by Jean Plaidy
That was a very happy birthday.
ALMOST IMMEDIATELY AFTERWARD we heard that Nicholas the First of Russia was on his way to visit us. I was amazed and not a little disconcerted for my pregnancy had advanced to the seventh month, and at such a time I had neither the strength nor the inclination for such a visit.
Sir Robert said we owed this no doubt to my sojourn with Louis Philippe. The Emperor would not want to see too great a friendship between us and the French.
“I really do wish he had not invited himself,” I said. “I hate to be seen like this… and what if he were shot?”
Sir Robert looked startled.
“There are so many anarchists in the world,” I went on, “and the Russians go in for that sort of thing. I do believe he is a very strange man.”
“His visit will be good for relations between this country and Russia,” said Sir Robert.
And Albert agreed with him.
So I must perforce receive the Emperor. He arrived in his ship, the Black Eagle, and I took him to Windsor Castle, which seemed to me the most suitable place for the visit. He was most impressed by it, and said, in a rather courtly fashion, that it was worthy of me.
I was always delighted when people admired Windsor. After my initial dislike of it, it had become one of my favorite homes. Albert had made me appreciate it. He had loved it from his first sight of it, and the forest was an enchantment to him as it was becoming to me. I smiled to remember the old days when I had hated to leave London because it always seemed more alive than anywhere I knew. Now it seemed noisy, and I missed the wonderful country air which Albert had taught me to appreciate.
I found the Emperor a very strange man. His appearance was quite frightening; his eyelashes were white and his eyes had a stark staring look so that one could see the whites all around the pupils, which made him look a little mad. I had heard that in his youth he had been a very handsome man. I could scarcely believe that.
He was a tough soldierly type but extremely courteous to me, though I must say that when he smiled he looked quite malevolent. He certainly had odd manners. In spite of the fact that I gave him a state bedroom in the castle, he sent his valet down to the stables to procure hay. He had brought with him a leather sack and the hay was stuffed into this; and this was his bed. He was most eccentric.
Sir Robert said we must not offend him and show him great honor during his visit as he was politically important. So I gave myself up to the task of entertaining him. He accompanied me on a review in Windsor Park, and I took him to the races and to the opera. I gave a concert in his honor in Buckingham Palace. Fortunately Joseph Joachim was in England at the time, so I engaged him to perform for the Emperor.
I found it all very tiring, due to my condition, and I went through one of those spells of resentment that descended on me during my pregnancies.
But in spite of his odd soldierly ways, I could not have had a more considerate companion than the Emperor; he was obviously impressed by Albert, and told me he had never seen a more handsome young man, who radiated not only nobility but goodness. Nothing pleased me more than when appreciation for Albert was expressed; and when Sir Robert discussed the uneasy state of Turkey with the Emperor, the latter said that he did not want an inch of Turkish soil for himself, but he would not allow anyone else to have any. Sir Robert thought the visit had been well worthwhile. And not only Sir Robert. In spite of the short notice and the inconvenient time it was universally proclaimed a success. It was yet another example of the fact that when one is a queen, one's royal duties must come before personal inclinations.
I WAS NOW getting to the unwieldy stages of pregnancy and not inclined to much activity. It was unfortunate that at this time a crisis should arise in the government.
The idea of losing Sir Robert Peel was now almost as alarming to me as, such a short while ago, it seemed, it had been of losing Lord Melbourne.
There was trouble everywhere. Indeed that seemed to be the usual state of parliaments. I had a notion that politicians were more concerned with their own advantage than they were for the country, for every time some trouble arose the opposition was always ready to put the entire blame for it on the government in power, instead of combining their energies with those of the government in an effort to put it right.
There was trouble in Ireland. When was there not? The French had imprisoned the British ambassador on the island of Tahiti, which they had recently occupied and this meant that our relations with France had deteriorated so considerably since I had enjoyed my visit to Louis Philippe that it was feared there might be war between our two countries. This was the last thing we wanted, and Sir Robert said we must do our best to improve relations.
The most significant of all was the defeat of the government in a proposal to reduce the tax on sugar. This was particularly disagreeable because the defeat had been brought about by rebels in the Tory party.
I was incensed. I was in no fit state to be worried; and if the government were defeated and had to go to the country, a Whig ministry might be formed and I should lose Sir Robert.
It seemed ironical that I should have once bemoaned the loss of the Whigs and was now alarmed that they should come back into power. But it was not the party that was of such importance to me; it was the leaders. I should never, of course, feel the same emotional attachment to Sir Robert as I had to Lord Melbourne. That would be impossible now that Albert was beside me. But Albert had opened my eyes and made me see what a wonderful man we had in Sir Robert; and the thought of losing him worried me considerably.
Sir Robert told us all about it. There was a group of rebels in the Tory party; and it was due to this that the crisis had arisen.
“Who are these rebels?” I asked.
“There is a certain Benjamin Disraeli,” Sir Robert told us. “He is an odd fellow, and I believe one to be watched.”
“Most certainly he is, if he is going to attempt to bring about the fall of my government,” I retorted grimly.
“He is Jewish, and I would say very persistent. He was returned for Shrewsbury and he had the temerity to ask for a government post in the new ministry. I refused and he did not greatly care for that.”
“He was resentful, I daresay,” said Albert.
“He has a very high opinion of himself. A strange fellow. He has published a book. Sybil. The theme of this was that the rights of labor are as sacred as the rights of property. He is particularly articulate. He married Wyndham Lewis's widow, who brought him her fortune.”
“He sounds a most unsatisfactory type of person,” I said.
“She herself wrote to me extolling her husband,” said Sir Robert. “She said how desirous he was of a place in the government.”
“She would appear to be fond of him,” I put in.
“It is hardly the way ministerial posts are given,” added Albert.
“I think, nevertheless,” went on Sir Robert, “he is a man to be watched.”
“A troublemaker,” I said. “I hope he gets what he deserves.”
There was great excitement everywhere because it was generally believed that the government would not survive the vote of no confidence. However, that little scare came to nothing. Men like that rebel Disraeli might want to oppose their leader, but the last thing they wanted was to see the Whigs in power; and at the critical moment the rebels supported the Prime Minister; and the government was saved.
I could now give myself up to preparations for my confinement.
August came, hot and stifling, and with it my fourth child. It was another boy. We called him Alfred and Ernest—after Albert's father and brother—and Albert after his father.
Two boys and two girls. Surely that was an adequate family.
Now I must have a rest from the wearisome business.
BEFORE THE MONTH was out we had another royal visitor. This time it was the Prince of Prussia, brother to the King. I did not know then that he was to become the first Emperor of Germany.
We took a gre
at liking to each other. Albert and he were immediately good friends, having so much in common. He was interested in the children and Vicky made a very good impression. Indeed everyone was amazed by her good looks and intelligence. Albert was growing more and more proud of her.
When the Prince left, Albert thought I needed a holiday. That year we had acquired Osborne House—a dear little place which had always fascinated me in the days when Mama and I stayed at Norris Castle on the Isle of Wight. Close to the castle was a copse called Money Copse. It was said that during the Civil War the owner of Osborne House had buried his money in the copse. It had been searched for innumerable times but never come to light. I doubted it ever would, but it added something to the place.
We had talked over the matter of having a little house to which we could retire when we were in need of a little solitude, and the Prime Minister had thought it an excellent idea to buy Osborne House. The only thing I had against it was that it had once belonged to Sir John Conroy. But I was ready to forget that because I had always liked it. Its one drawback was that the odious man had once lived there, but as he had sold it some time before, that could no longer be held against it.
Albert was very interested and immediately started to make plans for improving it. He was very clever at that sort of thing; and he said that the position was so excellent that it was a pity it was so small and unworthy of me.
However, when a holiday was suggested—and I did feel I needed one after the ordeal through which I had just passed—I immediately thought of Osborne.
But Albert had another idea.
“You remember how much we enjoyed our visits to Scotland, my love? Why do we not take another tour of that delightful country. Moreover, you should become better acquainted with your subjects in the North.”
The outcome of that was our visit to Blair Athole.
When she heard we were going, Vicky declared she wanted to come too.
“Oh no, my darling,” I said. “This is just to be Papa and Mama.”
“Vicky too,” said Vicky imperiously.
Albert took her onto his knee and explained to her that Mama needed a rest, and to have Papa to herself to look after her.
“I will look after Mama, too,” said Vicky adorably; and Albert was overcome by emotion.
She was not in the least afraid of him, as I believe poor Bertie was. He had never been very articulate and now his speech was marred by a stammer, which seemed worse in Albert's presence.
Vicky put her arms around Albert's neck and her lips to his ear. He smiled indulgently and stroked her hair.
“Please, Papa… please let me come,” I heard her say.
“I am sorry, Liebchen …”
Tears welled up in Vicky's eyes. She wept becomingly—quite different from Bertie's bawling.
Albert looked at me and I thought he was going to burst into tears himself. How he loved his daughter.
Later he said to me, “I do not see why we should not take Vicky.”
I burst out laughing. “She is a witch,” I said, “and you, my dear Albert, are under her spell.”
“She is the most adorable creature. She is so like you, my love.”
That was irresistible. We decided Vicky should come with us.
This threw her into transports of joy, and no doubt she went to the nursery to boast about it. Bertie demanded to come.
When he heard he could not he lay on the floor and kicked and screamed. Lady Lyttelton tried to comfort him, but Albert happened to hear of it.
I am sorry to say this resulted in a beating for Bertie. I was very upset because he was so young, but Albert said it was necessary to inflict punishment sometimes. It was wrong to do otherwise. One always had to do the right thing by children; and it was quite clear that Bertie was going to need special vigilance. This hurt him, he declared, more than it hurt the child.
Lady Lyttelton was so upset I thought she might resign her post. As a matter of fact I think she would have done so had she not thought her presence there was necessary to protect Bertie.
“He is so young, Ma'am,” she kept saying to me. “He is only a baby.”
“Dear Lady Lyttelton,” I replied, “I know how fond you are of all the children, but Bertie's father knows what is best for him. Bertie will have a great position to uphold and he must be prepared for it.”
I had to admit that I hated to hear Bertie's sobs; but I had convinced myself that Albert was right and Bertie was in need of special correction.
We were up at a quarter to six on that morning in the month of September.
Vicky was in a state of great excitement and all ready to leave. Fatima and Baby Alfred were brought down to say goodbye and with them was a very subdued Bertie. By seven we were ready to get into the carriage and go to the railroad to take us to Paddington where our carriage was waiting for the journey to Woolwich.
As we left I saw Bertie grimace at Vicky in a most unpleasant way but I did not call Albert's attention to that. It seemed a pity to spoil the farewells, and all Albert could do was order some punishment I was sure Lady Lyttelton would see was not carried out.
When we arrived at the port of Dundee two days later, a red carpet was laid down for us to step on as we came ashore and we walked out, I holding Albert's arm while he held Vicky's hand.
What a welcome we were given in Dundee! And it was a wonderful moment arriving at Lord Camperdown's place where we were met by Lady Camperdown and Lady Duncan, who had her little boy with her. The little boy looked splendid in his tartan Highland dress—like a little man. He carried a basket of fruit and flowers that he gave to Vicky. She received it with great dignity and I saw Albert's eyes shine with pride.
I told him afterward that I was reminded of the visits I had made with Mama when I was a young Princess.
Oh, the beautiful Highlands! I have a special feeling for them. So indeed had Albert. I was so glad that he had taught me to appreciate the country. The journey was breathtakingly beautiful. We passed through Dunkeld, Cupar Angus, Pitlochrie to the magnificent Pass of Killiecrankie from which great height we could look down on wooded hills. Albert was absolutely enchanted.
Blair Athole, proved to be only four or five miles from Killiecrankie Pass. At the gates of Blair Castle Lord and Lady Glenlyon were waiting with their little boy to receive us.
What a glorious holiday that was! I would take walks with Albert and he would drive Vicky and me out in the pony phaeton. I had never seen such wild and beautiful country. Albert drew our attention to the points of interest. He was so anxious that we should miss nothing. I did a good deal of sketching and Albert went deer stalking. On one occasion I thought he was lost on the moors. However, all was well.
Vicky loved every minute. She was feeling very grown up to accompany Papa and Mama on one of their journeys. Her cheeks were rosy, her eyes bright, and when I said I was sure she was growing more plump, Albert delightedly agreed with me.
Albert said she must learn Gaelic and Vicky who was always so interested in everything about her—so different from sluggish Bertie—immediately began to do so. Albert thought she was wonderful and he laughed loudly at her efforts to pronounce the names of the mountains.
How he delighted in that child and how happy I was to have given her to him!
But all good things come to an end and very soon—too soon—we had to return to Buckingham Palace.
NO SOONER HAD we returned than Sir Robert told us we must receive Louis Philippe. Albert and I were taken aback as relations with France were very uneasy over the Tahiti affair. But Sir Robert explained that he was very eager to keep relations with the French on a cordial basis and this would be very much a political visit.
Albert saw the point at once and said we should do our part.
I was rather uneasy when I heard there was an outcry against the visit in the French Press; however, the King had decided to come accompanied by his foreign minister Monsieur Guizot.
Albert went to Portsmouth, with the Duke of Well
ington, to give the King an official welcome, and then they brought him to Windsor where we received him in the state apartments. He embraced me very warmly in a most paternal manner. He was determined to be friendly, and a very charming man he was. He said at once that he had not forgotten the many kindnesses he had had in England when he had lived among us in exile from his country, and how pained he was always when differences arose between our two countries.
That was a promising start, and I was sure that entertaining the King of France was not going to be as difficult as we had feared.
“You are the first King of France to come on a visit to a sovereign of this country,” I reminded him, as I led him up the grand staircase.
“I hope this visit will bring good fruits to us both,” he replied; then he commented on the grandeur of the castle.
We went to the white rooms where we had luncheon. Mama was present. She was always with us now. Albert said that was as it should be, and I agreed with him and was very happy to put the past behind me.
At dinner we told the King about our visit to Blair Athole, for we had only been returned a week.
“I should have delayed my visit perhaps,” said Louis Philippe.
“Indeed not,” I assured him. “Being home after revelling in that Highland scenery did seem a little dull… but your visit has enlivened us a great deal.”
He was very grateful for these shows of affection, and said the most flattering things about the castle.
Albert commented on how many royal suites we had seen in the castle—that of the King of Prussia, the Emperor of Russia, the Duke of Saxony—and now the King of France.
Vicky was brought in and introduced to the King. She behaved impeccably and he thought her as delightful as the castle.
Later there were talks between Sir Robert Peel with Lord Aberdeen, our Foreign Secretary, and Louis Philippe and Guizot. Albert and I were present.
Louis Philippe was very frank. He talked about Tahiti and the trouble there and hinted that we English had become a little too excited about it. The French, he said, did not understand the principles of negotiations as the English did; but they liked to make a clatter.
