The Widow of Windsor

Chapter XVIII THE AYLESFORD AFFAIR

Disraeli was not exaggerating when he said he had found a new zest for life, a zest of which the death of Mary Anne had robbed him. The Queen had become the centre of his existence; she sensed this and was comforted and delighted by his feelings towards her. Disraeli could never be the father figure that Lord Melbourne had been; but, a mother herself, she did not need a father now. Disraeli enchanted her. He flattered her in a manner which to many might have seemed outrageous but to the Queen it was all very natural. Disraeli adored her; and she in turn was ready to give him a very special affection.

She found herself waiting for his visits, looking for the light of admiration which leapt into his eyes as he bent over and kissed her hand. He made her feel as though she were a very attractive woman as well as a Queen and she could never quite resist such admiration, perhaps because it had never been apparent in Albert’s feelings towards her. Albert had been the most faithful of husbands and love between them had been great; but never had Albert flattered her. She was his good wife, his dear adoring Victoria but never had he shown this ecstatic admiration which she found in the attitude of Mr Disraeli.

She knew that before his marriage to Mary Anne he had had mistresses and he now had many women friends. Like so many clever men, he found the society of women so much more to his taste than that of men – in every way. Lord Melbourne had been the same; so had Uncle King George IV and, going back much further, Charles II.

Mr Disraeli had that very pleasant gift for gossiping which she had so enjoyed in Lord Melbourne’s time for he had been a past-master at it. Albert had never gossiped and had never approved of the practice; but a Queen should know a great deal about the people around her – personal things, the sort of items which gossip brought out so admirably.

The new Prime Minister was so amusing. His wit delighted her as Lord Melbourne’s had done; in fact it was almost as though history were repeating itself. There she was looking forward to her Prime Minister’s visits, settling down to a little gossip and like Melbourne he would bring in State matters and discuss them in such an easy, light-hearted manner that it all became a pleasure.

India was a topic which absorbed him. He was going to make her Empress of India, he cried, looking at her with great admiration. He called her the Faery Queen very often, and to his friends rather irreverently ‘The Faery’; when she disagreed with him he had a rather arch way of putting his head on one side and saying with a kind of tender reproach: ‘Dear Madam.’ This amused her and carried her on the way to making her see his point of view.

How very different from Mr Gladstone! She liked to discuss the last Prime Minister with the man who had replaced him. What did Mr Disraeli think of those rumours about Mr Gladstone? Was it really true that he prowled about the streets inviting loose women to accost him? The story as she had heard it was that he was so concerned for these women that when they approached him he tried to reform them and instead of going home with them as they asked, he invited them home with him, where, if they accepted his invitation, they would find Mrs Gladstone waiting with hot soup and a warm bed that they might spend the night in comfort and the next morning be persuaded to mend their ways.

‘What an odd manner for a Prime Minister to behave!’ said the Queen.

Mr Disraeli agreed that it was indeed very odd.

‘It lays him open to all kinds of suspicion,’ went on the Queen. ‘Does he not realise that?’

‘Oh perfectly, Madam. But he is such a figure of virtue that he believes none could seriously suspect him of having other motives than those of reform towards his protégées.’

‘He is a strange man. Many people might think he is immoral.’

‘His friends have warned him about these nocturnal prowlings, M’am,’ said Disraeli, ‘but he is a man of purpose.’

‘I wonder,’ said the Queen, her lips pursed; then she remembered that Albert would have said it was unchristian to suspect vice where it was not proved and Albert would probably have thought Gladstone an admirable man. She dismissed the thought, hastily remembering that Albert had not liked Mr Disraeli at all and had thought of him as a flamboyant upstart – but then of course Albert had not really known him.

She went on: ‘Sometimes I wonder whether he is a secret Papist. He seems to concern himself so much with religion and this Irish question.’

‘It is hard to imagine Mr Gladstone either a papist or a libertine,’ said Disraeli wryly. ‘The two have been known to go together – but not in a Mr Gladstone.’

‘Poor Mrs Gladstone,’ said the Queen.

And they shelved gossip to discuss the position with India.

Bertie was deeply interested in India. In view of the situation he believed that he, who had proved himself such an excellent ambassador, should visit that country.

He visualised a glorious and splendid tour, with wonderful Arabian Nights type of entertainments put on for his benefit. The government should put up the money for the expenses of such a tour for it was clear that the heir to the Crown and Empire should not travel like a pauper.

He said nothing to Alix. She did not come into his plans. He certainly did not wish to have her with him on the journey. He wanted to be free to enjoy it.

He raised the matter with Disraeli and other ministers who responded cautiously. Bertie, however, wilfully misconstrued their attitude as enthusiasm and went to Windsor to see the Queen.

‘Mama,’ he said eagerly, ‘you know that your ministers believe that it would do great good if I toured India, and this is just the time to do it.’

The Queen was always uneasy when Bertie was out of England; she was never sure what mischief he would get into. Often, though, Disraeli had mentioned the ambassadorial qualities of the Prince of Wales and that, although he was apt to be a little indiscreet at times, his journeys had on the whole done immense good for the country’s relations with foreign powers.

The Queen listened. If Mr Disraeli believed it would be good for the Prince of Wales to travel in India perhaps he was right.

‘What of the money to provide for the cost of all this?’

‘Oh, Mama, that’s a small point.’

‘I should have thought it was a very big one,’ said the Queen. ‘I can give nothing and I know you are in debt. But if the government is willing to meet your expenses I see no reason why the trip should not be arranged.’

Bertie was jubilant. ‘Of course the government will pay, Mama,’ he said. ‘It is such an excellent project.’

‘Alix must not go,’ said the Queen sharply.

Bertie smiled. That was just what he thought.

‘It will be a wrench to part from Alix,’ he said, ‘but I’m sure she’ll realise that she can’t leave the children and come with me.’

He was pleased. It was going better than he had dared hope.

Alix was distressed.

‘Bertie,’ she cried, ‘is it true that there is a project afoot for a trip to India?’

‘Oh, nothing definite,’ said Bertie airily. ‘Dizzy’s been turning over the idea in his mind. Seems to think I rate as a good ambassador.’

‘When would they want us to go?’ asked Alix.

Bertie was silent for a few seconds and then plunged: ‘I don’t think they want you to go, Alix.’

She turned pale; he saw her clench and unclench her hands.

‘So you are planning to go alone?’ she demanded.

‘Everything is quite unsettled so far.’

‘But not so unsettled that it has been decided that I am to stay behind.’

‘There are the children,’ said Bertie. ‘You would hate to leave them.’

‘They would be in good hands. And a wife’s first place is with her husband. I want to come with you.’

‘Well, of course, it’s what we both want,’ said Bertie evasively.

But she knew he didn’t. She wanted to turn away and weep. She knew that he wanted to go off alone; that he would not miss her at all, that he was already planning the pleasures that would be his.

Bertie had his way; the journey to India was arranged and Alix stayed at home, although she did accompany him to Calais.

Knowing that a very glittering, exciting and novel adventure lay before him, and that poor Alix was hurt to be left behind, Bertie was suitably sad on saying good-bye to her.

‘You have the children to comfort you for this parting,’ he said. ‘I haven’t that consolation.’

No, thought Alix, half angry, half exasperated, but you’ll find ample to make you forget your family!

Everyone noticed how melancholy she was and felt sorry for the poor Princess of Wales who put on such a brave face although the whole nation gossiped about Bertie’s infidelities.

Alix went back to her nurseries and told the children about Papa’s journey and soon their father was sending home accounts of his journey; at least he never forgot to write to them, telling them about his reception in India and the wonderful places he saw. He had shot an elephant and would bring a baby elephant home for the boys to see; he had also killed a tiger. Perhaps he would bring home some tiger cubs for them to play with. They were such lovely little creatures – like big cats and very playful when young.

George would read the letters to Eddy because Eddy could read only slowly and, although the elder, was far behind George in his studies. George had to look after Eddy always and explain things to him when he could not understand them.

So George read and re-read their father’s letters and every day they looked for them.

Disraeli told the Queen that he was really delighted with the work the Prince was doing in India.

‘None could have done it better save yourself, M’am,’ he said. ‘And we should not wish to see our gracious Queen indulging in pig sticking and tiger shooting at which by all accounts His Royal Highness excels.’

Bombay, Calcutta, Poona and Baroda. Everywhere the Prince went he made an excellent impression. Even at Lucknow, where in view of past events there was a hint of hostility, he managed to charm the inhabitants. There was no doubt that Bertie had the right manner to grace such occasions and win the superficial affection of multitudes; everywhere he went he was greeted with enthusiasm. He was given such gifts; he was cheered everywhere. He was called the Future Emperor. No one could have denied that it was an eminently successful and well-timed exercise.

But Bertie’s way of life must mean that he was always on the edge of scandal. Sometimes he managed to skirt skilfully across it; but this he could not always expect to do.

One of Bertie’s greatest friends was Lord Aylesford, who devoted so much time and energy to sport that he was known as Sporting Joe. He had been a prominent member of the Marlborough House set and Bertie had often been his guest. Sporting Joe had a remarkably pretty and rather flighty young wife who had been on terms of great friendship with the Prince of Wales – even greater than her husband was aware. It had not been possible to take her on the Indian tour but, against the wishes of the Queen, Bertie had included Aylesford in the party.

Lady Aylesford was not of a nature to remain faithful to her husband or to the Prince of Wales during such a long absence and no sooner had they left than she struck up a friendship with another member of their circle, Lord Blandford, heir to the Duke of Marlborough. So serious did this friendship become that Blandford decided to leave his wife and set up house with Lady Aylesford.

When Lord Aylesford heard of this he was very distressed and explained the position to the Prince. Bertie was uneasy. The Mordaunt case was still fresh in his mind. He had been very friendly with Lady Aylesford – as he had with Lady Mordaunt; if Aylesford was going to make trouble and there was a public scandal he might well be drawn into it.

‘Blandford is a scoundrel,’ he cried. ‘I’ll never speak to the fellow again.’

But Aylesford wanted greater satisfaction than the Prince’s disapproval. He must go home, he said. He must know exactly what was happening. Reluctantly the Prince agreed and Aylesford left for England.

With the departure of Aylesford and one or two others – including Lady Aylesford’s brother who had been a member of the party – a great deal of the fun departed. Sporting Joe had a genius for arranging amusing pastimes. The Prince missed him very much and the more he missed him the more he raged against Blandford, the cause of the trouble. His anger was tinged with a certain anxiety which made it the greater, since he himself had perhaps been a little indiscreet with the fascinating wife of Sporting Joe.

He had left India and was in Egypt on the way home when news reached him that Lord Aylesford was planning to divorce his wife and of course he would cite Lord Blandford as co-respondent. In the heat of the affair Aylesford made known the Prince’s criticism of Blandford.

Lord Randolph Churchill, the fiery-tempered younger brother of Lord Blandford, decided to defend the family honour. This defamation of his brother’s character coming from someone like the Prince of Wales was ridiculous, he said. The Prince had known of the affair between Lady Aylesford and Blandford before he left England yet he had insisted on Lord Aylesford’s accompanying him. The family were eager to prevent a greater scandal and tried to persuade Aylesford to drop the idea of divorce.

Lord Randolph, a man of immense vitality, a certain impulsiveness, great ambition, a love of the limelight and a complete lack of discretion, determined to do everything in his power to stop the divorce and stated that the Prince of Wales was the chief instigator of the trouble and that he would never forgive him for calling Blandford a scoundrel. He went on to declare in his club and to acquaintances who, he must have known, would not keep the information to themselves, that if the divorce were proceeded with, evidence could be produced which could ruin the Prince of Wales.

In his impetuous way he turned his indefatigable energies into an effort to stop the divorce. The Prince could stop it, he was sure; and as His Highness had influence with Aylesford, it seemed that if he were to forbid Aylesford to proceed the outraged husband would comply with his commands.

Meanwhile Churchill asked for an audience with the Princess of Wales.

Alix, who had heard rumours of the scandal, was feeling sick at heart. How different everything might have been if only Bertie had been a faithful husband, or if she could have been indifferent to his infidelities. She had tried not to attempt to discover with which women he was friendly; she had tried to laugh at rumours and to tell herself that a virile man like Bertie needed outlets for his energies which marriage could not supply. He was not the only unfaithful husband. He was so charming, and especially tender and generous when he was indulging in his adventures. He was so good to the children; so eager that she herself should be treated with respect; and she was never allowed to suffer any indignity in public. He would have been angry, even with his mistress of the moment, if she had dared to show a lack of respect towards the Princess of Wales. He was tolerant about her besetting sin of unpunctuality; he tried not to show his exasperation when she was as much as half an hour late, which she knew she often was. It was impossible not to love Bertie deeply. If she could have loved him a little less how much easier it would have been.

She looked at the little man with the burning purpose in his eyes, feigning respect but in fact threatening.

‘A most painful business, Your Highness.’

‘Then it is a pity everything is not done to stop it,’ she answered.

‘I am in complete agreement. That is why I have come to Your Highness. The Prince could have great influence here. This case must not come before the public.’

‘And you think I can prevent that?’

‘I think Your Highness might persuade the Prince to prevent it.’

‘I have no say in these matters.’

‘You have influence with the Prince and I believe that if you could make known to him what bringing this matter into the public eye would entail it would be an end to it. I must explain to Your Highness that if Aylesford takes this to court, the Prince will be subpoenaed and this will be a repetition of the Mordaunt case. Although this time it will not go so easily for the Prince.’

‘I don’t understand you, Lord Randolph.’

‘Lady Aylesford, Your Highness, received letters from the Prince of Wales. When this trouble arose and divorce was threatened, she gave those letters to my brother, Lord Blandford. If Lord Aylesford went on with the divorce, these letters would be published.’

Alix put her hand to her brow. Letters! It was always letters in these scandals. Oh, Bertie, how could you be so indiscreet as to write letters to these women! There had been letters in the Mordaunt case – fortunately they had not been too revealing. She trusted these were not either.

Lord Randolph tried to dispel her hopes. ‘Your Highness,’ he said, ‘if the contents of these letters were revealed I fear the Prince of Wales would never sit on the throne.’

He left Alix in a state of great anxiety.

When the Prince heard what was happening he was furious. What angered him most was not the fact that the letters might be published but that Churchill had dared to go to Alix and inflict such agonies upon her. He knew how she would feel and he hated himself for having become involved with Lady Aylesford. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt Alix.

He raved to his friend Lord Charles Beresford.

‘I’ll never speak to Churchill again. I’ll see him hounded out of society. I’ll challenge him to a duel.’

‘Your Highness couldn’t do that,’ put in Beresford.

‘What do you mean I couldn’t do it? I will do it. I’ll have his blood for this.’

‘It would be treason, Your Highness.’

‘Treason. I’d like to see him in the Tower. I’d like to have him before a firing squad. And if I decide to challenge him to a duel I’ll do so, Beresford, remember that.’

The Prince, usually mild-mannered and good-tempered, had inherited a spark of the Queen’s hot temper; and when it was aroused – though it rarely was – it could be alarming.

Lord Charles knew that he had no alternative but to carry the challenge to Churchill.

When he received it Lord Randolph replied that it was absurd. He could not of course accept the challenge. At the same time he had no intention of changing his course of action. If there were divorce proceedings the letters the Prince of Wales had written to Lady Aylesford would be published.

The Queen of course had been informed. As usual when the family was in real trouble she stood firmly behind it. Bertie was the victim of unscrupulous people, she said.

Mr Disraeli was naturally her great comfort.

‘Bertie assures me,’ she told him, ‘that the letters are innocent.’

‘I am sure they are, M’am, but the wrong construction can be put on innocent matters, and people are inclined to believe the worst. His Highness is quite right not to attempt to interfere in Lord Aylesford’s private affairs.’

‘I shall let the Prince know that I believe he has acted rightly, by not allowing this man Churchill to blackmail him – for that’s what it is.’

‘That’s what it is, M’am,’ agreed Disraeli.

‘Perhaps he should delay his return until the unfortunate affair has blown over.’

Disraeli thought that if Aylesford decided to divorce his wife it might be a long time before it blew over; and although it was not right for the Prince to persuade Lord Aylesford not to take divorce proceedings, it might be suitable for someone to do so other than the Prince.

The Queen waited for Disraeli to suggest a name.

‘The Earl of Hardwicke could, I think, be very persuasive.’

The Queen smiled. She could trust her Prime Minister to do everything that was possible.

When Disraeli explained to Lord Hardwicke how important the Aylesford affair was to the Prince of Wales, Hardwicke promised to do his utmost to persuade Aylesford that to continue with the divorce would mean the loss of the Prince’s favour.

The Queen wrote to Bertie that dear Mr Disraeli was dealing with the matter so that he could be assured that the affair was in the best possible hands.

Bertie, however, did not like Disraeli. The Prime Minister was one of those clever fellows, erudite as Bertie could never be, of a literary turn of mind, making constant allusions to classics of which Bertie – who rarely opened a book – was ignorant. Bertie felt he had more in common, oddly enough, with Mr Gladstone.

And now, he supposed, Disraeli was smiling to himself at the thought of the Prince in another scrape.

On his journey home he had heard that the Queen had been proclaimed Empress of India and he considered it a great slight that he had had to discover this through newspapers when he would have thought it would have been the duty of the Cabinet to inform the Prince of Wales before making the news public.

Disraeli had need of all his clever diplomacy to placate the Prince on this issue; and he worked persistently on the Earl of Hardwicke.

Bertie’s feelings on nearing home were apprehensive. He had to face his wife and his mother; strangely enough it was meeting with Alix which alarmed him most.

He wrote to her that he wanted to see her before he saw anyone else and he wanted to see her alone. He must talk to her.

Several members of the royal family had gone to Portsmouth to meet him and Alix arranged that they should all stay behind while she went out and boarded the yacht as it lay off the Needles.

She was greeted fervently by Bertie. He had forgotten how beautiful she was, he told her; he wanted her to know how he had missed her; it was wonderful to be home.

He embraced her almost furtively while he wondered how much she knew about the Aylesford affair.

Alix was so delighted to see him that she could not hide her joy.

‘Bertie, it has been so long! The children are almost wild with joy. They wanted to come out with me but you said come alone.’

‘Yes, Alix. It’s this fellow Churchill. I’ll swear I’ll never speak to him again. I challenged him to a duel, I was so angry. Making insinuations about me. All the time I was thinking of you. I am accustomed to having lies told about me. It’s the effect it has on you that bothers me. That scoundrel came to see you … talking the most ridiculous nonsense.’

Alix sighed, then she was smiling happily. It was so comforting to believe it was nonsense. So she did not ask Bertie the questions he so clearly did not wish to be asked. She could not have this reunion spoiled for anything in the world.

The children were so excited when they went ashore. They jumped all round him, demanding stories about tigers and elephants.

‘Later, later!’ cried Bertie, beaming bonhomie and happiness. How could anyone have wanted to make him anxious when there was so much in life that he enjoyed!

Shortly after his return the Earl of Hardwicke was able to report to the Prime Minister that Lord Aylesford had decided not to divorce his wife. Everyone was relieved – the Prince of Wales more than anyone else. But he refused to receive Randolph Churchill; and as the latter could not be invited to any gathering which the Prince honoured with his presence, and as only such gatherings were considered worth attending, Randolph and his beautiful wife were outcasts.

She was an American so they decided to travel in America for a while; but the Queen did not think this was enough and because the affair had to some extent become public knowledge, it seemed necessary that Churchill should offer a formal apology to the Prince of Wales.

Although the Prince accepted the apology he made it clear, when the Churchills returned to England, that he had no desire for their company.