The Queen's Husband

Chapter VII SHOTS ON CONSTITUTION HILL

The air was full of rumours. Almost every day there were cartoons in which the central figures were Victoria and Albert. Stories of their differences seeped out of the Palace. ‘Victoria wears the breeches,’ said the people gleefully. A certain amount of pleasure was expressed at this state of affairs. After all, was the comment, who was this Coburg Prince? More or less a pauper as Royalty went. Some might call him handsome – so he was in a pretty sort of way. But the ideal Englishman did not look like Albert, who was more like a pretty girl dressed up as a man. The way he sat his horse was foreign. And what of his brother? Ernest lingered on at the Court, didn’t he? Was he hoping that some of the spoils would come his way? Ernest began to figure in cartoons holding out his hand, feeling in Albert’s pocket. ‘Don’t forget me, brother,’ was the caption. ‘Spare a little for me.’

It was very unpleasant.

Worse still, news leaked out about the nature of Ernest’s indisposition. There were shocked chortles. These Coburgs! They liked a good time … at other people’s expense if possible. That in itself was bad enough, but some people remembered that Albert’s mother had been divorced, and the old scandal was revived. She had had a Jewish lover. Was it before Albert was born? People were sure it must have been. In which case their Coburg Prince was scarcely a prince at all, being a bastard.

This last rumour did not appear in print. That would have been too dangerous. But it did exist. Lord Melbourne did everything in his power to see that it did not reach the ears of the Queen.

Meanwhile Albert, remembering the success of the cup of tea incident, was eager to consolidate his new position and follow it up with a fresh advance. He was certain that the main reason why the Queen would not take him into her confidence as far as state matters were concerned was due to the influence of Lehzen; and his great desire was to discredit the woman in his wife’s eyes.

The press liked the Baroness no better than it did the Prince. Her name constantly appeared and she was often invested with an almost sinister power. Albert, who was now reading the newspapers avidly, was continually discovering items of news about her. He read in the papers that no appointments were made without her consent; and this did not apply only to the domestic side of the Queen’s life. He could not believe this to be true, but, since the Queen did not confide in him, how could he be sure?

Of one thing he was certain. The domestic side of the household was mismanaged. With a true Teutonic talent for organization this had quickly become clear to him. He would have liked to make a clean sweep of many anomalies and he was determined to do so.

Often he was on the point of discussing the matter with the Queen, but, although he had come out victorious from the tea-cup upset, he was a little afraid of Victoria. There was great strength beneath her fluttering femininity and he had learned how stubborn she could be. At the moment when she had actually thrown the tea-cup there had been no love for him in those blazing blue eyes. What if she became so incensed with what she might call his interference that she ceased to love him? Stockmar had hinted that his trump card was her affection for him and that affection must not weaken. In fact it had to grow so strong that eventually she would give way to his wishes. That that could come about, he was certain; at the same time he knew that it could go the other way.

Perhaps the best way was to do it through his secretary, George Anson, who could impart his desire to Lord Melbourne and so it would reach the Queen. What a roundabout way for a man to ask a favour – no, his rights – from his wife! But of course she was no ordinary wife.

He was discovering George Anson to be a very capable young man. He had fought against having him in the first instance, but now he was realising that it was not such a bad bargain after all. Mr Anson was sympathetic and completely loyal and the fact that he was also secretary to the Prime Minister was not a drawback as he had feared. In fact he believed Mr Anson had represented him very sympathetically to Lord Melbourne, for that gentleman’s attitude towards him had changed in the last weeks. He fancied that a little more respect was paid to him.

He told George Anson of his feelings and that he wished him to put the matter to Lord Melbourne not too forcefully – casually rather – as a suggestion rather than as a request.

Mr Anson understood perfectly; and so did Lord Melbourne, who told the Queen in that light and easy manner of which he was a master that perhaps the Prince might like to have – figuratively speaking – the keys of the household.

‘But that the Baroness Lehzen always has had,’ said the Queen.

Lord Melbourne smiled his quizzical smile which the Queen had always so admired. ‘That was in the past. On the tenth of February a somewhat important change took place in Your Majesty’s household.’

Victoria giggled – as she often did when alone with her dear Lord M. No one else made her laugh in quite the same way – not even Albert.

‘Why don’t you think about it?’ suggested Lord Melbourne.

‘I don’t much care for that sort of change.’

‘Not like that other of course,’ said the incorrigible Lord M. ‘I believe you cared for that one very much indeed.’

‘Albert is an angel,’ said Victoria.

‘Even angels seek some occupation. That is why they are always depicted playing harps.’

She laughed aloud. ‘Really you are most irreverent, Lord M.’

‘I fear so,’ he agreed. ‘And I fear also that you may put this matter from your mind – but do consider it.’

Considering things usually meant discussing them with the Baroness.

‘Daisy dear,’ said Victoria, when they were alone, ‘I’m afraid my dearest Albert is getting a little restive.’

The Baroness’s eyes had hardened a little. ‘Surely not. He must be a very happy man.’

‘Oh, he is happy in his marriage, Daisy, but he feels he doesn’t make use of his talents.’

‘He will want to use his talents to make himself a good husband to the best wife in the world.’

‘Oh, darling Daisy, I am sure he feels that. But he wants to do something.’

‘I doubt whether Lord Melbourne will want him interfering in politics.’

‘I didn’t mean politics. But I think he would like the keys of the household for instance.’

‘The keys of the household?’ This was her province. Once the Prince got his foot in he would attempt to oust her altogether; she had sensed the antagonism he felt for her. She had run the household ever since the Queen’s accession. She was easy-going and the servants, who liked her for it, would want no change. Besides, it gave her power over appointments and that was a very pleasant thing to have. So she was seriously alarmed when the keys of the household were mentioned.

‘It might take a burden off your shoulders, Daisy.’

‘Burden. It is not a burden. Nothing I could do for my precious child could be a burden. And what would be said if the Prince concerned himself with the household? It is a woman’s job. Imagine how the press would deal with that. There would be pictures of him in skirts.’

‘Albert would hate that.’

‘And what is more important, my love, so would you. What we all have to remember is that it is our duty and pleasure to serve the Queen … in whatever capacity we are called upon to do so. What are titles? Do you remember on your accession you talked about a post for me, and I said, No, let there be no post. And you replied that I should be here as your friend. How well that has worked! Let the Prince be content to be your husband. I am sure that will be the best in the end.’

And Victoria was sure that her dear Baroness was right.

At the end of April Ernest left England, and Albert was very sad to say goodbye. Victoria came into the room where they were singing the song they had sung at the University Abschied, the student’s farewell.

Victoria sat down quietly and listened, the tears in her eyes.

‘You won’t be so very far away, dear Ernest,’ she said. ‘You must visit us … often.’

Albert said little; he was too moved for words.

‘You see,’ Ernest explained, ‘we have spent so much of our lives together.’

Victoria could always understand affection and she nodded; but Albert turned abruptly away and looked out of the window.

When Ernest left, Albert stood at the window watching his carriage until it could no longer be seen. She came and stood beside him, slipping her arm through his, but he took no notice of her. She believed he did not even know that she was there.

Her compassion changed to a slight irritation. After all she was his wife and surely a wife came before a brother.

After Ernest’s departure Albert felt very lonely. He reviewed the situation as calmly as he could. Victoria was in love with him – more so than he was with her, although he had an affection for her. Perhaps she was more capable of affection than he was – but what sort of affection was it? Demonstrative certainly, but how deep did it go, when she would not give him an opportunity of sharing her state duties although she knew how passionately he wished it? Following Baron Stockmar’s advice he was studying politics and this only made him the more bitter because he was discovering what a fascinating study it was and he would have delighted in sharing it with Victoria.

He felt alone in a strange land, now that his father and brother had left. He had Baron Stockmar of course and his friendship with Sir Robert Peel was growing. He and the Queen had not discussed Sir Robert since the tea-cup incident and he knew very well that she would disapprove of the connection. It was a very unhappy state of affairs.

And there was now no denying that the English disliked him. He was a German; he spoke English with an unmistakable accent; his manners were formal; he was solemn; he had no social graces; he found it difficult to be at ease in company and particularly the company of women. Even his looks were not those admired in England because, as the English said, they were not manly enough.

It was not only the people who disliked him. The royal family over whom he had been given precedence on Victoria’s royal decree were angry over this. Why, asked the royal Dukes and their wives, should this upstart German princeling come before they did on all state occasions?

The Cambridges were particularly incensed because they had hoped that Victoria would marry their son George. George had spent a great deal of his childhood at Windsor with King William and Queen Adelaide because his parents were abroad and both the King and Queen would have liked to see a match between George and Victoria. This had given the Cambridges great hope but the Duchess of Kent and King Leopold had thought otherwise and Victoria’s preference had certainly been for her Coburg cousin. Albert was beautiful; George Cambridge was an odious boy with a shocking complexion. That was her description of him; so the Cambridges sought to make life difficult for Albert.

When Victoria heard that the Duchess of Cambridge had remained seated while Albert’s health was drunk she was furious.

‘How dare she!’ she cried to Lehzen. ‘It is an insult to the Crown.’

‘I suppose she feels that the Prince – apart from his connection with Your Majesty – is below her in precedence.’

‘But the Prince is my husband.’ Angry lights flashed in Victoria’s eyes and Lehzen was quick to realise that she must be very careful when discussing the Prince, for determined as Victoria was to suffer no interference as the Queen, she was at the same time in love with her husband.

‘Of course,’ soothed the Baroness, ‘the Duchess behaved very badly.’

‘I should think so,’ retorted Victoria, ‘and I shall show my displeasure by not asking them to my next ball so that everyone will know how annoyed I am.’

Albert was very much aware of the slights and insults, but if Victoria would let him share her duties people would begin to respect him.

If only people would not be so tiresome, thought Victoria, everything could be wonderful. She had a husband whom she adored; she had a Prime Minister who was her very dearest friend and whom she trusted absolutely; she had darling Daisy who was as a mother to her; and she was the Queen. But Albert wanted to share her throne – and that was something she could not allow, for after all she was the Queen and he was only a prince from a small German dukedom; that horrid Sir Robert Peel was trying to oust Lord Melbourne who was really very lackadaisical about it and seemed to accept the fact that a Tory Ministry was inevitable; and now dear Lehzen had taken a dislike to Albert and he to her.

How very irritating – and so foolish of them! No wonder she lost her temper with them now and then. And there were the newspapers who were always thinking up unpleasant things to say about her and Albert – and what was worse and so shocked Albert – coarse things. And the people didn’t like him; they were always referring to him as ‘the German’. All these irritations – not to mention the family who didn’t like him, all except Mama of course, who doted on him and whom Albert was constantly visiting. Why did Albert have to be so contrary by forming a friendship with the Duchess and showing animosity to the Baroness, when she would have so much preferred it to be the other way round?

The uncles had hated Albert from the start when there had been all that fuss about precedence. Uncle Cumberland fortunately was safe in Hanover but he made his presence felt and was always thundering forth about his rights and what belonged to him. He was furious really because he had not become King of England, which he would have done of course if the English law had been like that of some countries which precluded women from mounting the throne.

And now Uncle Cambridge – probably annoyed because she had not invited him and his Duchess to her last ball, had made a really coarse remark about her and Albert at a banquet.

Albert hated banquets and she was always afraid that he would go to sleep over them. Often she had found it necessary to prod him during some entertainment. On this occasion Albert had seized an opportunity to leave a banquet early, not realising she supposed that the speeches had not been made. And when Uncle Cambridge made his speech he said that the Prince had left because he was so anxious to get home to spend the night with a very fine girl.

Albert was horrified when he heard this because the report said that the guests had all roared with laughter at the Duke’s comment – coarse laughter.

‘This sort of remark is obscene,’ said Albert.

Previously Victoria would have been rather pleased that her uncle should have said that Albert was so anxious to return to her that he had left the banquet early, but Albert’s disgust made her see it through his eyes.

‘It cheapens us,’ said Albert. ‘It creates obscene images in the minds of the people.’

Of course, thought Victoria, it needed someone as pure as Albert to show how disgusting people could be.

She was furious with her Uncle Cambridge and the whole family.

‘It is all because he wanted me to marry George Cambridge,’ she said.

‘They will always chatter in this way about us,’ said Albert sadly, ‘and the more so I think because I am only permitted to share the emotional side of your life.’

So they were back with the old controversy.

It seemed to Victoria that only with Lord Melbourne could she settle down to a cosy companionship.

She often thought of the old days when she and Lord Melbourne had been so important to each other. In fact if a day passed without her seeing her Prime Minister she had felt really miserable; and she used to hate it when he dined at Lady Holland’s house for instance. She had several times told him that she could not understand what he saw in the woman and that she had a really vulgar mouth. Lord Melbourne always laughed at what he called her ‘choleric outbursts and displays of the royal temper’; and very soon had her laughing with him.

He was now very happy that she was contented with her marriage (but perhaps she was not entirely contented, though she would be if Albert could be induced not to attempt to interfere) and he often told her so. But it did mean that her relationship with Lord Melbourne had changed a little. He was not quite so important to her, and perhaps she did stress a little too often that he would always be one of her dearest friends.

But in spite of the fact that things had changed and Lord Melbourne was showing his age a little he could still amuse her more easily than anyone else. Lord Melbourne loved to gossip and he knew so many interesting things about people. Albert, on the other hand, thought gossip demeaning. Albert was right of course. Oh, dear Albert was so good that he did dislike quite a lot of the things that had once seemed good fun – dancing, staying up late, gossiping about people. Compared with Albert, Lord Melbourne was really a little wicked … or would have seemed so if she did not know that he was such a good kind man. Albert would say she was not being logical; but the fact remained that she did enjoy those sessions alone with Lord Melbourne in the blue closet when he would discuss China or Canada – which diversely situated countries were giving cause for concern at this time – and then switch to something quite frivolous in a way which in the past she had found so diverting and delightful – and still did.

It was Lord Melbourne who first brought her the news about Lord William Russell who had been found murdered in his house where he lived alone – apart from numerous servants of course.

‘It is very mysterious,’ said Lord Melbourne, settling comfortably in his chair for a cosy chat. ‘Lord William was found in his bed, cold and stiff, so he had been dead some time. The bed was deluged with blood. His throat was cut so that his head was almost severed from his body.’

‘How very shocking.’

‘The details are too horrible for me to impart to Your Majesty,’ said Lord Melbourne. ‘Such affairs are best forgotten.’

‘Oh, no,’ said the Queen, ‘I want to hear all. Poor Lord William, and what a sad shock for poor Lord John. How very tragic! It only seems a short time since poor Lady John died and left all those dear little children.’

Victoria was apprehensive thinking of Lady John, who had died in childbirth. It was certain now that she herself was pregnant and she was beginning to feel the effects. This in itself was endurable but when she thought of the actual event and what happened to poor Lady John she could be really frightened.

Lord Melbourne, who understood so much in what direction her thoughts were running, went back to the murder – a safer subject than child-bearing.

‘They think that thieves entered by the back door and that when they were in Lord William’s bedroom he awakened and disturbed them. Hence they cut his throat. The maid discovered Lord William’s body in the morning. No one heard anything during the night.’

‘I do hope they catch these wicked people. Poor, poor Lord John.’

‘Oh, don’t feel too sorry for him. I believe he is very interested in Lady Fanny Elliot.’

‘What, Lord Minto’s daughter?’

‘His second daughter. The fact that Minto is First Lord of the Admiralty has meant that little Johnny has been frequently visiting Minto’s house. It’s clear that he is becoming very interested in Lady Fanny.’

‘How old is she?’

‘About twenty-five.’

‘Little Johnny must be twice her age.’

‘Yes, but it would be an excellent arrangement. Everyone cannot have a handsome young Prince for a husband, you know.’

‘Of course they can’t, and Johnny will be able to look after her and she will be able to look after all the children.’

‘Exactly!’

‘I feel a little protective towards Albert, being three months older than he is.’

‘And his sovereign. A sovereign should always feel protective towards her subjects.’

‘Is a husband a subject?’

‘We are all Your Majesty’s subjects.’

‘It is difficult to regard husbands in that light.’

With his usual understanding Lord Melbourne agreed that it was.

‘I shall be very pleased to hear that Little Johnny is happy again.’

‘Oh, so far it is only a conjecture.’

The Queen burst into that loud laughter which in the old days Lord Melbourne had provoked so often.

‘So,’ she said with mock severity, ‘this is just a piece of Lord M gossip.’

‘It might well be that,’ agreed Lord Melbourne.

‘Well, I shall hope it is more for Johnny’s sake. When do you guess the wedding will be?’

‘He has yet to persuade the lady, don’t forget. It is rather an undertaking, a widower with six children. Not every young woman wants a ready-made family.’

Victoria laughed and then was serious suddenly.

‘Lord Melbourne, you know there will in due course be an addition to our family.’

Lord Melbourne bowed his head.

‘Albert thinks we should make an announcement. He is so delighted, you see.’

‘We are all delighted,’ said Lord Melbourne, ‘but I believe Your Majesty would think it more dignified to allow this good news to come out gradually.’

‘I do. I shall tell Albert that that is how it shall be.’

Oh, yes, there was no doubt that she enjoyed her sessions in the blue closet with Lord Melbourne. If Albert were present – as she really believed he hoped he might be – it would not be quite the same. She did not want change and these delightful encounters could be spoilt by the fall of Lord Melbourne’s government, his replacement by Sir Robert Peel, and the intrusion of Albert.

‘Albert,’ said the Queen, ‘we shall make no announcement. The news will be known soon enough.’

‘I think this is not good,’ said Albert seriously.

‘Oh, my dear love, Lord Melbourne and I have decided that it would be most undignified to mention the matter yet.’

Albert was silent.

‘Albert, you are not sulking?’

‘Sulking? Why should you think that?’

‘Well, clearly because you wish an announcement to be made.’

‘Oh, I understand by now that my wishes are of no account.’

‘How can you say such a thing?’

‘Because it is true.’

‘But you know, Albert, I always wish to please you.’

Albert raised his eyebrows. ‘No, I did not know this. In fact I thought the opposite. So much that I wish is ignored.’

‘Now you are being difficult.’ The royal temper was beginning to rise.

‘If being difficult is stating the truth then that is so.’

‘Albert, where are you going?’

‘I am going out.’

‘But we are in the middle of a conversation.’

‘This conversation is over.’

‘I do not consider it so.’

‘But you must realise that it is. I wish an announcement to be made. The Queen and her Prime Minister do not. Therefore the matter is settled.’

Albert clicked his heels, bowed and went into his dressing-room.

‘Albert!’ she called; but he did not look back. ‘Come here. Come here at once.’

He did not answer. So he thought he could go out when she wished to speak to him. She strode to his door. The key was in the lock on the outside. Triumphantly she turned it. Now he would not be able to go out. That would teach him to ignore her.

She waited. Soon he would try the door and come out. She saw the handle turn slowly. Now he knew that he was locked in. She expected him to hammer on the door, to demand to be released, to beg to be released perhaps. But there was silence from the other side of the door.

She waited; she put her ear to it. She could hear nothing, but she promised herself she soon would.

She sat down on the settee in the adjoining room where the quarrel had taken place. Very soon he would begin to agitate and then she would tell him that she would let him out if he promised to be good.

Good! It seemed a strange thing to ask Albert to promise. He was good. In fact his only fault was that at times he seemed to forget that she was the Queen. As she and Lord Melbourne had agreed it was certainly very difficult to uphold one’s royalty in the family.

What a long time he was! She was growing impatient. She went again to the door, and listened. There was not a sound, so she retired and sat down again. Still nothing happened. Furiously she turned the key and opened the door. She gave a gasp of surprise for Albert was seated at the window, sketching the view.

‘Albert!’ she cried. ‘What are you doing?’

He turned to smile at her. ‘It is such a pleasant view from this window.’

She felt uncertain how to act. ‘I thought you were going out,’ she said.

‘The Queen commanded otherwise.’

She turned away angrily but a few minutes later she was back.

She looked at the sketch and said: ‘It’s very good.’

‘I will present it to you when it is finished,’ said Albert with a smile. ‘It will be a memento of the day you locked me in my room.’

‘Oh, Albert!’ she cried, full of contrition, ‘that is something I don’t think I shall want to be reminded of.’

‘Why not?’ he asked; and she noticed how beautifully blue his eyes were and she loved him dearly and she wished that there did not have to be these upsets.

She threw herself into his arms.

‘Why,’ she said, ‘do there have to be these storms?’

Albert held her tenderly and replied, ‘Well, at least it is not long before the sun comes out.’

She thought that was such a clever remark and that it was wonderful of Albert to be so calm although it did exasperate her now and then.

But the announcement was not made and it was as the Queen and Lord Melbourne had decided.

On her twenty-first birthday one of Albert’s gifts to her was a very fine bronze inkstand.

‘At least,’ he said, ‘I hope this will be of some use in your work.’

‘Oh, Albert,’ she cried, wilfully ignoring the implication, ‘it is beautiful, and I shall think of you every time I use my pen.’

She was more affectionate on that day towards her mother than she had been for some time because Albert wished it. And since Sir John Conroy, who had been her mother’s Comptroller of the Household in the old days and whose name had been linked with that of the Duchess rather scandalously, had now gone away, it did seem easier. Although of course the Baroness and the Duchess would never like each other. There were too many old scores to be settled.

‘Twenty-one,’ she declared. ‘I feel very aged.’

The incorrigible Lord Melbourne said he quite understood that and he was sure she would feel much younger when she reached the age of forty.

There was of course a ball.

‘No birthday could seem like one without that,’ said the Queen. And how happy she was waltzing with Albert.

‘I don’t understand why you don’t enjoy dancing, Albert,’ she said severely, ‘because you dance perfectly.’

She noticed with pleasure that he did not want to dance with anyone else. How adorable he was, so single-minded in his devotion! And when one considered the manner in which some men behaved, she was very fortunate.

How she wished though that he enjoyed balls more. All through the evening he was glancing at the clock and he had hinted that in the next few months she would have to give up dancing. The thought depressed her, but she refused to consider it … yet.

The day after her birthday Albert decided that he would have to take some action and he spoke to his secretary, George Anson, about his feelings. His position, he explained, was such an invidious one. He was completely shut out of the Queen’s confidence. The nearest he had been to sharing that confidence was by being allowed to use the blotting paper on her signature. It made him very unhappy. He felt that the marriage would be a failure if the Queen would not allow him to share her confidence.

Mr Anson thought that the best thing that he could do would be to have a word with Lord Melbourne.

‘That will be no good,’ said Albert. ‘I believe it is on Lord Melbourne’s advice that there is this barrier between the Queen and myself.’

‘I believe Lord Melbourne to be very eager for the Queen’s happiness and this can only be if she remains happy in her marriage. If Your Highness will allow me to give him a hint of your feelings I am sure some good will come of it.’

With some reluctance the Prince agreed and as a result Lord Melbourne decided to approach the Queen.

When they were next in the blue closet he told her that he had something to say which was of a personal nature and he trusted she would forgive the meddling of an old man whose greatest concern in life was her happiness.

Those tears, which had always deeply moved her, were in his eyes and she cried: ‘My dearest Lord M, but of course I know that you are the best and most faithful friend I ever had!’

‘It is about the Prince.’

‘Albert!’

Lord Melbourne nodded. ‘He is not entirely happy, you know.’

‘Not happy! Why, Albert is perfectly happy. He loves me as I love him. What more does he ask?’

‘He asks a little more.’

‘But what?’

‘He feels shut out of your confidence.’

‘But that is quite wrong.’

‘Perhaps not entirely so. He complains that he knows nothing of what is going on in the country.’

‘But that is state business.’

‘Well, he is the Queen’s husband. He is hurt because you talk of nothing but trivialities with him.’

‘Nothing!’ cried the Queen hotly. ‘He says nothing.’

‘Well, in a manner of speaking,’ said Lord Melbourne soothingly. ‘You know, there is no reason why you should not discuss affairs with him.’

The Queen was silent for a few moments, then she said: ‘He might disagree and want things done differently from the way I … we … have decided they should be done.’

‘There is no harm in the Queen’s husband expressing an opinion.’

‘I am afraid that if he did not agree there would be quarrels.’

Lord Melbourne looked at her quizzically. ‘The Prince has a very mild temper.’

‘But I have not.’

‘Then it would be in Your Majesty’s hands to preserve the harmony of married life.’

‘So you think that I should discuss state affairs with Albert?’

‘I think you might very well discuss anything with him.’

‘Perhaps I have been a little indolent,’ said Victoria. ‘There are so many things I would rather talk of with Albert than state affairs.’

‘A little sprinkling of state affairs will be the salt that adds the savour to the domestic potage.’

Within a very short time Albert discovered that he had won the first skirmish, and, although Victoria preferred to talk of love and cosy domestic affairs rather than politics, he was no longer completely shut out.

There was further disagreement with Albert over Mrs Caroline Norton, whom the Queen decided to receive at Court.

Mrs Norton’s presence revived an old scandal which had concerned Lord Melbourne. A year before Victoria’s accession the Hon. George Norton decided to sue for a separation from his wife Caroline and bring an action for damages against the man he accused of seducing her. That man was Lord Melbourne.

Fortunately for the Prime Minister the case of the Hon. George Norton v. the Lord Viscount Melbourne for ‘criminal conversation’ had produced a verdict for the defendant and Lord Melbourne had surprisingly emerged to continue as Prime Minister – something which it seemed few men could have accomplished.

The Queen, who was aware of the details of the case, wished to show her absolute trust in Lord Melbourne. Thus when Lady Seymour asked to be allowed to bring her sister, Mrs Norton, to Court, Victoria was willing to receive her.

‘Not to have done so,’ explained the Queen to her husband, ‘would have been a condemnation of dear Lord Melbourne, and that I would never tolerate.’

‘It seems a strange thing that Lord Melbourne should have been involved in two unsavoury affairs,’ commented Albert.

‘Lord Melbourne is a brilliant man and such men have many enemies … wicked enemies. I know Lord Melbourne very well, perhaps better than anyone else, for he has been my constant companion since I mounted the throne and I say he is quite incapable of a dishonest act.’

‘That may be,’ said Albert, ‘but the Queen must be beyond reproach and if she receives people to whom scandal has been attached this could arouse comment.’

‘Then there must be comment,’ cried Victoria, her eyes flashing. ‘I would never condemn the innocent.’

Albert explained patiently that it was not a matter of condemning the innocent, but that no breath of scandal should attach to the Queen.

‘There will always be scandal where there are wicked people to make it; and since to refuse audience to Mrs Norton would be construed as meaning that I suspected Lord Melbourne, I shall certainly receive her.’

And that was the end of the matter. She slipped her arm through Albert’s. ‘Dear, dearest Albert, you are so good yourself that you are inclined to be just a little severe with other people. Leave this to me. You need have no part in it.’

‘As in so many things,’ said Albert sadly. But he was hopeful. There was a change; and Lord Melbourne, on whom the Queen set such store, was not his enemy after all. He was even being very helpful.

He could believe sometimes that he was moving – though very slowly – in the right direction.

Lord Melbourne thanked the Queen for receiving Mrs Norton.

‘Your Majesty’s overflowing kindness is an example to all,’ he said, with the inevitable tears in his eyes.

‘Dear Lord Melbourne, it was the least I could do for a lady who has been so wronged. Albert was against it, but then Albert is so good that he does not always understand how easy it is for some people – who are less conventional in their behaviour – to find themselves in awkward situations. To tell the truth, Lord M, I sometimes wonder how I can live up to Albert’s goodness.’

‘Your Majesty has the kindest heart in the world,’ said Lord Melbourne. ‘And kindness is a much higher quality than moral rectitude.’

‘Oh, Lord M, do you really think so?’

‘I am sure of it. And I am sure the recording angel will agree with me.’

‘Lord M, you say the most shocking things.’

‘If they bring a smile to Your Majesty’s lips I am satisfied.’

It was such good fun to be with Lord Melbourne, though the Opposition was giving them a great deal of trouble over the China policy, he said, and then there was the bill for the union of the two Canadas. He could see that trouble was looming in Afghanistan and he was not sure what would come out of that.

‘That dreadful Sir Robert Peel, I suppose.’

Lord Melbourne raised his beautifully arched eyebrows, which she used to admire so much, and still did, of course. Lord Melbourne was a very handsome man but no one had quite the same breathtaking beauty as Albert.

‘Oh, he’s a good fellow, you know.’

‘He’s a monster.’

‘All men, in a manner of speaking, are monsters who don’t agree with the Queen and her Prime Minister – but apart from that they can be damned good fellows … Your Majesty will forgive my language.’

She bowed her head with a smile; but even then she thought: Albert would be shocked if he had heard the Prime Minister say damned in the presence of the Queen.

Yet how she had always loved Lord M’s racy conversation! And if Albert ever joined them in the blue closet there would have to be a stop to it.

Lord Melbourne then went on to tell her that Lord William Russell’s Swiss valet, Benjamin Courvoisier, had confessed to murdering his master. It was an intriguing story because the valet had come into his master’s bedroom in Norfolk Place, Park Lane, stark naked so that there would be no blood on his clothes. He had borrowed from the Duke of Bedford’s valet a copy of Jack Shepherd by the author Harrison Ainsworth and this had apparently inspired him. His motive was robbery as he wanted to get back to Switzerland.

Lord William always slept with a light by his bedside and someone from the opposite window saw the naked figure in the bedroom from across the road. He didn’t come forward to give evidence because he was a well-known General and was spending the night there with a lady in society.

‘How very shocking!’ said Victoria.

‘Well, that is the way of the world,’ replied Lord Melbourne. ‘Courvoisier has confessed. I doubt you will hear the story of the General and his lady friend, but it is being well circulated and the considered opinion seems to be that there is some substance in it.’

How very, very shocking! she thought. But she was glad to hear of it. Lord Melbourne did bring her all the little titbits of gossip which were so enlivening.

But she could not talk to Albert of them. He certainly would not approve.

They were going to Claremont. It would be good for her, said Albert, to get out into the fresh air more; he was going to be very strict with her, he told her playfully. They were going to rise early and retire to bed early; they would walk in the beautiful gardens; he would teach her something about the plants and birds – of which she was abysmally ignorant; they would sketch together; he would read aloud to her and they would discuss the book afterwards; they would sing duets together and play the piano. It seemed a delightful existence.

‘Dear Albert,’ she said, ‘how careful you are of me.’

‘But of course, my love, it is my duty.’

‘Oh, Albert, is that all?’

‘And my pleasure,’ he added gently.

So to Claremont, but there were too many memories and even Albert could not disperse them.

She told him about dear Louie whom she had met there in her childhood. ‘She had her own special curtsy and she was very much on her dignity until we were in her room alone … just the two of us, and then I was no longer the Princess Victoria, but her visitor. She used to make tea and we would sit drinking it while she talked of the old days, mostly of Princess Charlotte.’

‘Yes. Uncle Leopold has told me so much about Claremont. It is an enchanting place.’

So more walking, playing music, retiring early and rising early; it was all as Albert wished, and Victoria was not sorry for the change. But the place seemed haunted by Charlotte. Here Charlotte had given birth to the still-born child who should have been ruler of England; and Charlotte herself who was first to have been Queen, died also.

Louie was also dead. Sometimes when she went into her old room Victoria would imagine her coming out of the shadows to give that special curtsy to Victoria, the girl who had taken the place of Charlotte in her heart.

This had been Uncle Leopold’s home and he wrote to her telling her how pleased he was that she was staying for a while at Claremont where she must, whether she wished it or not, be reminded of him. There, he reminded her, she had spent many happy days in her childhood. It had been a kind of refuge for her. He knew that she had been a little plagued at Kensington and how she had benefited from that respite she had enjoyed at Claremont.

It was true, of course. How she had adored meeting Uncle Leopold there! He had been the most important person in her life then, until she had become on such friendly terms with Lord Melbourne who, she now saw, had taken her uncle’s place. And now there was Albert, dear beautiful Albert, whom she loved as she could never love anyone else in the world. There was a warning in Uncle Leopold’s letter. He had heard that she was being just a little dictatorial with Albert. Oh, people did not understand how difficult it was to be the Queen and a wife as well.

She may have been given an impression, wrote Uncle Leopold, that Charlotte had been imperious and rude. This was not so. She had been quick and sometimes violent in her temper, but she had been open to conviction and always ready to admit she was in the wrong when this was proved to be the case. Generous people, when they saw that they were wrong, and that reasons and arguments submitted to them were true, frankly admitted this to be so. He knew that she had been told that Charlotte had ordered everything in the house and liked to show that she was mistress. That was untrue. Quite the contrary. She had always tried to make her husband appear to his best advantage and to display respect and obedience to him. In fact sometimes she exaggerated this to show that she considered the husband to be the lord and master.

He must tell her an amusing little incident. Charlotte was a little jealous. There had been a certain Lady Maryborough whom she fancied he had a liking for. This was absolutely untrue. The lady was some twelve or perhaps fifteen years older than he was but Charlotte thought he had paid too much attention to her. Poor Charlotte! At such times she was a little uncontrolled, which if she had become Queen would never have done. Her manners had been a little brusque, he confessed, and this at times often pained the Regent – ‘your Uncle George’. This had its roots in shyness for she was very unsure of herself – probably due to her extraordinary upbringing – and was constantly trying to exert herself.

I had – I may say so without seeming to boast – the manners of the best society in Europe, having early mixed in it and been rather what is called in French

de la fleur des pots

. A good judge, I therefore was, but Charlotte found it rather hard to be so scrutinised and grumbled occasionally how I could so often find fault with her.

She understood the meaning between the lines of Uncle Leopold’s long letter. How very similar her position was to that of Charlotte! Charlotte, of course, was never the Queen, but everyone thought she would be. The only daughter of King George IV – and married to Uncle Leopold. Uncle Leopold was a little like dear Albert. He was extremely handsome, clever and liked to take a part in affairs. Of course he was Albert’s uncle as well as hers.

She thought a great deal about Charlotte. She had heard so much of the happy days her cousin had spent here, first under the adoring eyes of dear Louie and later under the tenderly corrective ones of Uncle Leopold.

It was so easy to substitute herself for Charlotte. They were of an age; one had a crown and for the other it must have seemed almost a certainty that the crown would have been hers. During the months when she awaited her baby she must have walked in these gardens of Claremont. Her husband Leopold was here, just as Victoria’s husband Albert was. The husbands would even have looked alike for there was a strong family resemblance.

She could almost identify herself with Charlotte. They were of an age, both just married, both in love, both pregnant and both aware of the burden of the crown.

She went to the rooms which had been Charlotte’s. There the young girl had had her confinement. Her child had been born dead … and she poor girl had followed after.

It was all so similar. How often during her life had Charlotte wondered whether there would be a brother to supplant her and block her way to the throne? How often had Victoria wondered whether Uncle William and Aunt Adelaide would have a child? Victoria could see those lovers Charlotte and Leopold and it was as though they were in truth Victoria and Albert.

She had made a habit of going to the room in which Charlotte had died, and thinking of what her cousin must have suffered. It was like poor Lady John Russell.

‘I am afraid,’ she whispered, ‘that it will happen to me.’

One day when she went to the room and stood there looking at the bed and imagining that last scene which Uncle Leopold had described in detail – how he had knelt by the bed and wept for his beloved Charlotte and how her last thoughts had been for him – she was filled with terror because it seemed like a recurring pattern. The child within her would be as that other child; she would be as the poor princess who had died in her ordeal, and dear Albert would be collapsing by the bed in his grief as Uncle Leopold had. Yes, a tragic pattern.

The door handle turned silently. She gave a gasp. She thought it was the ghost of Charlotte come back from the grave to warn her that her end was near.

It was Albert.

‘Victoria, what are you doing in this room?’ he asked.

‘I come here often.’

‘I know, and I ask why.’

‘In this room my cousin Charlotte died having her baby. Had she lived she would have been Queen of England.’

‘You should not come here, Victoria.’

‘I feel impelled to do so.’

Then Albert spoke with the authority of a husband. ‘We are leaving Claremont tomorrow,’ he said.

She just lay against him, comforted. For once he was to have his way.

They were back in London and, although Albert disliked the capital and was never in it without planning his next visit to the country where he might breathe the fresh air which made him feel so much more alive and healthy, he was excited and certainly apprehensive because he had been asked to preside at a meeting. This was to promote the abolition of the slave trade and he was to make his first speech in England.

He was very nervous, he told Victoria. ‘I have to convince the people of my serious interest in affairs,’ he told her. ‘I do not wish them to think me frivolous.’

‘They could never think you that, Albert,’ she told him fondly.

She had been very happy since he had drawn her away from her brooding at Claremont. ‘How very silly I was,’ she had said. ‘And you, dearest Albert, showed me so in the nicest possible way.’

Yes, his attempt at playing the masterful husband had succeeded; and now, due to the joint efforts of Stockmar and Lord Melbourne, he was allowed to develop his interest in what was going on and this public appearance was the result.

‘It is very difficult to speak in English,’ said Albert.

‘You will manage admirably,’ the Queen told him. ‘Let me hear your speech.’

It was short and, she said, excellent. She corrected his pronunciation and suggested he rehearse it again. She was delighted because she quickly knew it off by heart and could listen and correct without having to have the written version before her.

‘It is well to be a little nervous,’ the Queen assured him. ‘I do believe that all the best speakers are. Lord Melbourne says that when he is completely at ease he never really speaks well.’

‘Then I am comforted,’ said Albert, ‘because I am very nervous.’

‘Dearest Albert, I shall be thinking of you all the time.’

‘Which will give me the best of all comforts,’ he told her.

When he returned to her he was elated. There had been loud applause, he said, and everyone had seemed so kind as though they liked him.

‘But of course they liked you,’ she told him indulgently. ‘How could they possibly do anything else unless they were monsters.’

So he was happier. He was really beginning to have some importance. His interest in music was talked of and he was offered a directorship of one musical society.

Lord Melbourne and Baron Stockmar looked on with benign pleasure.

Soon he will have a big say in affairs, thought Stockmar.

That will keep him out of mischief, was Lord Melbourne’s opinion.

It was ten days after Albert had made his speech, a lovely warm June day, ideal, said Albert, for a drive. Why should they not take one in the droshky?

Victoria said that it would be delightful. ‘There is nothing I really like so much as riding out with you, Albert, especially when the people cheer us. I think they like to see us together.’

Albert said that he found their drives in the country more delightful.

‘Dear Albert, I must make you try to like my capital city a little.’

‘There are too many people and the air is not as fresh as it is in the country.’

‘But it is more exciting. I have always loved London more than any other place.’

‘Then I must try to make you enjoy the pleasures of the country.’

She smiled at him fondly. ‘Though I must confess, dear Albert, that the place I love best is where you are.’

‘Then let us be in the country more often and you will be happy.’

‘But I am just a little happier in London with you than I am in the country with you.’ She laughed loudly. ‘Oh, I shall have to make you love London. Think, there is the opera; there are concerts; there is the play; there are the streets and the people and everything is so lively.’

Albert did not answer; but he was determined that they should escape to the country whenever possible.

The droshky was at the door. They got in and drove away from the palace towards Constitution Hill, their escort following. There were plenty of people in the streets and they recognised their little sovereign at once. She looked very pretty seated beside her handsome husband; the youth of the pair was very appealing.

As she sat there smiling she suddenly heard the sound of a shot close by. Albert had flung his arms about her as though to shield her.

‘My God!’ he cried. ‘Don’t be frightened.’

‘Frightened …’ she stammered; and then she saw the man stepping out into the road. He held a pistol in either hand. In that moment he fired straight at her. She bent forward just in time and the bullet went over her head.

The crowd was shouting: ‘Get him. Kill him.’

There was pandemonium on the footpath; she saw the man start to run but someone had seized him.

‘They’ve caught him,’ said Albert. The horses were whipped up and the droshky drove back towards the palace.

She was weeping in Albert’s arms.

‘Oh, Albert, it is so terrible. That man tried to kill me. Imagine. He hated me so much that he wanted me dead.’

Albert stroked her hair.

‘He was a madman,’ he said.

‘But he hated me. He wanted me dead. He must have done. He had risked his own life to try to take mine.’

‘He did not hate you for yourself, my dearest. He wanted to kill the Queen. You’ll see, it will turn out that he was mad.’

‘To think, Albert … every time I go out … someone could kill me.’

‘My love, how do any of us know what will happen to us from one day to the next? You must not take this personally. This is a shot at the Crown … not at Victoria. Your Uncle George was shot at many times and so was your grandfather. People do these things; it is because of a madness.’

‘You would have protected me with your life, Albert. I shall never forget the first thing that entered your mind was to shield me.’

‘It is what I wish to do for the rest of our lives.’

‘Oh, Albert, how wonderful you are. I don’t deserve such a good kind husband.’

Albert said that they would try to be worthy of each other.

Then she said: ‘I must not cry, must I? I must remember that I am the Queen. I must learn to be calm and to take no notice when these things happen. I know my grandfather was very calm.’

‘So were you, my love. You drove on back to the palace. Many women would have fainted. Didn’t you hear the people cheering?’

‘I found the courage, dearest Albert, because you were beside me.’

Lord Melbourne called at the palace. The Queen was resting. The Prince had insisted that she should. He himself saw Lord Melbourne.

The Prime Minister expressed his deep concern for the Queen’s health.

‘My great anxiety,’ said the Prince, ‘was that the shock might have been injurious to her condition.’

‘I trust not,’ said Lord Melbourne.

‘I feel that had it been so there would by now have been some sign. She appears to be well – just a little shaken, of course.’

‘Very natural,’ said Lord Melbourne, ‘and wise of Your Highness to insist on her resting.’

‘She will be gratified that you have called. I will acquaint her with the fact at the earliest possible moment.’

Lord Melbourne studied the young man gravely. A good fellow, he thought; a little too solemn to make a very gay companion for Victoria. He doubted there was as much laughter between them as there was when the Queen and her Prime Minister were together. But perhaps a little seriousness would not come amiss. She was devoted to him. That was obvious. He hoped she would be as happy as she deserved to be, which was very happy indeed. She was so affectionate, so eager to be good, although fond of pleasure – and why not? Perhaps she would teach this solemn young gentleman to be a little more gay, which would not be a bad thing.

But her happiness was bound up in the Prince. The marriage had already had its difficulties, which was understandable, considering the position and that rather imperious nature and choleric temper of Her Majesty.

Lord Melbourne loved her. She had changed his life three years ago when she had become the Queen. He had been responsible to some extent for making her what she was, and her fresh youth, her exuberant warm-hearted nature, seemed to him quite charming. He had to concede his place in her affections, he knew, for once he had been the most important man in her life. Being Lord Melbourne he would graciously step aside and try to make life as easy as possible for the young married pair.

‘This terrible affair raises a problem,’ he said now. ‘It is a difficult subject to raise but however unpleasant – and of course unlikely – in view of Her Majesty’s position, it must be arranged.’

Albert nodded. He guessed to what Lord Melbourne was referring.

‘The Queen’s life might have ended this afternoon.’

Albert turned pale. He does love her, thought Lord Melbourne; not with the same intense emotion that she has for him, but he loves her in his quiet, restrained way. Who could help it?

‘It is distressing even to think of such a likelihood,’ went on Lord Melbourne. ‘But we must do so. There is another facet. In a short time the Queen will become a mother. She has an ordeal to face which has, on occasions, resulted in death. Forgive me, but these possibilities – though I hasten to add that in this case they are improbabilities – must be discussed.’

‘I realise that,’ said Albert.

‘A Regent should be appointed and as you know it is always necessary to prepare these matters in advance of the improbability.’

‘Whom would you suggest as Regent?’

‘I feel, and I am sure that the Queen would agree with me, that the best man for the post would be the Queen’s husband.’

‘I can only trust that such an eventuality will never arise.’

‘Amen,’ said Lord Melbourne.

Lord Melbourne wrote to the Queen that he was anxious about Her Majesty and was pleased to learn that she was well on the morning following that unfortunate incident.

‘It is impossible not to shudder at the thought of it,’ wrote Lord Melbourne.

Viscount Palmerston wrote congratulating the Queen on her escape and begged to be allowed to express the horror with which he had heard of the diabolical attempt.

Uncle Leopold’s letter said that he could not find words strong enough to express his horror at what had happened and his happiness and delight to hear of her escape from a danger which was very great indeed.

When Lord Melbourne arrived he kissed both her hands and the tears started to his eyes.

‘It was terrible … terrible …’ he said.

‘But I escaped and all is well.’

For which I can never be sufficiently grateful.’

‘And what of the man who tried to kill me?’

‘They have captured him. He is a barman named Edward Oxford. He is mad and will spend the rest of his days in a lunatic asylum.’

‘Poor man! How dreadful for him. But I am glad he was not in his right mind when he tried to kill me.’

‘He will have no opportunity to make more attempts.’

‘Dear Lord Melbourne,’ said the Queen, ‘I believe you are more shaken by this affair than I am.’

Lord Melbourne said he thought that was very likely.