They were both sober at the thought.
‘Nor,’ added Lady Lyttleton, ‘will Papa.’
‘Papa loves me,’ said Vicky.
‘Of course he loves you all,’ said Lady Lyttleton. ‘You, Bertie and Alice.’
‘He loves me best,’ announced Vicky. ‘So does Mama.’
‘You’re a conceited little girl,’ said Lady Lyttleton.
‘What’s conceited?’
‘What you are.’
‘Then,’ said Vicky, ‘it must be nice.’
This was too much for Bertie, who kicked his sister.
‘That was a very ungallant thing to do,’ said Lady Lyttleton.
Bertie looked very pleased with himself and was sharply told: ‘And that is not a nice thing to be.’
‘Course it isn’t,’ retorted Vicky, ‘if Bertie’s it.’
‘Now this is not the way to prepare yourself to meet the great Emperor, is it? Why can’t you be like Alice? Look at her … smiling away so contented and happy.’
‘We can’t be babies all the time,’ said clever Vicky.
It was time for them to make their way to the small drawing-room. There was the Emperor – a glittering figure, big and grand; Mama and Papa were standing together talking to him.
‘And these are the little ones,’ said the Emperor. ‘Ah, the Prince of Wales.’
Vicky thought she should be seen first but the Emperor had picked up Bertie, who was smiling rather shyly and enjoying the attention. Mama and Papa were smiling kindly too.
‘And the Princess Royal.’ Now it was Vicky’s turn. He clearly thought her very charming, but even Vicky was too overcome to show off. She had planned to say the sentence in French, which she had learned off by heart, and which she had said to Mademoiselle Charier who taught her French. Mademoiselle Charier had told Mama, who had thought it was wonderful, and had written it in a letter to Uncle Leopold to tell him what a clever daughter she had – cleverer than his Charlotte. It was only pretence, of course, on Mama’s part, that Uncle Leopold’s Charlotte was more good and prettier than Vicky. She could see that in Mama’s eyes and by the way Papa looked at her and the way Mama held her tightly when she said that in spite of Charlotte’s being so wonderful she wouldn’t change Vicky for her.
Now Baby Alice, crowing with pleasure, was clearly very interested in the rather strange-looking Emperor.
Then they were all sent back to the nursery and Lady Lyttleton said they could watch the Emperor leave.
He and Papa went off together to Woolwich and Mama came into the nursery to tell them that they had behaved very well for the Emperor and she was very proud of her little family.
She was a little sad, Vicky noticed, as she always was when Papa went away.
‘Where is Woolwich?’ asked Vicky.
‘It is not far from London. Papa will say goodbye to the Emperor there and come back to us. You will like that, won’t you, Pussy?’
‘I am not Pussy,’ said Vicky. ‘I am the Princess Royal.’
The Queen exchanged glances with Lady Lyttleton. Really this daughter of hers was most astonishingly precocious – and clever of course. If only her brother took after her!
No sooner was the Emperor’s visit over than there was trouble and the Queen feared that she was going to lose Sir Robert Peel. It would have been ironic if she had paused to think back a few years when Lord Melbourne’s Ministry had been in danger of being replaced by the Opposition with Sir Robert at its head. At that time this had seemed the greatest tragedy of her life. Now she was in despair lest Sir Robert’s Tories should be defeated and a Whig government take their place. Poor Lord Melbourne could never return as Prime Minister of course, but she had to admit that if he could she would not have wanted him. Albert had taught her to realise that Sir Robert was a better Prime Minister than Melbourne had ever been, and how she relied on Sir Robert. It was most tiresome that with the Emperor’s visit just over and her body becoming more and more cumbersome, this crisis had to arise.
Sir Robert was concerned about the high cost of living and the riots which occurred because of this and proposed to ease matters by reducing the tax on sugar. The motion was defeated because of the defection of some members of his own party.
The Queen was very angry. Albert told her that a Jewish member of the party had placed himself at the head of the rebels. His name was Benjamin Disraeli and he was clearly angry because Sir Robert had not given him a post in the cabinet.
‘A most undesirable person,’ said Albert. ‘He has married a woman years older than himself … for her money of course.’
‘How very shocking!’ said the Queen.
‘She was the widow of Wyndham Lewis,’ explained Albert, ‘the member for Maidstone – a forward person, she has written to Sir Robert asking him not to ignore her husband but to give him a post in the government.’
‘What dreadful people! And now he is making this trouble.’
‘He is, you might say, a ringleader.’
‘Oh, if only people would be patriotic and think of the country rather than their own ambitions.’
Albert agreed. When Sir Robert called they would discuss the matter, and see if resignation could be avoided.
To the Queen’s delight it was. The government asked for a vote of confidence and even people like that dreadful Mr Disraeli did not want to see the Whigs in power so the government had its vote of confidence.
‘But it makes one realise,’ she confided to Albert, ‘how very insecure the government is.’
No sooner was this crisis over than another arose – this time with the French who, secretly angry because of the visit of the Emperor of Russia, seized the sovereignty of Tahiti and put the British ambassador there under restraint.
The French were prevailed upon to make reparations and Lord Aberdeen, the Foreign Minister, with Sir Robert and Albert, were attempting to bring about more friendly relations with France when she was brought to bed to give birth to her fourth child.
To Albert’s great joy it was a boy.
He was christened Alfred.
Chapter XV
IN ALBERT’S NATIVE LAND
Life had become more simple. The Queen, once gay, fond of balls and banquets, had become eager to retire from the limelight. Certain members of the Court considered her old-fashioned, rather dowdy and above all, prim. Inspired by Albert, she was taking a very stern attitude towards moral lapses, forgetting that once she had admonished him for his puritanical views. Albert was right in this, she believed, as he was in everything else.
Albert would never be really accepted. He was the foreigner, the German; but the happy family life of the royal couple was an example to all and the majority of people applauded it. Albert’s clearly defined lines of right and wrong embraced so whole-heartedly by the Queen became the law of the Court, and the country was affected by them. Respectability was all important. To sin was to be not respectable and therefore if anyone sinned, they could only expect to be received in society if they were never found out. The Queen who could in no circumstances violate her marriage vows considered that only those who deserved to be outcasts from society would do so, and no one who had been involved in scandal could be received by her. Everyone must lead an exemplary moral life. Marriage was sacrosanct. She and Albert set the pattern – which was of course Albert’s – and everyone must conform to it. A subtle change was creeping over the country. The swaggering days of the Regency were far behind. The age of Victoria and Albert had begun.
The happiest times for the Queen were those when she could escape with Albert and the children to her ‘dear little house’ Osborne on the Isle of Wight. There it was such fun to live quietly without being surrounded by all the trappings of Court life. There the children could enjoy the sea and fresh air and she and Albert could temporarily forget the cares of state and live like an ordinary family.