The Queen's Husband

Chapter VIII THE PRINCESS ROYAL

The Baroness was disturbed. It was becoming increasingly clear that the Prince was establishing himself more firmly in the household and the closer he came to the Queen, must inevitably, as the Baroness saw it, drive a wedge between herself and Her Majesty.

Victoria was as devoted and loyal as ever; Louise Lehzen held her sway by a mixture of complete devotion, overwhelming affection and a touch of the old governess authority which she had used to good effect when Victoria was a child. With the arrival of Lord Melbourne in the Queen’s life, Lehzen’s position had not been affected. She was still in command of the household. A husband, however, was a different proposition and the antagonism between her and Albert grew every day.

She was terrified that one day he would ask for her dismissal. Victoria would never agree to that and for all her femininity and her demonstrations of affection, Lehzen knew better than anyone that behind this was a will of iron. She had to keep her hold on Victoria’s affections and this she could have done until the end of her life, but since Albert had come and shown so clearly that he was her enemy she was beginning to feel afraid. The fact that Lord Melbourne had now become his ally added to her perturbation.

It had been very different when the Prime Minister had treated the Prince as of not much account, merely brought to the country to be a handsome husband for Her Majesty and of course to provide the heir. But if Lord Melbourne was going to treat him seriously and he was to have more say in affairs – and that meant affairs of the household as well as those of state – then the Baroness Lehzen could see trouble.

‘For,’ she told herself, as she sat disconsolately chewing her caraway seeds, ‘we were against each other from the first.’

They understood each other too well. Two Germans living in a foreign land; in their way they were recognizable types. Albert’s precise discipline, his love of order, his seriousness, his lack of humour, were characteristics which the Baroness had seen so many times in her fellow countrymen. Her determination to keep what she had, her unswerving devotion, that sublimation of herself to an ideal – Albert would understand this.

The trouble was that each felt that their only way to succeed was to be rid of the other.

At first the Baroness had been delighted to see Albert relegated to blotting the Queen’s signature; she was the one who was in the Queen’s confidence; she had now and then read state papers and given her opinion; and the dear sweet Queen had listened as attentively as she used to in the old days when Lehzen told her stories as she did her hair.

But between them, Anson the secretary, Baron Stockmar and Lord Melbourne were changing that.

And now to make him Regent was the last straw.

Victoria noticed her preoccupation.

‘Dearest Daisy, what is the matter?’ she asked. ‘You really are rather absent-minded, you know.’

‘Well, I may as well say it. You notice everything. I always did declare that it was impossible to hide anything from you. I feel put out.’

‘But why?’

‘It is this Regency. The idea! I just can’t bear to think of it.’

‘Oh, that,’ said the Queen, it’s just a precaution, you know, in case …’

Lehzen turned away. ‘How could they think of such a thing.’

Victoria put her arms about Lehzen and hugged her. ‘You dear stupid old Lehzen,’ she said, ‘it doesn’t mean I’m going to die because they have arranged for a Regency.’

‘I don’t like it.’

‘Oh, dearest Daisy, nor do I. When I think of what lies before me … and poor dear Lady John Russell …’

‘My dearest love, I shall be at hand. I fear I may be rather brusque with some people if they try to keep me from you.’

‘You need have no fear of being kept from me. I should never allow that.’

‘I feel happier now.’

‘Silly Daisy! You should never have thought of such a thing.’

‘I can’t help it. I don’t like this idea of a Regency.’

‘It’s not so much the baby as the fact that that man shot at me. It could happen again and if it did … well there would be no sovereign, so a Regent would be necessary for a time.’

‘I can’t bear to think of it. If I could get my hands on that fellow who tried to hurt you …’

‘He was mad, Daisy. Lord Melbourne says he will be sent to an asylum.’

‘It terrifies me. I want to be at hand always to make sure.’

‘And so you shall. But don’t be alarmed, Daisy. Remember I have always been in some sort of danger. Do you remember how terrified you all used to be that my Uncle Cumberland was going to try to do away with me?’

‘And not without reason.’

‘Oh, Uncle Cumberland is a very wicked man. I’ve no doubt of that. And even now he’s the King of Hanover he probably still dreams of taking the crown of England. He must be gnashing his teeth now that he knows that I’m going to have a baby. Oh, Lehzen, do you think that he … I mean do you think that this man Oxford was paid by my uncle …’

‘He was a madman,’ said Lehzen.

‘Of course. Uncle Cumberland wouldn’t dare. I wonder why uncles are always cast as villains. I suppose it was since the Princes were murdered in the Tower and their uncle Richard III was suspected of the deed.’

‘Uncles are sometimes in a position to benefit from the death of their nephews and nieces. Like Richard III and the King of Hanover. But you are going to be safe. I shall see to that.’

‘When I was little I had a vague notion that I was in danger, and it was easy to see why. I was never allowed to be in a room alone and someone always had to accompany me even down the stairs.’

‘That was your mother’s orders.’ Lehzen was silent suddenly. There was a change in that direction. Victoria was seeing her mother far more than she did before her marriage and this was due of course to the Prince who was on very good terms with her.

‘Why, Daisy,’ said the Queen, ‘there are tears in your eyes.’

‘Oh, I was thinking of those old days. I can see you now studying, riding, playing with the dolls. I shall never forget the time when you saved up six shillings to buy a doll you wanted and then gave the money to a beggar. You were such a dear good little girl.’

‘Not always, Daisy. Remember the storms.’

‘Oh, that temper of yours.’

The Baroness sniffed and went to a drawer, ‘I have a handkerchief here,’ she murmured, and brought out a sheet of newspaper. She thrust it back into the drawer so hastily that Victoria’s curiosity was aroused.

‘What is it you’re trying to hide, Daisy?’ she asked.

The Baroness looked confused. ‘Oh, it’s nothing …’

But Victoria had taken it from her hands.

It was a picture of Albert – easily recognizable – posing before a mirror while he tried on the Crown. The Regent was the caption beneath.

Victoria laughed, ‘How they seize on everything! As if he would be smiling like that when he could only be Regent if I were very ill. Ah, what’s that? Is it another?’

It was. This was a picture of Albert holding a pistol. His target was the Crown. ‘Ah, mein dear,’ was the caption on this one. ‘I shall see if I can’t hit you.’

Victoria was angry suddenly. ‘Oh, how dare they! They are suggesting that Albert would like to see me dead. And what nonsense, because he wouldn’t have the Crown if I were. Oh Daisy, how horrid people can be! But one thing, no reasonable person would believe that of Albert.’

‘People know how ambition can make people do all sorts of things.’

‘Men like Uncle Cumberland, not men like Albert. Albert is so good, Lehzen. No one but myself knows how good.’ She tore the cartoons in half. ‘They are only fit to be burned,’ she said.

But the Baroness wondered whether she had begun to ask herself how ambitious Albert was. After all he had been excessively hurt because he was not allowed to share her state duties.

‘They are ridiculous,’ agreed the Baroness. ‘We all know that the Prince is not energetic enough for ambition. He would never wish to work as Your Majesty does. Why, he would fall asleep during the lengthy discussions on matters of state.’

‘Oh, I think he would be interested. He has a very good brain. It is dancing that makes him tired, and light conversation and things like that.’

‘He will have to change,’ said Lehzen, trying to speak lightly. ‘It will never do for him to go against the wishes of the Queen. What a glutton you always were for your dancing. You could dance all night without being fatigued.’

Victoria sighed. ‘Yes, I wish Albert did enjoy dancing more. But then to him it would seem a little frivolous.’

‘Nobody could take their duties more seriously than you do,’ said Lehzen hastily.

Victoria burst out laughing. ‘I heard you the other night once more telling your neighbour at dinner how wonderful I was.’

‘I said nothing but the truth and I think it only right that people should do all in their power to please Your Majesty.’

Victoria sighed. She was thinking what fun it would be if Albert loved to dance as much as she did.

In August it was the Queen’s duty to prorogue Parliament. It was one which she would rather have avoided, particularly in her condition. If only Albert could be beside her she would have welcomed his support. In the last months she had begun to rely on him far more than she had believed possible.

She talked it over with Lord Melbourne in the blue closet.

‘Well,’ said the Prime Minister, ‘he can attend of course but not in your carriage. There would be an outcry. Your uncles would be pointing out that he had stepped out of place.’

‘How I wish that I could have made him a king.’

‘No Parliament should make a king. If they did they would soon be trying to unmake them, as I pointed out when this matter of the Prince’s rank was discussed. Parliament did once. You remember what happened to your ancestor, Charles I?’

Victoria nodded. ‘Poor Charles. He tried to be a good king.’

‘But he believed in the Divine Right of Kings which in a monarch is asking to get one’s head lopped off.’

‘But the people were very anxious to welcome his son Charles II back to England. I think that one of the passages in history I like best is the return of Charles with all the bells ringing and the people singing in the street, all so happy because they had a king once more.’

‘Old Noll Cromwell was too serious. He didn’t make them laugh.’

‘It astonishes me how people prefer sinners to saints.’

‘Begging Your Majesty’s pardon, but the gay are not necessarily sinners, nor are the humourless saints … except often in their own opinion, which is not always the truth.’

‘Perhaps our own opinions of ourselves are rarely the truth.’

‘They are often a little prejudiced in our favour,’ agreed Lord Melbourne.

‘Well,’ replied the Queen, ‘we know our own motives, which other people don’t. Oh, I do wish people would be a little kinder to Albert.’

‘They will be in due course. He has to prove himself first. Already he is making strides in the right direction.’ She looked pleased. ‘And the people are very happy,’ went on Lord Melbourne, ‘to see their sovereign contented in her marriage. You should show yourselves often together; and when the child is born they will be delighted.’

‘Which brings us back to what we were discussing originally. I do wish Albert could ride in my carriage for the prorogation.’

‘I am sure that would give him a great deal of pleasure.’

‘Myself also,’ said the Queen.

She was at luncheon when a message came from Lord Melbourne. It must be important, she felt, for him to send it at such a time.

With trembling fingers she opened it.

Lord Melbourne, it seemed, had made a discovery. Queen Anne’s husband, Prince George of Denmark, whose position had been similar to that of Albert in almost every detail, had very often behaved unceremoniously and by so doing established a precedent. There had been an occasion when on the prorogation of Parliament he had ridden to Parliament in the Queen’s carriage.

A precedent had been established, therefore it was perfectly in order for Albert to ride in Victoria’s carriage.

‘You have good news?’ asked Albert.

Beaming with happiness she handed him the letter.

They had ridden together to Parliament; she had read her speech and Albert had been beside her all the time.

‘Dearest Albert,’ she said, when they had returned to the Palace, ‘I felt so comforted to have you there.’

‘It is my place to be always beside you,’ said Albert.

And he was pleased.

She thought how wonderful it was to be married and deeply in love with one’s husband. The only trouble was that in just over three months’ time she had to face her ordeal. She was feeling well and taking exercise and had completely recovered from the discomforts of the first months. When she could forget the horrors of childbirth – and surely royal childbirth was worse than other people’s because it was such a public affair – she was perfectly happy.

She told the Baroness what a success the prorogation had been.

‘It was always something I wanted to avoid,’ she said. ‘That and the opening. But it seemed so different this time because Albert was there, looking so proud and so beautiful that I am sure I read my speech better than I ever did before.’

‘You have always read your speech perfectly,’ said Lehzen rather sourly.

The time for her confinement was drawing near. The child should be born at the beginning of December. Lehzen was busy making layettes; she was anxious that no one else should do this. She would have liked to shut the Queen away and allow no one to come near her. That was out of the question and Victoria even became a little irritated by what she called Lehzen’s fussiness. She preferred to forget the coming ordeal.

There was plenty in the political situation to help her do this.

‘Trouble, trouble, trouble,’ said Lord Melbourne. ‘And far more intense in Your Majesty’s far-flung dominions than ever it was at home.’

‘I’m thankful that the Union of the Canadas Bill was passed without alarm, but a majority of nine was not very much on your policy in China.’

‘That’s true, but you must always be prepared for our defeat. I believe Your Majesty is aware of this.’

The Queen’s face hardened. ‘It is something I pray will never happen.’

‘It is not easy to pass rules with only a slender majority, you know.’

‘But you have managed to for some time.’

Lord Melbourne grimaced. ‘With Your Majesty’s help. But for your refusal to change your bedchamber ladies, it would be Sir Robert Peel who would be sitting here today.’

‘It would most certainly not. He shall never be invited into the blue closet.’

Lord Melbourne laughed. ‘But seriously,’ he told her, ‘you should prepare yourself for a change of government. Talk it over with the Prince.’

‘Albert is inclined to admire Sir Robert Peel. I never want to talk about that man with Albert because it makes my temper rise.’

‘You will overcome that dislike. It is not good for a queen to bear personal animus towards a great statesman.’

‘I shall never like Sir Robert Peel,’ said the Queen shortly.

Aunt Augusta had become very ill and the family knew that she was dying. The Queen, who had an enduring affection for her family, was deeply affected. She had always been a pet of the aunts and was in constant touch with them. They looked forward to her visits and she had been determined from the time of her accession that they should know that the Queen never forgot the duties and affections of the niece.

There was poor Aunt Sophia, about whom scandal still lingered, although it was long ago when she had borne her illegitimate son. Sophia’s eyesight was fading fast, for she suffered from cataracts, and this was a great sadness for she had loved tatting and embroidering and many a bag fashioned by Sophia’s hands had come into Victoria’s possession. Now one of her great pleasures were the visits from her dear little niece who had become the most important lady in the land. There was dear old Aunt Gloucester whom Victoria had always thought of as a sort of grandmother. And poor Augusta who now needed special attention.

Victoria was always ‘her darling’ and she referred to her as such.

‘Is that my darling come to see me?’ she would say; or, ‘I hear my darling was such a success at this or that function.’

It was very touching, said Victoria.

She would sing to Aunt Augusta when she visited her – very often some of Aunt Augusta’s own compositions, for in her youth this aunt had been quite talented. Had she not been a princess she might have been a musician or an artist. ‘But I was not encouraged,’ she once told Victoria. ‘My mother, your Grandmama, Queen Charlotte, believed I did my duty by walking the dog and making sure that her snuff box was filled. She was a great snuff taker. And your grandfather, King George III, thought that there was only one musician worthy of the name and that was Handel.’

Poor dear Aunt Augusta who had never really done what she wanted to!

Victoria was always interested to hear stories of her aunts’ early life with her grandparents. It was pleasant to feel that one belonged to a family, and because it happened to be the royal family that did not mean that it was in all fundamental details different from any other. One of Lord Melbourne’s great charms was that he had lived such a long time and could enchant her with stories of the past – many concerning the eccentric members of her family.

It was so sad, therefore, to contemplate the breaking with yet another of these links with the past.

Aunt Adelaide, the Dowager Queen, nursed Aunt Augusta. Adelaide could always be relied on at such times. There was something very unroyal about Adelaide, and Victoria had loved her from the time when she had presented her with the Big Doll and tried so hard to bring her to the parties of which Victoria’s Mama did not approve.

Albert said: ‘You must not wear yourself out, my love, with these visits to your aunt’s sick room.’

‘But she loves to see me, Albert. I could not fail her.’

Albert always understood the need to do one’s duty.

It was rather a relief when on the 22nd of September Aunt Augusta died. All the family were gathered together in the death chamber, but it was the Dowager Queen Adelaide who had nursed her through her illness, to whose hand she clung at the end.

Albert took his wife back to the palace where he masterfully insisted that she rest. As soon as the funeral was over he was going to take her down to Claremont to get her right away.

Lehzen said that surely Claremont was not a good choice; but the Queen, since Albert had suggested it, decided that she would go there.

Once in the old mansion she realised that it had been rather a mistake to go there. Lehzen was right. It would have been much better to have gone to Windsor.

She found herself hurrying past the room in which Charlotte had died and she began to brood on her own ordeal which was very close now.

Lehzen at last insisted on their return. A very unpleasant rumour was being circulated that the Queen had had a premonition that like her cousin Charlotte she was going to die in attempting to give the nation its heir. It was for this reason that she had gone to Claremont. One story was that she was having the lying-in chamber decorated in exactly the same way it had been done at the time of Charlotte’s death.

‘My precious love,’ said Lehzen, ‘it is quite morbid to be here. You should be in London. That will be much better for you. It was a foolish idea to come here.’

Victoria was silent, knowing whose idea it was. But she was glad to return to London.

The government was involved in such political trouble, and so great was Victoria’s fear that it would fall, that she forgot her personal discomfort.

The oriental situation was very grave. Afghanistan was in a state of uproar; fighting had broken out in China and Lord John Russell and Lord Palmerston were disagreeing with each other within the party.

‘A split in one’s own ranks is more dangerous than any attack from the Opposition,’ said Lord Melbourne. ‘It could bring the government down.’

In concern the Queen wrote to her Prime Minister:

For God’s sake do not bring on a crisis; the Queen really could not go through that

now

, and it might make her

seriously ill

if she were to be kept in a state of agitation and excitement if a crisis were to come on; she has already had so much lately in the distressing illness of her poor aunt to harass her …

Albert, who had had a desk brought into her study and placed beside hers, had been reading the documents which had been arriving at the palace and she found how comforting it was to discuss these affairs with him. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘I can be of real use to you.’

‘Dear Albert,’ she murmured, ‘that will be a great comfort.’ It was amazing how dependent pregnancy made her feel and what pleasure she took in seeing that handsome face so near her own. She could tell him of her fears of the government’s collapse and he could soothe her by replying that if the government did fall it was her duty to be just towards any new government which the country might desire.

‘I could never accept that dreadful Peel man,’ she said.

‘But my dear love is a queen and would never forget that, and, however difficult you found it, remember I should be there to help you.’

‘Yes, Albert,’ she said meekly.

It was very comforting to talk to Albert about that wicked man Mehemet Ali who was causing all the trouble. But the French were being their usual difficult selves and once again Uncle Leopold was deploring the English attitude towards that country.

England with Russia, Prussia and Austria had delivered an ultimatum to Mehemet Ali insisting that he leave North Syria or be ejected by force. France, although deeply involved, and committed to help, stood aloof, which made the situation a very dangerous one, and conflict in Europe must of course give greater cause for alarm than what was happening in the East.

Uncle Leopold wrote that while he did not think France had acted wisely he could not help adding that England had behaved harshly and insultingly towards France. Victoria was able to reply that no one but France was to blame for her unfortunate position, for that country was committed to join the allies and had refused.

Still, she wrote, though France is in the wrong, and

quite

in the wrong, still I am most anxious, as I am sure my Government also are, that France should be pacified and should again take her place among the five great powers …

Albert, who sends his love, is much occupied with Eastern affairs and is quite of my opinion …

It was comforting to be able to write that. Uncle Leopold had always been anxious that Albert should have the opportunity to advise her. Well now he had, and he was on her side. Not that Albert’s opinion could weigh against that of Lords Melbourne and Palmerston; but there was no doubt that Albert could offer his opinions, which Lord Melbourne said were balanced and reasonable.

As the weeks passed there were continually dispatches from the Prime Minister and the Foreign Secretary; and they and other Ministers were calling frequently at the palace. The oriental controversy aggravated by the intransigent attitude of the French was the matter of the moment.

‘When the baby is born it ought to be called Turko-Egypto,’ said the Queen with grim jocularity.

It was November and, although the baby was not expected before the beginning of December, three doctors – Sir James Clark, Dr Locock and Dr Blagden – together with the nurse, Mrs Lilly, were all installed in the palace. As Dr Stockmar was also at Court Albert had asked him to be ready to assist if his services should be needed.

Three weeks before the expected time the Queen’s pains began. In spite of previous apprehension she was quite calm. Albert remained in the room with the doctors and Mrs Lilly and Victoria’s greatest concern was that the pain would be so great that she might be unable to restrain her cries. That, she feared, would be most undignified, for waiting in the next room were the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Prime Minister, Lord Palmerston and other important Ministers and gentlemen of rank. Close by, but in a separate room, were members of her household. It was the public nature of the proceedings which was so undignified, but this did make her determined to exert the utmost control.

Albert was a comfort. She sensed his anxiety. Dear Albert, everything must go well for his sake.

How wonderful it would be if she could produce a dear little boy exactly like his father – and what was more important was that he should be as good.

After twelve hours of labour the baby was born. The Queen lay back exhausted but triumphant. Albert came to the bed to hold her hand.

‘The child?’ she asked.

‘Is perfect,’ answered Albert.

‘A boy?’

The doctor answered. ‘It is a Princess, Your Majesty.’

There was a moment of disappointment. Albert pressed her hand warmly.

‘Never mind,’ she said. ‘The next one will be a Prince.’

‘My dearest,’ said Albert, ‘we should not be sad because we have a little girl. It is a poor compliment to you. Why, this child could become a queen as good as her mother.’

‘Dear Albert. Then you are not displeased?’

‘If you get well quickly then I am content,’ said Albert.

Mrs Lilly had washed the little Princess and placed her naked on a velvet cushion. Then she walked with her into the room where the members of the government had been waiting.

‘Here is Her Highness the Princess Royal,’ she announced.

The old Duke of Wellington came forward to peer at the child.

‘Oh,’ he said in a tone of mild contempt, ‘a girl.’

Mrs Lilly glared at him. ‘A Princess, Your Grace,’ she said sharply, for she would have the old gentleman remember that although the precious child was a girl she was as royal as any boy could be.