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.


* * *

BETWEEN THEM, ALBERT 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.”

“Well, Bertie,” I said gently.

“I…I…Mr. B…b…,” stammered Bertie.

Albert looked exasperated.

“I thought we had rid ourselves of that stammer. Haven't you learned to speak yet?”

“Poor Bertie,” I said. “It is a little shock. But it is all for the best.”

“You should be grateful to Baron Stockmar who has toiled so hard on your behalf,” said Albert. “He and I have worked out a course of lessons. I can assure you we have given great care to this and you should be grateful.”

“Thank Papa, Bertie,” I prompted.

Bertie said, “Is Mr. B—Birch going?”

Albert looked exasperated.

“That is what Papa has been telling you, Bertie,” I said.

“But… I—I love Mr. Birch.”

“Yes,” I said quickly, for I could see that Albert was getting irritated. “He is a good man. Papa and the Baron chose him for you. They would not have chosen him otherwise.”

I knew Bertie was going to burst into tears so I told him to go to his room.

“He is quite childish,” said Albert in exasperation.

I could not get Bertie out of my mind. I kept seeing the misery on his little face.


* * *

I DECIDED TO see Mr. Birch alone. I felt that was necessary. When Albert was there I found myself thinking what he thought. I wanted to be by myself… absolutely…even if I was wrong.

Mr. Birch had accepted the termination of his engagement with dignity and I saw that he was thinking of Bertie rather than himself, which made him bold and I sensed that he spoke out of the depth of his emotions, and, as an emotional person myself, I understood him.

He said, “The Prince of Wales is misunderstood. He is not backward, though he is not brilliant. He will never be a scholar, but he has many good attributes. He has a charming nature for one thing. He is affectionate. He needs affection as we all do—especially children.”

I nodded, thinking of dear Lehzen in my childhood and Uncle Leopold; and how fortunate I had been in spite of Albert's belief that I had been badly brought up by Lehzen. At least Lehzen had loved me.

“I have never believed that severe punishment brought out the best in children,” went on Mr. Birch. “In the whole of my career I have never found it so.”

“I think that is where your methods have not entirely pleased the Prince and Baron Stockmar.”

“I have had results.”

“Yes… but Bertie is still not as advanced as his sister.”

“They are different children, Your Majesty. Their talents lie in different directions. The Prince of Wales is inventive; he is quick-witted.”

“The Prince and I have not noticed that.”

“No because …,” Mr. Birch lifted his shoulders and went on, “I am sorry to have failed Your Majesty. I shall be sorry to leave the Prince, but I hope he will be happy.”

“I am sure he will realize in time that everything we do is for his good.”

Mr. Birch made another attempt to speak for Bertie. “He has great gifts. He is kind-hearted, fond of fun; he can make himself loved. Prince Alfred and Princess Alice adore him. He is so kind and gentle with them. Please, Ma'am, do not allow him to be treated with over-severity. It is not the way.”

I said, “You are a good man, Mr. Birch, and I know you have tried to do everything you can for the Prince of Wales. I appreciate that. I could wish …”

I turned away. He was beginning to infect me with his emotion. He was even making me think that Albert and Stockmar might be wrong. I must not think that for it could not be true. Albert was always right. Bertie was lazy. Naturally he loved Mr. Birch, who had never applied the cane and had let him go his slothful way.