“I am so pleased,” I said, “that my dear Uncle Leopold has got what he wanted.”

“What pleased me,” said Lord M, “is that Your Gracious Majesty has got what she wants.”

He then went on to talk about letting people know that I had decided to marry.


* * *

I DRESSED MYSELF in one of my plainest gowns. I did not want to look in the least frivolous. I wore my bracelet to which had been attached the miniature of Albert. Then I was ready for the ordeal.

They all looked up at me. I imagined they saw the picture on my wrist. They would be aware that I was holding Lord Melbourne's Declaration and that would tell them the reason why I had come.

Anything Lord Melbourne wrote was always gracefully worded in elegant prose, and so was this. It was a pleasure to read his composition. I told them that I had decided to marry and whom, and that the marriage would be celebrated very shortly.

When I had read the Declaration I walked out of the Council Chamber.

Lord Melbourne came to see me a little later. He was mildly disturbed. I had never seen him more than mildly so even during the Flora Hastings trouble, so I guessed that something rather important had happened.

“It is my fault,” he said. “I did not think it necessary to say that Prince Albert is a Protestant. The Press are making a merry to-do about this. They are saying he is a Catholic, and that it will not be tolerated for a ruler of this country to marry outside the Reformed Faith.”

“But Albert is of the Reformed Faith. How could they possibly think he is a Catholic?”

“Your Uncle Leopold has made a point of marrying his relations all over Europe, and some of those advantageous marriages have been with Catholics. They are suggesting that as no mention was made of the Reformed Faith, Albert may be one of those who has collapsed into Catholicism.”

“That can easily be put right.”

“True. But it shows the temper of the people who are determined to make our way difficult.”

“Why are people so unkind?”

“In the case of the Press they want to sell papers so they are hunting for all sorts of spectacular tidbits. In the case of the Tories, they want to put obstacles in our way. They want to raise issues we have to defend and they are hoping that there will come a time when they will defeat us and make it imperative for us to go to the country.”

I shivered.

“Please, Lord Melbourne, let them know that Albert is a firm adherent of the Reformed Faith.”

“With all speed,” said Lord Melbourne.

I should have been prepared for more trouble.

Although it was easy to prove that Albert was not, and never had been, a Catholic—he was a Lutheran in fact and most certainly therefore of the Reformed Faith—there were other objections. I really believe there are some people who hate to contemplate the happiness of others.

One would have thought that my Uncle Cumberland, now that he was King of Hanover, would have been content to give up all thought of plaguing me. I was no longer a newcomer to the throne; I was the anointed Queen of England—but he was one who never gave up hope.

Naturally I had decided that Albert should be beside me at all ceremonies, and that meant he would take precedence over everyone else at Court, and that he would come before my uncles in order of importance. The Dukes of Cambridge and Sussex understood this and accepted it as natural; but of course Cumberland had to object. He was not only a duke, he was a king; he was the son of my grandfather George III, and but for the ill fortune which had brought my father into the world before him, he would now be on the throne of England. That fact had rankled him throughout his life, and he now began to stir up trouble. He referred slightingly to Albert as a Paper Highness; and he persuaded Cambridge and Sussex to fall in with him.

I was furious and especially so when I heard that the Tories were standing with the dukes. How I loathed Sir Robert Peel—the horrid hypocrite, always pretending to be so good and stirring up trouble for me. When the Duke of Wellington supported him, I was really disgusted and declared that I never wanted to see that old man again.

I had suffered from their insensitivity before, but I had never felt so enraged against them as I did now when their venom was directed at Albert.

Uncle Leopold, having attained his heart's desire, was now writing telling me what must be done. Albert should have a peerage, he said.

When I showed his letter to Lord Melbourne he retorted, “Parliament would never agree to that. They would be afraid that if he were in the Lords he would attempt to rule the country. They do not forget that he is a German.”

I knew they did not forget. They referred to him in the Press as the German Princeling.

I said to Lord Melbourne, “They seem to think that no one is any good unless they are English.”

“A common trait among nations,” he commented.

“They are saying that there have been too many Germans in the royal family.”

“There have been a large number since the coming of George the First.”

“What would people have? Stuarts? I cannot remember that they were so good for the country. One of them brought about a civil war. Is that what they want?”

“Nations never want what they have, and look back nostalgically to those days which seem rosy because they are too far back to be seen clearly.”

“I do wish they would be reasonable.”

“That is what we must all try to be.”

“Albert is worthy of the highest rank. I shall defy them all by making him King Consort.”

Lord Melbourne looked at me with that half tender, half exasperated look I knew so well.

“That could never be,” he said quietly. “Parliament cannot confer kingship.”

“And why not?” I retorted. “Since Albert will be the husband of the Queen, does not that make him a king?”

“No, Ma'am, it does not. He is a prince and cannot be anything else. If you allow Parliament to make kings, you could not be surprised if now and then they decided to un make them.”

“The French did. And what of Charles the First?”

“Your Majesty cannot be thinking of revolutions and civil wars. We want none of those here. There is no question regarding this matter. Prince Albert cannot be King Consort.”

“He cannot have a peerage! He cannot be a king! Then what can he be?”

“What he will be, Ma'am, is the Queen's husband.”

I talked about his allowance. Lord Melbourne said that it was customary to give the monarch's consort £50,000 a year, and he would ask the Parliament to agree to this. I was a little mollified because I knew that Albert was by no means rich. He had only £2,500 a year, so £50,000 would be wealth to him.

I longed to write and tell him that he was going to be rich. I was so certain that there would be no impediment, that I almost did. Lord Melbourne had reminded me that £50,000 had been awarded to Queen Anne's husband, George of Denmark, and to William of Orange, consort of Queen Mary, although William of Orange was, of course, a king in his own right.

It did not occur to me that Albert should fail to receive the same.

Lord Melbourne came to me in a subdued mood.

“I regret to tell Your Majesty that Parliament refuses the grant of £50,000. They will agree only to £30,000.”

I was outraged. “This is monstrous,” I cried.

“Alas, the government was beaten by one hundred and four votes.”

“£30,000 when that oaf, Queen Anne's husband, was given £50,000! How can they be so stupid? What good was that man to the country? And dear, clever Albert …” I was so angry. I turned to Lord Melbourne, “How could you allow it? You should have stopped it. You are the Prime Minister.”

“Your Majesty will know that it is not in the Prime Minister's power to go against the majority.”

“We must insist.”

Lord Melbourne just shook his head.

“Is it so very much more?” I demanded.

“£20,000 to be precise.”

“I know that!” I shouted. “It is nothing…nothing… compared with the money in the country. It is done to insult Albert … and me. How can I tell him?”

“I do believe,” said Lord Melbourne, “that Prince Albert, if he knew the circumstances, would be the first to understand.”

“What circumstances?”

“The state of the country. We are not very prosperous at this time. There is a great deal of unemployment. The Chartists are making a nuisance of themselves and they have their supporters. It would not do to bestow large sums of money on—forgive me, Your Majesty, but that is how people would see it—impoverished foreigners, while our own people are in need.”

I stared at him. I knew there had been troubles, but Lord Melbourne had always made light of them. The Duchess of Sutherland was always trying to interest me in what Lord Melbourne called “causes.” “They give the idle something to do and feel good about,” he had said. I had been interested in Lord Shaftesbury, who had made great efforts to improve conditions in the mines and had brought to light the terrible fate of chimney sweeps. But when I had talked to Lord Melbourne about this he had said that Shaftesbury had been quite cruel to his own children and that charity should begin at home. Lord Melbourne had mentioned these matters lightly, and then he had been quite amusing about some aspects, and I had not thought very seriously about them.

Now it seemed different. It was brought home to me. I remembered the poor man to whom I had given the money I had saved for the big doll. I just hated to see beggars in the streets and always wanted to give to them. I could not bear the thought of little boys going up chimneys and children in the mines.

That sobered me considerably and made me forget my anger about the refusal of the Tories to give Albert his £50,000.

“Yes,” I said slowly, “I do see that.”

I wondered what poor Albert was thinking because he would now know what was going on. I feared he might experience some humiliation, which was the last thing I wanted. I was sure he would understand about his allowance. He would be the first to realize the needs of the people.

He accepted these insults stoically and wrote to me about his household. It was at this time that I began to realize what strict moral standards Albert had. I believe, in his heart, he did not approve of Lord Melbourne who had been cited twice as the lover of married women and had a stormy marriage. He would have heard about the Byron scandal; and like so many very good people who could not bear a breath of scandal, felt that all those concerned in such cases were tainted, even though they might be innocent parties. I did not feel like that; but then I was not so very good.

Albert thought that his household could be composed of both Whigs and Tories. He thought it was wrong to have one party predominant. This was a faint criticism of my household, which was entirely Whig. He always wanted members of his household to be completely moral.

When I put this before Lord Melbourne, he smiled wryly but was very firm.

“There could not be two households made up of different political leanings,” he said. “Your Majesty has seen the disaster brought about by this sort of thing under your own roof—yours and your mother's.”

I agreed with that.

“Well then,” he said, “there should be one household, and I do not think Your Majesty would wish to people that with Tories.”

“I would not endure them in my household.”

“You are the Queen. It is your decision. The Prince should have his own private secretary but he and I can share one for the time being. George Anson is a very worthy fellow.”

“It is good of you to offer to share him with the Prince. I will write to Albert at once.”

Albert's reaction was immediate. He did not think it was a good idea for him to share the Prime Minister's secretary. There was another matter. He believed that George Anson was up half the night dancing. That seemed to Albert a very frivolous occupation for the holder of such an important post.

I was resentful. I liked to stay up half the night dancing, and I had a responsible post. Sometimes I felt that Albert forgot I was the Queen of England. He would have to learn that I knew far more of my country than he possibly could; and it was no use talking about being fair to both political parties and allowing the hated Tories into the Palace. He did not know how odious they could be.