The Queen and Lord M

Chapter VII PALACE GOSSIP

Nothing was quite the same after the Coronation. When she had ridden through the streets the people had adored their charming young Queen and she had reached the top of her pedestal, but it was going to be very difficult to stay there.

There had always been scandals about the lives of Royalty; the people had come to expect them; and though it might be difficult to imagine that anything shocking could be happening in the life of a young girl who was so clearly innocent, that did not stop malicious people from speculating on the situation at the Palace.

Victoria in her innocence was unaware of this. She was enjoying her role, applying herself to it assiduously. She was sure that she possessed a natural aptitude for it and as long as she had her dear Prime Minister to guide her in public life and her precious Lehzen in private, what more could she ask?

When the Court was at Windsor, naturally Lord Melbourne and any other visiting Ministers had their own apartments there, but this was not the case in Buckingham Palace where it was easy for a minister to pay a brief visit whenever he was required to do so. As far as Lord Melbourne was concerned though, he was so often at the Palace that it seemed advisable for a set of apartments to be put at his disposal there; and he did in fact live more often at Buckingham Palace than Melbourne House. This was an ideal arrangement, said the Queen, for it meant that she could call on him so easily at any time. Lord Melbourne agreed with her.

Trouble was brewing in the Palace and at the heart of it was Sir John Conroy, whom Victoria had suspected of treachery before her accession. Her suspicions were now confirmed.

‘It is not only the Duchess’s financial affairs which are controlled by him; she herself seems to be,’ commented Lord Melbourne.

He spoke very frankly to Victoria now because as he said they understood each other and it was only if he spoke his mind that he could let her know what was in it. The Duchess showed quite clearly that she disliked Lord Melbourne, so Lord Melbourne retaliated; and as he explained to the Queen, there was no point in his saying what he did not mean out of deference to convention.

‘I should like to see Sir John out of the Palace,’ said the Queen.

‘We could not agree to his demands. You remember they were exorbitant. To do so would be submitting to blackmail.’

‘Odious creature! I always knew I was right to hate him. Sometimes I think that it would be a good idea to get rid of him at any price. Suppose we made it worth my mother’s while to go abroad? Back to Leiningen perhaps. Then That Man could go with her.’

Lord Melbourne considered this. ‘Would she go? And if she did, you could not live alone without some chaperone. It might make trouble too. The people would not like to see an open rift between you and your mother. You manage everything so well by being affectionate towards her in public. It is best to continue like that.’

‘It seems so insincere. I don’t like it.’

‘Ah, you are open and frank by nature,’ said Lord Melbourne admiringly, ‘but sometimes we all have to do things we don’t much like … particularly queens.’

‘Mamma has been much more humble lately. I think she would like a reconciliation.’

‘Let her begin negotiating for it by sending Conroy away.’

‘She has written to Lehzen – such a friendly letter.’

‘I don’t doubt she is trying to win you back,’ said Lord Melbourne. ‘But it would be best for the Baroness to acknowledge the letter and leave it at that.’

So the battle continued and like good soldiers the ladies-in-waiting and other servants of the Palace fell in behind their leaders. On one side was the Queen, with Lord Melbourne, Lehzen and Baron Stockmar; and on the other side the Duchess with Conroy and Lady Flora Hastings who, because of her rather serious nature and a certain gift for acid comment, led the ladies.

The strained situation with the Duchess drove Victoria into an even closer relationship with Baroness Lehzen. She even declared that she thought of her as Mother and sometimes called her by that name; but of course, reasoned Victoria to herself, she is not my mother, so I shall call her Daisy which I think is a lovely faithful name.

The Baroness was delighted by these outward signs of the Queen’s favour. She could endure the sly allusions to her origins from sharp-tongued Lady Flora; and the sneers about her German habits and her caraway seeds were shrugged aside. All that mattered was that Victoria loved her and had sworn that nothing could ever separate them.

Meanwhile plots fermented in the opposite camp.

Items in the press – not very prominent it was true – were suggesting that there was too much foreign influence at Court. The names Stockmar and Lehzen were mentioned, and of course King Leopold.

‘This has been started by J.C., Mamma and her ladies,’ said Victoria vehemently.

‘It’s nonsense,’ replied Lord Melbourne lightly. ‘Everyone knows that it is Your Majesty’s ministers from whom you take advice.’

‘One of my ministers at any rate,’ smiled Victoria. ‘It is true that dear Stockmar is kind and so devoted.’

‘He is a good intermediary for dealing with Conroy.’

‘Oh how I wish we could rid ourselves of J.C.!’

‘He would go if we acceded to his blackmail. That is what he is waiting for.’

‘I cannot understand why Mamma does not see through him.’

‘If I may be very indiscreet … ?’

‘Dear Lord M, you never are.’

‘Then if I may be exceptionally frank …’

‘You have my permission.’

‘Then I will say that I find the Duchess not very strong-minded and easily led by some. I do not think she is capable of any deep feeling.’

Of course it was wrong to discuss one’s own mother in such a way, but Mamma had become a State matter and this was the Prime Minister.

‘I fear you are right, Lord Melbourne.’

‘Therefore, we must not allow her to dictate our actions.’

‘Most certainly not. Lord Melbourne, what do you think of Lady Flora Hastings?’

‘Frank again?’ smiled Lord Melbourne.

‘Yes, please.’

‘I find her a disagreeable young … or not so young … woman. She must be past thirty. Her family are staunch Tories.’

‘I could well imagine so,’ replied Victoria distastefully. ‘She seems to be very friendly with J.C.’

‘That is understandable. I have always thought there was not an ounce of sense in the entire Hastings family.’

‘I do not find Lady Flora handsome either.’

‘She is positively plain.’

‘I am at a loss to understand why Mamma thinks so highly of her.’

‘A few simple deductions would make the answer clear,’ said Lord Melbourne, and they laughed.

Then they talked of other things – light, frivolous things, and Lord M was so amusing that she could not get to her Journal quickly enough to record some of his witticisms before she forgot them.

The Duchess came to the Queen’s apartments.

‘I thought,’ she said, ‘that my daughter might perhaps wish to see me.’

‘I always wish to see you agreeable, Mamma.’

The Duchess fingered one of the many bows on her dress. ‘My dearest angel,’ she said, ‘isn’t it time to put an end to this sad state of affairs?’

‘What state of affairs is this, Mamma?’

‘This animosity between us.’

‘It is not between us exactly Mamma. It is due to the people who surround us.’

The Duchess leaned forward in her chair.

‘That is exactly true. You see far too much of Lord Melbourne.’

‘My Prime Minister!’

‘Is he not a little more than that?’

‘I don’t think you understand these matters, Mamma.’

‘Oh, I understand very well. You think very highly of that man, now don’t you?’

‘It is of the greatest importance that the Queen should have confidence in her Prime Minister.’

The Duchess’s trouble was that she was unable to control her temper and, as Victoria had inherited a similar one, when these two clashed there were what the Duchess had called in Victoria’s childhood, ‘storms’.

‘Well,’ said the Duchess, ‘that is one way of describing it.’

‘Describing what and at what are you hinting, pray?’

‘Your friendship with that man. He is no friend to me.’

‘It is only necessary that he should be a friend to the Queen.’

The Duchess should have been warned that when her daughter continued to refer to herself as the Queen she was reminding her companion that she expected the respect the title demanded.

‘Take care!’ cried the Duchess. ‘There are some who are saying that he is the King … or would like to be … and that you would like him to be.’

Victoria did not realise the significance of these words; she was only angry that her mother, who had come ostensibly to seek a reconciliation, should think she would obtain it by attacking Lord Melbourne.

‘I am managing very well without your advice, Mamma!’ said the Queen coldly.

‘Yes.’ The Duchess was in a storm of rage now. ‘Then there is the way you obviously enjoy riding out and always doing it … so that the people can cheer you. And you eat far too much and show too much pleasure in your food. You gobble.’

‘If I wish to ride out, Mamma, I shall ride out, and if I wish to gobble, gobble.’

‘You laugh too loudly.’

‘I shall laugh as I please.’ Victoria rose. ‘And now,’ she said regally, ‘the Queen sees no reason why this interview should continue.’

The Duchess felt impotent to protest. This was the Queen and there was no doubt of that.

She rose and went back to her apartments.

‘I felt as though she would have ordered me to be sent to the Tower of London if I stayed longer.’

‘She is quite capable of it,’ retorted Sir John.

Lady Flora, who was present – she was often in the company of Sir John – hurried to find smelling salts.

‘Of course, Your Grace,’ she said, ‘the Queen’s unkind attitude towards her own mother comes from that ill-bred Baroness. Did you know that Her Majesty is now calling the woman Mother?’

‘Oh, it is shameful … shameful!’ moaned the Duchess.

‘We shall get even with them, never fear,’ promised Sir John.

Victoria was in the blue closet listening entranced to Lord Melbourne’s racy conversation. She had begun by scolding him, for during the recent thunderstorm she had seen him from a window standing under a tree.

‘I was in a fever of anxiety. It could have been struck. You might have been killed. Anything could happen.’

‘A sublime death,’ replied Lord Melbourne.

‘I was so angry with you.’

‘Then I must immediately begin to worm my way back into Your Majesty’s regard.’

‘You will not do it by standing under trees in thunderstorms.’

Lord Melbourne believed his size would prevent his doing that. One tree was all that was needed to shelter him. It was his subtle way of correcting her; she often needed correction. Her grammar was frequently faulty, and Lord Melbourne was so erudite. He noticed such things. As for herself, she was never quite sure when one should say ‘who’ or ‘whom’ or ‘me’ or ‘I’, but it was often convenient to be able to substitute ‘the Queen’ for the latter.

Then he talked lightly and easily about Canada and how Lord Durham as High Commissioner was managing. There were outbreaks of rebellion in Canada which were causing some concern to the Government.

‘Possession abroad means anxiety at home and those damned Tories are ready to exploit any situation for the sole purpose of bringing discomfort to Your Majesty’s Government,’ explained Lord Melbourne.

Victoria shivered at the use of the word ‘damned’. She had heard that Lord Melbourne was noted for his colourful oaths, but in her presence he was usually restrained; she was delighted that he could feel so relaxed as to use a mild one now and then. But she noticed that when he did it it was always in connection with State matters.

‘Lord Brougham is beside himself with glee, and if Durham fails to bring about the desired result, Brougham could ask for a vote of confidence.’

‘I’m sure the whole country has as much confidence in her Government as the Queen has.’

‘I wish I could be sure of that, ‘said Lord Melbourne fervently.

‘You dined at Holland House last night,’ said the Queen.

‘That was so.’

‘I trust that it was a reasonably entertaining evening?’

‘Your Majesty’s trust is not misplaced.’

She giggled and went on, ‘I wished that I were there sitting next to you and you could have amused me with some of your comments on the guests.’

‘A somewhat churlish occupation,’ replied Lord Melbourne. ‘For after all one is invited to these occasions to help entertain, not to criticise.’

‘But, Lord M, you are very critical.’

‘If I have the permission to correct Your Majesty I would say that I am the most forbearing man in the world.’

‘In some circumstances, perhaps. I am sure you would be very forbearing with Lady Holland.’

‘I have never had occasion to exercise that trait in my character in connection with Lady Holland.’

‘And I hope you never will be familiar enough with her to be called upon to do so. I think she has an extremely ugly mouth.’

Lord Melbourne smiled with cynical amusement. ‘Your Majesty is very observant.’

‘Yes, a vulgar mouth I should say. The Queen cannot understand why the Prime Minister finds the society at Holland House more entertaining than that at Windsor or Buckingham Palace.’

‘The Prime Minister cannot understand why the Queen imagines that he does.’

‘He goes there far too often.’

‘Not as often as he is at Buckingham Palace and there are some who say that he is there far too often.’

‘Naturally he has State business to discuss with the Queen.’

‘Such as the appearance of Lady Holland’s mouth, where he should stand during thunderstorms, his school days at Eton and the Queen’s in Kensington Palace.’

She began to laugh. He could always make her laugh even when she was beginning to feel a little angry about his visits to Holland House.

Lord Melbourne became momentarily serious as he often did when the conversation became a little too frivolous. The civil war in Spain, he said, was causing Her Majesty’s Government some concern. As for Portugal, that country was tottering on the edge of grave financial disaster.

‘They are far away from us,’ said the Queen.

‘No country can be completely unaffected by what is happening in another and the European situation is of vital importance to this country. “No man is an island”,’ he quoted. ‘Far less countries. We cannot afford to be unconcerned about any European situation.’

‘I know that Uncle Leopold is most concerned.’

‘Your Uncle Leopold likes to have a stir at every pudding.’

She laughed immoderately until she realised that she was laughing at Uncle Leopold, which seemed wrong.

She spread her hands and frowned at them, thinking that they would have been quite pretty if they did not get so red and swollen.

Lord Melbourne looked at them too.

‘You don’t like my rings,’ she accused him.

‘You wear far too many.’

‘Well, you see my hands get red and I think the rings hide them.’

‘They make them worse.’

‘I don’t wear them in the morning.’

‘If you didn’t wear them at all the fashion for so many rings would stop. And if you wore gloves when you are out riding your hands would not get red.’

‘I can’t get my gloves on.’

‘So you see it is a battle between rings and gloves … and you choose rings and cold hands against gloves and soft white ones.’

‘That doesn’t sound like a very wise choice.’

‘I leave your Majesty to decide.’

More laughter in the midst of which the door was opened and the Duchess came in.

Lord Melbourne rose and bowed; the Duchess nodded her feathers curtly; she looked at Victoria steadily and said: ‘I thought to find you alone.’

Victoria, coldly regal, replied: ‘No, Mamma. I am not alone. I have urgent State matters to discuss with my Prime Minister.’

Even at such a moment she wanted to laugh for the manner in which Lord Melbourne’s brow shot up told her what he was thinking: urgent matters like rings and red hands and Lady Holland’s vulgar mouth.

‘I did not realise that you were so busy,’ said the Duchess pointedly.

‘Well, you now see that we are.’

The Duchess’s rather insolent gaze swept the table and Victoria said: ‘If you wish to see the Queen it is better to make an appointment beforehand.’

Lord Melbourne took a document from his pocket and laid it on the table (for all the world, the Duchess told Sir John and Lady Flora afterwards, as though I was not there) and Victoria went over and studied it, ignoring her mother.

Uncertain, angry and tearful, the Duchess turned and went out of the room.

‘There you see,’ said Victoria, ‘she was spying on me. She will go back at once and report to That Man.’

‘She must not be allowed to walk in unannounced.’

‘I will go to see her and tell her that no one is to enter my apartments without first obtaining my permission.’

‘That, said Melbourne, ‘is the only way to settle the matter.’

The Baroness was rather angry.

‘What is it, Daisy dear?’ asked the Queen.

‘It is that impertinent Flora Hastings.’

‘Oh, that woman. In Lord Melbourne’s opinion she is most disagreeable. They call her Scotty. Whether it is a term of endearment I do not know. But I can’t imagine anyone’s finding anything endearing in Flora Hastings. What has she been doing now?’

‘Oh, just making her unpleasant remarks.’

‘About you?’

‘Sly hints at us both and of course Lord Melbourne.’

‘How dare she! And who are the Hastings? Lord M says they haven’t an ounce of brains between them. They are Tories, too.’

‘Scotty is very friendly with John Conroy.’

‘Which makes her even more odious.’

‘I’ve heard rumours that they are more than friendly.’

‘I really think he is a very wicked man.’

‘He looks at all the letters you write to the Duchess and all her replies to you are seen by him … perhaps even written by him.’

‘I always hated him. Do you remember how he came to my bedroom when I was so ill and tried to trick me into promising to make him my secretary?’

‘I remember a great deal about him and nothing good. I think it is unwise of you to put anything in writing to the Duchess. If you gave all our answers verbally he could not be so sure of what you had said.’

‘She would tell him.’

‘It wouldn’t be so satisfactory to him because he knows the Duchess’s tendency to inaccuracy.’

‘How I wish he would go.’

‘He won’t until his demands are met.’

‘Lord Melbourne says they are blackmail.’

‘Lord Melbourne is right.’

‘Lord Melbourne is always right,’ said Victoria smiling. ‘I will ask him what he thinks of your idea, Daisy. I have made her understand that she is not to enter without permission. I was obliged though to remind her that I am the Queen.’

‘There are some people who need constantly reminding of that important fact,’ commented Lehzen grimly.

Later Lord Melbourne told the Queen that he thought it an excellent idea to reply to the Duchess only by word of mouth.

Lehzen discovered by, as she said, keeping her ear to the ground that the Duchess was in debt to the sum of £70,000, a loan had been arranged for her at one of the banks, and that if this had not been done her affairs would have been in dire straits.

‘Of course,’ said the Queen, ‘it is That Man again. He is supposed to be managing her affairs.’

‘Mismanaging,’ said Lehzen.

And the Queen agreed.

The ladies of both parties whispered together.

‘The Duchess’s financial difficulties are due to the fact that since she has had her increased allowance she has been paying off her husband’s debts,’ said Lady Flora’s faction.

‘So she should,’ retorted the Queen. ‘It is her duty to do so.’

The Duchess’s ladies felt that since the debtor was the Queen’s father it was the Queen’s duty to settle the debts.

The gossip was brought to Lehzen who took it to the Queen.

‘It’s That Man again,’ cried Victoria indignantly. ‘He is putting this about. And it’s monstrous because I am paying my father’s debts.’

‘It should be made known that you are doing this. I shall see that it is.’

‘Oh, no, please Lehzen, don’t say anything. It would seem as though I was saying how good I am. I shouldn’t like that.’

‘But the villainy of that man should be revealed.’

‘It will in time, Daisy dear. For the moment let it rest.’

And so the Palace war continued.

There was great astonishment throughout the Palace because one of the footmen who had descended to those regions below stairs where the silver and gold plate were kept, to be brought out on state occasions, had discovered a boy.

He was young, about eight or nine, decidedly grubby, inarticulate and unlawfully in the Palace.

Everyone was talking about him. His name, he said, was Jones. He had come in … he couldn’t say how or even why, except that he wanted to see where the Queen lived. He did admit, though, that he had been in the Palace for a week.

It was incredible. The Queen discussed it with the Baroness – who wondered whether it was some trick of the Duchess’s faction; Lady Flora suggested that it might be one of the Baroness’s relations who had come to look for her, which her friends thought very amusing. Lord Melbourne said that it showed security was not what it should be at the Palace and there was an enquiry.

The boy seemed not to care what became of him; he had achieved his purpose and had seen wonders which he could never have imagined. He had trodden the State rooms with their thick piled carpets; he had touched the heavy brocade curtains and pulled their gold tassels; he had sat on a sofa on which the Queen had sat; he had seen the throne room (and sat on the throne); he had walked down the grand staircase. If he had lived in the Palace for a week he must have fed himself so he would have made many journeys below stairs to the vast kitchens where he would have seen crystal cups ornamented with diamonds and rubies and Cellini vases; but no doubt the quantities of food would have been more exciting.

What could be done with such a boy? The press was full of the story and he was referred to as ‘In I go Jones’.

Lehzen agreed with Lord Melbourne that this incident betrayed how easy it would be for people to get into the Palace. And suppose, she added, someone wishing to harm the Queen had got in!

‘Nonsense, Daisy,’ replied Victoria. ‘A boy could slip in whereas a grown person couldn’t.’

Lehzen said she would be very watchful in future. She was like a mother with a child, she said. The slightest sound, which might mean harm to her darling, would awaken her.

Victoria had always been on good terms with Lord John Russell and his family and his wife Adelaide had even become rather a special friend. Victoria was constantly inviting them to the Palace because she loved the children. And now Adelaide was expecting another.

It was delightful when the children came to the Palace. Victoria loved to listen to their chatter and enjoyed showing them the Great Drawing Room and the Throne Room. She would sit on the throne when they asked her to and they would gaze at her with awe and then one of them would want to play at being Queen.

‘What fun to have children,’ cried the Queen. ‘I should love to have ten. But then I think I should never want them to grow up.’

Adelaide begged that if the new child should be a girl she might name her after the Queen.

‘That would please me very much,’ replied Victoria.

She said afterwards to Lord Melbourne that it was a joy to see them together. Lord John was so devoted to Adelaide and she was such a good mother. Lord John was her idea of a good husband too.

‘He waited a long time before he took on the role,’ said Lord Melbourne. ‘So he gave himself plenty of time to learn how to play it.’

Victoria looked at him sadly. Poor Lord M who had had such an extraordinary married life. And what a good husband he would have been with the right kind of wife. She would have so much liked to talk to him of his past, but he never mentioned it so she could not. He would talk about his boyhood and his wonderful mother (although she was a little scandalous) and he would talk about his life as a widower but that very important section was always left out.

‘I think Little Johnny was perhaps right,’ said the Queen. ‘It is never good to rush into marriage.’

‘And to choose a widow! That is probably wise. Experto crede. Trust one who has had experience.’

‘Well, it certainly was right in their case. And if the child is a girl she is going to be called Victoria.’

‘A great honour for her.’

‘Oh, I am delighted. I can’t wait for the infant to be born and of course I hope it’s a girl.’

She looked at him quickly. Anyone else but Lord Melbourne would have been saddened by this talk of babies because surely he must be remembering his own son who had been an epileptic and had had the mind of a child all his life. What a blow to dear Lord M Such a brilliant man must have longed for a son as clever as himself. But he gave no sign of the sadness this must have caused. He discussed Lord John’s family lightly and pleasantly as though it had never occurred to him to envy them.

She was filled with tenderness towards him. How I wish he would confide in me! she thought wistfully. Such a feeling man must have suffered greatly and still does; but he hides it all under that careless exterior. Oh what a wonderful man Lord Melbourne was!

Lady John gave birth to a little girl in late October.

Victoria received the message while she was having her breakfast.

‘Daisy!’ she cried. ‘Adelaide Russell has her baby. It’s a little girl, so she will be named after me. I shall go along to see her.’

But before Victoria could do this news was brought to the Palace that the Lady John was very weak and her life was in danger. Almost immediately after this message had been received, there came another.

Lady John was dead.

Victoria wept bitterly. ‘Oh, Daisy,’ she said, ‘it is so sad. They were so happy, and this happens. If she had not had the child she would be alive today. Child-bearing is cruel.’

‘It’s natural,’ said Lehzen.

‘But to die! She was too young to die … and all because of that.’

‘It is, alas, an everyday occurrence.’

The Queen nodded sadly: ‘An everyday occurrence,’ she said. ‘And now,’ she added briskly, ‘we must try and comfort Little Johnny.’

For days she could think of nothing but the death of Lady John. The ordeal of childbirth obsessed her. It was something she herself would have to face in due course – and that time perhaps not very far distant. They would bring her cousins over and she would be allowed to choose either Albert or Ernest, though she believed there were some people who would like to see her take her cousin, George Cambridge. Which I shall not do, she told herself vehemently. She had taken a great dislike to his mother, the Duchess, who had become over-friendly with her own mother recently. So the Cambridges had really taken sides in the Palace feud and the side they had taken was not the Queen’s. No, it would have to be Ernest or Albert, she supposed. That was what Uncle Leopold wanted; but of course Uncle Leopold could not dictate policy to her. Yet she would have to marry.

Albert or Ernest. Ernest or Albert. Albert had pleased her more than his brother when they had visited Kensington before her accession. He was very good-looking and she felt that she could guide him more easily because he was a few months younger than she was. Yes, she had been delighted with Albert at that time and had marriage been suggested then she believed she would have been quite ready to agree. But she had grown up in the last years. She had become a Queen; she had emerged from her prison; she had benefited from the tuition of dear Lord M.

Soon, however, this question of marriage would arise, and she faced the fact that it no longer pleased her. She did not want anyone to interfere with the very pleasant relationship which existed between her and her Prime Minister. She was quite content as she was. And after this terrible affair of Lady John Russell, did she look on marriage and all it meant with a certain apprehension?

She wrote to Uncle Leopold, because they corresponded as frequently as ever, but there was a different tone in her letters now of which he must be aware. She was too open to pretend and their relationship had changed since she had been obliged to tell him that he must not meddle in English affairs.

But this was a personal matter. He had liked Lord John.‘My dear Uncle,We have all been very much distressed by the melancholy and untimely death of poor Lady John Russell … it is a dreadful blow to him for he was so attached to her, and I don’t believe two people ever were happier together … He is dreadfully beat down by it, but struggles manfully against his grief which makes one pity him more … I had known her very well and liked her, and I assure you I was dreadfully shocked by it …’

Yes, she was dreadfully shocked; and she felt something more than the loss of a dear friend and pity for her husband and the children she was leaving. She was vaguely depressed. The pleasantest summer she had ever spent had passed away; and she was facing realities which did not look quite so pleasant to her.

I wish, she thought, that that summer could have gone on and on and never ended.

But she did not speak of her misgivings, even to Lord Melbourne.