‘I never liked the Chartists,’ said the Queen. ‘And the thought of riots here after what has happened in France is very alarming.’
‘The situation here is under control,’ said Lord John.
Albert was not so sure. He was very worried. His thoughts, of course, were far away in Germany.
Then a fresh blow struck them. Albert came to the Queen holding the letter in his hand and he was in tears.
‘Albert, what has happened?’ cried the Queen.
Albert could only shake his head and Victoria took the letter from him.
‘From Coburg,’ she said in some dismay. ‘Oh dear. Poor dear Grandmama … dead. My poor, poor Albert, I know how you loved her, and so did I.’
‘She was a mother to me,’ said Albert brokenly.
‘This is too much in addition to everything else.’
‘She was an angel on earth,’ said Albert. ‘Always good and loving to us all.’
Victoria wept to think of that dear body lying under flower-covered earth in the Island of Graves which they had so recently visited.
The days were uneasy. On one bleak March day news was brought to the palace that the Chartists had assembled in Trafalgar Square and were planning to march on Buckingham Palace.
Very large, expecting her child to be born very soon, the Queen’s great concern was for the children.
‘Keep them happy in the schoolroom,’ she ordered. ‘They should not understand what this could mean.’
Going to the window she could see the mob marching up the Mall. They were coming closer and closer to the palace. This was what had happened in Paris.
She closed her eyes and thought: Is this the end then? Is this what I was brought up to, trained for? Albert was beside her. Dear Albert, still mourning for his grandmother, and anxious for his homeland!
She waited in trepidation for disaster but nothing happened and Lord John called at the palace to tell her that the rioters had dispersed.
‘They had no real heart for it,’ he said. ‘They’ve too much sense.’
Such alarms were terrifying though.
She hoped they were not having any effect on the child.
She remembered that it was Lord Melbourne’s birthday. She hardly ever saw him now because he spent most of the time down at Brocket. It was said that he had gone a little strange. She knew this was true because he imagined quite falsely that he was in financial difficulties. She herself had lent him money to help him over a difficult period, which did not in fact exist. She thought of him now and then, just a little guiltily, for in her domestic happiness she had been inclined to neglect him. But perhaps it was because she did not like to think of those extravagant entries in her diary when she was so devoted to him that she could not bear a day to pass without seeing him. She wrote to him:
The Queen cannot let this day pass without offering Lord Melbourne her and the Prince’s best wishes for many happy returns of it in health and strength.
She went on to write of the terrible revolution which had swept France and was threatening Europe.
‘Too gloomy a letter for a birthday,’ she finished, ‘and the Queen must apologise for it.’
It cheered her a little to picture Lord Melbourne’s delight when he received it.
Three days later she gave birth to a daughter. This was her sixth child.
‘We’ll call her Louise,’ she said. ‘I hope she doesn’t turn out peculiar, having been born at such a time. Aunt Louise will like the baby’s being called after her. Perhaps it will cheer her a little.’
The confinement had passed off much better than the Queen had expected. The new baby was a placid, healthy child, rather like Alice. For two weeks Victoria did not leave her apartments in the palace and Albert carried her from the bed to her sofa. The march to Buckingham Palace which had petered out before anything violent happened seemed to have sobered up the trouble-makers. How she longed to be at Osborne with dear Albert and the children and forget all the unpleasant things that were happening in the world!
But how could one forget the poor French family and dear Aunt Louise who must be suffering torment?
Still she was feeling better and blustering March was over and April was here with a promise of the spring.
She and Albert were going through their etchings together and Albert was telling her where she had quite succeeded when Lord John Russell was announced. As soon as he entered the Queen could see by the gravity of his expression that something was wrong.
‘I had better tell Your Majesty and Your Highness of my concern without delay. The Chartists are planning a big meeting to take place on the 10th and it is to be in London. The Cabinet fears they may mean trouble this time.’
‘Oh, how can they! I have just got up from childbed and they dare to do this?’
‘They consider only themselves, Ma’am,’ said Little Johnny. ‘We shall take every precaution at the palace, and we hope they can be halted before they reach it.’
‘Have they … threatened me … us?’
‘No, Your Majesty. They propose to march to the Houses of Parliament. But a mob can so easily get out of hand. I thought you should be warned. The Cabinet will discuss what measures can be taken.’
The Queen bowed her head.
When Lord John returned, Albert walked with him out of the palace while the Queen sat brooding.
Was it coming, she asked herself, all the terrible things that had happened in France? She and Lehzen had studied history together, and she knew what had happened in France during the big revolution. She had shivered when she had read of the fall of the Bastille and the flight of the King and Queen to Varennes, their capture, their bitter humiliation. She had felt so sorry for them because she had guessed what it must have meant for royalty to fall so low. But had she understood before? Now she could hear the shouts of the mob; she remembered them not so long ago when they had marched up the Mall. That was a rehearsal; the next would be the real thing.
Revolution, the abolition of monarchy – that was the plague which was spreading across Europe!
What of the new baby – but two weeks old? Dear little Louise! What sort of world had she been born into? What of Pussy, Bertie, Alice, Alfred and Helena? What terrible fate had befallen the Dauphin of France? Who could say? It was a miserable end and the more terrible for being so. What if such a fate were waiting for Bertie?
She felt hysterical with terror and when Albert came back he found her weeping helplessly.
‘Victoria, you must be calm. You must not give way.’
‘It is very well for you,’ cried the Queen, suddenly losing control. ‘Have you just got up from bearing a child? Have you suffered nine months of discomfort? Oh, no, you have not. You are like every other man. It is a fine thing to have a family, you continually tell me. Very fine … for you. You don’t have to suffer.’
‘Victoria, for Heaven’s sake, don’t get so excited.’
‘Get excited, when the mob is coming to tear us all apart. They will attack me, not you. You do not count for much. I am the Queen.’
In vain did Albert try to soothe her; she could only weep, and suddenly her temper would flare up and she would accuse him of heartlessness.
It was like a return to those days when there had been quarrels between them. He knew that when she was in such a mood he should leave her to herself but then she upbraided him for his cynical indifference.
Later that day Lord John called again at the palace and saw Albert. He said that the Cabinet had decided that it would be advisable for the Queen, the Prince and the royal family to leave for Osborne two days before the Chartist gathering was to be held.