Victoria Victorious: The Story of Queen Victoria (47 page)

A pleasant way of doing one's duty, I thought.

A
VERY SAD
thing happened soon after our trip to France. Lord Melbourne had a stroke. I was desolate when I heard the news and immediately wrote to him in terms of the utmost affection.

Fortunately it was only a slight one, but I wanted to hear frequently of his progress and for him to know that I was thinking of him. I wrote that I should never forget what he had done for me when I was young. He would always be my very dear friend.

I was delighted when he wrote that, apart from one or two small inconveniences, he was almost himself; and I wrote back at once and told him he must come and see me as soon as he was well enough to come up from Brocket.

When he did come, I was rather saddened, though he was as ebullient as ever, and soon his pithy remarks had me laughing almost as much as they had in the old days. I noticed with great sadness that he dragged one foot a little and that an arm seemed slightly impaired. I asked if he was taking care of himself and he said the best tonic he had—or could ever have—was seeing me so well, so happy with my husband and growing family—a wife, a mother, and a great Queen.

Then he looked at me with that expression I remembered so well; the half-tender amused look, with tears in his eyes; and he was once more my own dear Lord M.

Poor Lord Melbourne! Out of the office he had so much enjoyed; growing old was a great trial, for all that he made such an effort to deny it.

I thought of him often. I wrote to him frequently. I told him I should never forget our friendship—nor must I.

I
N THE
N
EW
Year we heard that Albert's father had died. We had known he had been ill for some time so it was not entirely unexpected.

Poor Albert was desolate. He wept bitterly and talked to me of his great sorrow.

I did remember that Duke Ernest had not been such a good father as he might have been. Although he had self-righteously divorced Albert's mother, his own morals were by no means of the highest. She may have had one lapse and was branded for that, whereas her husband had been completely promiscuous; and his second marriage had not been a success either. Moreover he had pestered Albert to get me to settle an income on him, which would have put me in a very awkward
position had I done so; then he had been furious because we had not called Bertie after him.

No, I could not in my secret heart agree that Albert's father had been such a good man; but Albert seemed to have forgotten his sins now he was dead and so earnestly and so movingly did he talk of his father's virtues to me that I began to believe in them too.

“I shall have to go to the funeral,” said Albert.

“I must come with you,” I replied.

But that was not possible. Sir Robert said it would not do for me to be out of the country at this time.

“It will be the first time we have been separated,” I said. “The thought to me is terrible.”

But in the midst of his grief, Albert had time to think of me.

I was deeply touched when he told me that he had written to Uncle Leopold, asking him if he would spare Aunt Louise to come and stay with me during his absence; and to my great pleasure this was agreed to.

So sadly I said
au revoir
to Albert, and warmly greeted Aunt Louise. It was wonderful to talk to her about the children.

I was a little annoyed because I was pregnant again and although, as I explained to Aunt Louise, it was wonderful to have children, and so many kings and queens suffered because they could not, I did feel that longer intervals between the bearing of them would have been more desirable.

Aunt Louise helped to lighten the days of separation. Albert and I wrote frequently. I treasured his letters; they mirrored the love we had for each other.

He wrote from Dover.

“Every step takes me farther from you—not a cheerful thought.”

There followed another letter immediately.

But the one I liked best came from Cologne.

“Your picture has been hung everywhere so you look down on me from the walls…”

Of course they were delighted to see him there. They loved him dearly and that did not surprise me.

“Could you witness the happiness my return gave my family,” he wrote, “you would have been amply repaid for the sacrifice of our separation. We have spoken so much of you…

“Farewell, my darling, and fortify yourself with the thought of my speedy return. God's blessing upon you and the dear children…”

There was no doubt in my mind that Albert realized how very much I missed him.

Aunt Louise returned home and Albert was due back at Windsor.

What a joyous reunion! We clung together. The absence was almost worthwhile for the pleasure of seeing each other again. He must go to the nursery; he must marvel over Vicky's charm and cleverness, sigh a little over Bertie's backwardness, and delight in Fatima's placid smile.

Afterward, when we were alone, he told me of the visit; how sad it had been; how he had grieved, remembering his dear Papa who was now laid to rest.

“And how was Ernest?” I asked. “He is, of course, the Duke now.”

“Oh, Ernest was much the same as usual.”

“I hope he is happy in his marriage and has given up his old ways.”

Albert was not sure of that. His stepmother—of whom he had been very fond—had been delighted to see him; and his grandmother had been overwhelmed with emotion.

“But it was sad for her,” said Albert, “for she knew I should soon have to leave her.”

“They all wanted to know about the children, I suppose.”

“Oh yes, we talked of them a great deal, and I remembered some of Vicky's quaint sayings. They were much amused. You would have smiled to see them plying me with questions. My grandmother still calls me her little
Alberichen
.”

“She must love you dearly.”

“She does indeed. I saw Stockmar.”

“How delighted he must have been!”

“Oh, he was. I often think what we owe him. He has been of great help to us both.”

I agreed fervently.

“Of course he is with his family now and that is what he likes. I have
hinted that we should like to see him here. I talked to him of Bertie. I am rather anxious about that boy.”

“Lady Lyttelton thinks highly of him.”

“She is rather a sentimental woman. She is fond of the child.”

“I am glad she is.”

“Yes, yes. But Bertie needs discipline. He will have great responsibilities.”

“Yes…in time.”

“He will have to be trained for them.”

Albert's lips tightened a little. “It is amazing,” he said. “
I
have scarcely been treated with honor in this country.”

“All that is changing, Albert. I have tried so hard …”

“I know that, my love, but they still look on me as the outsider, the German.”

“People are like that.”

“I am the Queen's husband… that is all. It is amazing to contemplate that that stupid little boy can take precedence over me.”

“Oh…Bertie…I hadn't thought of it.”

“But he will, of course. The Prince of Wales is of greater importance than the Queen's husband.”

“Dear Albert, I wish I could make it otherwise.”

“Oh, it is of no importance. But it is just ironical… that is all.”

But it was important to him, I could see; and I was so sorry and wished I could have made him King. I would have done so immediately if that were possible.

“So,” he went on, “Bertie must be disciplined. Stockmar would know exactly how to handle him.”

“We must try to persuade Stockmar to come,” I said.

I
T WAS MY
twenty-fifth birthday. I was getting old. Quite a matron. I would soon be the mother of four children.

Albert lovingly congratulated me and brought me his birthday present.

I cried out in joy for it was a portrait of himself. He looked so handsome—but of course not so handsome as he really was. I told him I could not have anything I liked more.

In the background of the picture the artist had painted a group of
angels, their rosy fingers holding a medallion. The words on this were,
“Heil und Segan.”

“Health and blessing, my darling,” said Albert.

I kissed the portrait, at which he laughed, well contented.

That was a very happy birthday.

A
LMOST IMMEDIATELY AFTERWARD
we heard that Nicholas the First of Russia was on his way to visit us. I was amazed and not a little disconcerted for my pregnancy had advanced to the seventh month, and at such a time I had neither the strength nor the inclination for such a visit.

Sir Robert said we owed this no doubt to my sojourn with Louis Philippe. The Emperor would not want to see too great a friendship between us and the French.

“I really do wish he had not invited himself,” I said. “I hate to be seen like this… and what if he were shot?”

Sir Robert looked startled.

“There are so many anarchists in the world,” I went on, “and the Russians go in for that sort of thing. I do believe he is a very strange man.”

“His visit will be good for relations between this country and Russia,” said Sir Robert.

And Albert agreed with him.

So I must perforce receive the Emperor. He arrived in his ship, the
Black Eagle
, and I took him to Windsor Castle, which seemed to me the most suitable place for the visit. He was most impressed by it, and said, in a rather courtly fashion, that it was worthy of me.

I was always delighted when people admired Windsor. After my initial dislike of it, it had become one of my favorite homes. Albert had made me appreciate it. He had loved it from his first sight of it, and the forest was an enchantment to him as it was becoming to me. I smiled to remember the old days when I had hated to leave London because it always seemed more alive than anywhere I knew. Now it seemed noisy, and I missed the wonderful country air which Albert had taught me to appreciate.

I found the Emperor a very strange man. His appearance was quite frightening; his eyelashes were white and his eyes had a stark staring look so that one could see the whites all around the pupils, which made him
look a little mad. I had heard that in his youth he had been a very handsome man. I could scarcely believe that.

He was a tough soldierly type but extremely courteous to me, though I must say that when he smiled he looked quite malevolent. He certainly had odd manners. In spite of the fact that I gave him a state bedroom in the castle, he sent his valet down to the stables to procure hay. He had brought with him a leather sack and the hay was stuffed into this; and this was his bed. He was most eccentric.

Sir Robert said we must not offend him and show him great honor during his visit as he was politically important. So I gave myself up to the task of entertaining him. He accompanied me on a review in Windsor Park, and I took him to the races and to the opera. I gave a concert in his honor in Buckingham Palace. Fortunately Joseph Joachim was in England at the time, so I engaged him to perform for the Emperor.

I found it all very tiring, due to my condition, and I went through one of those spells of resentment that descended on me during my pregnancies.

But in spite of his odd soldierly ways, I could not have had a more considerate companion than the Emperor; he was obviously impressed by Albert, and told me he had never seen a more handsome young man, who radiated not only nobility but goodness. Nothing pleased me more than when appreciation for Albert was expressed; and when Sir Robert discussed the uneasy state of Turkey with the Emperor, the latter said that he did not want an inch of Turkish soil for himself, but he would not allow anyone else to have any. Sir Robert thought the visit had been well worthwhile. And not only Sir Robert. In spite of the short notice and the inconvenient time it was universally proclaimed a success. It was yet another example of the fact that when one is a queen, one's royal duties must come before personal inclinations.

I
WAS NOW
getting to the unwieldy stages of pregnancy and not inclined to much activity. It was unfortunate that at this time a crisis should arise in the government.

The idea of losing Sir Robert Peel was now almost as alarming to me as, such a short while ago, it seemed, it had been of losing Lord Melbourne.

There was trouble everywhere. Indeed that seemed to be the usual
state of parliaments. I had a notion that politicians were more concerned with their own advantage than they were for the country, for every time some trouble arose the opposition was always ready to put the entire blame for it on the government in power, instead of combining their energies with those of the government in an effort to put it right.