The Queen's Husband (48 page)

Sir Robert remained firm in his endeavour; the bill was passed in all its stages through the Commons and was sent to the Lords where it sailed through. Peel had repealed the Corn Laws, but on the very day when the bill was finally passed, Peel was defeated on the Irish Coercion Bill; his government fell and on this occasion Lord John Russell was able to form a government.

The Whigs were back in power.

  Chapter XVI  

BERTIE IN TROUBLE

Bertie was once more in disgrace. Since the coming of Alfred, who was now of an age to take notice, he had begun to speak fluently and to take an interest in his brother. Alfred applauded most things Bertie did and quite clearly admired him, so Bertie began to have quite a good opinion of himself. He could not compete with clever Vicky of course but in the little boys’ world he shared with Alfred he was supreme.

He would shout at Alfred, push him or pull his hair; but whatever he did Alfred bore stoically and gazed at him with admiration.

It was different during lessons because then he must sit with Vicky and hear her recite her French poetry or almost always come up with the right answers to sums. He felt it was no use trying to compete and so much more fun to think up some new game to play with Alfred and Alice too, who admired him. He might not be the favourite with his parents but he was with his younger brother and sister.

Miss Hildyard, one of the governesses, said that as he was not attending he had better stand in a corner.

He shook his head. ‘I
won’t
stand in the corner,’ he said truculently. ‘I am the Prince of Wales and Prince of Waleses don’t stand in corners.’

‘It’s not Waleses,’ said clever Vicky, ‘Because there’s only one Wales.’

‘That is right, Vicky,’ said Miss Hildyard, ‘and Bertie will go and stand in the corner.’

‘I
won’t
,’ declared Bertie.

And as Miss Hildyard tried to seize him he cried: ‘Don’t dare touch the Prince of Wales.’

Vicky burst out laughing and said he had a temper as bad as Mama’s and wouldn’t Mama be in a temper when she heard how naughty Bertie had been. ‘Because you will tell her, won’t you, Miss Hildyard?’

Miss Hildyard said she was sorry to have to complain of Bertie’s naughtiness and if he would be a good boy and go and stand in the corner until his fit of naughtiness had passed she would say nothing to His Royal Highness Bertie’s father, nor to Her Majesty Bertie’s mother.

Bertie considered this but Vicky was watching him so he picked up a book and threw it at the window. There was a cracking as the glass splintered. Vicky said: ‘Oh!’ Bertie stared at what he had done; and when they had all recovered from the shock Miss Hildyard said that now she would have no alternative but to report Bertie’s wickedness (he noticed with alarm the different description of his conduct) to his father.

So there was Bertie standing before his father, and in the latter’s hand was a long thin cane. Bertie knew from experience that this would soon be applied to him and he dreaded the ordeal, but he was not sure which was worse, the actual sting of the cane or the lecture which preceded it.

Bertie, said his father, was a great anxiety to his parents. He had no sense of responsibility. If he grew up into a good man (which his father feared was very unlikely) he might if his mother died be the King of England.

Bertie had heard this before but he listened to it every time awestruck. Somehow Papa managed to imply that if Mama died it would somehow be his fault because he would then be the King.

Because he was the Prince he owed it to God, his country and his parents to be more than ordinarily good, but alas, his wicked nature prevailed and he was more than ordinarily bad; and because this was so it was his father’s painful duty – which hurt him far more than punishment could hurt Bertie – to administer a more than ordinarily severe beating. Bertie would now place himself across the chair which was waiting to receive him and suffer the full force of his father’s blows.

Bertie had no recourse but to obey and as the blows descended his cries were loud and protesting.

At last the Prince seemed satisfied and Bertie was sent to his room, there to remain until he was in a sufficiently penitent mood to say he was sorry to Miss Hildyard, to Mama and to his father for the great grief he had made them suffer.

Bertie lay face downwards on his bed sobbing. It was too uncomfortable to lie the other way.

The door opened and he knew it was Mama. She sat by the bed.

‘Bertie, I hear you have again been very wicked.’

Bertie did not answer.

‘You have been rude to Miss Hildyard; you have broken a window; and worst of all you have grieved Papa.’

Bertie was moved to stutter: ‘He … he didn’t have to …’

‘What do you mean, Bertie? Do you think Papa would shirk his duty? You, by your wickedness, have forced him to beat you. You know how that must have hurt him.’

‘He hurt me,’ said Bertie fiercely.

‘Then how much more do you think Papa has been hurt?’

‘He wasn’t beaten.’

‘Oh, Bertie, will you
never
understand anything? There are things that hurt more than canes. You have the best, kindest, dearest Papa in the world and you have made him unhappy by making it necessary for him to beat you.’

Bertie thought it wiser to sob.

‘I am going to leave you to think about this. But you
must
be a better boy. Remember how you have grieved your Papa and me and I am sure that when you think of that and how you love him and me you will be very sorry for what you have done and turn over a new leaf.’

With that she left him.

He didn’t believe Papa was more hurt than he was because nobody could be. He started to cry again. And he didn’t love Papa. He didn’t love Mama much either.

This was a startling discovery to make but at least it made him stop thinking of his smarting body.

The Queen was discussing the problem of Bertie with the Prince.

‘Something will have to be done about him, Albert.’

‘I have given him a caning which he will remember for some time.’

‘Poor Albert. It was
courageous
of you. I know how you must have felt about that. But it had to be done and it was best that you should do it. I’m afraid a tutor’s caning would have little effect on Bertie. Now he realises that you are angry with him he will understand that he must mend his ways.’

‘I was not angry, my love. I was hurt that our son could behave so badly.’

‘I know, Albert.’

‘Someone must take a firm hand with him. These tutors and governesses are aware that he is the Prince of Wales and can’t forget it. Bertie knows this. He can be shrewd enough; it is only where his lessons are concerned that he is stupid. Something will have to be done.’

‘If only you could teach him, Albert, that would be the best thing possible, but of course you are so fully occupied. My dear Albert, I fear you are overworked already.’

Albert said that his great desire was to help the Queen and this meant keeping up to date with everything that was going on. But he had an idea.

‘I shall write to Stockmar and explain our predicament to him. I shall implore him as he loves us both – which I know he does – to come at once. After all the education of the heir to the throne is as important as anything can be.’

The Queen thought that an excellent idea.

‘Trust you, Albert,’ she smiled, ‘to hit upon the right solution.’

Politics were soon claiming the Queen’s attention. Some politicians, she remarked to Albert, seemed determined to plague her. There was for one, that dreadful man with the greasy dyed hair, Mr Disraeli, who had made everything so difficult for dear Sir Robert; another man whom she detested was a Mr Gladstone. He had recently resigned because he objected to the government’s proposal to increase a grant to an Irish college where men were trained to become Roman Catholic priests. ‘What a
dreadful
man to make such a fuss over such a matter,’ declared the Queen. She had seen him once or twice and taken an immediate dislike to him, although he did have a charming wife. But perhaps the chief nuisance was Lord Palmerston.

In the days when Lord Melbourne had been Prime Minister she had enjoyed Lord Palmerston’s company. She knew that he had led a rather shocking life and this, she regretted to think nowadays, had then attracted her. She had thought him interesting and had been amused when Lord Melbourne had told her that he was nicknamed Cupid, for reasons which were clear to all. Later she had heard that when visiting Windsor he had been seen making his way along the corridors to certain ladies’ bedrooms during the night. Very, very shocking. Albert was aware of this side of Lord Palmerston’s nature and had he been the best of Ministers could never have liked him because of it.

Within the last few years Lord Palmerston had settled down. After being a very gay bachelor for fifty-five years, he had suddenly married; and the lady he had chosen to be his wife was a widow three years younger than he was, who happened to be Lord Melbourne’s sister. Emily Lamb had been married when she was very young to Lord Cowper and rumour had it that Lord Palmerston and she had been very great friends for some years. The friendship was perhaps too intimate for propriety; in any case when Lord Cowper died Palmerston married his widow.