But Lord Palmerston could not be dictated to by the Queen’s temporary physical disabilities. His government was defeated; he went to the country and was returned with a large majority. The Queen was delighted; and by that time she had given birth to her ninth child, a daughter, Beatrice, and was once more helped through the birth by ‘blessed chloroform’.
She had reason later that year to be glad that Lord Palmerston was in office. There were rumours of unrest in India. Many reasons were given for this. Discipline had been relaxed; there had been an effort to convert Indians to the Christian faith, and marriage for Hindu widows had been made legal.
British prestige abroad had waned in the last years because of difficulties in Afghanistan and the reverses of the war in the Crimea. It was said that what finally decided the Indians to revolt was the greasing of cartridges with the fat of cows and pigs which they considered sacred. The Mutiny had started.
When the Queen heard what was happening she was in despair. She wept when she heard of atrocities committed against women and children; she stormed at the incompetence which had allowed such carnage to take place. Why was not something done?
She sent for Lord Palmerston; she wanted to know why there was this inactivity.
Lord Palmerston presented the facts in his bland manner. It was deplorable. There was something wrong with their government of India and they must rectify it; but first they must have forces sent out to India; this revolt must be quelled with all speed. It must be realised that the British could not be treated in this way with impunity.
‘You will do this! You will do that!’ cried the Queen. ‘But what are you doing? If I were in the House of Commons, Lord Palmerston, I would tell you what I think of some of you.’
‘It is as well for those of us with whom Your Majesty does not agree, that Your Majesty is not in the House of Commons,’ said Lord Palmerston with a smile.
But she knew that if there was a man who could deal with this horror that man was Lord Palmerston.
She wrote to Uncle Leopold:
We are in sad anxiety about India, which engrosses all our attention. Troops cannot be raised fast enough. And the horrors committed on the poor ladies – women and children – are unknown in these ages and make one’s blood run cold. Altogether the whole is so much more distressing than the Crimea – where there was glory and honourable warfare and where the poor women and children were safe …
Lord Palmerston did not believe in leniency, which would be construed as weakness; and this seemed to be the case, for the Mutiny was suppressed.
The Queen was worried about Lord Palmerston. ‘He is so old,’ she said to Albert, ‘and what shall we do without him?’
She scolded Lord Palmerston for not taking greater care of his health.
Whenever she did so a puckish look would be visible on that old painted face, and the Queen was fully aware of the time when she so disliked him that she wished him anywhere – dead if need be – anywhere to keep him out of the Houses of Parliament.
Chapter XXV
VICKY’S WEDDING
Ever since her engagement Vicky had been treated as an adult and that meant that on days when there were no guests the Queen and Albert sat down to dinner with only their eldest daughter for company. In the days before the engagement Vicky had been in the nursery with her brothers and sisters, but now she was soon to be a bride.
The Queen had recovered from the birth of Beatrice and could now give all her attention to Vicky’s coming marriage. Her feelings were mixed. Sometimes she would look at the radiant young girl and think of herself on the point of marrying Albert. And almost immediately the babies had started to come. She trusted it would not be like that with Vicky. She must wait a while. A pity that she was marrying so young. On the other hand she did miss those meals she and Albert had taken alone. A third person could spoil the intimacy even though it was one’s own daughter. Albert’s devotion to Vicky and his deep interest in all her concerns did not help because she fancied he did not resent their daughter’s presence in the least. On the contrary he could not have too much of her company.
Albert had designed a course of study for her. Nothing pleased him more than organization and when it concerned his family so much the better. Vicky must study history; he would map out a course for her. With her intelligence she would find it all absorbing and it would be of inestimable value to her. They would talk in German together so that she would be perfect at the language; she was very good already, like all the children, having spoken it in the nursery.
It was small wonder that the Queen at these informal meals felt a little shut out.
‘At least,’ she said to Albert after Vicky had retired one night, ‘when she is married I shall have you to myself for a while.’
‘But I am always with you,’ protested Albert.
‘You are constantly at your desk or arranging things on committees.’
‘My love, that is our work … yours and mine.’
‘And then,’ she went on, ignoring the interruption, ‘when we are together, you scarcely have a word for me because your attention is all for your daughter.’
‘You will be thankful to be rid of her,’ he said incredulously.
‘Albert, how dare you say such a thing!’
‘It seems so.’
‘My daughter … my child of whom I think constantly! I am afraid for her … afraid that she will soon be having one child after another which has been my fate. Nine! Just imagine that. Beatrice is the ninth.’
‘There is no need for me to imagine it,’ said Albert calmly. ‘I am fully aware of the number of children I have.’
‘You have! Yes, but who has to bear them … and all the discomforts that go with them?’
‘No one can bear your sufferings. That is something you yourself have to face. You should not brood on them so much.’
‘I am sure if you felt some of my pains you would brood on them a little.’
Then she was sorry suddenly, for she remembered how worried she was about his health and she began to cry, which was the signal for Albert to comfort her.
The new year had come and the 25th of January was to be Vicky’s wedding day. The family had gone to Windsor for Christmas but they must move back to Buckingham Palace for the wedding. The honeymoon was to be spent at Windsor – as the Queen’s had been – and as she prepared to leave for London she was thinking of that happy time. If only Vicky can be as happy as her mother I shall ask nothing more, she told herself. Except of course I should not wish her to have to bring nine children into the world as I have done.
Vicky had only just passed her seventeenth birthday. ‘She is too young,’ said the Queen; and yet she could not stop thinking of returning to the intimacy of dinner with Albert alone. After all, Princesses had to marry. It was their duty.
She went to look at the apartments which had been set aside for the honeymoon and thought of her young innocent daughter.
Poor, poor Vicky!
Vicky came to her there and she saw the fear in her mother’s eyes.
The Queen forgot her jealousy then; she forgot everything but that this was her child, who such a short time ago had been a baby.
‘Oh, Vicky, my darling child!’ she cried.
And Vicky threw herself into her arms and they clung together. It was as though the child sought protection.
‘Dearest child,’ murmured the Queen; and she was thinking of marriage and what she called the shadow side. The weary months of waiting and the final agony. She prayed again that dear Vicky would not have to suffer that nine times.