QUEEN VICTORIA’S LOVE.
“The noble Duke knows he is a Protestant; all England
knows he is a Protestant; the whole world knows he is a
Protestant.”--_Melbourne._
“There is no prohibition as to marriage with a Catholic. It is
only attended with a penalty, and that penalty is _merely the
forfeiture of the Crown_.”--_Brougham._
Wherever the blame of the Flora Hastings affair lay, it must be
admitted that with it and the Bedchamber squabble the Queen had had a
nerve-breaking time. If the people had shown in a vague way before that
they were passing judgment upon her, they now did not fail to announce
that the judgment was a thing assured. Her Drawing Rooms and Levées
were almost deserted; there were whispers that she was running heavily
into debt. “It is probable that before 1841 the help of a now powerful
house will be required.”
“She’s not in debt--tho’ some have said it, or
If, why then I’m not a creditor.”
was a couplet that it was pretended was the work of Sir John Conroy.
In addition to this there were rumours that the split between the
Queen and her mother was complete, that disputes constantly took place,
and that the Duchess was feeling anew the slights put upon Sir John
Conroy: “There are insinuations that the Duchess of Kent is malignantly
enraged at the removal of Sir John Conroy, and that there are deep
dissensions between mother and daughter,” is one paragraph of many.
When we remember that the animus against Sir John was believed to be
one of the reasons for showing so much indelicate harshness to Lady
Flora Hastings, it is easy to understand that the Duchess would have
liked to bring the matter of Conroy to a head once for all.
Melbourne had been gravely troubled by Victoria’s display of temper and
self-will over the Bedchamber question, and reports were now current
everywhere of scenes of bad temper at the Palace; “even noble dames can
brook no longer the rebuffs and contumely to which they are exposed.”
“Tudor tempest bursts,” was the expression used by one journal.
At the end of August Leopold and his Queen came to England, staying at
Ramsgate, and it was asserted that the visit had the express purpose
of an attempt to reconcile the Queen and the Duchess of Kent, though
before the King of the Belgians went away it was said that both he and
Lord Melbourne were suffering from the Queen’s unevenness of temper; to
which was added the news that the Duchess intended to go abroad for a
time.
Poor little Queen! When we private people have gone through a period of
shock and trouble, so that our nerves are all a-jangle, we indulge our
little tempest-bursts, are rude to those about us and let the trouble
wear itself away, without more than half-a-dozen people knowing or
caring about it. But this imperious and wilful girl could utter no word
that was not reported outside; in spite of her youth she was expected
to be perfect, and when she proved entirely human and sometimes
wrong-headed, the whole nation talked of it as a crime.
Only a year and a bit had passed since she had said that she would
not marry for two or three years, yet now she was wondering where to
look for sympathy and support. Of course, it was not the helpful hand
of a husband that she needed, she was quite sure of that, and yet
subconsciously this solution must have presented itself to her mind; so
much so that a little earlier she had felt it necessary to impress once
more upon her uncle that she did not mean yet to take the important
step. It was in the midst of the indignation which followed Lady Flora
Hastings’s death that she wrote again to Leopold on this subject,
probably in answer to a letter from him urging the marriage. She said
that she was anxious that the family should understand that even if she
should like Albert she would make no final promise during that year
and would not marry for two or three years. She spoke of her youth,
her _great repugnance_ to change her position, and the fact that
no anxiety was shown in the country for her marriage. The following
paragraph is natural in one who had been practically disposed of in her
childhood and who for two years had had a husband urged on her with a
faint but unremitting pressure by her uncle:
“Though all the reports of Albert are most favourable, and though
I have little doubt I shall like him, still one can never answer
beforehand for _feelings_, and I may not have the _feeling_ for him
which is requisite to insure happiness. I may like him as a _friend_,
as a _cousin_, and as a _brother_, but not _more_; and should this be
the case (which is not likely), I am _very_ anxious that it should
be understood that I am _not_ guilty of any breach of promise, for
I _never gave any_. I am sure you will understand my anxiety, for I
should otherwise, were this not completely understood, be in a very
painful position. As it is, I am rather nervous about the visit (a
suggestion that the young Princes should come to England), for the
subject I allude to is not an agreeable one to me.”
Leopold was wise enough to put no further pressure upon her, but to
leave circumstances to do their work. There can be no doubt but that
the Queen was very lonely and ill at ease just then. She had lost the
confidence of the nation, and her pride stood in the way of her setting
herself right with it. By her own acts she had alienated her mother,
with whom, as a matter of fact, she showed no signs of renewing the
lost intimacy; she had clung to the people accused of wrong behaviour
in the Hastings affair, yet the sight of them constantly reminded her
of her humiliation; and through prejudice she had turned her back
upon a vast number of delightful people, whose only sin was to hold
different political views from herself; in truth, there seemed to be
no real comfort anywhere.
When the King and Queen of the Belgians went to Windsor after their
stay at Ramsgate, and Leopold saw how matters stood, he came to the
conclusion that it was time for him to act; thus on his return home he
instructed his two nephews to go and pay the promised visit to England.
Gossip about Victoria’s marriage was always ready when other
excitements failed, and it was now said that Prince Albert had
refused to accept the position of husband to his cousin, and that the
_Camarilla_ had failed in its object, and was now bending its
energies to the keeping of the Queen unmarried, its method being to
harp on the fate of Princess Charlotte, in the hope that that would
deter her from making any matrimonial arrangement. Which, of course,
was all nonsense. The Prince was preparing for his visit, and Victoria
was preparing a way for herself which should at least halve all her
troubles, even though it meant also submitting her own autocratic will.
In the summer of 1839 Stockmar gave an interesting criticism of the
character of Prince Albert, which I reproduce, for it is by no means
the judgment of one who flatters:--
“The Prince bears a striking resemblance to his mother, and,
differences apart, is in many respects both in body and mind cast in
her mould. He has the same intellectual quickness and adroitness, the
same cleverness, the same desire to appear good-natured and amiable to
others, and the same talent for fulfilling this desire, the same love
of _espiègleries_ and of treating things and men from the comical
side, the same way of not occupying himself long with the same subject.
“His constitution cannot be said to be a strong one, though I believe
by careful attention to diet he could easily strengthen it and give
it stamina. After exerting himself, he often for a short time appears
pale and exhausted. He dislikes violent exertion, and both morally
and physically tries to save himself. Full of the best intentions and
noblest designs, he often fails in carrying them into practice.
“His judgment is in many subjects beyond his years, but, up to
the present time, he has not shown the least possible interest in
_political_ matters. Even the most important events of this
kind never, even at the time of their taking place, induce him to
read a newspaper. He has, as it is, a perfect horror of all foreign
newspapers, and says that the only readable and necessary paper is the
_Augsburger Allgemeine_, and even this he does not read through.
In the matter of _les belles manières_ there is much to desire.
This deficiency must be principally laid to the account of his having
in his earliest years been deprived of the intercourse and supervision
of a mother and of any cultivated woman. He will always have more
success with men than with women. He is too little _empressé_ with
the latter, too indifferent, and too reserved.”
As a matter of fact, Prince Albert was too reserved with men as well as
with women, and to this must be attributed the fact that he was never
really popular in England.
The _Morning Post_ of August 22nd made a premature announcement of
the marriage;--“A matrimonial alliance is about to take place between
Her Britannic Majesty and His Serene Highness Prince Albert Francis,”
&c. Even in those days it seems that the newspapers were so eager to
be first with their news that they sometimes went a long way ahead of
events.
It was not until October 10th that Albert and his brother arrived at
Windsor, the Prince presumably not knowing what his fate was likely
to be, but resolved to tell the Queen that if she did not then make
up her mind he would no longer be able to await her decision. This
pronouncement must have been caused by the intelligent tutorial
instructions of Leopold, for Albert had only then just attained his
twentieth birthday, and could scarcely have feared a life of obscurity
if his cousin declined to take him as her husband.
On the 14th of the month Victoria gave a ball, and at that she openly
showed him a sign of her preference by taking some flowers from
her bouquet and offering them to him. There being no buttonhole in
which to place them, Albert took out a penknife, cut a hole in his
uniform, and fixed the flowers over his heart. The next day the Queen
sent for her cousin to come to her private room, and there--to quote
Albert’s words when writing to his grandmother, the Dowager Duchess
of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha--she declared, “in a genuine outburst of love
and affection, that I had gained her whole heart, and would make her
intensely happy if I would make the sacrifice of sharing her life with
her; for she said she looked on it as a sacrifice; the only thing
that troubled her was that she did not think she was worthy of me. The
joyous openness of manner in which she told me this quite enchanted me,
and I was quite carried away by it.”
Both the young people poured out their hopes to Stockmar, who was in
Germany at the time. “Albert has completely won my heart,” wrote the
Queen, “and all was settled between us this morning.... I feel certain
he will make me very happy. I wish I could say I felt as certain of my
making him happy, but I shall do my best.” Albert enthused: “Victoria
is so good and kind to me that I am often puzzled to believe that I
should be the object of so much affection.... More, or more seriously,
I cannot write. I am at this moment too bewildered to do so.”
But even in this matter of the heart Victoria’s sense of her exalted
position never left her. When talking to the Duchess of Gloucester
about making the declaration before Parliament, the old lady asked her
if it was not a very nervous thing to do, upon which she answered, “I
did a much more nervous thing a while ago. I had to propose to Albert.”
Then she went on to explain that of course it would not have been
possible for him to have proposed to the Queen of England; “he would
never have presumed to have taken such a liberty.”
This is almost too good to be true, but as it is given in the Peel
papers it may be regarded as reliable. To have loved a man and to have
spoken of him in this way seems incredible; only a very young and
inexperienced person could have done it, for the lover does not weigh
etiquette against an honest expression of love. However, Her Majesty
was truly young in her love and in her love-making, and had much to
learn concerning the inner sentiments of life. That she learned it all
through we believe, for we are told that her love for the man whom her
uncle chose for her deepened and widened, so that her marriage was as
happy as the most kind-hearted could have wished.
It is not to be wondered at that a girl brought up in such a guarded,
reticent atmosphere as the Queen had been should be unduly reticent all
through her days. The curious thing is that the impression she made
upon all whom she met was that of absolute frankness; yet she had for
eighteen years been accustomed to hide her thoughts and her emotions,
to suppress all tendency to confidences, and it can scarcely be
wondered at that in a matter which was very personal her secretiveness
should reassert itself. It is impossible not to feel sorry that
Melbourne should have been the person against whom she armed her mind
in this case. The Queen did not speak to him of her marriage, neither
by consulting him nor telling him of her intentions. He knew nothing
but the report given in the _Morning Post_, and the talk of the
clubs and the streets. At last he spoke to her, telling her that he
could not pretend to be ignorant of the reports going about, nor could
she; that though he would not presume to ask her what she intended
to do, it was his duty to tell her that if she had any intentions it
was necessary that the Ministers should know them. She replied that
she had nothing to tell him. A somewhat doubtful statement, for she
had already written to Leopold, asking him to keep her cousins from
arriving before the 3rd of October, as she would have a number of
Ministers at Windsor on that day, who, if they saw the Coburgs arrive,
might say the Princes had come “_to settle matters_.”
A fortnight after Melbourne spoke and a day before her proposal to the
Prince she told him that the matter was settled. These little evidences
of haughty independence raised many apprehensions in the minds of those
who served her, for they asked, “If she will deal thus with a Minister
whom she likes, what will she do when those are in power whom she does
not like?”
It is, of course, quite arguable that Victoria wished to have the
opportunity, like other girls, of making up her mind in quiet and of
having her little romance to herself. But she was not like other girls;
and she did not forget what she considered the duties of her position
when proposing to Albert, yet when those duties clashed with her
inclination she allowed sentimentality to prevent her performing them.
The reports that Melbourne feared the loss of his power if Victoria
married, and therefore was doing his best to induce her to keep
single, were not confined to the gossip of London and Paris. There
were many who wondered how Melbourne would behave if he saw before
him the probability of the loss of his influence, as an introduction
to the loss of his position. One of these was the Duke of Wellington,
his great rival in personal weight at Court. Wellington felt that the
genuineness of Melbourne’s devotion would be tested by such an event,
for the old general knew that if, from personal or party motives,
Melbourne wished to put off the Queen’s marriage, he could easily find
specious, in fact almost unanswerable, reasons for such a course. Then
if Victoria really made her choice, pretexts would be easy for causing
delays. Thus our Prime Minister was watched with curiosity or malice
from all sides. What will he do? Will he think of himself? Will he act
the good father’s part? Will he feel disappointed that he is not the
chosen man? Such were the questions prompted by those who knew much,
little, or nothing, and these questions were asked everywhere, while
the wags of the Press announced that the Devil’s Tower at Windsor had
been assigned to him as a residence.
But Melbourne had watched the Queen with something more than
affectionate criticism; he saw that she had grave faults which, if
not trained into virtues, would lead her into evil, and he knew that
outside influence would never be strong enough to counteract them.
Gravely and anxiously he talked over all the possibilities of the
matter with King Leopold. He felt that Albert, a young, untried man,
who knew nothing of public business, and had practically no knowledge
of the world, might be a great danger in himself, yet on the other
hand he thought it very possible that the union might be all the
more successful because of the youth of the two, and that Victoria’s
influence would probably complete and strengthen the character of
the young Prince. Melbourne had been assailed on every side for his
residence in the Palace, for his untiring devotion to the Queen, yet it
was his pride to be recognised as being the faithful and affectionate
friend of Her Majesty. He knew well enough that he would be giving his
own power into the hands of another, yet his sole desire was to do the
best he could for his Queen and his country. It was natural in these
circumstances that he should wish to know the Queen’s intentions in
the matter, and when he received the news on the 14th of October, the
day before Victoria’s momentous interview with Albert, his natural
sweetness of disposition showed itself; for he said: “I think your news
will be very well received everywhere; for I hear that there is an
anxiety now that it should be, and I am very glad of it. You will be
much more comfortable; for a woman cannot stand alone for any time, in
whatever position she may be.”
Of Melbourne in this instance Leopold said to the Queen, he “has shown
himself the amiable and excellent man I always took him for. Another
man in his position, instead of _your_ happiness, might have
merely looked to his own personal views and imaginary interests. Not
so our good friend; he saw what was best _for you_; and I feel it
deeply to his praise.”
The Queen wrote to all her Royal relatives to impart her great news,
and in writing to the Dowager Queen there was a curious mistake made
by her secretary in addressing the envelope. Lord Howe, at his private
residence, received a letter addressed to _Lord How_, the envelope
being whitey-brown inscribed “per railroad.” He supposed it to be one
of many letters he was in the habit of receiving from people who wanted
money or subscriptions, or permission to dedicate something to him, or
something equally unimportant, and very nearly threw it into the fire.
However, he thought better of it, and opened the curious missive--to
discover a letter from Queen Victoria announcing to Queen Adelaide her
approaching marriage; it was written by her own hand, was instinct
with kindness and affection, and “as full of love as Juliet!” Said Sir
Robert Peel, in commenting on this, “I suppose some footboy at Windsor
Castle had enclosed and directed it to Lord _How_. If it had been
disregarded, and had thus remained unanswered, what an outcry there
would have been of neglect, insult, and so forth--and not unjustly.”
When Daniel O’Connell heard the news he made an extravagant speech at
Bandon--before the engagement, as a matter of fact--in which he said:
“We must be--we are--loyal to our young and lovely Queen--God bless
her! We must be--we are--attached to the Throne, and to the lovely
being by whom it is filled. She is going to be married! I wish she may
have as many children as my grandmother had--two-and-twenty! God bless
the Queen! I am a father and a grandfather; and in the face of heaven
I pray with as much honesty and fervency for Queen Victoria as I do
for any one of my own progeny. The moment I heard of the daring and
audacious menaces of the Tories towards the Sovereign[6] I promulgated,
through the press, my feelings of detestation and my determination
on the matter! Oh! if I be not greatly mistaken, I’d get in one day
500,000 brave Irishmen to defend the life, the honour, and the person
of the beloved young lady by whom England’s Throne is now filled! Let
every man in this vast and multitudinous assembly stretched out before
me, who is loyal to the Queen and would defend her to the last, lift up
his right hand! (_The entire assembly responded to the appeal._)
There are hearts in those hands. I tell you that, if necessity
required, there would be swords in them! (_Awful cheering._)” Thus
reported the _Annual Register_ of that date.
This sounds absurd and high falutin’, but it must have warmed the heart
of the young lady. However, if some people welcomed the marriage, there
were others who foretold from it national calamity. I have shown how
keenly the ultra-Tories hated the idea of another Coburg alliance, and
as soon as the matter was assured the whole Papist scare recommenced.
Society people were filled with disdain for the Prince’s birth and
position--“a younger son of a petty and undistinguished German Duke”!
Albert was also accused of want of knowledge, want of manners, want of
morals, and, in fact, a general poverty in all that made a good man;
besides this--greatest crime of all--he was said to be a Whig! Thus the
Queen had by no means regained her popularity with the disaffected of
her people, and all the bitterness of feeling against her came out when
the necessary arrangements were being made for Albert’s reception into
English life.
It is not difficult to see that with her sense of Royal infallibility
the Queen was likely to show little tact, and indeed she made such
extravagant demands for her prospective husband that dismay was felt
even by her warmest supporters.
However, the first thing for her to do was to announce to her Privy
Council, which was summoned to Buckingham Palace for the 23rd of
November, her decision to accept Prince Albert as her husband. There
were eighty-three Councillors present, among them being the Duke of
Wellington, who had just alarmed the country by having a serious
attack--supposed to be paralytic--on the previous Monday, and the
results of which were visible in a slight twist of the right corner
of his mouth, and some constraint in using the left arm. When all the
Privy Councillors were assembled, the doors were thrown open, and the
Queen, dressed in a plain morning gown, wearing a bracelet in which
the Prince’s portrait was set, was handed in by the Lord Chamberlain.
She bowed to her Councillors, sat down and said, “Your Lordships will
be seated.” Then she unfolded a paper and read, with “a mixture of
self-possession and feminine delicacy,” her declaration, which ran:--
“It is my intention to ally myself in marriage with the Prince Albert
of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha. Deeply impressed with the solemnity of the
engagement which I am about to contract, I have not come to this
decision without mature consideration, nor without feeling a strong
assurance that, with the blessing of Almighty God, it will at once
secure my domestic felicity, and serve the interests of my country.”
She read, we are told, in a clear, sonorous, sweet-toned voice, but
her hands trembled excessively, though her eyes were bright and calm,
neither bold nor downcast, but firm and soft. Several times she looked
towards the Duke of Wellington, for he was still ill, and she had been
anxious about him; and when it was all over she wrote in her journal:
“Lord Melbourne I saw, looking at me with tears in his eyes, but he
was not near me.... I felt that my hands shook, but I did not make one
mistake. I felt more happy and thankful when it was over.” In a letter
to Prince Albert she wrote: “I wish you could have seen the crowds of
people who cheered me loudly as I left the Palace for Windsor. I am so
happy to-day! Oh, if only _you_ could be here!”
For three months Victoria’s emotions alternated between happiness
and annoyance, for she could by no means get all she desired for
her beloved Albert. The political animus against herself made the
Opposition captious, and they and the Lords behaved like naughty
children, finding fault with everything. From the very first, from the
day that it was known that Albert of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha was coming to
England as the Queen’s husband, the Prince’s character was calumniated
and his prospects treated with contempt. Our enmity to the German race,
begun when we were obliged to see our Throne filled with Germans--for
even the later Georges were more German than English--and continued
with something of the rancour of a conquered nation, as one German
alliance after another took place; which has been fed of late years
by commercial jealousy, and by a latent fear of what our cousin the
Kaiser might do; this enmity was gaining strength seventy years ago,
and found its whole expression in diatribes against the young man who,
being one of the most amiable people in existence, had been forced into
his position as surely as a Japanese tree is forced into its pygmy
development. This may sound exaggerated, but it is true nevertheless.
From his boyhood Albert was educated, moulded, pruned, into the
shape--morally and mentally--that seemed most suitable for the Consort
of the Queen. There was no escape for him, and so carefully had he
been prepared that he did not even think of escape. It has always been
held that England did very well for the poor, undistinguished Prince
who was allowed the supreme honour of marrying England’s Queen; and to
make him feel how magnanimous they had been, the English people and the
newspapers comported themselves as the street boy now bears himself
when he feels that a foreigner is pressed upon his notice. I once had
two French servants, who often together took my children out, but they
never appeared in the street without the youth of the neighbourhood
pelting them with ribald remarks and sometimes with stones. In this way
did the vulgar among the well-bred treat Albert, and some of them did
it even to the time of his death.
The first stone thrown was one picked from the Declaration which Her
Majesty made before Parliament, in which no mention had been made of
the Prince’s religion. At once the most lying and libellous articles
were written, asserting that Albert was a Catholic, and, if not, that
he belonged to a sect which made it impossible that he could ever take
the Communion in the English Church; and if he could bring himself to
do that his religious beliefs were of that light type that he could be
a Catholic to Catholics, but for the sake of his advancement he could
also be a Protestant to Protestants. To this was added that at heart
he was an infidel and a radical--evidently interchangeable terms with
these violent supporters of a man who stood for the most prejudiced and
retrograde views, Ernest, King of Hanover. There seems to have been
little doubt that he was at the bottom of the reports about Albert; he
still hoped to be King of England, or at least to know that his son
would wear its crown; and it was at the time an open secret that he was
doing his best to upset the marriage.
The angry and younger Tories needed little goading, and they acted
as a spur to their leaders. One feels really sorry that such a man
as the Duke of Wellington should have led the attack in the House of
Lords. The Duke knew as everyone knew that Albert was a Protestant,
yet he and Peel, chafed by the events of the past year, felt that some
stratagem must be employed to discredit the Ministry. “It proceeds from
the boiling impatience of the party, indoors and out. The Tory masses
complain that nothing is done; and so, to gratify them, an immediate
assault is resolved upon.” Peel suggested to Wellington that some
hostile movement must be made against the Government, adding, “It might
be ungracious to cause conflict in an address congratulating a Queen
Regnant on her marriage.” The Duke agreed with this, yet took the
first opportunity which came along of sinking his loyalty to the Crown
in party politics and personal feelings. After some acrid speeches
and many columns in the papers, this quarrel, which was entirely one
of bluff, was soothed by Baron Stockmar’s affirmation that the Prince
was a Protestant who could take Communion in the English Church as
though he were in his own Lutheran Church. Greville, a good Tory,
says of this: “The Duke moved an amendment, and foisted in the word
Protestant--a sop to the silly. I was grieved to see him descend to
such miserable humbug, and was in hopes that he was superior to it.” As
the Queen said in a letter to her uncle, “There was no need to affirm
such a fact, as by law it was impossible that I could marry any but a
Protestant.”
This made a certain amount of stir, but not sufficient to satisfy the
rank and file of the Tory party and the men who desired office; so
it was unfortunate that the next Bill before the House should be one
concerning the allowance to be given to the Prince. Here a new element
came in, our delightful English snobbery. Had Albert come to us as
a millionaire, his life would have been one of roses in our midst,
but his total income then was about £2,500, and he had only a small
estate in Germany. Was not this enough justification for putting him in
his place? Tories and Radicals alike thought so, and when it came to
considering the income suitable for a Prince Consort they practically
said so. The sum asked for as an allowance was £50,000 a year. This
had been given to the husband of Queen Anne, to the Queens Consort of
George III. and William IV., and to Prince Leopold when he married
the Princess Charlotte, but as soon as it was suggested in Parliament
that Queen Victoria’s husband should have the same amount an outcry was
raised. So far as can be judged from all the arguments put forward,
this was simply an indication that at that moment a feminine Sovereign
could be treated with less consideration than a King. Had it been a
Queen Consort for whom provision was needed, it is certain, to judge
by the Parliamentary speeches, that the sum asked for would have been
granted, and it is also certain that had the Queen chosen George of
Cambridge, neither the Duke of Wellington nor any other leader of the
Opposition would have opposed the proposal. Even the frivolous Prince
of Orange would have been accorded more favour. However, fortunately
for England, Victoria was not intending to make her simple-minded
cousin King, and the Prince of Orange had found no favour with her,
also fortunately for England--and for her.
An amendment was proposed by Joseph Hume, the Radical, allowing the
Prince the magnificent income of £21,000 a year, whereupon Colonel
Sibthorp, who was, as Sir Sidney Lee says, “a Tory of a very pronounced
kind, who warmly championed every insular prejudice,” moved another
amendment to make the sum stand at £30,000.
This was carried by a junction of extremes, the Tories and the
Radicals; a year earlier the former had been as insistent in their
demands that the Coronation expenses should be increased by a
tremendous amount that Royal dignity should be sustained. Now so
bitter was their feeling against the Government that they were ready to
strike the Queen over Melbourne’s head. Victoria wrote of this: “It is
a curious sight to see those who, as Tories, used to pique themselves
upon their excessive loyalty, doing everything to degrade their young
Sovereign in the eyes of the people. Of course, there are exceptions.”
Stockmar says that after the division he met Melbourne on the staircase
of the House, and that the Prime Minister said to him, “The Prince will
be very annoyed with the Tories, but it is not only the Tories who
have lessened his income; there were beside Radicals and some of our
own people who voted against him.” It was said that the less honest
Whigs did this because they thought that as the whole blame of the
proceedings would fall upon the Tories, the reduction of the Prince’s
income would widen the breach between the Queen and the Opposition.
Both the Whigs and Tories of the baser sort were ready to go to any
dishonourable length in their desire to secure or to hold power, only
those who had for long been out of office went a little further than
their opponents and cried their sentiments in a very much louder voice,
and thus we hear more about them. Melbourne at least proved himself
an honest man, and he was guilty of that stupidity which is much the
same thing as wickedness; he knew the spirit of the politicians, yet
he did not take necessary precautions, while he seemed always ready to
take unnecessary risks: “There is no doubt that all will go through
easily,” was his feeling, and so he allowed matters to slip into
public discussion and recrimination.
Leopold was enraged. “The whole mode and way in which those who have
opposed the grant treated the question was so extremely _vulgar_
and _disrespectful_, that I cannot comprehend the Tories. The
men who uphold the dignity of the Crown to treat their Sovereign in
such a manner, on such an occasion!” Prince Albert may well have
been irritated on his part, and of him his uncle said, “he does not
care about the money, but he is much shocked and exasperated by the
disrespect of the thing, as he well may.”
The third trouble was the Naturalisation Bill, which included the
question of Precedency.
All through her life Victoria was a sentimentalist, and no sooner did
she really feel herself in love with Albert than her impulse was to
kiss his feet. This young man had spent years travelling from one town
to another in Europe, seeking the education which would best enable
him to fill his position as Prince Consort; he had, in fact, rarely
been at home, to judge by Leopold’s accounts of his doings. Yet as
soon as he offered to settle down in England, Victoria began to see in
him a martyr, one who was sacrificing his family and his country to
live with her in an alien land, and she regarded it as her real duty
to compensate him for the terrible expatriation from which he would
suffer. Leopold wanted Albert to be made a peer; Victoria went a good
step further, she desired that he should be made a King-Consort. The
Ministers listened and hesitated, but Melbourne pointed out that for
the Legislature to make a King would be to infer that the Legislature
could unmake a King. Precedent, he said, was the only thing to accept
as guidance, and Prince Albert must take the same position as Prince
George of Denmark, and he ended emphatically with:
“For God’s sake, Ma’am, let’s hear no more of it!”
This was one of the times when the Queen was angry with Melbourne; how
could he compare the stupid and insignificant husband of Queen Anne
with _her_ Prince?
Failing the highest dignity, she was against Albert’s being made a
peer, writing to him on that subject: “The English are very jealous of
any foreigner interfering in the government of this country, and have
already in some of the papers (which are friendly to me and to you)
expressed a hope that you will not interfere. Now, though I know you
never would, still if you were a Peer they would all say, the Prince
meant to play a political part.”
It is doubtful whether, in spite of her ambition for him, Victoria had
any desire that the Prince should take part in any way in the important
art of governing. She intended to marry, but she was really quite
innocent of a wish to receive a partner in her legislative duties as
well as a partner in her home.
When the Naturalisation Bill was introduced, Lyndhurst watched the
case, as it were, for the King of Hanover, and he objected very much
to the Bill as framed, for it gave Albert the precedence next the
Queen for life. Thus, had he survived Victoria, he would still have
taken precedence of the Heir-Presumptive. The Royal Dukes and their
party wanted to give Albert precedence only over Archbishops and
Dukes, excepting Dukes of Royal blood and other peers of the realm
as the Queen should deem fit and proper. This had the difficulty of
giving precedence, not only to the Royal Dukes, but to Prince George
of Cambridge and Prince George of Cumberland when their fathers died.
In this dispute Lord Lyndhurst and Lord Ellenborough were bracketted
together as the impossibles. Greville saw the latter at his door one
day, and asked what he was going to do about the precedence.
“Oh, give him the same which Prince George of Denmark had: place him
next before the Archbishop of Canterbury.”
“That will by no means satisfy Her Majesty!” replied Greville, at which
Ellenborough tossed up his head, saying,
“What does that signify?”
It would have been a curious thing to see the Queen enter a room,
followed first by all the Guelphs, and at a distance by the humble and
devoted husband. This was naturally not acceptable, so the whole idea
of precedency was dropped, and the Bill became one of naturalisation
only. The Dukes of Cambridge and Sussex, “who both wanted an increase
in their incomes,” would have given way, but Ernest of Hanover
affirmed contemptuously that he would not stand below any “paper royal
highness.” Charles Greville studied up the law on this matter, and
wrote a pamphlet proving that the Queen could grant her husband by
Royal Warrant what precedence she chose without appeal to Parliament.
This unfortunately only applied to his position in her own dominions,
and as long as he lived foreign Courts would only recognise the Prince
according to his birth, thus making a tremendous difference between his
rank and that of his wife. This explains such incidents as that when
he once went to Boulogne, the Kings of Portugal and Belgium, who were
there, both took their departure before Prince Albert arrived, that he
might be the greatest man in the place. Before the Queen and Prince had
been married a month we find the old Duke of Cambridge agitated like
any society woman as to whether he _could_ accept an invitation
to meet the Prince and the Queen at the Queen Dowager’s, because what
_were_ they to do about precedence if he went? As the law--an
old Act of the time of Henry VIII.--stood, Lyndhurst and the Duke of
Wellington told him he had no choice but to give precedence to the
Prince. So the knotty point being settled, the Duke felt himself able
to accept the invitation.