The Queen's Husband (12 page)

‘He is
much
more handsome than Ernest.’

Lehzen admitted this was so. ‘Although Ernest looked the stronger of the two.’

‘Stronger!’ cried Victoria. ‘In what way?’

‘In health, I meant.’

‘Oh, Albert is so much more
refined
.’

‘I remember last time he came. Remember, he nearly fainted on the ballroom floor.’

‘He was growing too fast. You see he was quite short then. He is tall now. What a fine figure he has. His shoulders are broad and he has such a fine waist.’

‘You have a sharp pair of eyes,’ said Lehzen.

‘You always said that.’

‘Yes, my precious angel, and it’s true.’

‘Well, anyone would notice Albert. He stands out in a crowd.’

‘It was hardly a crowd. I must say they travel light. Their baggage hasn’t come. They won’t be able to change for dinner.’

‘That will make it all delightfully informal.’ Victoria giggled.

‘You’ve changed quickly,’ said Lehzen. ‘Yesterday you were dreading their coming.’

‘It’s different after having seen Albert.’

‘You don’t have to rush into anything.’

Victoria was immediately the Queen. ‘I do not have to do anything I don’t wish to,’ she said. ‘Unless, of course,’ she added hastily, ‘it was for the good of the state.’

‘Some might say marriage was for the good of the state. As the Queen you have to give the country its next King or Queen.’

Lehzen watched her mistress obliquely. The shaft had gone home. Victoria could never hide her feelings. Since the death of Lady John Russell in childbirth Victoria had thought a good deal about bearing children. She had referred to it as the ‘dark side of marriage’. It was horrible, painful and could be dangerous. Dear Lady John had been young, happily married, she already had children and could well have done without another, and she who had been well one week was dead the next.

But Lehzen could not bear to see her darling unhappy, so she put an arm about her and said: ‘Why, dearest, you’re only twenty. You could wait three or four years for marriage if you wished. Didn’t Lord Melbourne tell you so?’

‘
Dear
Lord Melbourne.’ Victoria thought of those happy meetings in the blue closet, the long chats about any subject Lord Melbourne liked to introduce. Little titbits about the ministers and members of the household, about his childhood (though never about his scandalous past), his witty comments on life and the sudden way in which he would introduce some state matter and explain it in the most amusing way. Yesterday she would have been happy for the old way to go on and on. Although she knew it couldn’t because Lord Melbourne’s Whig government was very shaky and Sir Robert Peel’s Tories could overthrow it at any moment and a new Prime Minister would never allow the Leader of the Opposition to be on such intimate terms with the Queen.

There had to be change; and it had come as soon as she looked into those beautiful blue eyes and noticed the good looks of her fascinating cousin.

Although she had deplored the prospect of change she could not help being elated because Albert had come.

She knew what this meant.

She had fallen in love. And Lehzen, who knew her so well, was aware of it too.

Albert’s fears were rapidly disappearing because she was so enthusiastic about everything he did that he could not help knowing that he was a success. He was glad he had brought his greyhound with him, for she was devoted to dogs and had several, the favourite of them being Dash, who took a fancy to Albert. She did seem rather childish, betraying her feelings so easily, and she was simple in her tastes. She would shriek with laughter when he joked. Not that he was given to joking but she was so easy to amuse and it was pleasant to make her laugh. She would race through the gardens with Dash at her heels and she would pick him up and explain to him that Eos, Cousin Albert’s greyhound, was so called because that meant Dawn, and because he was black with a silver streak he had reminded Cousin Albert of the first touch of light after the darkness of night. ‘It was
such
a clever name,’ she said admiringly.

Music was a passion with her as with him, and this was a great interest in common. She loved to listen to the two brothers playing together and was in ecstasies when she and Albert sang a duet together. There was one thing which caused Albert a certain uneasiness; that was her love of dancing. Every night she wished to dance. Albert had been warned by Leopold and Stockmar that his social manners must improve and, with this in mind, he had forced himself to master the necessary dancing steps and with his usual thoroughness he had become a tolerably good dancer, though he felt no enthusiasm for the exercise. Victoria however was enchanted with his dancing.

‘You see, Cousin Albert,’ she explained, ‘I could never take part in the waltz before unless we had royal visitors.’ She blushed rather charmingly. ‘The waltz is such an
intimate
dance, the gentleman having to put his arm about the lady and of course as I am the Queen … it had to be a royal arm. But, Albert, don’t you
love
the waltz?’

He wanted to say that he disliked the waltz and that love was not a word he would apply to such a thing as a dance, but he had been warned. He was doing very well and he was certain that once they were married he could guide her to such an extent that she would quickly lose her frivolous ways.

‘I think the music of Strauss delightful,’ he said.

‘Oh, I am so glad. I
love
the Strauss music. Particularly the waltzes. They make me want to dance and dance …’

The late nights were rather tiring but he must not show fatigue this time. He had seen Windsor Castle; he understood all that this marriage would entail. It was the greatest opportunity which would ever come his way, and there was no doubt that the little Queen was already in love with him.

Five days after the arrival of Albert and Ernest at Windsor he and his brother went out riding in the forest. From a window the Queen watched their return and as soon as they entered the castle sent for Albert to join her in the blue closet.

When he came she held out her hands to him.

‘You know why I asked you to come,’ she said, frank, happy, and only faintly embarrassed because she had to reverse the usual custom and propose to him. ‘It would make me
too happy
if you would consent to what I wish.’

He understood. He kissed her hands. Joy shone in his face and she was too enchanted to differentiate between ambition and love.

After all the fears and anxieties he had won.

She threw her arms about him and her warm-hearted affection was very appealing.

‘I am not worthy of you,’ she said, astonishingly.

He protested that this was untrue.

‘Oh, but it will not be easy to be the husband of a Queen. It is a great sacrifice on your part.’

It was not so, he insisted; and he was determined that it should not be so. Sacrifice! To accept the greatest prize in Europe, together with such an affectionate young girl, who was so whole-heartedly in love with him!

‘This is the happiest, brightest moment of my life.’

What bliss indeed. With love and ambition walking hand in hand into the future.

So elated had Albert been by that brief visit that he had scarcely noticed the crossing; alas, though, Ernest had to go straight to Dresden while he returned to Coburg. But his mind was so full of Victoria and his future that he scarcely missed his brother. He was already very fond of his future bride; her absolute devotion to him made her so fascinating. How impulsive she was, but that could be curbed; she was so whole-heartedly natural that she was disarming. He wished that he had been her senior instead of the reverse but their natures remedied that. It was clear that he was the sober one, the one meant to control.

He was going to regret leaving Coburg, of course, and he was going to miss Ernest, but there would be great compensations. He could almost feel sorry for Ernest – Duke of a tiny territory while he would be virtually King of England.

Disillusion quickly followed. He learned that it was not Victoria only with whom he had to deal and it was clear as Victoria began to hint in her letters (she wrote copiously and her letters overflowed with her love for him) that the English did not greatly care for foreigners.

First there arose the trouble about his title. Uncle Leopold thought he should be made a peer but this was not acceptable. Those ‘dreadful Tories’, as Victoria called them, were determined to be difficult. She herself wished him to be the King Consort but apparently even Lord Melbourne would not agree to that, and declared that it was a dangerous precedent for Parliament to be allowed to make a king, for might it not then feel it was permissible to
unmake
one. He was a prince and must remain a prince. Victoria wrote to him:

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 you) expressed a hope that you would 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 …

Not interfere! But he wanted to play his part in the country! He wanted to advise and guide Victoria! What did they expect him to be? A royal stud!

He was humiliated. While he had been at Kensington she had been quite humble and had talked about the sacrifices he was making in marrying her. Did she mean by that then that he was to be a nonentity?

He had hoped that in his household he would install a few German friends to whom he would be able to talk in his own language, which would make him feel less alien in a strange land; and the most important post would be his secretary.

To his dismay Victoria and Lord Melbourne had chosen the man to fill this post. It was to be the Prime Minister’s own secretary, Mr George Anson.

I am very much in favour of it because he is an excellent young man and very modest, very honest, very steady and very well-informed … wrote Victoria.

Albert threw the letter aside. How dared they treat him like this! Surely he was entitled to choose his own secretary! He wrote at once to Victoria telling her that he wished to do this. All he knew of Mr Anson, whom he had seen during his visit, was that he was a good dancer, but he did not wish to choose his household because of their prowess in the ballroom.

This brought a loving reproach from Victoria.

Regarding your wish about your gentleman, my dear Albert, I must tell you quite frankly that it will not do. You must leave it to me to see that the people of your household will be people of good standing and character.

Yes, it was a reproof. It meant: I love you dearly, but please don’t forget that I am the Queen.

Perhaps most distressing of all was the matter of his income, because this was debated in Parliament and it was such a public humiliation. Previous consorts of reigning Queens had been granted £50,000 but he was to have only £30,000. To do her justice the Queen was incensed and did her best to get the larger allowance for him. He knew what was being said in England: the people disliked him already, chiefly because he was German and they did not like the Germans. Even Lord Melbourne had thought it wise not to make a major issue of the Prince’s income and to accept the £30,000 for him.

So he did not match up to previous consorts such as stupid old George of Denmark, consort to Queen Anne, for he had been given his £50,000! Baron Stockmar, who was watching the situation carefully, made sure he saw certain extracts from the English papers. ‘You must take a deep interest in politics,’ had ever been his injunction, ‘and that means a study of the country’s press.’

It was not very comforting reading. The press reminded its readers that the Prince who was to be the Queen’s husband was the second son of a German Duke and had an income of £2,500 a year. £30,000 would be riches to such a comparatively poor man. The Chartists were on the move; there was a great deal of poverty in the country which was in no mood to shower a fortune on an impecunious Prince even if he was going to marry the Queen. They doubted whether he was in danger of imminent starvation, which was more than could be said for many of Her Majesty’s subjects. He would have been happy enough with the £30,000 if those who had previously been in similar positions had not been unquestionably awarded £50,000.