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.
Fanny, Lady Cowper’s daughter by her first marriage, who was lady-in-waiting to the Queen, did not like the idea of her mother’s marrying an old roué like Lord Palmerston; the Queen now heartily agreed with her; as she said to Albert, there was something very unpleasant about widows’ remarrying … In the event of the direst possible tragedy of which she could not bear to think for one moment, she could never bring herself to act in such a way.
And now that Lord John Russell was the Prime Minister, Lord Palmerston was once again Foreign Secretary; poor, poor Lord Melbourne having no place in the Cabinet. He said, with that generosity which she remembered so well, that of course it was quite right that he should not be offered one, for he was too infirm to hold it, but it seemed so hard when one remembered the past.
Lord Palmerston seemed to respect no one. He managed whenever possible to devise a course of action for himself and then explain it after he had carried it out. It was wrong, but he could always shrug himself out of any difficult situation, pretending that it was of no great importance.
The Queen suspected him of withholding state papers from her. She resented his attitude towards Albert which was that the Prince was merely a pleasant young man who must not be allowed to think that his opinions carried any weight.
A matter which had for some time been considered one of international importance had become a crisis. The question was the marriage of the young Queen Isabella of Spain and her sister. Louis Philippe had long had an eye on Spain. Before he came to the throne it had been an ambition of the French that Spain and France should be one. This might be brought about by the marriage of the King’s son to the young Queen of Spain. This was something which would never be permitted and Louis Philippe knew it. But he had a plan. As it would never be accepted by the rest of Europe that the son of the King of France should marry the Queen of Spain he would not press this. Instead his son, the Duc de Montpensier, should marry the young Queen’s sister, the Infanta Fernanda, while the Queen married her cousin, the Duke of Cadiz.
Before any objection could be made to this, the marriages had taken place. It was then discovered why Louis Philippe and Guizot, that wily Foreign Minister of his, had made the arrangement. The Duke of Cadiz was impotent; therefore the Spanish throne would go to the heir of Fernanda and Montpensier and thus Louis Philippe would achieve the influence he had hoped for.
When the Queen realised what had happened she raged against Louis Philippe.
‘What a sly old man! And when you think how he pretended to be such friends with us and gave the children those lovely presents.’
‘We should be wary of people when they give us presents,’ said Albert.
‘But these were such lovely presents and Vicky loved her doll. It had eyes that opened and shut and had real eyelashes; and Bertie’s soldiers were beautiful.’