by Jean Plaidy
She was delighted when Lord John called to tell her that the Cabinet had decided at a meeting called to discuss these matters that a policy of non-interference had been decided on. But Lord Palmerston was a law unto himself. Calling on the French Ambassador in London he told him that he did not see how Louis Napoleon could have acted otherwise and this, coming from the Foreign Secretary, could only mean that the new Emperor could hope for British recognition.
This was too much, not only for the Queen but for the Cabinet. The Queen declared that Palmerston must be dismissed without preamble, but Lord John Russell advised caution.
Lord John Russell presents his humble duty to Your Majesty. Since writing to Your Majesty this morning it has occurred to him that it would be best that Your Majesty should not give any commands to Lord Palmerston on his sole advice. With this view he has summoned the Cabinet for Monday and he humbly proposes that Your Majesty should await their advice.
Lord Palmerston when called to task tried to bluff his way out of the situation but he did not succeed in his usual manner. He answered that he was entitled to personal opinions and his attitude to the new Emperor was a matter of his own private feelings.
This was unacceptable and Palmerston was asked to resign.
In the midst of all this came news from Hanover that the King – Uncle Cumberland – had died. Strangely enough the Queen was shocked by the news. All her life this man had been the wicked uncle. In her childhood many had believed that he had tried to have her removed to make his way clear to the throne; and afterwards he had caused a great deal of trouble. Now he was dead and his poor blind son George was succeeding him. She could not help being saddened. Death was relentless. So recently they had lost poor dear Aunt Louise and she knew that Uncle Leopold mourned her deeply, as she did herself.
She was fortunate, she reminded herself. Her children were all healthy and so many of her family lost their babies or were unable to produce them like poor Aunt Adelaide, who had died recently.
But to return to Palmerston; this was great good fortune. Lord John and his colleagues decided that the Foreign Secretary had violated the confidence of his colleagues and was unsuitable for his office. To the Queen’s delight even he could find no alternative to resignation and Lord Granville was appointed Foreign Secretary.
The Queen could not understand the public’s objection to the departure of Lord Palmerston. Was it, the Queen demanded in exasperation of Albert, that people always admired the unworthy! Palmerston was an adventurer, bold and graceless, so people had to admire him.
The government’s enemies were mounting, so there was nothing for Lord John to do but form a Coalition with the Peelites, while Palmerston went down to his country house of Broadlands and there gave himself up to the pleasures of the country. He hunted by day and in the evenings his wife gave dinner parties, when he entertained his friends with his amusing accounts of political life. Before long he had his revenge by moving an amendment to the Militia Bill in the House and so forcing such a show of lack of confidence that Russell had to resign.
‘I’ve had my tit-for-tat with Johnny Russell,’ laughed Palmerston.
When Lord Derby formed an administration he offered the office of Chancellor of the Exchequer to Palmerston. This he refused and the office fell to Benjamin Disraeli.
The family were in the Highlands when news came of the death of the old Duke of Wellington. The Queen was sad although she had never really liked him and had even refused at first to invite him to her wedding. Lord Melbourne had persuaded her against this but the old man had not supported Albert when he first came to England. He was however the great Duke and now that he was dead people were remembering Waterloo and calling him the saviour of England.
Everyone had become intensely patriotic; they spoke of the great Duke as though he were a god and he was to have a grand state funeral. Tennyson composed a poem to his memory; and Albert set about making the burial arrangements. All the pomp the people expected must be paraded before them to show proper respect for the great Duke; and on the gloomy November day when the Duke was at last laid to rest the Queen was on the balcony at Buckingham Palace watching the cortège pass while various bands played their dead marches as they went along.
She hated Death. It came and mowed people down. They had all gone – her own special friend Lord Melbourne, Sir Robert Peel, dear Aunt Louise, Aunt Adelaide, Uncle Cambridge, Uncle Cumberland – and now the Duke.
Shortly after the funeral Lord Derby’s ministry came to an end and Lord Aberdeen became Prime Minister. Palmerston accepted the Home Office and the Queen, although she deplored his return to the Cabinet, was at least relieved that he was not at the Foreign Office.
By this time, Victoria had become once more pregnant.
On a windy March night there was great alarm in Windsor Castle. One of the ladies had smelt smoke and on investigating found that a fire had started in the Red Drawing-Room. She rushed to give the alarm.
When the Queen and Albert were aware of what was happening Albert immediately took charge. The Queen was to go at once to the Green Drawing-Room and remain there with her ladies; he would superintend the extinguishing of the fire, which he did with his usual efficiency, coming in to her afterwards when it was all over with his coat and goloshes quite sodden.
The Queen was calm as she said she always was when she was actually in the midst of disaster. It was not knowing what was happening which worried her.
‘Oh, Albert,’ she cried, ‘you must get those wet things off as soon as possible. You’ll have another of your colds.’
Albert said: ‘This should never have happened. I shall make an inquiry into how it did. There is still a great deal to be improved in the management of the household.’
‘Yes, yes,’ she said impatiently, ‘but I am going to insist that you take off those wet things immediately.’
Albert complied but was soon suffering from one of his colds. She was uneasy about his health. He had so many colds, and after each one she fancied he was not quite as strong as he had been before.
‘It is so tiresome of you, Albert,’ she cried. ‘You take little care of yourself. It causes me a great deal of anxiety and I think I should be spared that.’
Albert sighed. It was one of her bouts of ‘pregnancy irritability’ which he reminded himself he must bear stoically. The fire had upset her; she was touchy and anxious. Without telling her he sent for the midwife, Mrs Lilly, immediately although the birth was reckoned to be due in some three weeks’ time.
‘Mrs Lilly!’ cried the Queen. ‘But it is not yet time. Why have you arrived so soon?’
‘Ma’am,’ replied the nurse with dignity, ‘I come when I am sent for and His Highness Prince Albert gave strict instructions to come at once.’
She stormed into Albert’s study. ‘Really, Albert, this is too bad. I should know when to send for Mrs Lilly. I will not have you sending for people without my knowledge. I was astonished when she arrived.’
Albert passed his hand wearily over his forehead.
‘I see we have to deal with the Queen,’ he said.
‘You have to deal with a woman who is about to have a child and she begs to be allowed to say when the midwife shall be called. Any woman has that right … but …’
‘Yes, yes,’ said Albert, ‘but you are the Queen.’
‘And it will be well if some people remembered it more often.’
‘Some people?’ asked Albert.
‘Yes, Albert. All people.’
Albert stood up and bowed and was about to leave the study when she noticed how tired he looked and was filled with contrition.
‘Oh, Albert,’ she cried, ‘I am so bad tempered. And I wonder how you forgive me. It is just that I so dread the ordeal and this makes me as I am.’
Albert embraced her and stroked her hair. ‘I know,’ he said.
‘And you are so good and so calm always. Oh, Albert, please forgive me. I am so stupid.’
Then Albert murmured
gently: ‘Do not cry. All will be well.’ And he added his favourite term of endearment: ‘Gutes Frauchen’.
‘Oh, yes,’ she cried, ‘while we have each other all is well.’
Three weeks or so after the fire the baby was born. It was a boy and the Queen decided to call him Leopold after that beloved uncle.
Sir James Clark had talked to her before explaining to her the use of chloroform in childbirth. He could see no danger in its use and it could be given when the agony was extreme. If the Queen agreed he would call in Dr Snow, who was an expert in these matters.
The Queen, who had before the birth of Leopold undergone the ordeal of child-bearing seven times and who was always apprehensive when her time drew near, welcomed the idea.
She was delighted with its effect.
Many women were grateful to her, for arguments against the use of chloroform had been raging throughout the country. Many people – mostly men, and women who were past child-bearing age – deplored its use as ‘going against nature’. If God had not meant women to suffer in this way He would not have made birth painful, therefore to alleviate pain was to go against God and nature. However, those to whom it could be useful were delighted that the Queen had come down on their side, for since Victoria had used it opinions changed. Chloroform was not merely, as the Queen had said, a ‘blessed relief’, it was fashionable.
The Queen recovered quickly from her confinement, not having to undergo such strain, but the child was smaller and more frail than his brothers and sisters and it was very soon discovered that he suffered from a strange disease. If for any reason he bled it was difficult to stop the bleeding.
The fact that she had produced a delicate child upset the Queen and because of this a fracas between herself and Albert would frequently occur. Albert remained patient and would calmly explain where she was wrong; he called her his ‘dear child’ which was meant to imply of course that she was somewhat fractious.
There was a great deal to worry about: Bertie’s naughtiness, which made him sometimes quite violent; Leopold’s fragility; and politics. A very unpleasant situation was blowing up between Russia and Turkey; Mr Gladstone was making himself tiresome in the House of Commons and Lord Aberdeen, finding himself unequal to the stresses all about him, wanted to resign.
Most alarming of all was Albert’s health. He would go into moods of depression; he was so ready to believe the worst and was so worried about the situation in Russia and Turkey; he had constant attacks of a kind of nervous fever which Sir James Clark could not diagnose; and he caught cold easily.
How she longed for summer days at Osborne and long autumn holidays at Balmoral. Only in those dear homes was she really at peace; and now that they had purchased Balmoral and pulled down the original place and Albert had designed a castle, it was just the ideal place, which after all was his creation, and he really had a genius for designing royal houses. Look at Osborne – that other happy home. And up at Balmoral their privacy was respected and even if any of the Highlanders of the village met them on the road they knew they must pretend not to see them. In the house and on the estate they had their good loyal servants and their wonderful gillies who looked after them so magnificently when they went out into the countryside, the Prince to shoot or stalk and the older boys with him. She often said to the Prince that she did not know what they would do without people like John Grant and John Brown.
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 perso
ns 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!
