Виктория Холт - The Queen’s Husband

* * *

It was impossible to keep the matter of Vicky’s betrothal secret. The press wanted to know what Fritz had been doing at Balmoral. Clearly his visit had had some ulterior motive; the Princess Royal was destined to marry a German – just as her mother had!

The Princess was confirmed and, thought her mother, looked so touchingly innocent in her pure white dress and she made her responses perfectly. Yes indeed, Vicky was no longer a child.

‘It is always Germans,’ said the press. And who was this Prince Frederick William of Prussia? The heir to a little German kingdom! It was obvious whose hand was in this. Once Germans had a foot in at the door they were ready to take charge of the house.

The Prussians resented the English attitude and there were comments in their press. Why all this fuss? Who was their future King marrying? The Princess Royal of England! They would first like to know what dowry was offered before they crowed too much about its being a good match, and if she married the Prince, the Princess Royal would have to come to Germany to do so.

When the Queen heard this she was furious.

‘I suppose you agree with this!’ she accused Albert. ‘After all you are a German. And Stockmar too, I suppose he thinks it is right and proper for an English Princess to be overawed at the prospect of marrying into Prussia! If it is too much trouble for a Prince of Prussia to come over here to marry the daughter of the Queen of England, he had better not come at all.’

‘Now,’ soothed Albert, ‘you are getting worked up again. There is no need to. Of course Fritz will come over here for the wedding.’

The Prince of Wales provided a problem. Mr Gibbs’ stern rule seemed to have profited him little and he had made scarcely any progress with his studies. He was deliberately wilful. Alfred had wanted to go into the Navy and although this was not Albert’s original idea for his future, he believed that if the boy was so enamoured of the life he would probably do well at it. When he was sent to Royal Lodge there had been a terrible scene between the two brothers because they were to be parted. They had wept bitterly and although it was pleasant to see their affection, Bertie’s behaviour afterwards was worse than ever. He had taken to teasing the younger children and there were often battles.

Leopold was also wilful and could be very naughty at times and sometimes in a fit of temper he would hurt himself and there would be those worrying haemorrhages. What could one do with Leopold but whip him? The Queen’s mother, who adored the children and spoilt them all, said that she hated to hear the children crying after a beating. It hurt her, she declared, as much as it did them and she simply could not bear it.

‘I have too many of them to be upset by the tears of one or two,’ said the Queen grimly. ‘I daresay Feodora and Charles were good children and rarely cried, and as for myself I don’t think I did much either … not tears of anger in any case.’

‘You had your storms,’ said the Duchess. ‘And little Leo is a good boy at heart. He’s so delicate and that could make him peevish. In fact they are all good children at heart.’

‘Even Bertie?’ said the Queen.

‘Even Bertie,’ answered the Duchess firmly.

The Queen sighed. ‘How I wish I could believe that!’

It was so easy for grandmothers; they had the pleasure of children without the anxieties they created.

And then to her dismay, the Queen was once more pregnant.

* * *

There was no end to trouble. It now came from the East because the Chinese had boarded a ship and after having arrested the crew as pirates had torn down the British flag. Although this particular ship was registered in Hong Kong it was not at all certain that it had a right to fly the flag, but no matter, the flag must not be insulted, so the British Plenipotentiary in Hong Kong saw no reason why reprisals should not be taken.

Admiral Seymour was given orders to destroy certain Chinese forts and as a result there was an attempt to kill the Plenipotentiary in Hong Kong.

A dispute in the House of Commons arose about the manner in which the government had acted and there was to be a motion led by Cobden and Bright to censure it. Lord Palmerston was dubious about its outcome and felt it very probable that it would succeed. The thought of Lord Palmerston’s being forced to resign threw the Queen into a panic.

She had almost forgotten that a short time ago she had been eager to keep Palmerston out at all costs. The manner in which the Crimean War had been brought to a conclusion had decided her that her old enemy was the strong man the government needed. It had been the same with Sir Robert Peel. She had hated him at first and had later been forced to admit his admirable qualities. Now this was the case with Palmerston.

‘He cannot resign,’ she cried. ‘Oh dear, how tiresome these people are! When they have a strong man at the head they do their best to get rid of him. I cannot face a crisis now.’

Albert tried to soothe her. He was finding her pregnancies almost as trying as she did herself. The baby was due in a month’s time and as she had put on weight considerably she was even more ungainly than usual; and she was aware of it.

‘My love, a vote of censure might force the Prime Minister to resign,’ said Albert.

‘But he must be told that I do not wish it. I really cannot endure it at this time. Do these people realise that I have to face my ordeal in a few weeks’ time? And to thrust this at me with all it entails! They must be made to see. Albert, I cannot face a crisis like this. I feel so humiliated. This will be the ninth time.’

‘Will you leave this to me?’ asked Albert.

‘Oh, please, Albert, yes.’

Albert wrote to the Prime Minister:

My dear Lord Palmerston,

The Queen has this moment received your letter giving so unfavourable an account of the prospects of tonight’s division. She is sorry that her health imperatively requires her going into the country for a few days … The Queen feels herself physically unable to go through the anxiety of a Ministerial Crisis and the fruitless attempts to form a new Government out of the heterogeneous elements of which the present Opposition is composed, should the Government feel it necessary to offer their resignation, and would on that account

prefer any other alternative

.

But Lord Palmerston could not be dictated to by the Queen’s temporary physical disabilities. His government was defeated; he went to the country and was returned with a large majority. The Queen was delighted; and by that time she had given birth to her ninth child, a daughter, Beatrice, and was once more helped through the birth by ‘blessed chloroform’.

* * *

She had reason later that year to be glad that Lord Palmerston was in office. There were rumours of unrest in India. Many reasons were given for this. Discipline had been relaxed; there had been an effort to convert Indians to the Christian faith, and marriage for Hindu widows had been made legal.

British prestige abroad had waned in the last years because of difficulties in Afghanistan and the reverses of the war in the Crimea. It was said that what finally decided the Indians to revolt was the greasing of cartridges with the fat of cows and pigs which they considered sacred. The Mutiny had started.

When the Queen heard what was happening she was in despair. She wept when she heard of atrocities committed against women and children; she stormed at the incompetence which had allowed such carnage to take place. Why was not something done?

She sent for Lord Palmerston; she wanted to know why there was this inactivity.

Lord Palmerston presented the facts in his bland manner. It was deplorable. There was something wrong with their government of India and they must rectify it; but first they must have forces sent out to India; this revolt must be quelled with all speed. It must be realised that the British could not be treated in this way with impunity.

‘You will do this! You will do that!’ cried the Queen. ‘But what are you doing? If I were in the House of Commons, Lord Palmerston, I would tell you what I think of some of you.’

‘It is as well for those of us with whom Your Majesty does not agree, that Your Majesty is not in the House of Commons,’ said Lord Palmerston with a smile.

But she knew that if there was a man who could deal with this horror that man was Lord Palmerston.

She wrote to Uncle Leopold:

We are in sad anxiety about India, which engrosses all our attention. Troops cannot be raised fast enough. And the horrors committed on the poor ladies – women and children – are unknown in these ages and make one’s blood run cold. Altogether the whole is so much more distressing than the Crimea – where there was glory and honourable warfare and where the poor women and children were safe …

Lord Palmerston did not believe in leniency, which would be construed as weakness; and this seemed to be the case, for the Mutiny was suppressed.

The Queen was worried about Lord Palmerston. ‘He is so old,’ she said to Albert, ‘and what shall we do without him?’

She scolded Lord Palmerston for not taking greater care of his health.

Whenever she did so a puckish look would be visible on that old painted face, and the Queen was fully aware of the time when she so disliked him that she wished him anywhere – dead if need be – anywhere to keep him out of the Houses of Parliament.

Ever since her engagement Vicky had been treated as an adult and that meant that on days when there were no guests the Queen and Albert sat down to dinner with only their eldest daughter for company. In the days before the engagement Vicky had been in the nursery with her brothers and sisters, but now she was soon to be a bride.

The Queen had recovered from the birth of Beatrice and could now give all her attention to Vicky’s coming marriage. Her feelings were mixed. Sometimes she would look at the radiant young girl and think of herself on the point of marrying Albert. And almost immediately the babies had started to come. She trusted it would not be like that with Vicky. She must wait a while. A pity that she was marrying so young. On the other hand she did miss those meals she and Albert had taken alone. A third person could spoil the intimacy even though it was one’s own daughter. Albert’s devotion to Vicky and his deep interest in all her concerns did not help because she fancied he did not resent their daughter’s presence in the least. On the contrary he could not have too much of her company.

Albert had designed a course of study for her. Nothing pleased him more than organization and when it concerned his family so much the better. Vicky must study history; he would map out a course for her. With her intelligence she would find it all absorbing and it would be of inestimable value to her. They would talk in German together so that she would be perfect at the language; she was very good already, like all the children, having spoken it in the nursery.

It was small wonder that the Queen at these informal meals felt a little shut out.

‘At least,’ she said to Albert after Vicky had retired one night, ‘when she is married I shall have you to myself for a while.’

‘But I am always with you,’ protested Albert.

‘You are constantly at your desk or arranging things on committees.’

‘My love, that is our work … yours and mine.’

‘And then,’ she went on, ignoring the interruption, ‘when we are together, you scarcely have a word for me because your attention is all for your daughter.’

‘You will be thankful to be rid of her,’ he said incredulously.

‘Albert, how dare you say such a thing!’

‘It seems so.’

‘My daughter … my child of whom I think constantly! I am afraid for her … afraid that she will soon be having one child after another which has been my fate. Nine! Just imagine that. Beatrice is the ninth.’

‘There is no need for me to imagine it,’ said Albert calmly. ‘I am fully aware of the number of children I have.’

‘You have! Yes, but who has to bear them … and all the discomforts that go with them?’