Books: Life of Her Most Gracious Majesty the Queen V.1.

S >> Sarah Tytler >> Life of Her Most Gracious Majesty the Queen V.1.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26

Lady Flora Hastings was good, clever and accomplished, dearly loved by her
family and friends. But whether she, nevertheless, possessed capabilities
of offending her companions in office at Court; whether her conduct in any
respect rebuked theirs, and provoked dislike, suspicion, and a desire to
find her in the wrong; whether the calamity was sheerly due to that mortal
meanness in human nature, which tempts people not otherwise unworthy to
receive the most unlikely and injurious evil report of their neighbour, on
the merest presumptive evidence, the unhappy sequel remains the same. Lady
Flora had been attacked by an illness which caused so great a change in her
personal appearance, as to lend colour to a whispered charge that she had
been secretly guilty of worse than levity of conduct. The cruel whisper
once breathed, it certainly became the duty of every person in authority
round a young and maiden Queen to guard her Court jealously from the
faintest suspicion of such a reproach. The fault lay with those who uttered
the shameful charge on slight and, as it proved, totally mistaken
inferences.

When the accusation reached the ears of Lady Flora--last of all, no
doubt--the brave daughter of a brave man welcomed such a medical
examination as must prove her innocence beyond dispute. Her name and fame
were triumphantly cleared, but the distress and humiliation she had
suffered accelerated the progress of her malady, and she died shortly
afterwards, passionately lamented by her friends. They sought fruitlessly
to bring punishment on the accusers, which could not be done since there
was no evidence of deliberate insincerity and malice on the part of the
circulators of the scandal. The blame of the disastrous gossip fell on two
of the Whig Ladies of the Bed-chamber; and just before the sad climax, the
other event, which angry Tory eyes magnified to the dignity of a
conspiracy, drew double attention to both catastrophes.

In May, 1839, the Whig Government had been defeated in a crucial measure,
and the ministry under the leadership of Lord Melbourne resigned office.
The Queen sent for the Duke of Wellington, and he recommended that Sir
Robert Peel should be called upon to form a new Cabinet. It was the first
time that the Queen had experienced a change of Ministers, and she was
naturally dismayed at the necessity, and reluctant to part with the friend
who had lent her such aid on her accession, whom she trusted implicitly,
who in the requirements of his office had been in daily communication with
her for the last two years. In her interview with Sir Robert Peel, who in
his shyness and constraint appeared to have far fewer personal
recommendations for a young Queen's counsellor, she told him with a simple
and girlish frankness that she was sorry to have to part with her late
Minister, of whose conduct she entirely approved, but that she bowed to
constitutional usage. [Footnote: Justin Macarthy.] Sir Robert took the
impulsive speech in the straightforward spirit in which it was spoken,
while time was to show such a good understanding and cordial regard
established between the Queen and her future servant, as has rarely been
surpassed in the relations of sovereigns and their advisers. But in the
meanwhile a _contretemps_, which was more than half a blunder,
occurred. "The negotiations went on very smoothly as to the colleagues Peel
meant to recommend to her Majesty, until he happened to notice the
composition of the royal household, as regarded the ladies most closely in
attendance on the Queen. For example, he found that the wife of Lord
Normanby and the sister of Lord Morpeth were the two ladies in closest
attendance on her Majesty. Now it has to be borne in mind--it was
proclaimed again and again during the negotiations--that the chief
difficulty of the Conservatives would necessarily be in Ireland, where
their policy would be altogether opposed to that of the Whigs. Lord
Normanby had been Lord Lieutenant of Ireland under the Whigs, and Lord
Morpeth, whom we can all remember as the amiable and accomplished Lord
Carlisle of later time, Irish Secretary. It certainly would not be
satisfactory for Peel to try to work a new Irish policy, whilst the closest
household companions of the Queen were the wife and sister of the displaced
statesmen, who directly represented the policy he had to supersede. Had
this point of view been made clear to the sovereign at first, it is hardly
possible that any serious difficulty could have arisen. The Queen must have
seen the obvious reasonableness of Peel's request, nor is it to be supposed
that the two ladies in question could have desired to hold their places
under such circumstances. But unluckily some misunderstanding took place at
the very beginning of the conversations on this point. Peel only desired to
press for the retirement of the ladies holding the higher offices,
[Footnote: This has been the rule in subsequent changes of Ministry.] he
did not intend to ask for any change affecting a place lower in official
rank than that of Lady of the Bed-chamber. But somehow or other he conveyed
to the mind of the Queen a different idea. She thought he meant to insist
as a matter of principle upon the removal of all her familiar attendants
and household associates. Under this impression she consulted Lord John
Russell, who advised her on what he understood to be the facts. On his
advice the Queen stated in reply, that she could not "consent to a course
which she conceives to be contrary to usage, and is repugnant to her
feelings." Sir Robert Peel held firm to his stipulation, and the chance of
his then forming a Ministry was at an end. Lord Melbourne and his
colleagues had to be recalled, and at a Cabinet meeting they adopted a
minute declaring it "reasonable, that the great offices of the Court, and
situations in the household held by members of Parliament, should be
included in the political arrangements made on a change in the
Administration; but they are not of opinion that a similar principle should
be applied or extended to the offices held by ladies in her Majesty's
household."

As an instance of the garbled impression received, and the unhesitating
exultation manifested by some of the Whig leaders, we quote from Lord
Campbell: "House of Commons, Friday, May 10, 1839. What do you think? Peel
has quarrelled with the Queen, and for the present we are all in again. He
insisted on her removing all her ladies, which she peremptorily refused.
Peel sent his final answer yesterday evening, which she received at dinner,
saying that on consulting his colleagues they could not yield, and that his
commission was at an end. She then sent for Melbourne, who had not seen her
since his resignation. At eleven a meeting of the old Cabinet was called.
To-day Melbourne has been with her, and, Bear Ellis says, agreed to go on
with the government. Reports differ as to the exact conditions. Our people
say that she was willing to give up the wives of Peers; Sir George Clerk
asserts she insisted on keeping all, _inter alias_ the Marchioness of
Normanby. There never was such excitement in London. I came with hundreds
of others to the House of Lords, which met to-day, in the expectation that
something would be said, but all passing off in silence." [Footnote: The
explanation was made later.]

"Brooks's, Saturday, May 11, 1839. The Cabinet is still sitting, and we
know nothing more to-day.... I was several hours at the Queen's ball last
night, a scene never to be forgotten. The Queen was in great spirits, and
danced with more than usual gaiety. She received Peel with great civility;
but after dancing with the Russian Bear, took for her partner Lady
Normanby's son. The Tories looked inconceivably foolish--such whimsical
groups."

Calm onlookers, including Stockmar, condemned Lord Melbourne for the
position, in which he had allowed the young Queen to be placed, and
considered that he had brought discredit on his Government by the
circumstances in which he and his colleagues had resumed office. The
melancholy death of Lady Flora Hastings following on this overthrow of the
ordinary arrangements, intensified the wrath of the Tories, and helped to
arouse a sense of general dissatisfaction and doubt.

In the month of July, 1839, an Act of Parliament was passed which was of
great consequence to the mass of the people. In 1837 Sir Rowland Hill
published his post-office reform pamphlet, and in 1839 the penny-post
scheme was embodied in an Act of Parliament.

What stories clustered round the early miniature "heads" of her Majesty in
the little dull red stamp! These myths ranged from the panic that the
adhesive gum caused cancer in the tongue, to the romance that a desperate
young lady was collecting a huge supply of used stamps for the purpose of
papering a room of untold dimensions. This feat was the single stipulation
on the part of a tyrannical parent, on compliance with which the hapless
maiden would be allowed to marry her faithful lover.

CHAPTER VII.
THE BETROTHAL.

The Queen's remaining unmarried was becoming the source of innumerable
disturbing rumours and private intrigues for the bestowal of her hand. To
show the extent to which the public discussed the question in every light,
a serious publication like the _Annual Register_ found space in its
pages for a ponderous joke on the subject which was employing all tongues.
Its chronicle professes to report an interview between her Majesty the
Queen and Lord Melbourne, in which the Premier gravely represents to his
sovereign the advisability of her marriage, and ventures to press her to
say whether there is any man for whom she might entertain a preference. Her
Majesty condescends to acknowledge there is one man for whom she could
conceive a regard. His name is "Arthur, Duke of Wellington."

Altogether, King Leopold was warranted in renewing his efforts to
accomplish the union which would best secure the happiness of his niece and
the welfare of a kingdom. He adopted a simple, and at the same time, a
masterly line of policy. He sent the Prince, whose majority had been
celebrated along with his brother's a few months before, over again to
England in the autumn of 1839; Prince Ernest of Saxe-Coburg went once more
with Prince Albert, in order to show that this was not a bridegroom come to
plead his suit in person; this was a mere cousinly visit of which nothing
need come. Indeed, the good king rather overdid his caution, for it seems
he led the Prince to believe that the earlier tacit understanding between
him and his cousin had come to an end, so that Prince Albert arrived more
resolved to relinquish his claims than to urge his rights. In his honest
pride there was hardly room for the thought of binding more closely and
indissolubly the silken cord of love, which had got loosened and warped in
the course of the three years since the pair had parted--a long interval at
the age of twenty. All the same, one of the most notably and deservedly
attractive young men of his generation was to be brought for the second
time, without the compulsory strain of an ulterior motive--declared or
unjustifiably implied--into new contact with a royal maiden, whom a
qualified judge described as possessing "a keen and quick apprehension,
being straightforward, singularly pure-hearted, and free from all vanity
and pretension." In the estimation of this sagacious well-wisher, she was
fitted beforehand "to do ample justice both to the head and heart of the
Prince."

It was at half-past seven on the evening of Thursday, the 10th of October,
that the princely brothers entered again on the scene, no longer young lads
under the guidance of their father, come to make the acquaintance of a
girl-princess, their cousin, who though she might be the heir to a mighty
kingdom, was still entirely under the wing of the Duchess, their aunt and
her mother, in the homely old Palace of Kensington. These were two young
men in the flower of their early manhood, who alighted in due form under
the gateway of one of the stateliest of castles that could ever have
visited their dreams, and found a young Queen as well as a kinswoman
standing first among her ladies, awaiting them at the top of the grand
staircase. However cordial and affectionate, and like herself, she might
be, it had become her part, and she played it well, to take the initiative,
to give directions instead of receiving them, to command where she had
obeyed. It was she, and not the mother she loved and honoured, who was the
mistress of this castle; and it was for her to come forward, welcome her
guests, and graciously conduct them to the Duchess.

King Leopold had furnished the brothers with credentials in the shape of a
letter, recommending them, in studiously moderate terms, as "good, honest
creatures," deserving her kindness, "not pedantic, but really sensible and
trustworthy," whom he had told that her great wish was they should be at
ease with her.

Both of these simply summed-up guests were fine young men, tall, manly,
intelligent, and accomplished. Prince Albert was very handsome and winning,
as all his contemporaries must remember him, with a mixture of thought and
gentleness in his broad forehead, deep-blue eyes, and sweet smile.

The first incident of the visit was a trifle disconcerting, but not more so
than happy, privileged people may be permitted to surmount with a laughing
apology; even to draw additional light-hearted jests from the misadventure.
The baggage of the Princes by some chance was not forthcoming; they could
not appear at a Court dinner in their morning dress, but etiquette was
relaxed for the strangers to the extent that later in the evening they
joined the circle, which included Lord Melbourne, Lord Clanricarde, Lord
and Lady Granville, Baron Brunnow and Lord Normanby, as visitors at Windsor
at the time. The pleasant old courtier, Lord Melbourne, immediately told
the Queen that he was struck with the resemblance between Prince Albert and
herself.

"The way of life at Windsor during the stay of the Princes was much as
follows:--the Queen breakfasting at this time in her own room, they
afterwards paid her a visit there; and at two o'clock had luncheon with her
and the Duchess of Kent. In the afternoon they all rode--the Queen and
Duchess and the two Princes, with Lord Melbourne and most of the ladies and
gentlemen in attendance, forming a large cavalcade. There was a great
dinner every evening, with a dance after it, three times a week."
[Footnote: "Early Years of the Prince Consort."] Surely an ideal palace
life for the young--born to the Stately conditions, bright with all the
freshness of body and sparkle of spirit, unexhausted, undimmed by years and
care. Surely a fair field for true love to cast off its wilful shackles,
and be rid of its half-cherished misunderstandings, to assert itself master
of the situation. And so in five days, while King Leopold was still writing
wary recommendations and temperate praise, the prize which had been deemed
lost was won, and the Queen who had foredoomed herself to years of maidenly
toying with happiness and fruitless waiting, was ready to announce her
speedy marriage, with loyal satisfaction and innocent fearlessness, to her
servants in council.

At the time, and for long afterwards, there were many wonderful little
stories, doubtless fanciful enough, but all taking colour from the one
charming fact of the royal lovers. How the Queen, whose place it was to
choose, had with maidenly grace made known her worthy choice at one of
these palace "dances," in which she had waltzed with her Prince, and
subsided from the liege lady into the loving woman. She had presented him
with her bouquet in a most marked and significant manner. He had accepted
it with the fullest and most becoming sense of the distinction conferred
upon him, and had sought to bestow her token in a manner which should prove
his devotion and gratitude. But his tight-fitting foreign uniform had
threatened to baffle his desire, till, in the exigency of the moment, he
took out a pocket-knife (or was it his sword from its sheath?) and cut a
slit in the breast of his coat on the left side, over the heart, where he
put the flowers. Was this at the end of that second day after the brothers'
arrival, on which, as the Prince mentions, in detailing to a friend the
turn of the tide, "the most friendly demonstrations were directed towards
me?"

On the 14th of October, the Queen told her fatherly adviser, Lord
Melbourne, that she had made her choice; at which he expressed great
satisfaction, and said to her (as her Majesty has stated in one of the
published portions of her Journal), "I think it will be very well received,
for I hear that there is an anxiety now that it should be, and I am very
glad of it;" adding, in quite a paternal tone, "you will be much more
comfortable, for a woman cannot stand alone for any time in whatever
position she may be."

In the circumstances, the ordinary role was of necessity strangely
reversed, and the ordeal of the declaration fell to the maiden and not to
the young man. But the trial could not have come to a better pair. Innate
good sense and dignity, and single-hearted affection on the one hand, and
manly, delicate-minded tenderness on the other, made all things possible,
nay, easy. An intimation was conveyed to the Prince through an old friend,
who was in the suite of the brothers on this visit to England, Baron
Alvensleben, Master of the Horse to the Duke of Coburg, that the Queen
wished to speak to Prince Albert next day. Doubtless, the formality and
comparative length of the invitation had its significant importance to the
receiver of the message, and brought with it a tumult and thrill of
anticipation. But he was called on to show that he had outgrown youthful
impetuosity and impatience, and to prove himself worthy of trust and honour
by perfect self-restraint and composure. So far as the world knows, he
awaited his lady's will without a sign of restlessness or disturbance. If
blissful dreams drove away sleep from the pillows on which two young heads
rested in Royal Windsor that night, none save the couple needed to know of
it. It was not by any means the first time that queenly and princely heads
had courted oblivion in vain beneath the tower of St. George, and under the
banner of England, but never in more natural, lawful, happy wakefulness.

On the morning of the 15th, behaving himself as if nothing had happened, or
was going to happen, according to the code of Saxon Englishmen, Prince
Albert went out early, hunting with his brother, but came back by noon, and
"half an hour afterwards obeyed the Queen's summons to her room, where he
found her alone. After a few minutes' conversation on other subjects, the
Queen told him why she had sent for him."

The Prince wrote afterwards to the oldest of his relations: "The Queen sent
for me alone to her room a few days ago, and declared to me, 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 her 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 with which she told me this quite enchanted
me, and I was quite carried away by it."

"The Prince answered by the warmest demonstration of kindness and
affection."

The affair had been settled by love itself in less time than it has taken
to tell it.

There is an entry in her Majesty's Journal of this date, which she has,
with noble and tender confidence, in the best feelings of humanity,
permitted her people to read.

"How I will strive to make him feel, as little as possible, the great
sacrifices he has made! I told him it _was_ a great sacrifice on his
part, but he would not allow it."

This record has been enthusiastically dwelt upon for its thorough
womanliness; and so it is truly womanly, royally womanly. But it seems to
us that less weight has been put on the fine sympathetic intuition of the
Queen which enabled her to look beyond herself, beyond mere outward
appearance and worldly advantages, and see the fact of the sacrifice on the
part of such a man as Prince Albert, which he made with all his heart,
cheerfully, refusing so much as to acknowledge it, for her dear sake. For
the Queen was wisely right, and the Prince lovingly wrong. He not only gave
back in full measure what he got, but, looking at the contract in the light
of the knowledge which the Queen has granted to us of a rare nature, we
recognise that for such a man--so simple, noble, purely scholarly and
artistic; so capable of undying attachment; so fond of peaceful household
charities and the quiet of domestic life; so indifferent to pomp and show;
so wearied and worried in his patience by formality, parade, and the vulgar
strife and noise, glare and blare of the lower, commoner ambitions--it
_was_ a sacrifice to forsake his fatherland, his father's house, the
brother whom he loved as his own soul, the plain living and high thinking,
healthful early hours and refined leisure--busy enough in good thoughts and
deeds--of Germany, for the great shackled responsibility which should rest
on the Queen's husband, for the artificial, crowded, high-pressure life of
an England which did not know him, did not understand him, for many a day.
If Baron Stockmar was right, that the physical constitution of the Prince
in his youth rendered strain and effort unwelcome, and that he was rather
deficient in interest in the ordinary work of the world, and in the broad
questions which concern the welfare of men and nations, than overendowed
with a passion for mastering and controlling them, then the sacrifice was
all the greater.

But he made it, led by what was, in him, an overruling sense of right, and
by the sweetest compelling motive, for highest duty and for her his Queen.
Having put his hand to the plough he never looked back. What his hand found
to do, that he did with all his might, and he became one of the hardest
workers of his age. In seeing what he resigned, we also see that the
fullness of his life was rendered complete by the resignation. He was
called to do a grand, costly service, and he did well, at whatever price,
to obey the call. Without the sacrifice his life would have been less
honourable as an example, less full, less perfect, and so, in the end, less
satisfying.

When the troth was plighted, the Queen adds, "I then told him to fetch
Ernest, who congratulated us both and seemed very happy. He told me how
perfect his brother was."

There were other kind friends to rejoice in the best solution of the
problem and settlement of the vexed question. The good mother and aunt, the
Duchess of Kent, rendered as secure as mortal mother could be of the future
contentment and prosperity of her child; the attached kinsman beyond the
Channel; the father of the bridegroom; his female relations; trusty Baron
Stockmar; an early comrade, were all to be told and made happy, and in some
cases sorry also, for the promotion of Prince Albert to be the Queen's
husband meant exile from Germany.

The passages given from the Queen's and Prince's letters to King Leopold
and Baron Stockmar are not only very characteristic, the words express what
those who loved the writers best would have most wished them to say. The
respective utterances are radiant with delight softened by the modest, firm
resolves, the humble hearty conscientiousness which made the proposed
marriage so auspicious of all it was destined to prove.

The King of the Belgians was still in a state of doubt, writing his earnest
but studiously measured praise of his nephews to the Queen. "I am sure you
will like them the more, the longer you see them. They are young men of
merit, and without that puppy-like affectation which is so often found with
young gentlemen of rank; and though remarkably well informed, they are very
free from pedantry.

"Albert is a very agreeable companion. His manners are so quiet and
harmonious that one likes to have him near one's self. I always found him
so when I had him with me, and I think his travels have still improved
him. He is full of talent and fun, and draws cleverly."

At last there is a plainer insinuation. "I trust they will enliven your
_sejour_ in the old castle, and may Albert be able to strew roses
without thorns on the pathway of life of our good Victoria. He is well
qualified to do so...."

On the very day this letter was written, the Queen was addressing her
uncle. "My dearest uncle, this letter will I am sure give you pleasure, for
you have always shown and taken so warm an interest in all that concerns
me. My mind is quite made up, and I told Albert this morning of it. The
warm affection he showed me on learning this, gave me great pleasure. He
seems perfection, and I think I have the prospect of very great happiness
before me. I love him more than I can say, and shall do everything in my
power to render this sacrifice (for such is my opinion it is) as small as I
can.... It is absolutely necessary that this determination of mine should
be known to no one but yourself and to Uncle Ernest, until after the
meeting of Parliament, as it would be considered, otherwise, neglectful on
my part not to have assembled Parliament at once to inform them of it....
Lord Melbourne has acted in this business as he has always done towards me,
with the greatest kindness and affection. We also think it better, and
Albert quite approves of it, that we should be married very soon after
Parliament meets, about the beginning of February."

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26