THE PRINCE.
The Queen was married to Prince Albert with every possible circumstance
of pomp and magnificence on February 10th, 1840, in the chapel of St.
James’s Palace. There was a drenching downpour of rain in the morning,
so her subjects, although the sun shone later in the day, did not
learn the expression “Queen’s weather” as early as 1840. Any doubts
the Prince may have entertained as to the popularity of the marriage
with the English people were dispelled by the hearty reception he met
with from the crowd on his landing at Dover, and afterwards in London.
A letter from the Dowager Lady Lyttelton, then a Lady in Waiting,
descriptive of the ceremony, says: “The Queen’s look and manner were
very pleasing, her eyes much swollen by tears, but great happiness in
her countenance; her look of confidence and comfort at the Prince, when
they walked away as man and wife, was very pleasing to see.”
Another account mentions a rather pretty incident: as the Prince and
his bride were returning in their carriage to Buckingham Palace, he
held her hand in his, but in such a way as to leave the wedding-ring
visible to the assembled crowd.
The good effects of the Queen’s marriage soon began to make themselves
felt. The Duchess of Kent had been, almost immediately after the
accession, not without the pang of feeling that her occupation was
gone, and that the child to whom she had devoted herself unceasingly
for eighteen years was taken from her; the Queen was surrounded by
councillors not of her choosing, and was sailing away to regions
of thought and activity where she could not follow. Her daughter’s
marriage and her son-in-law’s thoughtful kindness did much to soothe
these feelings and restore happiness and satisfaction to her heart.
The Prince quickly made a favorable impression upon those with whom
he was brought in contact. The most penetrating observer could detect
in him no trace of coldness or resentment towards those who had taken
an active part in the events detailed in the last chapter. He was
particularly courteous to the Duke of Wellington, who was charmed by
him, and said he had never seen better manners.
Although he bore the rebuffs referred to with perfect good breeding, he
did not forget them. Fourteen years later, after he had been on terms
of the closest intimacy and friendship both with the Duke and Peel, he
brought up the subject in a letter to Stockmar on the probable causes
of an outbreak of hostility against himself, which was very noticeable
in 1854. After enumerating the causes of his unpopularity with the
Protectionists and the Horse Guards, he adds:--
“Now, however, I come to that important substratum of the people,
in which these calumnies were certain to have a great effect. A
very considerable portion of the nation had never given itself the
trouble to consider what really is the position of the husband of a
Queen Regnant. When I first came over here I was met by this want of
knowledge and unwillingness to give a thought to the position of this
luckless personage. Peel cut down my income, Wellington refused me my
rank, the Royal Family cried out against the foreign interloper, the
Whigs in office were only inclined to concede to me just as much space
as I could stand upon. The Constitution is silent as to the Consort of
the Queen, even Blackstone ignores him, and yet there he was, and not
to be done without.”
There can be no doubt as to the difficulties of his position: the least
indiscretion, the least appearance of the usurpation of an authority he
did not legally possess, would have been both exaggerated and bitterly
resented. He was emphatically the wife’s husband, a position which, it
appears, requires more than an average share of magnanimity for a man
to occupy with dignity and ease. His position was one very frequently
occupied by a woman, but very rarely by a man. A bishop’s wife, for
instance, may be a Mrs. Proudie, and goad the most gentle of human
beings into insult and revolt by her arrogant assumption of power;
or she may be her husband’s helper and confidential adviser, and his
right hand in all his work, making friends and winning over enemies in
all directions; to do this needs a good heart, good sense, and tact.
These qualities stood the Prince in good stead; he was, moreover,
strengthened by the aim which he had ever before him, of establishing
the English monarchy on a foundation so firm that the coming storms of
revolution would be unable to shake it.
Politically his position was analogous to that of the Queen’s private
secretary. Previous Sovereigns had had private secretaries of their own
appointment, and the Queen had an absolute right to appoint whom she
chose. It was for her happiness and also for the good of the nation
that she chose her husband, who was also her bosom friend; no one else
could have discharged the duties of the post with so much efficiency.
His firmness, resolution, and self-control would have been remarkable
at any age, but they were especially notable in so young a man. It must
not be forgotten that at the time of his marriage he was six months
under twenty-one. A question arose whether, being under age, he could
be sworn to the Privy Council. But boy as he was in years, he showed
a firmness of character, a grasp of the principles which should rule
his conduct, and a persistence in following them which could not have
been excelled at any age. It was a time, perhaps, when age was less
afraid of youth than it is at present. Delane became editor of _The
Times_ at four-and-twenty. It is only by persistent effort that we
can bring ourselves to believe that two generations earlier Pitt was
really Leader of the House of Commons and Chancellor of the Exchequer,
and had declined to be Prime Minister at three-and-twenty, and became
Prime Minister at five-and-twenty, and held the post uninterruptedly
and with unparalleled power for the next eighteen years. This miracle
has been explained by saying that Pitt was phenomenal; his tutor called
him “Mr. Pitt” when he was seven--he was born old; he did not acquire
caution and judgment, as other people do, with years; he was gifted
with them from his cradle. People have sometimes asked themselves
whether Prince Albert was not “born old” too. It is true we are told
that he had a great fund of drollery in his nature, and a considerable
power of mimicry and a turn for drawing caricatures; we also hear of
one thoroughly boyish prank which he played in 1839, on the very eve
of his engagement--stooping in his travelling carriage when it stopped
to change horses in a little village, so that the inhabitants who
had assembled to see the Prince, saw nothing but his greyhound, Eôs,
looking out of the window. This is exactly what any boy might do; but
he was on the eve of a crisis in his life which caused all boyishness
to be put away. Just as under the weight of a solemn purpose Hamlet
disencumbers himself of all the “trivial fond records” of his youth,
that
“My commandment all alone shall live
Within the book and volume of my brain,
Unmixed with baser matter,”
so the Prince, under the immense responsibilities of his position and
his sense of the difficulty of discharging them, acquired in one
stride, as it were, the qualities which most men arrive at, if they
reach them at all, only after years of experience and effort.
Reference has already been made to his convictions upon the necessity
of preserving the purity of the young Queen’s Court. This was no
effort to himself personally, for he was one of the natures born with
a strong preference for whatsoever things are pure. But in the light
of the scandals of former reigns, he knew the importance, not only of
being free from taint, but of preventing the invention and circulation
of scandalous stories relating to himself and his associates. His
first request about the gentlemen selected to form his household was
that they should be men of good character. He and the Queen always
stipulated for this in regard to those household appointments which
were part of the political patronage of successive Governments. We hear
of this from Greville in his account of the filling of the household
appointments in Sir Robert Peel’s Administration of 1841: “As to
the men, she,” the Queen, “had said she did not care who they were,
provided they were of good character.” A side-light is thrown on the
efficacy of this stipulation by an extract from Lord Shaftesbury’s
Journal, where we read that Peel pressed a household appointment on the
then Lord Ashley, on the express ground that he must fill these places
with men of unblemished character. Lord Ashley grimly records that Lord
----, the hero of a recent scandal, who had himself remarked, “Thank
God, my character is too bad for a household place,” had received a
similar compliment from Peel. Therefore, notwithstanding the express
wishes of the Queen and Prince, it is evident that the aim they had set
before themselves was by no means easy of accomplishment.
In order, not to protect himself, but to protect the throne from
the breath of scandal, the Prince laid down for himself a line of
conduct which must have been very irksome through the degree to which
it infringed his personal freedom. He never went anywhere alone. He
was always accompanied by his equerry. He felt he must not only be
irreproachable, but be able to produce witnesses, if necessary, to
prove that he was so. Mr. Anson, the Prince’s secretary, says that it
was remarked to him in 1842, “by a keen observer of character and by
no means a good-natured one” (possibly Greville), “that it was most
remarkable that the Prince should have been now nearly two years in his
most difficult position, and had never given cause for one word to be
said against him in any respect.”
The idle apprentice very often has something to say not altogether to
the credit of the industrious apprentice; and men have to be forgiven
their good qualities almost as often as their bad. There were not
wanting those who were ready to say that the Prince was--if not a
milksop--at any rate wanting in manliness; and it is rather amusing
to find that he did himself (1843) more good, as far as popularity in
society was concerned, by proving himself a bold rider to hounds, in
the Leicestershire country, than he had done by years of prudence,
caution, and self-effacement.
The difficulties of the Prince’s position were minimized by the
generous confidence and unbounded affection with which the Queen
regarded him. He at once became, and remained till death parted them,
what she herself called her “dearest Life in Life.” She associated him
with herself in all State business that was not strictly ceremonial.
The courtiers quickly appreciated the significance of the fact that
the Queen delighted to honor and elevate him. Her partiality for the
Whigs became a thing of the past. She dissociated herself from party
predilections. Politically, as well as personally, her husband came
first, and it was “staff o’ his conscience” with him that the Sovereign
should be loyal to her Ministers to whatever party they might belong.
Sir Robert Peel, who became Prime Minister in 1841, formed a very high
opinion of the Prince’s strong practical judgment and sagacity, and did
much to encourage the active part which he took in all State business.
Peel and his Foreign Secretary, Lord Aberdeen, were credited with
being Prince Albert’s tutors, in political affairs, and with having
first introduced him into public life. They remarked with satisfaction
how modestly he exercised his ever-increasing authority, and never
gave a decided opinion without first consulting the Queen. By the end
of the Peel Administration the Prince’s association with the Queen
in all State business had become definitely established. It was a
complete partnership; the Ministers always saw the Queen and Prince
together, and “both of them always said _We_--‘We think, or wish, to do
so-and-so; what had we better do?’” &c.
This union was equally close domestically and politically. We have
already seen that to be parted from her husband, even for a day or
two, was a serious trial to the Queen. The Prince went to Liverpool
for a couple of days in 1846, and the Queen wrote to Stockmar in her
husband’s absence, “I feel very lonely without my dear master; and
though I know other people are often separated for a few days, I
feel that it could not make me get accustomed to it.... Without him
everything loses its interest.... It will always be a terrible pang to
me to separate from him, even for a few days, and I pray God never to
let me survive him. I glory in his being seen and loved.” The pathos
of the words in the light of after events needs no emphasis; but no
one who has loved and been loved as she has, should be called unhappy.
It was also to Stockmar that the Prince confided his own most sacred
feelings upon the priceless treasure his marriage had brought him.
Writing to his trusted friend to pour out his grief on the death of
his father, the Duke of Coburg, in 1844, the Prince says: “Just such
is Victoria to me, who feels and shares my grief, and is the treasure
upon which my whole existence rests. The relation in which we stand
to one another leaves nothing to desire. It is a union of heart and
soul, and is therefore noble, and in it the poor children shall find
their cradle, so as to be able one day to insure a like happiness for
themselves.”
When Prince Albert’s political influence first began to be felt, he was
generally supposed to be a Tory; Greville repeatedly speaks of him as
if he were a Tory; but from the wider knowledge which the publication
of his correspondence has given, it is clear that his mind was on many
subjects far in advance of even the Whig statesmanship of the day; for
instance, he was a convinced Free Trader at the time when Melbourne was
declaring that the repeal of the Corn Laws was the most insane proposal
that had ever entered the human brain. He was ardently in favor of
the reform of university education so as to bring the universities
more closely into touch with the needs of modern life. He foresaw that
German unity was the necessary condition of German greatness,[14] and
urged the necessity of the smaller German princes making the sacrifices
requisite to the attainment of this great end, which was not achieved
till nearly ten years after his own death. The Prince was thoroughly
imbued with the sound principle that in politics reform is the best,
indeed the only, safeguard against revolution. His mind, politically,
was not unlike that of Sir Robert Peel, presenting a combination of
Liberal opinions with extreme caution in regard to the time and method
of giving effect to them.
His opinions on matters bearing on religion were wholly free from
narrowness and bigotry. He presented an example of that deepening,
softening, and strengthening of character which modern writers have
described as the special fruit of the Reformation among those peoples
which have really assimilated its principles.[15] His deeply religious
nature was apparent from very early years; in December, 1839, he wrote
from Coburg to the Queen that he was about to take the Sacrament, and
he adds: “God will not take it amiss, if in that serious act, even at
the altar, I think of you; for I will pray to Him for you, and for your
soul’s health, and He will not refuse us His blessing.” All through the
married life of the Queen and Prince, it was their custom when they
received the Sacrament to reserve the day for quietude and privacy.
His sympathies in Church matters were decidedly with the party which
has since been called “Broad.” His influence was always exercised in
support of religious toleration.
In this, as in other matters, the husband and wife were in perfect
accord. In later years her most trusted and confidential friend and
adviser, among Churchmen, was Dean Stanley; and she fully sympathized
with his interpretation of what a National Church ought to be. Highly
as the Queen and Prince appreciated the simplicity and dignity of the
services of the Church of Scotland, they never professed or practised
any approach to Scottish Sabbatarianism. Dr. Wilberforce (afterwards
Bishop of Oxford, and later of Winchester) had attracted the notice of
the Prince by a powerful anti-slavery speech, and he was appointed one
of the Royal Chaplains. Writing from Windsor, after preaching before
the Court on Sunday, February 9th, 1845, he notes in his diary, “Chess
evening, which I regret, not that my own conscience is offended at
it one jot, but that capable of misconstruction.” The views of the
Bishop and the Prince became, as time went on, very widely divergent
on matters relating to religion and Church government; but earlier
in their intercourse they found many subjects in which they were in
hearty accord. The Prince’s views on the functions of the Bishops in
the House of Lords were set forth at length in a remarkable letter to
Dr. Wilberforce, the Dean of Westminster, dated 1845. His opinion was
that the Bishops should not take part in purely political questions,
but should come forward when questions of humanity were at stake, such
as negro emancipation, education, sanitation, recreation, prevention
of cruelty to animals, and factory legislation. “As to religious
affairs,” the Prince added, “he” (the Bishop) “cannot but take an
active part in them; but let that always be the part of a _Christian_,
not a mere _Churchman_; let him never forget the insufficiency of human
knowledge and wisdom, and the impossibility of any man, or even any
Church, to say, ‘I am right, I alone am right.’ Let him therefore be
meek and liberal, and tolerant to other confessions.... He ought to be
a guardian of public morality.... He should likewise boldly admonish
the public, even against its predominant feeling, if this be contrary
to the purest standard of morality.... In this way the Bishops would
become a powerful force in the Lords, and the country would feel that
their presence there supplies a great want, and is a great protection
to the people.”
A letter like this, accompanied as it was by expressions modestly
excusing himself for offering an opinion, is a sufficient revelation of
his character, and of his grasp of principles. It was indeed mainly by
his character that he was able to exercise the influence he did. Dr.
McLeod, in speaking of him after his death, said: “His real strength
lay most of all in his character, or in that which resulted from will
and deliberate choice, springing out of a nature singularly pure, by
God’s grace, from childhood.” It was this which gradually caused him to
stand well with both parties, as the singleness of his aims and life
became apparent. The feeling manifested against him in both Houses of
Parliament before his marriage was changed after closer acquaintance to
one of confidence.
When it was known that the Queen was about to give birth to a child, a
Bill naming the Prince as Regent, in the event of her death leaving an
infant heir, was passed without difficulty, the only dissenting voice
being that of the Duke of Sussex, who felt that the dignity of the
Royal Family would be best promoted by another arrangement. The Prime
Minister assured the Queen that the practical unanimity of Parliament
in naming the Prince as Regent was entirely owing to his own character.
“Three months ago they would not have done it for him.”
Perhaps the smooth passage of the Regency Bill was promoted by another
circumstance. In June, 1840, as the Queen and Prince were driving up
Constitution Hill, in a low carriage, Her Majesty was twice fired at by
a young miscreant named Oxford; neither shot took effect; the Queen
and Prince behaved with admirable courage. She ordered the carriage
to drive at once to the Duchess of Kent, in order to anticipate any
rumor of the attempt which might otherwise have reached her mother.
She then continued her drive in the park, escorted now by an immense
crowd on horseback and on foot, who gave the most vociferous expression
to their feelings of devotion and loyalty. The Queen behaved then,
as always, with perfect courage and self-possession, which naturally
increased the mingled feelings of admiration and sympathy for her, and
anger for the perpetrator of the outrage. One other thought, however,
quickly succeeded these; it was this: If Oxford’s aim had been well
directed, and the fair young life laid low before she had given heirs
to England, there was nothing between the nation and the succession of
the Duke of Cumberland, now King of Hanover, to the throne of England.
The knowledge of the escape the country had had, as well as admiration
for the beautiful courage of the young wife, caused a great wave of
enthusiastic loyalty to herself and her husband, and the practical
result of Oxford’s shot was that the Regency Bill passed through both
Houses without a dissentient voice, except that of the Duke of Sussex.
It was remarked just now that the Prince’s influence was due mainly
to his character; it must not be inferred from this that he was not
also an extremely able and accomplished man. As he came into close
relations with the Queen’s successive Prime Ministers, they one and all
acknowledged the power of his intellect, the extent of his knowledge,
and his grasp of principles. Lord Melbourne, Sir Robert Peel, Lord
John Russell, Lord Aberdeen, Lord Derby, and Lord Palmerston, all
formed the highest opinion of the Prince’s capacity for statesmanship.
With one of them, Lord Palmerston, the Prince was at one time, as is
well known, in sharp conflict with regard to his conduct as Foreign
Secretary, and this makes his testimony to the Prince’s ability of all
the greater value. In 1855, when Palmerston was Prime Minister, one of
his political friends, calling on him, expressed a high opinion of the
abilities of Napoleon III. Palmerston concurred, but said: “We have
a far greater and more extraordinary man nearer home,” referring to
the Prince; he then added, “The Prince would not consider it right to
have obtained the throne as the Emperor has done; but in regard to the
possession of the soundest judgment, the highest intellect, and most
exalted qualities of mind, he is far superior to the Emperor.”
The Prince made an equally favorable personal impression on statesmen
of the Tory party. When Lord Derby was Prime Minister for ten months
in 1852, Lord Malmesbury was Foreign Secretary, and in that capacity
was brought much in contact with the Queen and her husband. He wrote
of the latter, “I never met a man so remarkable for his variety of
information in all subjects, ... with a great fund of humor _quand il
se déboutonne_.”
It was not only in statesmanship that his ability was shown.[16] He was
a good musician, and excelled as a performer, especially on the organ;
Peel was not long in discovering that the Prince was an enthusiastic
admirer of early German art and literature. His interest in the arts
and in industry was demonstrated by the Great Exhibition of 1851,
which was really his creation. As a country gentleman he had not that
absorbing delight in killing animals which then, perhaps, even more
than now, was considered essential to his position; he appears never
to have become a really good shot, and to have enjoyed deer-stalking
and other sport more for the sake of the fine air and exercise they
brought him, than with exclusive passion of the real sportsman. As a
set-off to this, he took the liveliest interest in agriculture and in
stock breeding, and was a frequent visitor at agricultural and cattle
shows. He showed considerable skill as a landscape gardener, and the
beautiful surroundings of Windsor were still further beautified by him,
while the gardens of Buckingham Palace, Osborne, and Balmoral are, to
a large extent, in their present form, his creation. In social matters
he anticipated a good deal of what has been done in more recent years
in the direction of the improvement of workmen’s dwellings, and in his
interest in education and sanitary legislation. Early in his career in
England he gave special attention to the suppression of duelling, and
proposed, as a substitute, the establishment of courts of honor in the
army, where charges could be made and evidence heard in cases which had
formerly led to a personal encounter. The courts of honor were never
established; but the influence of the Prince undoubtedly discouraged
the practice of duelling in England. Up to this time, it had been not
at all uncommon, even between civilians; and there were few of the
leading politicians in either party who had not been “out,” at one time
or another, with a political opponent.
The narrative of the succeeding chapters will further illustrate the
Prince’s character and his multiform activities. Those who had the
opportunity of knowing him intimately never failed to appreciate
his really great qualities; but it is only since his death, and the
publication of his private letters and memoranda, that the general
public have really learned to know him and to understand how he devoted
all his powers to the country of his adoption.
[14] In this respect his political views were far in advance of those
of his English tutors. Greville records a conversation he had in 1849
with Lord Aberdeen about the Prince’s politics. “Aberdeen spoke much of
the Queen and Prince, of course with great praise. He says the Prince’s
views were generally sound and wise, _with one exception, which was his
violent and incorrigible German Unionism_” (Greville, vol. vi. p. 305).
[15] Kidd’s Social Evolution, chap. x.; Marshall’s Principles of
Economics, vol. i. pp. 34, 35.
[16] In Lady Bloomfield’s Reminiscences, she records a conversation she
had with the Prince shortly before his death. “He said his great object
through life had been to learn as much as possible, not with a view
of doing much himself,--as, he observed, any branch of study or art
required a lifetime,--but simply for the sake of appreciating the works
of others; for, he added, without any self-consciousness or vanity,
‘No one knows the difficulties of a thing till they have tried to do
it themselves; and it was with this idea that I learnt oil-painting,
water-color, etching, fresco-painting, chalks, and lithography, and in
music I studied the organ, pianoforte, and violin, thorough-bass, and
singing’” (vol. ii. p. 110).