QUEEN VICTORIA’S LADIES AND LOVERS
“The war with China--the price of sugar--the Corn Laws--the
fourteen new Bishops about to be hatched--timber--cotton--a
property tax, and the penny post--all these matters and persons
are of secondary importance to this greater question--whether
the female who hands the Queen her gown shall think Lord
Melbourne ‘a very pretty fellow in his day’; or whether she
shall believe my friend Sir Robert to be as great a conjurer as
Roger Bacon or the Wizard of the North.... It is whether Lady
Mary thinks black, or Lady Clementina thinks white; whether
her father who begot her voted with the Marquis of Londonderry
or Earl Grey--that is the grand question to be solved before
my friend Sir Robert can condescend to be the Saviour of his
country.”--_Punch._
It was in the very nature of things that the Melbourne Ministry should
be weak. Its majority was not great, and as the House of Lords was
almost solidly against it, Bills could not be passed. In the Lords
was Brougham, angry at being denied the Great Seal, at heart a lover
of the aristocrat, yet making a bid for the favour of the Radicals.
He once brought up a mischievous subject for discussion in the Peers,
drawing upon himself the refusal of the Duke of Wellington to be merely
factious, and a declaration from Melbourne against the motion. At this,
Brougham said furiously of the former, “Westminster Abbey is yawning
for him,” but he had to drop his motion. Commenting upon this, Greville
says that “Brougham cares for nothing but the pleasure of worrying and
embarrassing the Ministers (his former colleagues), whom he detests
with an intense hatred; and the Tories, who are bitter and spiteful,
and hate them merely as Ministers and as occupants of the place they
covet, and not as men, are provoked to death at being baulked in the
occasion that seemed to present itself of putting them in a difficulty.”
There is on record another occasion on which Brougham began to attack
the Duke of Wellington in the House of Lords, and Wellington, lifting
his finger, said, loud enough to be heard across the House, “Now take
care what you say next!” As if panic-struck, Brougham broke off and
began to talk of another matter. The Duke of Wellington, in fact, with
his larger view and his international sense, generally refused to do
stupid things from party feelings; and as leader of the House of Lords,
he knew the weakness of the Tories at that juncture, and saw little
hope of their forming a Government.
However, given opposition such as Brougham’s, and a majority depending
upon doubtful Radicals, it was not surprising that there was little
real work accomplished in the Commons, and that the Government was
always in danger of being overturned. It was on May 6th, 1839, that
Lord John Russell brought in a Bill for the suspension for five years
of the Constitution of Jamaica, because its Assembly had refused to
accept the Prisons Act in connection with the slave trade passed by
Parliament. The majority was only five in a House of 583, therefore the
Government decided to resign. In July, 1837, _Fraser’s Magazine_
had a sonnet in facetious vein upon the Princess’s birthday, which
might have been written for this event, it is so appropriate, though
the particular allusion I cannot explain:--
“Great was the omen on the auspicious night
When kept was fair Victoria’s natal day--
London in gas, and oil and tallow gay,
Look’d a vast isle of artificial light;
Anchors and crowns and roses beaming bright;
Stars, garters and triangles shone around;
Lions or unicorns all chained and crowned,
And other blazonings--yellow, green, red, white--
Dazzled the air. But, more delighted, we
Welcomed one blazing letter, everywhere
Playing a double duty. Hail, great V!
V! Ministerial sad majority--
Mark of the unhappy five! With grim despair
Did Melbourne and his men that symbol see!”
This Government crisis came like a blow upon the Queen, who saw all the
routine of her life being altered; she was to lose the genial, fatherly
Melbourne, and take in his place perhaps the Duke of Wellington, but,
failing him, whom? Sir Robert Peel, whom she scarcely knew and did not
like, who possessed none of Melbourne’s brilliant social qualities,
while his accustomed attitude was said to be that of a dancing master
giving a lesson. “The Queen might have liked him better if he could
have kept his legs still,” said Greville.
[Illustration: SIR ROBERT PEEL.]
So poor little Victory cried all the rest of the day, never stopping
even when interviewing Lord John Russell. She dined alone in her own
room, and did not appear that evening. By the next morning, however,
she was cool again, and sent for the Duke of Wellington, whose loyalty
she trusted as she did that of Melbourne. The Duke also had a fatherly
feeling for Her Majesty, and was very sympathetic with her, even when
she said openly that she had always liked her late Ministers, and was
very sorry that she must lose them. Wellington, who was too strong
to be anything but frank, enjoyed the frankness with which the Queen
praised his political opponents, but he said that he was now too old
and too deaf to become her Prime Minister, and in addition he thought
it would be wiser if she appointed a man whose real position was in
the lower House. Sir Robert Peel was the only possible person, and
Victoria asked the Duke to send him to her. In gentle, paternal tone,
he suggested that the matter would be more in order if she would send
personally for Peel, upon which the Queen said she would do so, but
asked the Duke to see him and tell him to expect her letter.
As soon as Sir Robert received the important missive he clothed himself
in full dress, according to etiquette, and went to the Palace. He was
a sensitive, shy man, and he knew that his principles, if not himself
personally, were disliked, so he went to the interview in a nervous,
diffident frame of mind, which allowed him no leisure to add an extra
courtliness to his awkward manners. At first he felt reassured, as
the Queen received him very graciously, but after her greeting he had
a shock when Victoria openly said that she was parting with her late
Ministers with infinite regret, for she had entirely approved of their
actions. It was so much what the late King would have said! That little
difficulty being over, they began to talk business, Peel suggesting
various names for office. The audience ended by his being required to
bring a full list with him the next day.
When Sir Robert brought the list the following morning Victoria
approved of it, only stipulating that the Duke of Wellington should
have a seat in the Cabinet. Then came the unexpected tempest, beginning
quietly, as tempests often do, but ending in a general convulsion.
Having settled the men satisfactorily, Sir Robert Peel nervously--he
must have been nervous, for Lord Grey reports that he was harsh and
peremptory--put forth a list of changes to be made in the Household.
Her Majesty expected this--had, indeed, talked of it to the Duke, but
she had been thinking solely of the equerries and other men about her,
and for a few minutes the discussion turned upon them. Soon after this
(to quote from Her Majesty’s journal) Sir Robert Peel said:
“‘Now, about the Ladies?’
“Upon which I said I could _not_ give up any of my Ladies,
and never had imagined such a thing. He asked if I meant to retain
_all_.
“‘_All_,’ I said.
“‘The Mistress of the Robes and the Ladies of the Bedchamber?’
“I replied, ‘All!’--for he said they were the wives of the opponents of
the Government, mentioning Lady Normanby in particular as one of the
late Ministers’ wives. I said that would not interfere; that I never
talked politics with them, and that they were related, many of them
to Tories, and I enumerated those of my Bedchamber Women and Maids of
Honour; upon which he said he did not mean _all_ the Bedchamber
Women and _all_ the Maids of Honour; he meant the Mistress of the
Robes and the Ladies of the Bedchamber; to which I replied _they_
were of more consequence than the others, and that I could _not_
consent, and that it had never been done before. He said I was a Queen
Regnant, and that made the difference! ‘Not here,’ I said--and I
maintained my right. Sir Robert then urged it upon public grounds only,
but I said here that I could not consent.”
In Victoria’s letter to Melbourne she said: “Sir Robert Peel has
behaved very ill, and has insisted on my giving up my Ladies, to
which I replied that I never would consent; and I never saw a man so
frightened ... he was quite perturbed--but this is _infamous_. I
said, besides many other things, that if he or the Duke of Wellington
had been at the head of the Government when I came to the Throne,
perhaps there might have been a few more Tory ladies, but that if you
had come into office you would never have _dreamt_ of changing
them. I was calm but very decided, and I think you would have been
pleased to see my composure and great firmness; the Queen of England
will not submit to such trickery.”
Peel felt it to be a deadlock; the Queen’s autocratic tendency had
already made itself sufficiently felt for him to know that argument
was of no use for him. He said that he must consult his colleagues, and
so backed out.
Victoria sent at once for Lord John Russell, and asked if she could
rightfully refuse this demand. There was no precedent for Sir Robert
Peel’s decision, though from his party’s point of view there was every
necessity for it. Queen Anne had kept her beloved Sarah Churchill all
through the changes of administration until she wearied of her. When
the Government changed under William IV., Lord Grey (the Whig) not only
left Queen Adelaide’s Household of Ladies untouched, but did not change
an equerry or groom; though later, when Lord Howe voted against him on
a vital question, he insisted upon his removal. When that was done Peel
and his party asserted that an unheard-of outrage had been offered the
Queen, and Adelaide did not speak to Lord Grey for more than a year,
and then had to be keenly persuaded before she would enter a room where
he was closeted with King William.
Lord John Russell told Queen Victoria that she had right on her side,
and she said that, in that case, she expected the support of himself
and his colleagues as she had supported them in the past. She sent for
the Duke, who told her that she was wrong, and that she ought, being
Queen Regnant, to regard her ladies in the same light as her lords.
“No,” replied Her Majesty; “I have lords besides, and these I give up
to you.”
Peel came also, but both he and the Duke found their young Monarch
immovable, and ready with answers to all that they advanced. She
foresaw, as any astute woman would have done, that in allowing this
innovation she would be opening the door for a host of petty troubles
in the future; she blinked the fact that she was King as well as Queen,
and that a King was required to change all his officers. So the two
politicians left her presence defeated, and Peel called his friends
together that afternoon.
In the meanwhile, Russell begged Melbourne to do nothing of himself,
but to call the Cabinet together; and at nine that night the Ministers
were gathered from all places--dinners, the theatres, opera, and clubs.
Before them Melbourne laid a letter from the Queen, in which she is
reported to have said, though probably the correct text of this letter
has been given above:
“Do not fear that I was not calm and composed. They wanted to deprive
me of my Ladies, and I suppose they would deprive me next of my
dressers and housemaids! They wished to treat me like a girl, but I
will show them I am Queen of England.”
Lord John, the most diplomatic member of the Cabinet, wanted the Queen
to be advised to get from Peel his precise demands, for, as is usual in
a quarrel, the actual details had never been elucidated. This, however,
was overruled, and a letter was concocted for the Queen to send to
Peel. It was short and to the point:--
“The Queen, having considered the proposal made to her yesterday by Sir
Robert Peel to remove the Ladies of her Bedchamber, cannot consent to
adopt a course which she conceives to be contrary to usage, and which
is repugnant to her feelings.”
While these events were happening, the report of them spread far and
wide, and was hotly commented on in all the papers. The Queen may have
let drop a remark that Peel wished to drive from her all the friends of
her childhood, for this was the note the Whig papers sounded. Anger,
condolence, appreciation were all expressed, while on the other side
anger was mixed with disloyalty and with an assumption that the Queen
must give way to a righteous and politic course.
“We can state,” said one of the Tory journals, “that there is not
the slightest hesitation or feeling of annoyance on the part of our
Conservative leaders. For the sake of Royalty they may regret the
untoward interference of female meddlers in State matters of most
awful importance (this was surely a hit at the Queen as well as at
her ladies!); but for themselves they know that the Sovereign cannot
do without appealing to their loyalty to save her from ‘her friends,’
and they will not fail in their duty. In a few days Sir Robert Peel’s
triumph will be complete.”
A few of the most extreme papers begged the “female nobility of England
to abstain from going to Court,” to refuse “to sanction by their
presence a patronage of persons whom they themselves would not tolerate
in private life.”
The “persons” who were not to be “patronised” by the “female nobility”
included the Duchess of Sutherland and the Countess of Burlington,
both sisters of Lord Morpeth, a Cabinet Minister and Secretary for
Ireland; the Marchioness of Normanby, wife of the Secretary of State;
the Marchioness of Tavistock, Lord John Russell’s sister-in-law; the
Marchioness of Breadalbane, whose husband had received his title
from the Whigs; Lady Portman, wife of another Whig-made peer; Lady
Lyttelton, sister of Earl Spencer; and the Countess of Charlemont, wife
of an Irish Earl.
It was whispered, though probably only scandalously, that Melbourne had
in his pocket the resignations of the Marchioness of Tavistock and Lady
Portman, but kept them from the Queen. There may have been some truth
in this, however, as those ladies were most unpopular with all classes,
and probably thought their wisest course would be to resign before
worse happened.
Sir Robert Peel replied to the Queen’s communication in a long letter,
in which he resigned the charge she had imposed upon him; and as all
England was discussing the Bedchamber question, Victoria, who really
felt that she had justice on her side, allowed him to read her letter
and his own in Parliament that the true facts of the matter might be
known. For the public believed that Peel had planned to separate the
Queen from all the friends of her childhood, and to force her to accept
as servants a completely new set, all especially imbued with Tory
principles, and Peel felt that he should publicly justify his action.
But as the Queen would not move an inch from the position she had
taken up, the old Whig Ministry was reinstated.
As for the opinion expressed by contemporaries on this matter, I should
say that the balance was against the Queen, not so much because of the
justice of the matter as because she was a young woman, and therefore
incapable presumably of understanding affairs. People said that she
was an inexperienced girl who wanted her own way though the heavens
fell; she upset her Government that her private comfort might not be
assailed; the whole thing was planned so that she could again have
the Whigs in power! Scarcely any of them, except perhaps Lord Grey,
cast their vote for her. But these writers were all men, and mostly
Tories--that is to say, they were the people who suffered. They talked
about the principle involved, but they only cared about the idea in
practice. Then they did not look beyond the Queen’s words, nor remember
the violent and exaggerated statements which they themselves had made
about Baroness Lehzen.
[Illustration: LADY TAVISTOCK.]
Victoria naturally felt that if she conceded the principle she would
be giving over into the hands of the enemy the friend whom she most
valued. She knew that some of the Tories had clamoured for Lehzen’s
dismissal, had threatened to ask questions about her in Parliament.
Then, too, she had a real liking for Lady Normanby, of whom one of the
Maids of Honour said later, “She is so clever and well-informed, and
yet there is that about her which prevents one feeling ashamed of
one’s ignorance”; for Lady Tavistock; and probably for other of her
ladies. Think of the position of a girl of twenty, who is suddenly
called upon, not to dismiss her attendants, but to send away all
those who were, by the nature of their duties, admitted to the most
intimate relations with her, the Ladies of the Bedchamber. It is quite
comprehensible that she should resist.
Peel said afterwards that he did not mean all, and it was a pity that
the Queen was too hasty to listen to his propositions to the end;
though it is certain, if we may judge by the expression he used,
“that his Government could not be carried on if ladies attached to
Whig leaders remained about the Queen,” that he did at the outset
mean all the Bedchamber ladies; indeed, he said as much as that to
Croker when he wrote that there were only nine of them, while there
were twenty-five women of the Household altogether. He further said
what--in view of all the attacks on Lehzen--lets some light into his
feelings: “The paid spy of a foreign enemy might be introduced into the
Household--might have access to every Cabinet secret.”
Had Peel been in a strong position he probably would have been less
obstinate on the point, for though he was perhaps right in a strictly
constitutional sense, he could have yielded without any real sacrifice
of principle; but he feared even the attempt to form a Government,
for it would be a Government with a minority, an odious position for
any Minister. There was, in fact, some analogy between the position
of Peel then and that of Melbourne when he accepted office under the
Queen. In 1837 the Whig Ministry was struggling for its life, and it
would have been expecting something impossible to have expected that
Melbourne should have put Tory ladies about Her Majesty. When Peel’s
turn came he was equally anxious not to have Whig ladies.
So Peel made an able speech on the matter in the House, Brougham made a
violent one, Wellington a thoughtful and moderate one, Russell a feeble
one, and Melbourne’s, they say, was the best of all. In the course of
his speech Peel referred to the Lehzen matter, saying that he had not
meant to turn out the Baroness, which annoyed that lady very much, she
remarking with much asperity that he had no right to say such a thing;
he should have said that he _could_ not turn her out, for she was
in no public post or service, and Peel had nothing to do with her. It
is said that the Duke of Sussex advised his niece not to accede to
Peel’s request about the Ladies of the Bedchamber, but Victoria herself
affirmed that she took no advice on the matter.
Some wag called the resuscitated Cabinet the _Jupon_ Cabinet, and
Justin McCarthy said of its leaders that Peel could not govern with
Lady Normanby, and Melbourne could not govern without her. “What is
it keeps the present Ministers in office? Two women in the Bedchamber
and two rats in Parliament,” was another little pleasantry. Macaulay
added as his comment: “The month of May, 1839, saw the leaders of the
great party, which had marched into office across the steps of the
Throne, standing feebly at bay behind the petticoats of their wives
and sisters. Whether the part they played was forced upon them by
circumstances, or whether it was not, their example was disastrous in
its effects upon English public life.”
While the excitement was at its height the papers were full of
gibes and personalities, and one published the following lines upon
Melbourne, whose constant attendance at Windsor, as has been pointed
out, led to a running comment upon his method and place of dining:--
“Farewell, farewell! to each rich-brimming chalice,
At Windsor beside me so constantly seen--
Farewell to the dear, daily feeds at the Palace--
The romps with the Baroness, chats with the Queen.
Farewell! ’tis with tears that, while falling will blister,
I weep for the mesh in which we are all caught;
Alas! for poor Lehzen with none to assist her,
They’ll never be able to work out the plot.”
A little earlier some satirical paper announced of the Prime Minister
that, when compelled to remain in the House of Lords till late in the
evening, “the pet lamb had a nice tit-bit sent express from the Royal
table, with a particular request to cut the matter as short as possible
and hurry ‘to where the glasses sparkle on the board!’” adding, “We
believe Melbourne generally manages to comply, and, if practicable,
arrives in ‘pudding time.’”
Another paragraph offered the information that: “Lord Melbourne gave a
Parliamentary dinner yesterday in South Street. The Fire Brigade were
all activity and we counted six engines in the immediate vicinity.
The alarm was given by his lordship’s neighbours, who were extremely
horrified by the sight of the chimney. Melbourne giving a dinner!
Wonders will never cease!”
For a long time the Queen’s popularity had been decreasing, and open
disloyalty was shown with the beginning of the Lady Flora Hastings
scandal. Victoria herself did not help matters, for after the political
crisis she became even more exclusive in her invitations. She had
arranged a ball and a great concert for the middle of May, just after
the political tempest, and from all accounts they seem to have been
very dull amusements, or so said the Tories, none of whom were invited
who could possibly be left out. The Queen herself, however, was in good
spirits, possibly more than pleased at having retained her Ministers.
The Bedchamber Crisis drew from the King of Hanover a little moan
over the ruin of England: “Alas! how fallen is she since the last ten
years!... May Providence be merciful to her, and save her, is my most
earnest prayer!”
During the spring of 1839, while Victoria was harassed by the two most
disturbing troubles of her young womanhood, she was also being urged
from various quarters to settle her domestic affairs by marriage, and
indeed from the beginning of 1836 curiosity had made tongues busy on
the matter of her choice. Perhaps it is true that with the spring a
young man’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love, for it seemed
always then that the young men from Germany or Denmark or Russia
came a-courting, or, to put it more diplomatically, came on a visit
to England. Then, too, if there were any amorous lunatics about they
generally seemed to turn up at Buckingham Palace or Windsor Castle.
Actual suggestions concerning marriage were made before Victoria
became Queen, for in the spring of 1837 Lord William Russell, then our
representative in Berlin, wrote as follows to the Duchess of Kent.
“Madam,--Would it be agreeable to your Royal Highness that Prince
Adelbert of Prussia, the son of Prince William, should place himself
on the list of those who pretend to the hand of H.R.H. the Princess
Victoria?
“Your consent, Madam, would give great satisfaction to the Court of
Berlin.”
The Duchess acknowledged the receipt, and then indulged in a little
eulogy of herself, for she continued: “The undoubted confidence placed
in me by the country, being the only parent since the Restoration who
has had the uncontrolled power in bringing up the heir of the Throne,
imposes on me duties of no ordinary character. Therefore, I could not,
compatibly with those I owe my child, the King, and the country, give
your Lordship the answer you desire; the application should go to the
King. But if I know my duty to the King, I know also my maternal ones,
and I will candidly tell your Lordship that I am of opinion that the
Princess should not marry till she is much older. I will also add that,
in the choice of the person to share her great destiny, I have but one
wish--that her happiness and the interest of the country be realised in
it.”
I wonder how the Duchess liked the hint of a rebuke in Russell’s
answer:--
“On informing Prince Wittgenstein (Minister of the Royal House in
Berlin) that your maternal feelings led you to think the Princess
Victoria too young to marry, he said that the King of Prussia would,
on learning your opinion, object to Prince Adelbert’s projected visit
to England. I beg to observe to Your Royal Highness that it was only
proposed to admit Prince Adelbert to the list of suitors for the hand
of Princess Victoria, to which he was to win his claim by his character
and personal attractions.”
Von Bülow suggested that a young Prince of
Holstein-Sonderburg-Beck-Glücksburg might find favour with Queen
Victoria, but surely the territorial miscellany added to his name would
have been sufficient to frighten any girl. There was a rumour that the
Duc de Nemours intended to enter the lists, and there was much talk
when Duke Ferdinand of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha projected another visit to
England with his son Augustus. In the spring of 1839 the Tsarevitch of
Russia arrived with the Grand Duke, and many of the newspapers began
their little gossipings as to the good and evil of such an alliance.
This report was later said to be without foundation, one paper adding
to its repudiation the hope that when the Queen should be tempted to
forego following the example of Queen Elizabeth, perhaps the Orange
flower would be placed near her heart as well as on her head. “God
grant it may be so!” This being an allusion to the visit at the same
time of Prince William, the younger son of the King of the Netherlands.
It was judged that Prince George of Cambridge stood a good chance,
for did not his Queen-cousin open the first State Ball in May, 1838,
by dancing a quadrille with him? It is true that she also danced
with young Prince Esterhazy--who married the daughter of the Earl
of Jersey--with the Earl of Douro, the Earl of Uxbridge, and other
noblemen, but then George was first honoured and was of her own age.
While writing of this Ball, I must mention the Austrian Prince’s
wonderful clothing at the third State Ball, which was given on June
18th, the second having been on Her Majesty’s birthday. He wore a
pelisse of dark crimson velvet, his sword-belt thickly studded with
diamonds, the hilt of the sword and scabbard simply encrusted with
them; round his hussar cap were several rows of pearls, edging a string
of diamonds, and all fastened with a diamond tassel. His Order of the
Golden Fleece (suspended round his neck) and the stars and jewels of
his other orders of knighthood were all set in diamonds and other
precious stones. He must surely have looked like Prince Charming in a
pantomime, and if any old men were there, he probably reminded them of
the Regent who once went to a ball in pink satin, wearing a hat adorned
with five thousand beads.
Of the first State Ball Greville says, with his usual touch of
acidity: “Last night I was at the ball at the Palace--a poor affair
in comparison with the Tuileries. Gallery ill-lit; rest of the rooms
tolerable; Queen’s manner and bearing perfect. Before supper and after
dancing she sat on a sofa somewhat elevated in the drawing-room,
looking at the waltzing; she did not waltz herself. Her mother sat
on one side of her, and the Princess Augusta on the other; then the
Duchesses of Gloucester and Cambridge and the Princess of Cambridge;
her household with their wands, standing all round; her manners
exceedingly graceful, and blended with dignity and cordiality, a
simplicity and good humour when she talks to people which are mighty
captivating. When supper was announced she moved from her seat, all
her officers going before her--she first, alone, and the Royal Family
following; her exceeding youth contrasted with their maturer ages, but
she did it well.” Lady Bedinfield commented upon the Queen at this
ball: “The young Queen danced a good deal; if she were taller and less
stout, she would be very pretty.”
However, to return to the suitors. What the Ministers, the Court,
or even the Queen did not know on this matter the papers did, for
they caught and crystallised in type every rumour, adding sufficient
information to make them read like truth. In January, 1838, people
said that the Queen was recalling Lord Elphinstone from the post which
really spelt banishment for him. They added that she had sent him an
autograph letter which greatly disconcerted the Cabinet, and that he
would arrive before the Coronation, at which a new office would be
created for his benefit. One commentator upon this remarked: “Our
Ministers will find a young girl as difficult to manage as an old man;
the vivacity of youth proves as perplexing as the obstinacy of age. The
question of our hereditary government will shortly be agitated as well
as that of our hereditary legislation; since it is quite certain that
the King of Hanover, knowing his chance of succession, even should he
survive the Queen, to be extremely doubtful, will stir up his party in
this country to protest against Her Majesty’s free choice. The sooner
the time comes the better.” This report was repudiated by _The Times_
and _The Morning Chronicle_. However, _The Satirist_ asserted that the
matter was debated in the Cabinet and that a certain personage was with
difficulty prevented from sending a letter she had written. _The Times_
then declared that the Queen had never spoken to Lord Elphinstone. To
which _The Satirist_ answered with copies of two letters purporting to
be written by Her Majesty, in the first of which she asked Elphinstone
to return before her Coronation, promising to make him a Duke, which
would ensure his attendance upon her. In the second absurd and vulgar
production, quite obviously fictitious, she was made to say:
“I am so enraged I can scarcely hold the pen in my hand. That old
pest, daddy Melbourne, having found out through Ma, who was told by
the baroness that you and I were carrying on a correspondence--that
horrible old pest, who certainly is the plague of my existence, has
just been here to _advise_ me--not to break off the match, for
that I told him at once would be useless--but to relinquish the idea of
having you home before I arrive at the age of twenty-one. The giving of
this advice he said was a ‘duty’ which ‘State reasons’ compelled him to
perform. I wish he were at Jerusalem. He would let me have nothing my
own way if he could help it. Here I must remain now for nearly three
years before I am permitted even to see you. Is it not dreadful? But
I won’t, I’m determined I won’t wait so long as he says. I’ll get rid
of him the very first opportunity, and if the Prime Minister will not
consent to your immediate return, I’m determined that I’ll have no
Prime Minister at all. For the present, however, I suppose I must yield
to ‘State reasons,’ which are, in my mind, no reasons at all. But they
sha’n’t keep you there much longer, be well assured of that.”
Whatever the young Queen’s desires may or may not have been, Lord
Elphinstone did not see his native land again until about 1843, when
Victoria was the happy mother of several children, and he was not
invited to Court until 1846, being made a Lord-in-Waiting the following
year.
Though, as has been said, the young Prince of Orange came over again
he does not seem to have done himself much credit, eliciting the
judgment from one diarist that he had made a great fool of himself here
supping, dancing, and indulging in little (rather innocent) orgies at
the houses of Lady Dudley Stuart and Mrs. Fox, who, the story went,
escorted him--when, to his infinite disgust, he had to go home--as far
as Gravesend, “where they (the ladies) were found the next day in their
white satin shoes and evening dresses.”
Behind all other rumours, however, lurked the idea that Albert of
Saxe-Coburg would be Victoria’s bridegroom, an idea which more or
less oppressed the girl-Queen. Whether there was any real truth in
the report about Lord Elphinstone, or whether she wished to wield her
power independently for a time, it is impossible to say, but early
in 1838, and again in July, 1839, she wrote to her uncle Leopold
that she had no intention of marrying for several years to come;
and after her accession she entirely ceased corresponding with her
cousin. The Coburgs were not regarded by those about the Queen as
likely to prove attractive to her, being criticised as “simple” and
too “Deutsch.” Palmerston said of them: “After being used to agreeable
and well-informed Englishmen, I fear the Queen will not easily find a
foreign prince to her liking,” and the national prejudice showed itself
in such contemptuous phrases about anything they did as, “How unlike an
Englishman!”
But the Queen’s attitude did not seem seriously to trouble Leopold,
who went on training his nephew, writing of him to Stockmar on one
occasion: “If I am not much mistaken in Albert, he possesses all
the qualities required to fit him completely for the position he
will occupy in England. His understanding is sound, his apprehension
clear and rapid, and his feelings correct. He has great powers of
observation, and possesses much prudence, without anything about him
that can be called cold or morose.”
In later years Victoria was sad over her decision not to marry, saying
that she could not think without indignation of her wish to keep the
Prince waiting, at the risk of ruining his prospects, perhaps for
three or four years until she felt inclined to marry, and she put
her vacillation down to the fact that the sudden change from the
seclusion of Kensington Palace to the independent position of being
Queen Regnant diverted her mind entirely from marriage. She went so
far as to “bitterly repent” this very natural result of her early life
and her peculiar position; yet she might have known that, given the
circumstances and her temperament, it was the only result to expect.
But Victoria at this time did not entirely break off the engagement,
and as a sign of this she instructed Stockmar to journey with the
Prince when he travelled through Italy in search of that thing so
zealously desired in the early part of the nineteenth century, “the
completion of his education.”
It is said that Leopold did not mention the marriage unreservedly to
his nephew until the Prince visited Brussels in February of 1838.
In March of that year Leopold wrote to Stockmar as follows: “I have
had a long conversation with Albert, and have put the whole case
honestly and kindly before him. He looks at the question from its most
elevated and honourable point of view; he considers that troubles are
inseparable from all human positions, and that, therefore, if one must
be subjected to plagues and annoyances, it is better to be so for some
great or worthy object than for trifles and miseries. I have told him
that his great youth would make it necessary to postpone the marriage
for a few years. I found him very sensible on all these points. But
one thing he observed with truth: ‘I am ready,’ he said, ‘to submit to
this delay, if I have only some certain assurance to go upon. But if
after waiting, perhaps, for three years I should find that the Queen
no longer desired the marriage, it would place me in a very ridiculous
position, and would to a certain extent ruin all the prospects of my
future life.”
The Whigs seemed to take this matter quite philosophically, but the
Tories had not a good word to say either of Leopold or of Albert.
Thus _The Times_ in December, 1838, said: “There is no foreigner
who sets his foot in England less welcome to the people generally, or
looked at with more distrust or alienation than Leopold, the Brummagem
King of Belgium, who is nothing better than a provisional prefect of
France, on whose ruler his marriage has made him doubly dependent.”
In Paris it was regarded as a most extraordinary thing that the Queen
had not married long before, and having decided that she was _not_
going to marry her Prime Minister, the gossipers in the salons
suggested that Queen Victoria was not to be allowed to marry at all, as
Lord Melbourne feared he might so lose his influence. “Therefore, his
anxiety is to keep Her Majesty single.” They added that if, however,
the country insisted on their Sovereign’s marrying, Prince Albert
of Saxe-Coburg was being trained for the honour, under the especial
guidance “of that moral gentleman, Stockmar.”
A month later, that is to say in January, 1839, the following jubilant
paragraph appeared in _The Sun_:--
“The country will learn with delight that the most interesting part
in the Speech from the Throne, to both Houses of Parliament and the
country at large, will be the announcement of Her Majesty’s intended
marriage. The happy object of Queen Victoria’s choice is Prince Albert,
son of the reigning Duke of Saxe-Coburg, and cousin of Her Majesty.
Prince Albert is handsome and about twenty-two years of age.”
_The Times_ asked next day if someone had not been hoaxing the
editor of _The Sun_. “We suspect so, though we do not profess to
have any knowledge on the subject.”
_The Morning Chronicle_--Melbourne’s paper--replied: “We are
authorised to give the most positive contradiction to the above
announcement.”
The comment of _The Age_ upon the matter was of the “I told you
so” type, and then it proceeded to libels and defamation. “Prince
Albert is known to be a youth of most untoward disposition.... As far
as we can learn, Prince Albert is suspicious, crafty, and, like his
uncle, Leopold, never looks anyone full in the face.
“Yet this is he who is to be ‘the happy object of Queen Victoria’s
choice.’ _Choice_, indeed! The Baroness Lehzen has acted well upon
the instructions given her by Leopold just before good King William’s
death; and the virtues, beauty, worth, and amiabilities of this young
Prince have been dinned hourly in the Royal Ear.
“We think Prince Albert of Saxe-Coburg intellectually and morally
most unfit to be trusted with the happiness of our young Queen; and
because he belongs to a family which is either Protestant or Papist
as it suits their interest; thus Albert’s father is a Protestant, his
uncle Ferdinand is a Papist, and his son is Papist Connubial King of
Portugal; Leopold is anything, Protestant to an English princess,
Papist to a French princess. And we object to Prince Albert because he
is being thrust upon the Queen, who is in such a state of vassalage,
induced by the cunning influence of the Baroness Lehzen, as to be
publicly talked of in the salons of Paris as the mere puppet of her
uncle Leopold.”
This tirade and mass of exaggeration was followed by the publication of
a spurious letter supposed to have been addressed to the editor by the
young Prince Albert:--
“Sare,--I sall addresser you in Anglaish, cos vy? Cos in honnare of
de countray in vich I vas vant to be second rang personne. Ver well.
Terefore if the Q---- vas like me to mari her, Cot tam, Sare, vat am
tat to you--eh? Am you her modare? Ver well, ten; vat rite you to
objet to ’tis alliance--eh? Noting: von tam noting. Terefore, Sare, I
vos appy to troubel you to hold fast your tam tongue. La Baronne tell
to me tat her M----’s modare hab not objection: terefore, vy should
nobody else hab now? Vy sall you play him debbil vid dis littel projet
ob my uncale and Stockmar, and odare some ver tere amis? It vos ter
most tamnable! I say dat, Sare! Terefore, you will be pleas to co to de
debbel! I am, Sare, “ALBERT FRANÇOISE AUGUSTE CHARLES EMANUEL.”
As a matter of fact, the announcement was premature, and the Queen had
two serious troubles to endure before she sought refuge in matrimony,
one being the Bedchamber trouble already dealt with, and the other the
Lady Flora Hastings scandal.
What had really started the belief that the marriage was settled was
the fact that two of Leopold’s confidential _hommes d’affaires_,
Monsieur Van Praet and Baron de Diestrau, came over to England in
January, and were said to have had interviews with Melbourne, to have
seen much of Lehzen, to have been agreeable to Sir James Clark and Sir
Henry Seton, and to have gone back to Brussels “to report progress
concerning the chance of planting another young Coburg in England.”
Prince George of Denmark also came to London in 1839, bringing with him
an enormous household, including a Master of the Horse, a Master of the
Robes, six Lords of the Bedchamber, and eight grooms of the Bedchamber,
all among the first people of his country. He, too, was supposed to be
looking for a wife, but he did not find one in England.
From that time on, the Queen, who was said “to be caricatured here,
charivaried there,” had to see her name daily in the papers coupled
with that of some young man or other, Albert’s name recurring often.
Lord Alfred Paget, the second son of the Marquis of Anglesey, then in
his twenty-third year, figured fairly frequently as a love-sick swain,
who wore Her Majesty’s portrait over his heart--and under his shirt
front--and, the better to assert his love, hung her miniature round the
neck of his dog. _The Satirist_ of January, 1838, asserted that
“Her Majesty must be married soon, or there will be the devil to pay,”
and went on to say, “She must be an extraordinary little creature to
turn people’s brains in this fashion. A swain has forced his way into
Buckingham Palace declaring himself to be ‘a shepherd sent from Heaven
to look after the Royal lamb.’ There are plenty of wolves in sheep’s
clothing already looking after her, and Her Majesty’s present shepherd
will have plenty to do to keep them out of the fold.”
One paragraph ran as follows, commencing with a quotation from another
paper: “‘Her Majesty having received from Germany a delicious cake,
sent it as a present to the Princess Augusta.’ This is doubtless one of
those delicate attentions which ‘my nephew Albert’ has been instructed
to despatch from Coburg through the medium of the dearly loved Baroness
Lehzen. It would have been cut up for Twelfth Night at the Palace, but
_as Lord Melbourne could not secure the character of the King_, he
refused to take a slice, so the cake was sent off to the good-natured
Princess.”’ The italics are mine.
As soon as Victoria’s accession had seemed near, the thoughts of madmen
seemed to turn to her, and from time to time one such would go to some
Royal residence that he might be crowned King, or receive his rights,
or secure a wife. One day in May, 1837, a man named Captain John Wood,
of the 10th Regiment of Foot, was found sitting on the terrace at
Kensington Palace, where the Duchess often breakfasted. A policeman
requested him to go away, but he said he had a right to be there, as he
was the real and rightful King of England, and the person at Windsor
was only the Duke of Clarence. He told the magistrate, before whom he
was taken, that his proper name was John Guelph, and that he was a son
of George IV. and Queen Caroline, being born at Blackheath, adding that
the Royal family knew all about it. He seemed perfectly sane, and being
admonished, went away.
For some time after her accession a Scotch suitor would make special
journeys to Windsor to see Queen Victoria, sometimes standing all the
morning at the door of St. George’s Chapel that he might watch her
leave after service. Then he would walk on the terrace in the afternoon
that he might have the pleasure of bowing to his liege Lady.
One, who was undoubtedly a lunatic, climbed some iron gates in the
Park, and walked across to the Castle, demanding admittance as King of
England. “Very well, your Majesty,” said the porter, “be pleased to
wait till I get my hat.” He then took him to the Castle and handed him
over to the police. He was named Stockledge, and was in a large way of
business in Manchester. On being questioned as to his motive, he said
he was like all other men who wanted wives--he was looking after one.
A third was less peaceable, for he got into the gardens of Buckingham
Palace declaring he would kill the Queen, and was sent to prison. Two
days after his release he went to Windsor and tried to enter the Castle
by breaking some panes of glass. What became of him I do not know.
Another man who tried to get into the Palace early in 1838 was rather
mixed in his ideas, for he insisted on seeing the Queen, the Duchess of
Kent, or O’Connell, “who is as good as any!”