Victoria Victorious: The Story of Queen Victoria (53 page)

He was an individualist, determined to manage the Foreign Office as
he thought best, going his own way and caring for no one. It was not surprising that he should incense us.

Albert and I discussed him continually, trying to think of ways of driving him from the Foreign Office, which, as I said to Albert, was just about the most dangerous post he could hold.

Albert thought he should be dismissed on moral grounds. There were all sorts of stories about him, one in which he had walked into a lady's bedchamber after the household had retired—in Windsor Castle of all places!—and attempted to make love to her. Sometimes I thought of what Lord Melbourne's comments would have been in these matters and I had to suppress a giggle, for they would certainly not have been Albert's.

Palmerston seemed to enjoy working against royalty and it was almost as though he placed himself on the side of the rebels. This was most disloyal. Some time before he had been accused of supplying Sicilian rebels with arms from the Royal Ordnance because he thought their fight against the tyrannical King was just. This had resulted in an apology being asked for from us to the King.

Lord John wanted to give Pam—as he was affectionately called by the people—an earldom and the Garter and send him to Ireland. I was against that. “It would seem like rewarding him,” I said. In the end Palmerston apologized to the King and the affair was hushed up.

Lord John then asked me to receive him at Court, impressing on me that as he was my Foreign Minister, I could do nothing else; so Albert and I complied with icy politeness which only seemed to amuse Palmerston. He was incorrigible.

When the Austrian General Haynau was visiting England, Palmerston made his sympathy with rebels plain. Haynau had suppressed the people's rising in Hungary with great cruelty. We did hear in the Press that he had publicly flogged women, and there were many stories of his savagery.

When he was in London he visited a brewery where the draymen set upon him, handled him very roughly, and might even have killed him if the police had not arrived in time.

General Haynau was furious at such treatment and demanded that the offenders be punished.

Lord Palmerston refused to allow this.

“General Haynau is regarded in this country as a criminal,” he said. “He was treated by the draymen as people would treat a callous murderer if they caught him.”

Albert and I discussed the matter at great length.

“He was a visitor to England,” Albert pointed out. “What was done was an insult to Austria, and an apology should be sent immediately.”

I wrote to Lord Palmerston and told him that I wanted him to write an apology and bring it to me for my approval before it was submitted.

When he arrived at the Palace I fancied there was a certain truculence about him, but there always was, as though he was reminding himself— and us—that the Foreign Office took orders from no one—not even the Queen.

I said how much I regretted what had happened.

“It is really a matter for rejoicing,” said Lord Palmerston blandly, “for the police arrived in time. Otherwise the General might not be here to complain of his treatment.”

“Show me the apology,” I said.

He bowed and handed it to me.

It was cleverly worded and almost insolent, I thought. Palmerston had finished by saying that in view of the General's reputation, which had been freely commented upon here, it had been rather unwise of him to visit England.

“You cannot say that,” I said.

I held out the paper to Albert who read it and shook his head vigorously.

“That must be removed,” I said.

“It's too late, Ma'am,” said Palmerston with that impertinent grin of his. “The apology has already been sent.”

“Then there must be another apology. We will say that this was a mistake. Please, Lord Palmerston, prepare a draft and I wish to see this one
before
it is sent.”

“It would not be possible, Ma'am, for your Foreign Secretary to do this.”

“But it is
my
wish. I shall insist.”

“Then if Your Majesty insists, I shall no longer be your Foreign Secretary. Have I Your Majesty's leave to retire?”

“Yes,” I said fiercely.

When he had gone my temper got the better of me. “You must be calm,” said Albert. “The Prime Minister is the only one who can dismiss the Foreign Secretary.”

“I shall insist that he dismisses Palmerston.”

Albert shook his head. “Alas,” he repeated, “it is for the Prime Minister to decide.”

“We must get rid of him.”

“One of these days he will go too far,” said Albert.

“I pray that day may be soon.”

I
CAN ONLY
say that Palmerston was a most flamboyant man. He was always at the center of some controversy. It was not long after the Haynau affair that he was involved in another crisis.

He was, in a manner of speaking, a public hero. The people applauded his actions. “Good old Pam,” they said affectionately. If there was any trouble in any part of the world where he thought the prestige of Britain was threatened, he would send out gunboats to sail up and down the coast of the offending nation; and I have to say it usually had the desired effect. This show of strength was what people liked. Those who one day would be rioting would the next be waving flags and shouting “Rule Britannia.” Gunboat Pam was a hero to them.

It was in the autumn when the Hungarian patriot, Kossuth, visited this country. I did wish these people would stay away. There was no reason why we should be involved in their quarrels.

Kossuth had tried to free Hungary from the Austrian yoke, and when he had failed, thousands of people had fled from Hungary and Poland seeking refuge in Turkey. Austria, with her ally Russia, had demanded that they be sent back.

Why Palmerston must involve us in the matter, I could not see—but Palmerston was a law unto himself. He advised the Sultan of Turkey to give the men refuge; and to show England's feelings in the matter, as was his practice, out came the gunboats to prowl through the Dardanelles. He was not threatening Russia, he explained, he was merely comforting the Turks. “It is like holding a bottle of salts to a lady who has been frightened,” he said. “I am the bottle holder.”

He had wonderful gifts of oratory and when he explained his outrageous actions in Parliament, he always seemed to be able to carry his listeners along with him, so that however hostile they had been at the beginning, he managed to win them over in the end.

As a result Kossuth visited England and the radicals gave him a tumultuous welcome.

“This is dangerous,” said Albert. “No one disputes the fact that Kossuth is a brave man, but he was a rebel, and in the state of the world at the present time, however brave, rebels should not be encouraged.”

Palmerston then declared that not only would he receive Kossuth but he should be a guest in his house.

This was too much. As a private person Palmerston might invite whomsoever he pleased, but not as the British Foreign Secretary.

I sent for Lord John and told him that if Palmerston received Kossuth in his house I would personally dismiss him from Court. On this occasion Lord John agreed with me.

I was delighted. Albert and I congratulated ourselves that we had at last got rid of our enemy.

But not so. When confronted with the ultimatum, Palmerston smilingly agreed that he would not invite Kossuth to his house.

“Opportunist!” I cried. “Where are his finer feelings?”

One would have thought that would have been a lesson to him, but Palmerston was not the sort to learn lessons. He went his own way; he was bold and could do so without harming his career; and when he saw danger, he just turned about. An odious man!

But this twisting and turning could not last.

News came that Louis Napoleon, Napoleon Bonaparte's nephew, who was now President of the French Republic, was proclaimed Napoleon III of France.

I was incensed. How dared these upstarts proclaim themselves royal!

I thought of poor Uncle Leopold and how infuriated this would make him; and how sad too. He must be almost glad that dear Aunt Louise had not lived to see this.

It was a dangerous precedent. Royalty all over Europe must tremble.

Lord John came to see me. His anxiety reflected my own. “It is a very significant step,” he said; and I remembered what Lord Melbourne had said about governments making kings and queens—and realizing that they could as easily unmake them.

“We shall remain aloof,” said Lord John. “We shall not question their right. It is not for us—a foreign power—to do so. But we can remain entirely passive…as though this has not happened.”

I agreed that this was the only thing we could do.

My astonishment was only overshadowed by my fury when I heard what had happened. The Foreign Secretary, without consulting his colleagues,
had sent for the French ambassador and assured him of his cordial feelings for the new Emperor, and his friendly support.

“This time,” said Albert, “I believe he has destroyed himself.”

It was not long before Lord John was with us. He deplored the Foreign Secretary's action, he said. It had put the ambassador, Lord Normanby, in a very embarrassing position. Palmerston was going to find it very difficult to explain to the House.

And to our great joy, he did. He might protest that his words were intended to convey his personal feelings; it would not do. He was the Foreign Secretary and he could not make public pronouncements and then explain them away as personal feelings.

I had written a carefully worded letter to Lord John in which I made it clear that he had been disrespectful to me. I said that he did not explain to me what he proposed to do in a given case, so that I was not sure to what I gave the royal assent. He would alter and modify certain matters, which I thought was a failure of sincerity. I must be informed fully before decisions were taken.

I asked that this letter be shown to Lord Palmerston.

Lord John did more than that. He read it to the House.

This turned the scale against Palmerston and in spite of his usual eloquent explanations of his conduct he was forced to resign.

Everyone was amazed at the decision Lord John had taken to read my letter to the House. It was considered ungentlemanly by some. Lady Palmerston called him “that little blackguard” and Lord John was very unpopular in some quarters. Not so at Court. Nothing could have delighted us more.

I was pleased when Lord Granville was appointed Foreign Secretary.

Lady Palmerston, his “Em” as Palmerston called her, was quite vitriolic in her comments. She gathered together the wits of the day and there they discussed the inadequacies of the new Foreign Secretary. “A little lordling,” said Lady Em, “who now and then whispers a speech about the Board of Trade, but he is very good at dancing attendance on Prince Albert.”

We did not care. We were rid of the enemy.

B
ETWEEN THEM
, A
LBERT
and Stockmar had decided that Mr. Birch must go.

It was true that Bertie was doing a little better than he had been before Mr. Birch's arrival, but, as Stockmar pointed out, progress was not great.

“Bertie is not a scholar,” I said. “But then, nor am I.”

“My dear,” said Albert, “you were in the hands of Baroness Lehzen, and for that reason there is every excuse for you. When you think of the care we have given to Bertie, that is an entirely different case.”

“He seems so happy with Mr. Birch.”

“Happy!” said Albert. “Of course he is happy. He is having a lazy, easy time.”

“I have studied the boy very closely,” said Stockmar.

Albert always listened attentively when Stockmar spoke.

“And,” went on the Baron, “I do not like what I discover.”

My heart sank. I did hate to hear these complaints about Bertie and I had been so pleased to see him happy with Mr. Birch.

I said, “The other children adore him. He is really very popular with them … far more so than Vicky is.”

That stung Albert. He could not bear any of them to be better at anything than Vicky.

“I have no doubt he is very good at childish games,” he said shortly.

“Affie just adores him. He follows him everywhere. I am told that when Affie had an earache, Bertie was the only one who could soothe him.”

“Unfortunately we do not have to train him to be a nurse,” said Albert.

There was nothing I could reply to that. I supposed he was right. Albert always was, and he was sure now that Mr. Birch was not the right tutor for Bertie.

“The Prince of Wales tries to win admiration,” said Stockmar, “and it seems he is quite good at that…particularly among the women. He seems to have a fondness for them and they for him.”

Albert looked very shocked. “A bad sign,” he said.

“Indeed yes,” agreed Stockmar.

“I ask myself what we can do to save him from himself,” went on Albert. “When I think of what lies before… that stupid boy!”

“He is not really stupid, Albert,” I put in. “Just a little lazy perhaps but many boys are like that.”

“My love, Bertie is not many boys.”

“I have been looking about,” said Stockmar, “and I have found a very serious gentleman, a certain Mr. Frederick Gibbs. He is a barrister and
would have no nonsense. I have made him aware that with a character such as that unfortunately possessed by the Prince of Wales, there must be no sparing of the rod.”

Albert thought that was a good plan and we should try Mr. Frederick Gibbs.

I shall never forget poor Bertie's face when he was summoned to us. I saw him look at his father and I could not quite understand the expression. Was it fear? I thought it was something more than that. Dislike? Impossible!

I spoke to him softly. “Mr. Birch will be leaving us, and Mr. Gibbs will take his place.”

My heart smote me. I could not help it. I knew Albert was right, of course, but sometimes the good thing can hurt bitterly even though in the end it turns out to be right. But the misery in Bertie's face unnerved me a little. Had I been alone in this I should have said, “Let us keep Mr. Birch, and make up our minds that Bertie is not going to be clever.”