How very amusing, thought the Queen, and when her Prime Minister called and they had discussed State matters she would enjoy settling down to hear of his early struggles and the great excitement he had felt when his book Vivian Grey was published.

He told her how he had met Lord Melbourne at Caroline Norton’s house.

‘Dear Lord Melbourne,’ said the Queen.

‘A very civilised gentleman,’ commented Disraeli. ‘He asked me what I wanted to be in life and I said Prime Minister.’

‘How prophetic!’

Then he told her of his marriage and his devotion to Mary Anne, which touched the Queen deeply. It was wonderful, she said, in this age to find a really happily married couple.

She spoke of Bertie and hoped all was well between him and Alix. Did the Prime Minister think that the Princess of Wales was somewhat neglected by her husband and were people noticing that this was so?

The Prime Minister replied that the Prince of Wales always behaved with the utmost consideration to his wife in public.

‘Ah, but in private?’ insisted the Queen.

‘I am sure the Prince would never be anything but charming, in private or public.’

‘Is it possible to neglect charmingly?’

‘Absolutely!’ said the Prime Minister smiling so that the Queen felt she had been very witty.

‘All the same,’ she went on, ‘I do not like his friendship with the Mordaunts. The wife I have heard is rather flighty and the Prince is seen with her more than with her husband. And then there is that actress: what’s her name? Hortense Schneider.’

‘The Prince is gregarious by nature.’

‘His father would be grieved if he were here. At least it is a relief that he doesn’t have to suffer that.’

‘And if he were here how delighted he would be by your book, M’am.’

The Queen smiled. She really was rather delighted with her venture into authorship. Arthur Helps, a very clever man and so useful, as his name implied, had edited it for her and Messrs Smith, Elder and Company had just produced her Leaves from the Journal of Our Life in the Highlands, which was taken of course from what she had written at the time. It was enjoying a success which gave her great pleasure.

‘Ah,’ said Disraeli roguishly. ‘I know exactly how we authors feel when we see our work in print and the public all agog to read it.’

The term ‘we authors’ gave her such pleasure, for after all it was true. She was not of course an author in the sense that Mr Disraeli was, but nevertheless she had produced Leaves.

‘I found the dedication so poignant,’ said Disraeli and he quoted in a very moving voice: ‘To the dear memory of him who made the life of the writer bright and happy, these simple records are lovingly and gratefully inscribed.’

‘So you remembered it word for word,’ said the Queen softly.

‘M’am, I can never forget it. So much is said in so few words. In that seemingly simple sentence is compressed twenty years of perfect marriage.’

‘How well you understand! But then you are as fortunate as I was.’

Disraeli wiped his eyes with perfect composure.

It was so pleasant to have such a man for her friend, thought the Queen.

When she left for Osborne, she asked him to continue to write to her, not only on political matters – just his clever chatty letters which told her so much. A Queen did not want to be left in the dark.

He promised and of course he kept his promise. Her letters were a delight, he told her. It was two writers who communicated though a Queen and a Prime Minister.

When the primroses were out at Osborne she gathered a quantity and sent them to him.

‘I thought you might like these, particularly as I gathered them myself.’

He had always delighted in them, he told her, and from now on they would be his favourite flower.


* * *

The Irish question which obsessed Mr Gladstone was threatening the first Disraeli ministry. Gladstone wished to dis-establish the Irish Church and there was a great deal of opposition in Ireland. As for Disraeli, he told the Queen that the Irish question had not really been acute since the famine and he was certain that the Fenian uprisings had been aggravated by foreigners and that they would die out of their own accord. His idea was to let the Irish solve their own problems without too much interference from Her Majesty’s Government. Mr Gladstone did not agree with him.

It was a very uneasy situation for the new government and none knew better than the Prime Minister how insecure was his position.

He had an idea that if the Prince and Princess of Wales visited Ireland some good might come of it.

The Queen said she was always uneasy when Bertie was out of the country for she could never be sure what he was up to.

‘His Highness has been remarkably successful as our ambassador abroad and the Princess is so attractive that no one, not even the Irish, could fail to be charmed by her.’

‘She is pregnant, you know,’ said the Queen.

‘But the child is not due until July.’

The Queen hesitated; she could usually be persuaded by the Prime Minister who made her feel that the suggestion in the first place had been in her mind.

‘I am sure a great deal of good will come of it,’ went on Disraeli. ‘His Highness’s method of living does not appeal to Your Majesty because it’s shall we say a little riotous now and then, but I know you are thinking, M’am, with me that it is an excellent plan for the Prince to do something at which he excels and he has proved himself to be a wonderful ambassador.’

‘The government would have to pay his expenses.’

Disraeli wilted a little; then he said: ‘I am sure this could be agreed upon.’

And so on the 15th of April Alix and Bertie boarded the Victoria and Albert at Holyhead bound for Kingstown.


* * *

The Irish visit was a great success. Bertie was charming as usual and managed to say the right thing at the appropriate time and his gaiety very quickly endeared him to the Irish. His appearances at the races were applauded; so was his natural bonhomie. The Prince of Wales was a good fellow and for a time the Irish were ready to forget their grievances. The brilliant banquets and balls which were given in his honour were a long way from the hungry forties and Disraeli calling on the Queen congratulated her on the inspired notion to send the Prince to Ireland.

‘Which was your notion,’ said the Queen with a smile.

‘I sensed it was in Your Majesty’s mind,’ replied the Prime Minister, ‘laying it on with a trowel’, as he would have said.

She was far too sensible and honest to believe him but it was gallant and courteous to put it like that.

When the royal pair arrived home the Queen sent for them to come to Windsor and she congratulated them on the success of their tour.

‘Mr Disraeli is so pleased,’ she told them.

She studied Alix anxiously. The dear sweet girl seemed so much better, although she confessed that her knee was still stiff. She walked with a limp which because of her elegance was somehow attractive.

Others thought so too because it became quite a fashion to walk with what began to be called the Alexandra Limp.


* * *

Poor Mr Disraeli was going through a very uneasy time and this caused a great deal of worry to the Queen. That irritating Mr Gladstone would interfere in Ireland and he insisted on bringing forward his Bill for the dis-establishment of the Irish Church. Disraeli, who had taken over a weak ministry from Lord Derby, was in no position to resist.

He came to see her at Windsor. He kissed her hand fervently and gazed at her with mournful eyes which warned her that this idyll which had begun to mean so much to them both was threatened.

‘Alas, M’am,’ said Mr Disraeli. ‘Gladstone has defeated us on the Irish question with a majority of sixty-five.’

‘This is intolerable.’

‘It has to be tolerated, I fear.’

‘What do you propose to do?’

‘Offer my resignation.’

‘Which would mean that That Man would be my Prime Minister.’

‘I fear so, M’am.’

‘I should not like that at all.’

‘Alas, but it is a state of affairs which Your Majesty would be forced to accept. There is only one alternative. Your Majesty could refuse to accept my resignation. Then there would have to be a general election. This could not take place for six months because that time would be needed to arrange the new constituencies which are the result of the new Reform Bill.’

‘That is the answer,’ said the Queen. ‘You have offered me your resignation, which I refuse to accept. You will remain in office until the election in which time perhaps opinions may have changed.’

Disraeli bowed.

‘Very well, M’am. I shall continue for a little longer to be Your Majesty’s Prime Minister.’


* * *

How much longer would these pleasant têtes-à-têtes continue? It reminded her so much of the past when Lord Melbourne had been defeated in the House by Sir Robert Peel. How she had disliked Sir Robert although she had come to respect him. Albert had made her see Sir Robert differently. But she would never feel that respect for Mr Gladstone. There was a man whom she could never like. His wife was a quiet, pleasant creature; she had been Catherine Glynne before the marriage, a member of a very good Whig family who owned Hawarden Castle in Flintshire. It was said that she was devoted to her husband. Poor Mrs Gladstone!

John Brown told her that she was foolish to be so drear. He implied of course that as long as he was there to see to her needs she would be well looked after. It was true, she knew; but she would miss Mr Disraeli; and the idea of his party replaced by Mr Gladstone’s was most depressing.

As if she had not enough to worry about without Mr Gladstone’s bringing in his dis-establishment of the Irish Church! It always came back to Bertie. He was becoming just a little truculent. Success went to his head and he had been over-congratulated about the Irish tour.

She was really worried about him. She was constantly hearing snippets of gossip, and she did wonder, as was often suggested to her, whether they were a little exaggerated.

The idea of the heir to the throne – her throne – dancing attendance on an actress as he apparently did on that Hortense Schneider and prowling round her dressing-room when The Grand Duchess of Gerolstein, in which the enchanting actress was appearing, was over. And it was not as though this actress was the only one; Alix should really try to keep a firm hold on him. Alix was a little careless. Her inability to appear anywhere on time was really rather trying. That … and Bertie’s escapades together with the dissension the terrible wars had caused in the family, and the impending ministerial crises made life very hard to bear.

Now Bertie was writing to her in a very arrogant way, merely because for his own good she had remonstrated with him about attending the Ascot races every day. It was not necessary, she pointed out. Put in an appearance, yes. But to be there every day and gamble as he did was quite unnecessary – more than that it was undesirable.

He pointed out that every year she gave him a lecture on the races and it was a ceremony to which the people looked forward especially when the royal carriages were driven up the course. It would be very uncivil if he stayed at home and would be frowned on.

Was this a reproach to her because she shut herself away so much? Bertie was the last one to understand how she suffered over the loss of Beloved Albert. After all if he had not gone to Cambridge to remonstrate with Bertie he might be here today. He had written:

‘I am always most anxious to meet your wishes, dear Mama, in every respect, and I always regret if we are not quite

d’accord

– but as I am past twenty-eight and have some knowledge of the world and society you will, I am sure, at least I trust, allow me to use my own discretion in matters of this kind …’

If only Albert were here, how different it would be. She and Bertie would never be d’accord, as he put it.

She felt sad and lonely. The children were all growing up and away from her. Louise would be the next to marry. And now Mr Disraeli was going to be replaced by unsympathetic Mr Gladstone whom she could never like.