Victoria Victorious: The Story of Queen Victoria

by Jean Plaidy

  “Oh?” I replied, rather flippantly perhaps. “Who is this saint? Not my dear Lord M.”

  “Most certainly not. I was referring to Sir Robert Peel.”

  I felt my anger rising. I knew I had always been hot-tempered, but since my pregnancy and all the minor discomforts it had brought with it, I did find it more difficult to keep myself in check.

  “My dear Albert,” I said, speaking like the Queen rather than his dear little wife, “I do not wish to hear of the perfections of Peel. I loathe the man. I hope his party never comes to power. For I do not wish ever to see him again.”

  “From what is happening in the country it is more than likely that he will soon be your prime minister.”

  “Heaven forbid.”

  “It is foolish, my love, not to face facts.”

  “The fact at the moment is that I have a very good government presided over by a man whom I respect. I ask no more than that.”

  “My dearest, it is not a matter of what you ask. There must soon be an election, and the tottering government will have to retire. These happy little tète-à-tètes with Lord Melbourne will have to cease and you will be receiving Sir Robert Peel in his place.”

  “You are spoiling this teatime.”

  “Dear little wife, please look at the facts. You must, you know. Try to forget your prejudice against Sir Robert. He is a fine man.”

  “He is ill-bred.”

  “Forgive me, my dear, but that is nonsense. He was educated at Harrow and Oxford. He made a success of his office as Secretary of State for Ireland.”

  I began to laugh. “Do you know, Albert,” I said, “that the Irish called him Orange Peel. That was because he was anti-Catholic. Lord Melbourne told me.” I began to laugh because I thought it was really rather a clever nickname. But Albert was not amused.

  “Peel is a man to watch. I have a high regard for him,” he said.

  “Albert, you do not know him. He is so gauche. When he came to see me he behaved like a dancing master, and someone said that when he smiled it was like looking at the silver fittings in a coffin.” I was laughing again.

  “Cheap abuse,” said Albert. “I noticed none of these things.”

  “You have met him?”

  “I had the pleasure of making his acquaintance.”

  I was astounded. My fury could not be controlled. Albert had gone behind my back! He had sought an introduction to the enemy. I picked up my cup of tea which stood before me and threw it into Albert's face.

  Then I gasped… astonished at myself.

  Albert did not seem to be so very taken aback. He stood up and I saw the liquid trickling down his chin and onto his coat.

  One of the servants had appeared. Albert turned to the man and said, “What do you think of that?” Then he bowed to me and said, “I must go and change my coat.”

  I sat staring after him. I felt so foolish, so wretched, and so ashamed.

  Oh, but I was angry. How dared he make disparaging remarks about my dear Prime Minister and go out of his way to praise the enemy. How dared he meet Sir Robert Peel! He was only the Queen's husband. He seemed to forget that.

  Naturally I was angry. But to throw a cup of tea over him! That was scarcely behavior worthy of a queen! How calm he was! What a contrast to my fury! Apart from the first look of surprise he had made only a brief comment and then gone to change his coat.

  Contrition swept over me. How dreadful of me! How could I have lost my temper to such an extent and above all, with my dearest Albert!

  I could never be happy again until I had his forgiveness. My anger was lost in remorse.

  I remembered what Uncle Leopold had said. One must never let these differences persist. They must be settled before they made a deep rift. How could I have been so foolish? I loved Albert. It was my wretched temper. Even Lehzen, who could see no wrong in me, told me that I should curb it, and Lord Melbourne said—with a twinkle in his eyes— that I was choleric.

  I went immediately to Albert's dressing room.

  I was about to open the door when I restrained myself and knocked.

  “Who is there?” asked Albert.

  “It is I. Victoria.”

  “Come in.”

  He was standing by the window. He turned slowly. I saw that he had changed his coat.

  “Oh Albert,” I cried and ran into his arms.

  I looked up at him. There was that gentle smile on his beautiful face. How I loved him in that moment. I had treated him shamefully and he was not angry.

  “Oh Albert,” I repeated. “How could I?”

  He stroked my hair.

  “You do forgive me then?”

  He was smiling. “I think,” he said, “that you are truly sorry.”

  “I did not think…”

  “My dear little one, it is often so with you.”

  “Yes it is. I am impulsive. I am hot-tempered. In fact, I am not a very nice person.”

  He kissed me gently. “That is not true,” he said. “You are a very nice person, but you have your tempers.”

  “They arise and explode before I can stop them. I must try to be different.”

  He said, “We will together master that little demon.”

  I laughed. It was all so easy.

  “So it is forgiven?”

  “Forgiven and forgotten,” he said.

  “Oh Albert,” I cried. “You are so good. You are far too good for me.” Albert smiled happily, and I was rather glad of the teacup incident because it showed me how much I loved him—as if I did not know!— and, better still, how much he loved me.

  I COULD NOT resist telling Lord Melbourne of the incident when we were alone. Instead of being shocked, he laughed.

  “You find it amusing?”

  “I confess I do.”

  I saw the corners of his mouth twitching, and I could not help laughing with him.

  “I hope the Prince was not wearing the Order of the Garter or even the Order of the Bath.”

  “Lord M, it was a homely tea party à deux.”

  “Very homely and fortunately à deux.”

  “It was really very shocking of me.”

  “Just a little example of royal choler, of which no doubt there have been some already and will be a few more.”

  “I intend to control myself.”

  “Good intentions are always admirable, although some say the road to hell is paved with them.”

  “Lord M,” I said, “there are occasions when you are irrepressible.”

  “Forgive me. Put it down to the stimulation I receive in Your Majesty's company.”

  “There are times,” I said, “when I think Albert is too good, and that makes me feel rather worse than I am.”

  “Your Majesty is unfair to yourself.”

  “Do you really think I am?”

  “A little temper now and then is not such a bad thing. It relieves the feelings and adds a little spice to living.”

  “But Albert is good in all ways. You know about his brother Ernest?”

  Lord Melbourne nodded. “The entire Court is aware of the Prince's predicament.”

  “How different from my dear Albert! Do you know, Lord M, he is not in the least interested in other women—his only wish is to dance with me.”

  “He has one other wish, I think; and that is for the ball to be over at the earliest possible moment.”

  I laughed. “He gets very tired at balls. He thinks they are a waste of time and keep people up, making them not as fresh as they should be in the morning.”

  “He certainly puts us all to shame.”

  “That is what I feel. And when I compare him with other men…”

  “They suffer in comparison. I would say that is a very happy state of affairs. Do not worry about his lack of interest in women. It often happens that when men are not interested in the opposite sex in their youth, they make up for it in middle age.”

  I stared at him and then I saw that he was teasing again.

  “Actually
,” I said, “I would not like Albert to be anything but what he is. Albert is an angel.”

  “Even angels like to have some occupation.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Lord Melbourne looked at me quizzically. I know now, even more than I did then, what a good friend he was to me. He was so worldly-wise that he understood the position between me and Albert better than I did myself. He knew that Albert was restive, that he had been thrust into a position which would have been trying to all but the most spineless of men—the Queen's consort, the Queen's lapdog. It was a position that gave him no power at all to be himself.

  Lord Melbourne's mood had changed. He was serious.

  He said, “The Prince is a very able man. Perhaps he would be pleased if you talked to him more.”

  “I talk to him all the time.”

  “I mean about affairs… the country's business. I think you might find that he could give you valuable help. At the moment he has too little to do. That can be very irksome to an energetic man.”

  “I thought of that, so I have asked him to help me when I sign documents. He always blots them for me.”

  Lord Melbourne smiled. “I think his abilities could be put to better use.”

  “I still feel angry that he should have met and talked with that odious Peel.”

  “It is not a bad thing that he should become acquainted with politicians.”

  “That man!” I felt my anger rising again.

  “Your Majesty will forgive me. You have taken a hearty dislike to Sir Robert Peel. I feel sure that if you knew him you would change your mind. The manner in which he points his toes does not prevent him from being a very able statesman.”

  “Lord Melbourne, I do not wish to speak of Sir Robert Peel.”

  He bowed his head. Then he said, “Think about it. I am sure you will find the Prince very happy to talk over affairs with you.”

  Dear Lord Melbourne! How farsighted he was!

  “Now, Ma'am, there is a little favor I would ask of you. I should be happy if you would receive an old friend of mine.”

  “My dear Lord M, any friend of yours is welcome at Court. Who is this friend?”

  “It is Mrs. Caroline Norton.”

  I was quite excited. This was the lady who had appeared in a scandal involving Lord Melbourne.

  “She was much maligned,” said Lord M.

  “My dear friend, I shall be delighted to receive her.”

  Lord Melbourne kissed my hand.

  I WAS INDEED interested to meet Mrs. Norton. I found her very attractive with magnificent dark eyes which seemed to glow with an inner radiance; her features were set in a classical mold and her skin was smooth and dark. She talked rather much but she was very interesting and I was sure very clever for she was a poet of some renown. I was delighted to talk to her because of her past and I wondered how much Lord Melbourne had cared for her.

  Afterward Lord Melbourne told me that Mrs. Norton had found me gracious and very attractive, delightful, warm-hearted, and essentially good.

  “And I agree wholeheartedly with Mrs. Norton's diagnosis,” said Lord Melbourne. “Your Majesty's gracious kindness is an example to us all.”

  “That makes me feel very happy because I am constantly comparing myself with Albert and I often feel very uneasy confronted by such saintliness.”

  “Oh there is goodness and goodness,” said Lord Melbourne, “and sometimes the least obvious is the best.”

  My reception of Caroline Norton resulted in another little storm with Albert.

  “Was it necessary,” he asked, “to receive that woman?”

  “You mean Mrs. Caroline Norton? Yes, indeed it was necessary—as well as pleasant—because she is a very old acquaintance of one of my very dearest friends.”

  “I should have thought he would have been eager to put all that behind him.”

  “Lord Melbourne would never put an old friend behind him. I believe him to be a very faithful man.”

  “He cannot wish that unfortunate episode to be remembered.”

  “I don't think it concerns him in the least. He has never attempted to hide his past.”

  “I believe the lady's husband brought a case against Lord Melbourne for seducing his wife.”

  “That is true. The husband was supported by the Tories who—vile creatures—saw an opportunity of creating a scandal against the Whigs. The case was decided in favor of Lord Melbourne and Mrs. Norton; and the husband was proved to be a very poor creature indeed.”

  “Even so, people who have been involved in unsavory cases do the country no good.”

  “But if they are innocent?”

  “They cannot be completely innocent. Otherwise they would not have been involved.”

  “I do not agree with that. I think innocent people can be caught up in these matters. Do you know that Mrs. Norton is the granddaughter of Sheridan, the playwright. She is a gifted poet, an artist, and a musician. I thought they were the kind of people you wanted to introduce into the Court.”

  “Not if their morals make them unworthy.”

  “Oh, Albert, you ask too much.”

  “I only ask that they live respectably.”

  “How can you expect everyone to be like you?”

  “I expect a certain morality.”

  “I believe in forgiveness.”

  “Forgiveness, yes. But such incidents cannot be forgotten. If they are, we shall have people thinking that they can indulge in them and be forgiven and forgetfulness will follow as a matter of course. But it seems that my opinions are of no moment.”

  “That is unfair!”

  “It is a fact. What do I do? I am called on when it pleases you to want a little light amusement. I am shut out while you have those long and I gather often hilarious conferences with your Prime Minister, whose reputation is not of the highest and who is allowed to bring those connected with his shady past into the Court to be received most graciously by the Queen.”

  I stood up, my temper rising.

  “Albert,” I said, “I will not have anyone—not even you—speak like that of Lord Melbourne.”

  In spite of my temper—and perhaps when it was at its height—I could be very cold, very regal, and because I was so short and that was such a disadvantage, I became more royal than I should have had I been a few inches taller.

  Albert stood up, bowed and murmured, “Your Majesty will excuse me.”

  And before I could protest he had reached the door. “Albert,” I called. “Come back. I am in the middle of a conversation.”

  There was no answer; he had gone.

  I was very angry. First, because of what he had said about Lord Melbourne, and second because he had walked out while I was talking to him and ignored my command for him to return.

  I loved Albert. But he must remember that I was the Queen. It is very hard to be involved in a relationship like ours and for the female in the partnership to be the one who is predominant. I realized that few men would care for such a position, for it is a trait of the masculine character that most men can only be content when they are the dominant one. Albert was essentially masculine. They could jeer at what the Press called his pretty looks, but he was every inch a man.

  Still he must accept the fact that I was the Queen.

  My anger seething, I went to his dressing room.

  “Albert,” I called. “I want to speak to you.”

  There was no answer. Albert was refusing to obey me. What was he proposing to do? Was he dressing to go riding or walking … without me?

  I saw the key was in the lock outside the door. I went to it and with a vicious gesture turned it. There! Now he was locked in.

  I sat down to wait. Soon he must plead to come out, and then I would make him talk. I would tell him that he must not walk away when I was speaking to him. He must not think he could treat me as though I were an ordinary German wife. I was the Queen of England.

  I waited. Nothing happened.

  The time was
ticking away. Ten minutes passed. Fifteen minutes. It was too much. My fury disappeared almost as quickly as it came and it was leaving me wretched. I began to see that I had been hasty. I did not agree with Albert about Caroline Norton, but I should, all the same, respect his opinion. I was lax. I belonged to a family that had never really had a high regard for morals. The uncles were notoriously scandalous. My grandfather had been a good man, but as they said, he was mad.

  Albert was very good and very sane. I must learn to control my anger. I must listen to Albert. I felt miserable. I wanted to be forgiven.

  Albert was right. Of course Albert was right. I could wait no longer. I turned the key.

  “Albert,” I said.

  “Come in,” he replied calmly.

  I went in and gasped. He was not in the least upset. He was seated at the window sketching.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  He held up the sketch. “It struck me that it was a rather delightful scene from the window,” he said.

  I looked at it. So all the time I had been sitting out there—angry, waiting—he had been sketching!

  He was looking at me with that tender exasperation which I knew so well.

  “Do you like it?” he asked.

  “It's very good.”

  “I was going to give it to you when it was finished—a reminder of the day you locked me in my dressing room.”

  “Oh, Albert,” I cried, almost in tears, “how good you are! How calm! How wonderful!”

  “Liebchen…,” He always lapsed into German when he was most tender, “do not be sad. It is all over.”

  “I lost my temper.”

  “Well? Is that so unusual?”

  “I should not, Albert. I know I should not. But it overflows.”

  “You have so much feeling…so much love…so much hate.”

  “I have much love for you, Albert.”

  “I know, little one,” he said.

  “Then why do I do this?”

  “Because you are…Victoria.”

  “I am so sorry, Albert. Do forgive me.”

  “You are my dear little wife.”

  “Oh, Albert, then all is well.”

  So we kissed and another little storm had blown over. But of course in the perfect married life there would have been no storms.