Victoria Victorious: The Story of Queen Victoria

by Виктория Холт

It had been a most exhilarating experience: I had enjoyed every moment; but what a joy it was to embark on the dear familiar beach near Osborne!

  Lady Lyttelton was at the door with all the children waiting to greet us.

  Vicky ran straight into Albert's arms; and then we fondly embraced them all.

  They looked so fat and well—and above all, happy to have us back.

  * * *

  DEAR OSBORNE! WHAT a joy it was to be there! I looked forward to lazy days with drives and alfresco meals with the children and talks with Albert. I told him that there were many times when I wished I were not a queen and that he were merely a country gentleman so that we could live a family life without onerous duties.

  They were wonderful days which followed the visit. We talked to the children and Albert described to Vicky the beautiful mountains and forests and the dear kind German people; and how one day he was going to take her to Rosenau and show her his childhood home. He would take her to visit the Prussian royal family of whom he was very fond, and he was sure she was going to be fond of them too.

  Such halcyon days could not remain so for long and we were soon plunged into trouble.

  It had been a disastrous summer. The rain had spoiled the crops and particularly the potatoes in Ireland. There was great famine there.

  Sir Robert Peel was in a dilemma. The Corn Laws had remained unaltered since 1842, but Sir Robert's mind was changing. He no longer believed in protection for agriculture and was convinced that the experiment had been a failure. Corn must be exported to Ireland, he said, to take the place of the potato crop; but unfortunately the English harvest had been poor. Sir Robert believed that the Corn Laws should be suspended and he would never be a party to their being reimposed.

  He said firmly, “The remedy is the removal of all impediments to the import of all kinds of human food—that is, the total and absolute repeal for ever on all duties on all articles of sustenance.”

  There was much discussion. It was a quite extraordinary situation, for Peel stood against his own party. He wanted to introduce a measure involving the ultimate repeal of the Corn Laws.

  I was very sad when Sir Robert came to me and said he must tender his resignation and once more I was reminded of that occasion when Lord Melbourne had come to me with the same story. I was older now, more in command of my feelings, thanks to Albert who had made me so much more restrained; and in any case, much as I admired Sir Robert as a very great statesman—greater I had to admit than Lord Melbourne—I did not have the tender feelings for him that I had had for my first Prime Minister.

  Sir Robert told me that I should ask Lord John Russell to take his place.

  I was afraid the government would fall and the Whigs come back. How strange that I had once thought of the Whigs as my government!

  I was pleased when Lord John Russell refused and Sir Robert remained in office. But our troubles were by no means over. The Tories were against their leader. He stood alone among them fighting for the Repeal of the Corn Laws—with the Opposition firmly behind him.

  Albert said there never could have been such a case before, and Albert stood with Sir Robert, as I did.

  I had now confirmed what I had suspected and I must say that my mind was rather taken up with my own problems for I was pregnant once more. The fact made me irritable and very quick-tempered.

  I complained bitterly to Albert, and although he was sympathetic, I fancied he was not at all displeased. He delighted in his growing family which, I pointed out, was all very well for him. He did not have to endure those wretched months of discomfort culminating in an excruciating ordeal.

  He said that it was one of the duties that God had ordained women should carry out. At which I said, most irreligiously, that God was obviously of the male gender, which reminded me of Lord Melbourne, for it was the kind of remark he would have made; and then we should have laughed together. But Albert was deeply shocked—and somehow he made me feel ashamed. So I grew calmer and said that my temper was as bad as ever, to which Albert replied that he did believe that, under his guidance, the outbursts occurred less frequently.

  I tried hard to be reconciled and thought of the joys children brought.

  “But this must be the last,” I said.

  And Albert replied, “It is in God's hands.”

  There was a great deal of unrest in the country. Sir Robert looked worn out as well he might be. Then Albert brought down a storm of abuse on his head by going to the House of Commons when the debate on the Corn Laws was in progress. He had had many discussions with Sir Robert and was vitally interested in the matter. His presence, of course, was noted and then the trouble started.

  What right had foreigners in the House of Commons? The House of Commons was for elected Members. Was the Prince showing his approval of Peel, who was known to be a friend of his? The country would not tolerate such conduct. It must be made clear to Prince Albert that he must never again enter the House of Commons without invitation.

  It was depressing that, after all he had done, after his interest in affairs, and the fact that he was the father of the heir to the throne, they called him a foreigner.

  I felt disheartened. All this—and pregnancy too!

  With the Whigs firmly behind him, Sir Robert brought about the Repeal of the Corn Laws. But the government was doomed to defeat. On the same day that the Bill was passed, the government was brought down over the Irish Bill. Peel was out of office and little John Russell came to Windsor. He had been able to form a government this time and the Whigs were back in power.

  * * *

  BERTIE WAS GIVING us a great deal of concern. He was a difficult boy. He was not at all bright at his lessons; he was constantly in trouble in spite of the fact that Lady Lyttelton and Miss Hildyard, the governess, were always trying to shield him.

  Of course Vicky's cleverness put him at a disadvantage. I once said to Albert that, but for Vicky, he would seem quite an ordinary boy.

  Albert agreed that Vicky was exceptionally bright but in his opinion Bertie was exceptionally dull. There was that unfortunate stutter. The Prince of Wales stuttering! It was unheard of.

  “Lady Lyttelton thinks it is due to nervousness,” I said. “She insists that when she is alone with him he hardly ever does it.”

  “Then he can stop it if he wishes.”

  “I believe he tries, Albert.”

  “The cane will make him try harder.”

  I used to hate it when Bertie was beaten—a task Albert nobly undertook himself. Bertie grew a little defiant; he said it wasn't fair.

  I talked to him and told him what a good father he had, a father who suffered more than he did when punishment was necessary.

  Bertie said, “Papa only has to stop hurting me and then he won't have to suffer.”

  I tried to explain that God sometimes had to inflict suffering on people and it was always for their own good. All Bertie had to do was be a better boy.

  I talked to Lady Lyttelton. She pursed her lips and looked stubborn. I was very fond of her and in a way I was glad she was rather soft. I knew that after one of the punishments, so necessarily inflicted by Albert, she went in and cuddled Bertie and comforted him. She had some special ointment for the weals.

  I should have told Albert, of course, but I knew he would have stopped that comforting, and although I knew he was right, I am afraid I was a little weak too; and after all Bertie was not so very old.

  Albert had entreated Stockmar to come to England as he wished to consult him very earnestly about his eldest son; and to our joy Stockmar came.

  We went to Windsor with him and there we discussed Bertie's conduct. Albert said sadly that he had been forced to administer the cane, which was so very distressing for him, and moreover, so far, it had had little effect on the boy.

  Stockmar thought we had been too soft with him. “You tell me there are women in the nursery and the schoolroom. Women are notoriously soft. There is no doubt that they pamper the boy. I should like to see the
schoolroom and speak to these ladies who are in charge of it.”

  We took him to the schoolroom.

  Vicky was seated at the table writing. Bertie was beside her and Alice was there too.

  As we entered they all rose. Vicky and Alice curtsied and Bertie bowed. They looked very sweet—except Bertie who had a smudge on his blouse.

  “Children,” I said, “this is a great friend of Papa's and mine, Baron Stockmar.”

  The children looked at the Baron, and I could see they did not greatly take to him.

  “Vicky…Bertie…,” said Albert, and they came forward.

  “Our daughter,” said Albert proudly.

  Vicky smiled. “This is Bertie.”

  “The backward one,” said the Baron, at which Bertie flinched.

  “He does badly because he does not try,” said Albert.

  I saw a defiant look creeping into Bertie's face. Oh dear, I thought, he is going to be difficult.

  Vicky who could not bear to have the attention turned from her said, “I am not backward. I am very good…at everything.”

  Albert smiled and laid a restraining hand on her shoulder. She smiled up at him charmingly, sure of his approval.

  “You must not speak until the Baron addresses you, my child,” said Albert.

  “Why not?” asked Vicky.

  Albert looked at me in tender exasperation.

  “Because Papa says so,” I told her.

  “Oh,” she said. “The boy seems sullen,” said the Baron. “Perhaps I should see his work.”

  Miss Hildyard was rather flustered. She began talking of Bertie's qualities. She thought he had a good imagination. He was quite inventive. But the Baron thought that meant he had a tendency to lie.

  “The younger children adore him,” said Miss Hildyard. “It is good to see their little faces light up when he comes in. He makes up games for them and can amuse them for hours. They love him dearly as,” she looked at us defiantly, “we all do.”

  “Yes, yes,” said Stockmar impatiently. “I do not like overmuch what I hear.”

  “I am sure,” Miss Hildyard went on, “that Bertie will be good at his lessons…given time.”

  The Baron said he had heard and seen enough and would like to talk in private with Albert and me.

  When we were alone he said, “How different he is from you, Prince Albert. I remember well how serious you were. I am afraid the boy takes after some of his Hanoverian ancestors. That must make us very watchful.”

  “I want him to grow up exactly like his father,” I said.

  “We shall have to work hard to bring about that miracle,” said Stockmar.

  “We were hoping you might advise us,” I said

  “In the first place he is surrounded by women, and saving Your Majesty's presence, women are too lenient where children are concerned. They spare the rod and spoil the child.”

  “So I have always thought,” said Albert.

  Stockmar went on, “We shall take him from the care of that woman, Miss Hildyard.”

  “She is a very clever woman,” I said.

  “Maybe she is but she is no match for a slothful, wayward boy. I propose that we engage a tutor. I will immediately look for the right man, and when I have found him, I will impress on him the need for sternest discipline.”

  “Dear Baron,” I said, “I knew you would find the solution.”

  It was not long before Stockmar came to tell us that he had engaged Henry Birch, Rector of Prestwich, who had taught at Eton.

  The fact of his calling made him appear to be eminently suitable and I was delighted.

  In due course Henry Birch arrived and eagerly we awaited results.

  * * *

  HE WAS CLEARLY pleased by the appointment.

  Albert and I, with the Baron, took him to the schoolroom.

  “Here is the Prince of Wales,” I said. “Come, Bertie, and greet your new tutor.”

  Bertie came forward eyeing Mr. Birch with the utmost suspicion.

  “You will find the Prince of Wales somewhat backward,” said Stockmar. “He is not given to study. He needs to be prodded. I have worked out a curriculum with His Highness, the Prince, and I am sure that, if you will follow it, you cannot go wrong. You will need to be very firm and Her Majesty and the Prince give you the right to punish however severely you may deem necessary.”

  “Oh,” said Mr. Birch, “I hope that will not be necessary.”

  I could see Bertie was growing a little fearful and I was not really surprised. In my heart I thought there was no need to give the child such a reputation before Mr. Birch had had a chance of finding out for himself.

  Albert was saying, “I have, on occasions, had to whip Bertie myself, which was most distressing to me.”

  Bertie looked dismayed as though he was expecting the cane to be brought out immediately, and I must say I was rather glad when the meeting was over.

  Mr. Birch remained behind with Bertie; and we all left him to discuss our impressions.

  It had not been possible to assess Mr. Birch, but as the Baron said, his calling gave him a certain standing; and Albert said that as the Baron had chosen him, he was sure the choice would prove satisfactory.

  And I believe it was. Mr. Birch reported that Bertie was by no means dull. His interest was easily aroused; he was improving in his lessons and was finding study quite absorbing.

  I saw Bertie once or twice with his tutor. Bertie was smiling happily; he had lost his stutter; and it was clear to me that he was not in the least in awe of Mr. Birch.

  I did not tell Albert this because I thought that he might be of the opinion that the boy should be afraid of his tutor if the tutor was doing his work properly; but in view of the progress he was making Albert did not raise this point.

  As for Lady Lyttelton she seemed very happy about the arrangements. She could not say enough that was good about Mr. Birch.

  I was very pleased. I hoped there would be no more trouble. It was so distressing for Albert to have to chastise Bertie.

  * * *

  OSBORNE WAS A great consolation during those difficult days.

  We had decided that charming as it was, it was scarcely fit for a royal residence; and Albert was planning extensive alterations.

  As everything Albert did was done with absolute thoroughness, he was completely absorbed in the project.

  He was in consultation with Thomas Cubitt, that very modern builder, and they discussed the alterations at length before the plans were made.

  The Solent reminded Albert of the Bay of Naples.

  “So,” he said, “we will have a Neapolitan villa—high towers, with perhaps a loggia on the first floor. There should be a pavilion wing and two eastern wings, with accommodation for servants and officials of the country who may have to come down from time to time.”

  Albert had worked out how all this should be paid for. I had sold the Pavilion at Brighton to the Brighton Town Commissioners; and thanks to all the savings Albert had made on the household economies at Buckingham Palace, we had about a quarter of a million pounds to spend on this new Osborne.

  Albert found great pleasure, not only in the rebuilding, but in the laying out of the gardens. He had tried to work on those of Buckingham Palace but the Commissioners had made such a fuss. Here it was different. We had our own house. I even had my own bathing-machine on the beach; it had a curtained veranda and was really charming. Albert had fir trees—Christmas trees, we called them now—imported from Germany; and we had a playroom sent over from Switzerland that we called the Swiss Cottage; and as he was anxious that the children should not be idle here, the girls learned to cook and do all sorts of domestic tasks, while the boys had tools and did woodwork. That was later on though.

  We could see the ships sailing by and Albert said that perhaps the Prince of Wales would be impressed by them and want to join the Navy.

  Osborne, the scene of many a delightful holiday, was precious to me because of Albert's creations.

&
nbsp; While the work was progressing, he was constantly inspecting it. He would go out, even at night, because some little detail occurred to him.

  There was an amusing incident that happened one night when he had thought of something he wanted to see in the grounds and had gone out in the dark to look at it.

  A policeman, seeing him, arrested him.

  Albert protested, but the policeman refused to listen to him; and as the servants' quarters were quite near, he took Albert to them.

  The poor policeman was overcome with shame.

  The next day Albert summoned him to appear before him. Albert was unsmiling and I am sure the poor man thought he was going to lose his job. Then Albert commended him on his prompt action and told him that he had recommended him for promotion.

  The poor man went away bemused. Albert and I laughed a great deal over the incident.

  “I should have been impulsive,” I said. “I should have complimented him immediately. Just think what agonies he must have suffered during the night.”

  “It would do him no harm,” said Albert. “And it makes my approval even more appreciated.”

  Dear Albert, he always thought of what was good for people.

  * * *

  TO MY HORROR, dismay, and fury, I was once more pregnant. This would be my sixth child. It was too much. I hated the entire business. I had been enjoying life so much—and could have done so completely if there had not been so many unpleasant State matters which seemed to flare up every now and then.

  I did not like the new Foreign Secretary, Lord Palmerston. How different from dear Lord Aberdeen! I was sure Lord Palmerston withheld information from us; and he and Albert were not on very good terms.

  And now … another baby, which was due in April!

  Then came terrible news.

  There was revolution again in France. This was a repeat performance of what had happened at the end of last century. I had read of that in horror; I had wept for poor vain Marie Antoinette, whom I had seen as not unlike myself in my early days before I had learned so much from Albert, and poor Louis, her husband, who wanted to be good but was so weak. But this was different. These were people I knew.