The Queen's Husband (47 page)

‘Are you cold?’ he asked.

‘No. As they would say at home: someone must be walking over my grave.’

‘This makes you morbid,’ said Albert. ‘My dear love is very easily affected.’

‘By death,’ she agreed. ‘I cannot bear to think of anyone I love being dead.’

Albert smiled at her tenderly, but she was glad when they left the Island of Graves.

And how fresh and beautiful the Thuringian forest looked after that sad island. The haymakers came running to wave to them as they passed and again Victoria was loud in her praise of the pretty costumes.

How poor Grandmama Saxe-Coburg wept when they said goodbye. She clung to Albert, calling him
Mein Engel’s Kind
. Poor, poor Grandma, who must be thinking that it might well be that she would never see Albert again. She was old and it could not be long before she was lying under a flower-covered grave on the Gräber Insel.

Sir Robert had warned them that if they paid a visit to Germany they must on their way back call on the King of France, who was already put out by the Russian visit, and would be more so, if after spending so much time in Germany, they did not call on him too.

At Tréport Louis Philippe was waiting to greet them as before and Victoria was gratified to discover that he had named a gallery in the château in honour of her last visit. In this gallery Victoria saw, among others, Winterhalter portraits of herself and Albert.

‘How very gracious,’ said the Queen.

Because a contretemps had arisen between the French and British governments concerning the marriage of the Infanta of Spain, Lord Aberdeen and Lord Liverpool had joined them in order to have discussions with M. Guizot, the French Foreign Minister. It was all very amicable but not nearly so happy of course as being with the dear German relations.

After a day and a night with the French the royal yacht set sail for England and at noon had arrived at the Isle of Wight. They drove to Osborne and to the great joy of both the Queen and Albert, Lady Lyttleton was standing at the door, Affie in her arms, with Vicky, Bertie and Alice beside her.

The children shouted with joy when they saw their parents and ran forward to fling themselves into their arms.

It was too much to expect that the prosperity with which the year had opened should continue. That summer had been the wettest in Ireland in living memory with the result that the potato crop was ruined. The terrible famine which followed was responsible for acute starvation and many deaths, and it was inevitable that the Corn Laws would have to be reviewed immediately. Lord John Russell announced that he was in favour of repealing the Corn Laws; but knowing that he had insufficient support to bring about the necessary reforms, Peel resigned.

When he called to see the Queen she received him with great sorrow, but even at such a time she remembered that similar occasion when she had feared to lose Lord Melbourne. How impulsive she had been then, how unconstitutional; and how differently she would act now. She did not want to lose Sir Robert and she made that very clear, but she was not childishly stubborn and emotional about it. It was a political issue and she must accept it as such.

Sir Robert suggested that she send for Lord John Russell, asking him to take on the Premiership.

This happened just before Christmas, when she would have been so much happier bringing in the yule logs and showing the children how Christmas was celebrated in dear Papa’s country. She and Albert would do that of course; but there was this tiresome matter to be settled first.

‘And if the government falls and we have the Whigs back we shall doubtless have that tiresome Lord Palmerston back in the Foreign Office.’

Albert agreed with her on that point. Palmerston was a tiresome man who was inclined to patronise Albert and treat him as a boy. Very different from Lord Aberdeen!

It was with relief that she received the news that Lord John declined the offer.

That
impish
Disraeli had laughingly said (and this was widely reported) that Lord John being in ‘no mood to accept the poisoned chalice handed it back to Sir Robert, who had no alternative but to take it back’.

So Christmas came with Sir Robert still in office. It
was
so like that other occasion, but how different she was. How much more dignified, how diplomatic and queenly.

There was one she had to thank for the change – that blessed being, Albert.

In the midst of this political upheaval the Queen became aware of the now familiar signs of pregnancy.

‘Oh no, no!’ she cried in irritation. ‘It is far too soon!’

‘It seems,’ she complained to Albert, ‘that I am no sooner delivered of one child than another is started.’

‘It is life, my love,’ said Albert calmly.

‘It is all very well for
you
to feel so serene about it,’ cried the Queen with a flash of temper. ‘
You
don’t have to suffer all the inconveniences culminating in that painful ordeal.’

Albert patted her hand and she was immediately contrite.

‘Oh, Albert,’ she said, ‘what a temper I have!’

Albert agreed gravely.

‘But it is tiresome, you must agree.’

‘It is married life,’ said Albert.

Even so, she thought, a queen did have a strenuous life and although it was her duty to give the nation heirs she had already presented that exacting taskmaster with two sons and two daughters. Already the press was commenting on her growing family. There had been cartoons of an impoverished-looking John Bull, with patched coat eating a tiny bloater off a cracked plate shouting: ‘Hurrah. Another royal birth. I can pay for it with my income tax.’

It would have been most desirable to have at least a lapse of a few years now. She was still very young. Besides a family of four was adequate for her satisfaction and the nation’s purse.

She was feeling like this because during those months of pregnancy she was never well. Because she had discovered that she had the perfect husband did not mean that was the end of her violent temper. It still was ready to break out when she was provoked, and to rise in the morning feeling sick and depressed made it very ready to flare out, as her attendants had discovered. The Queen’s pregnancies were almost as much disliked by those around her as by herself.

A few days after Lord John had been unable to form a government and Peel was back in office the Queen invited Lord Melbourne to dine at the palace. He had been much in her thoughts lately because of the similarity of the predicament confronting Peel’s government and that of his own during the famous Bedchamber incident. She had neglected him lately, had not answered his letters for weeks at a time and was rather ashamed of herself.

Poor Lord Melbourne, she must not forget what a great friend he had been to her. Although she, being so impulsive and inexperienced, had attached more to the friendship than was really there, that was not his fault.

Lord Melbourne was delighted to receive an invitation. As he bent over her hand his eyes filled with tears, but somehow they did not move her as they had in the old days. She could only see the difference between this poor pathetic old man and the fine handsome witty Prime Minister who had called on her on the first day of her accession and for four years had seen her every day.

‘Dear Lord Melbourne,’ she said, ‘you are to sit beside me at dinner. I have arranged it.’

It
was
pathetic to see his happiness. One thing which had not changed was his devotion to her.

As the meal progressed they talked of the past. Lord Melbourne recalled little incidents which she had forgotten and she could see that he was enjoying it immensely which pleased her. But it was inevitable that the conversation should turn to politics and the great issue of the moment was the repeal of the Corn Laws.

Lord Melbourne seemed to have forgotten that he was no longer Prime Minister; and it was very likely that if Lord John Russell had been able to form a government there would not have been a place for Lord Melbourne in it, for he was now far too sick a man for office. He talked of the Corn Laws and Peel’s sudden change of opinion with regard to them.

‘It’s a damned dishonest act, Ma’am,’ he declared vehemently.

The Queen laughed uncertainly and tried to change the subject, but Melbourne seemed to have forgotten that they were seated at a dinner table in the company of others; he appeared to have an illusion that they were alone in the blue closet when he was allowed the privilege of interrupting the Queen and repeated his assertion against Peel.

‘Lord Melbourne,’ said the Queen regally, ‘I must beg you to say nothing more on this subject now.’

There was a silence. The old man was crestfallen. The glories of the past had slipped away and left him exposed to the indignities of the present. The Queen was overcome with pity. She
had
loved him and she was not of a nature to forget old friends.

She said gently: ‘I shall be glad to discuss the matter with you at any other time.’

Melbourne looked at her gratefully. She had helped him salvage his dignity.

Tears shone in his eyes; and after that she thought of him as Poor,
poor
Lord Melbourne; and, remembering past glories, so did many others.

With the new year the political crisis worsened.

It was an unusual situation with Sir Robert standing out against the rest of his party determined to bring about the repeal of the Corn Laws – a very strange situation with a Prime Minister supported by his Opposition and his own party against him.

Albert took a great interest in these matters and insisted that the Queen did too, although with the irksome period to be lived through and all the discomforts which beset her, she found it difficult. A woman at such a time should be able to devote herself to domestic matters, she complained.

There was strong criticism of Albert because he was firmly behind Sir Robert and visited the House of Commons when the debate on Free Trade was in progress. The press raised a torrent of abuse. The House of Commons was no place for foreigners, said the press; nor was it proper for the Queen’s husband to show his approval of a measure by putting in an appearance during a debate. Moreover it was something which would not be tolerated. Albert was made to realise that he must not set foot in the House again.

Sir Robert was abused daily in the press; he was a ‘turncoat’ and a ‘traitor’ to his party, said his enemies, and they were men of his own party. The most virulent attacks came from the rebel Disraeli who, it was perfectly clear, had an eye on the premiership and was never going to forgive Peel for not giving him a place in the Cabinet.

In early June the Queen’s fifth child was born. It was a girl and she was christened Helena.

‘Two boys and three girls,’ she whispered to Albert when he came to sit beside her bed. ‘We have quite a large family now, Albert.’

Albert said this made him very happy, in such a way that she felt it was all very well worth while.

‘And what is going to happen about Sir Robert?’ she asked.

‘That, my love,’ replied Albert, ‘remains to be seen.’

Well, she thought, whatever happens, I have dear Albert and five children, and when one is so blessed in one’s home life, providing the country is safe, politics must seem less important than the family.