‘Lord Melbourne,’ said the Queen regally, ‘I must beg you to say nothing more on this subject now.’
There was a silence. The old man was crestfallen. The glories of the past had slipped away and left him exposed to the indignities of the present. The Queen was overcome with pity. She had loved him and she was not of a nature to forget old friends.
She said gently: ‘I shall be glad to discuss the matter with you at any other time.’
Melbourne looked at her gratefully. She had helped him salvage his dignity.
Tears shone in his eyes; and after that she thought of him as Poor, poor Lord Melbourne; and, remembering past glories, so did many others.
With the new year the political crisis worsened.
It was an unusual situation with Sir Robert standing out against the rest of his party determined to bring about the repeal of the Corn Laws – a very strange situation with a Prime Minister supported by his Opposition and his own party against him.
Albert took a great interest in these matters and insisted that the Queen did too, although with the irksome period to be lived through and all the discomforts which beset her, she found it difficult. A woman at such a time should be able to devote herself to domestic matters, she complained.
There was strong criticism of Albert because he was firmly behind Sir Robert and visited the House of Commons when the debate on Free Trade was in progress. The press raised a torrent of abuse. The House of Commons was no place for foreigners, said the press; nor was it proper for the Queen’s husband to show his approval of a measure by putting in an appearance during a debate. Moreover it was something which would not be tolerated. Albert was made to realise that he must not set foot in the House again.
Sir Robert was abused daily in the press; he was a ‘turncoat’ and a ‘traitor’ to his party, said his enemies, and they were men of his own party. The most virulent attacks came from the rebel Disraeli who, it was perfectly clear, had an eye on the premiership and was never going to forgive Peel for not giving him a place in the Cabinet.
In early June the Queen’s fifth child was born. It was a girl and she was christened Helena.
‘Two boys and three girls,’ she whispered to Albert when he came to sit beside her bed. ‘We have quite a large family now, Albert.’
Albert said this made him very happy, in such a way that she felt it was all very well worth while.
‘And what is going to happen about Sir Robert?’ she asked.
‘That, my love,’ replied Albert, ‘remains to be seen.’
Well, she thought, whatever happens, I have dear Albert and five children, and when one is so blessed in one’s home life, providing the country is safe, politics must seem less important than the family.
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.’