ‘ginger beer not champagne even at the height of his powers’ and now an ‘old painted pantaloon, very deaf, very blind, with false teeth’ which were always on the point of falling out of his mouth. But no one was interested in the ravings of jealous politicians; people wanted the war conducted in such a manner as to bring it to an early end.

When the Emperor Nicholas died suddenly hopes soared. He had been killed by ‘pulmonary apoplexy’ it was said but many construed this as a broken heart. The war had not been the easy victory for which he had hoped. Lord Palmerston had changed everything. The Tsar had seen his beautiful cities laid waste and it had all been too much for him.

The Queen could not help shedding a tear. ‘He was such a handsome man,’ she said.

Albert would remember how he had visited them and had descended on them so suddenly without warning and she had been so put out because she was heavily pregnant with dear Alfred.

Albert remembered well.

‘I remember what wild eyes he had. It was because you could see the white all round his pupils and his eyelashes were so light. Lady Lyttleton said they gave his eyes no shade. He certainly did look a little sinister – and so he turned out to be. But I remember he was charming to me.’

Another death! And although many rejoiced in this one she could not bear hearing of the deaths of people whom she had known.

At the back of her mind was the fear that it might happen to someone very near and dear to her. She was afraid that little Leopold might meet with some accident and they be unable to stop his bleeding; she would not face the fears she sometimes felt when Albert was ill.

After all she told herself, I am older than he is. Only three months it was true, but still they were both young and he was her junior.

The war progressed. The Queen reviewed her troops and distributed medals. She called the soldiers her ‘dear brave army’. ‘I am so proud of them,’ she said.

A new order was made – the Victoria Cross – and in the May of 1855 she awarded this to sixty-five heroes from the Crimea.

Then the Emperor Napoleon paid a visit to England with his beautiful Empress Eugénie. They were fêted everywhere and the Queen, who had been so much against them because friendship with them would have been so disloyal to the Orleans family, found them charming. The Emperor was so unaffected; his wife the Empress Eugénie so beautiful. She was tall and slender and when they were together the contrast between her and the Queen was almost comical, the Queen being so tiny and inclined to plumpness. Napoleon made the same contrast with Albert. Albert was tall and handsome, although his hair was thinning and he looked so pale and wan sometimes; the Emperor was very short and his head seemed too big for his body to support. He was very dashing, though, with his enormous moustaches and knew very well how to say the gallant thing to ladies, which of course Albert never did.

There was something rather scandalous about them both. There was a faint possibility that Lord Palmerston could have been Eugénie’s father for he was very friendly with her mother just before her birth. So, it seemed, were several other members of the nobility. There was a story that the lady had responded to this scandal by saying sharply: ‘Impossible,’ and adding, ‘the dates would rule that out.’ As for the Emperor, before he had come to power he had lived in England in quite a humble fashion and had once waited with the crowds in the park to see the Queen ride by on her way to the Houses of Parliament.

The children were fascinated by the visitors. Eugénie seemed to Vicky the most beautiful creature she had ever seen. She declared that she wanted to be just like her. Bertie’s admiration was for the Emperor. He could not take his eyes from the little man and the Emperor delighted in this admiration. He talked to Bertie as though he were one of his generals and Bertie confided that he wanted to be a soldier more than anything else on earth.

‘You’ll be a good one,’ said the Emperor and added with a grin, ‘I should like to have you in my army.’

Bertie thought of being in the Emperor’s army and compared it with all the tasks that had to be completed under the unattractive Mr Gibbs, and of his own father and Baron Stockmar who were determined that he should have no spare time at all in which to enjoy life.

‘I wish you were my father,’ said Bertie.

Of course there must be a return visit and Victoria and Albert, taking with them the Prince of Wales and the Princess Royal, crossed in the royal yacht and visited Paris where they were received with great pomp by the Emperor and his Empress.

Bertie was delighted with everything he saw. Paris was the most enchanting city he had ever imagined; he loved the crowds of excited people and of course the Emperor was there.

They visited the Paris Exhibition and Napoleon’s tomb; they watched the firework displays at Versailles and admired the flowers in the Jardin des Plantes. An exciting fairyland it seemed to the thirteen-year-old Prince.

The Queen was delighted too. It was such a pleasant way of doing her duty. The Emperor paid such delightful compliments and gave her such looks that secretly shocked her. He was a very worldly man, but he certainly made a woman feel beautiful and desirable and that was comforting. Not that she could ever think of any other man but Albert but it was pleasant to know that she was admired … for Albert’s sake of course.

The visit came to an end all too soon and they must return to England, to the political conflicts and preoccupation with the war. That fortunately was now in its last stages. There was a conference in Paris which was to end in peace.

The Queen could not help being grateful to Lord Palmerston because she had to admit that when he had come to office things had begun to change. She was even ready to admit that had he remained at the foreign office there might not have been a war at all.

‘One must be just,’ said the Queen. ‘And it was a most unsatisfactory war.’