Authors: E. Gordon Browne
Tags: #victoria, #albert, #V&A, #disraeli, #gladstone, #royalty, #royal, #monarch, #monarchy, #history, #british, #empire, #colony, #colonial, #commonwealth, #kings, #queens, #prince, #balmoral
The Prince, in a letter to a friend, rejoiced that their marriage “still continues green and fresh and throws out vigorous roots, from which I can, with gratitude to God, acknowledge that much good will yet be engendered for the world.”
The finest tribute to the Prince Consort’s memory is to be found in the Dedication written by Lord Tennyson to his
Idylls of the King
:
These to His Memory - since he held them dear,
Perchance as finding there unconsciously
Some image of himself - I dedicate,
I dedicate, I consecrate with tears -
These Idylls.
Like Arthur, ‘the flower of kings,’ he was a man of ideals, above petty jealousies and small ambitions:
Hereafter, thro’ all times, Albert the Good.
The
Idylls
produced such a deep impression upon the Prince that he wrote to the author, asking him to inscribe his name in the volume. The book remained always a great favourite with him, and Princess Frederick William was engaged upon a series of pictures illustrating her favourite passages at the time of his death.
An enumeration of the varied activities of Prince Albert during his lifetime would need a volume. His position was always a difficult one and was seldom made easier by the section of the Press which singled him out as a target for its poisoned arrows. Only a strong sense of duty and an unwavering belief in his wife’s love could have sustained him through the many dark hours of tribulation and sorrow. He rose early all the year round, and prepared drafts of answers to the Queen’s Ministers, wrote letters and had cleared off a considerable amount of work before many men would have thought of beginning the day’s tasks.
No article of any importance in the newspapers or magazines escaped his attention. Every one appealed to him for help or advice, and none asked in vain. His wide knowledge and judgment were freely used by the Queen’s statesmen, and the day proved all too short for the endless amount of work which had to be done.
In spite of increasing burdens and poor health he was always in good spirits. “At breakfast and at luncheon, and also at our family dinners, he sat at the top of the table, and kept us all enlivened by his interesting conversation, by his charming anecdotes, and droll stories without end of his childhood, of people at Coburg, of our good people in Scotland, which he would repeat with a wonderful power of mimicry, and at which he would himself laugh most heartily. Then he would at other times entertain us with his talk about the most interesting and important topics of the present and of former days, on which it was ever a pleasure to hear him speak.”[10]
[Footnote 10: Queen Victoria’s
Journal
.]
His rule in life was to make his position entirely a part of the Queen’s, “to place all his time and powers at her command.” Every speech which he made in public was carefully considered beforehand, and then written out and committed to memory. As he had to speak in a foreign tongue, he considered this precaution absolutely necessary. At the same time it often made him feel shy and nervous when speaking before strangers, and this sometimes gave to those who did not know him a mistaken impression of coldness and reserve.
His sympathy with the working classes was sincere and practical. He was convinced that “any real improvement must be the result of the exertion of the working people themselves.” He was President of the Society for Improving the Condition of the Labouring Classes, and never lost an opportunity of pointing out that, to quote his own words, “the Royal Family are not merely living upon the earnings of the people (as these publications try to represent) without caring for the poor labourers, but that they are anxious about their welfare, and ready to co-operate in any scheme for the amelioration of their condition. We may possess these feelings, and yet the mass of the people may be ignorant of it, because they have never heard it expressed to them, or seen any tangible proof of it.”
His grasp of detail and knowledge of home and foreign political affairs astonished every one who met him, ministers and ambassadors alike. His writing-table and that of the Queen stood side by side in their sitting-room, and here they used to work together, every dispatch which left their hands being the joint work of both. The Prince corrected and revised everything carefully before it received the Queen’s signature. Considering the small amount of time at his disposal, it was remarkable how much he was able to read, and read thoroughly, both with the Queen and by himself. “Not many, but much,” was his principle, and every book read was carefully noted in his diary.
Even to the last he exerted his influence in the cause of peace. The American Civil War broke out in 1861, and Great Britain declared her neutrality. But an incident, known as ‘The Trent Affair,’ nearly brought about a declaration of war.
The Southern States, or ‘Confederates,’ as they were usually called, sent two commissioners to Europe on board the British mail steamer
Trent
. The
Trent
was fired upon and boarded by a Federal officer, who arrested the commissioners.
This was regarded as an insult to our flag, as it was a breach of international law to attack the ship of a neutral power. The Government therefore decided to demand redress, and a dispatch, worded by Palmerston, was forwarded to the Queen for her signature.
The Prince realized at once that if the dispatch were forwarded as it was written it would lead to open war between the Northern States and our country, and he suggested certain alterations to the Queen, who agreed to them. A more courteously worded message was sent, and the Northern States at once agreed to liberate the commissioners and offered an ample apology.
Possibly the person to whom the Queen owed most - next to her husband - was Lord Melbourne. His position at the time when the young Queen came to the throne was a unique one. Victoria was just eighteen years of age - that is to say, if she had been a little younger it would have been necessary to appoint a Regent until such time as she came of age. For many years it had not been a matter of certainty that she would succeed to the throne, and the late King’s unreliable temper had been the means of preventing the matter from being properly arranged as regards certain advantages which might have been given to the Princess during his life-time. In many ways, however, it was fortunate that the Queen came to the throne at such an early age: if her knowledge of State politics was small, she possessed, at any rate, a well-trained mind, a sense of duty, and a clear idea as to the responsibilities of her position as ruler of a great nation.
There had been four reigning queens in this country before Victoria, but all of them had had some previous training for their duties. The two Tudor queens came of a ruling stock, and were older in years and experience. The times, too, were very different. Queen Elizabeth, for example, before coming to the throne possessed an intimate knowledge of political affairs, and experience - she had been confined in the Tower of London and narrowly escaped losing her head - had endowed her with the wisdom of the serpent. The two Stuart queens were no longer young, and both were married.
The circumstances in the case of the young Victoria were thus totally different. She stood alone, and it was clear that some one must help her to grapple with the thousand and one difficulties which surrounded her. It was for some time uncertain who would undertake the duty, until, almost before he had realized it himself, Lord Melbourne found himself in the position of ‘guide, philosopher, and friend.’
How he devoted himself to this work can be judged from the fact that no one - not even any of his opponents - regarded him with the slightest mistrust or jealousy.
Melbourne was at this time fifty-eight years of age, an honourable, honest-hearted Englishman. He was sympathetic by nature, fond of female society, and, in addition, was devoted to the Queen. His manner toward her was always charming, and he was in constant attendance upon her.
Nor was the training which the Queen received from him limited to politics, but matters of private interest were often discussed. Every morning he brought dispatches with him to be read and answered; after the midday meal he went out riding with her, and, whenever his parliamentary duties allowed, he was to be found at her side at the dinner-table. When he retired from office he was able to state with pride that he had seen his Sovereign every day during the past four years.
The news of her engagement to Prince Albert was received by him with the keenest pleasure, and the Queen in writing to her uncle says: “Lord Melbourne, whom I of course have consulted about the whole affair, quite approves my choice, and expresses great satisfaction at the event, which he thinks in every way highly desirable. Lord Melbourne has acted in this business, as he has always done toward me, with the greatest kindness and affection.”
It was a real wrench to the Queen when the time for parting came. Melbourne, with his easy-going nature and somewhat free and easy language, had schooled himself as well as his young pupil, and had become a friend as well as an adviser. Some words of Greville’s might aptly serve for this great statesman’s epitaph:
“It has become his providence to educate, instruct, and form the most interesting mind and character in the world. No occupation was ever more engrossing or involved greater responsibility . . . it is fortunate that she has fallen into his hands, and that he discharges this great duty wisely, honourably, and conscientiously.”
The Queen was equally fortunate in his successor, Sir Robert Peel, a statesman for whom she had every confidence and respect, “a man who thinks but little of party and never of himself.”
Peel was never afraid of making up his mind and then sticking to his plan of action, although, as often happened, it brought him into opposition with members of his own party. In his hands both the Queen and her husband felt that the interests of the Crown were secure.
Peel naturally felt considerable embarrassment on first taking up office, as he had given support in the previous year to a motion which proposed cutting down the Prince’s income. But the Prince felt no resentment, and so frank and cordial was his manner that Peel, following Lord Melbourne’s lead, continued to keep him, from day to day, thoroughly in touch with the course of public affairs.
The relations between the Queen and her Minister were cordial in the extreme. Peel appreciated very fully her simple domestic tastes, and he was able at a later date to bring before her notice Osborne, which might serve as a “loophole of retreat” from the “noise and strife and questions wearisome.”
The Queen was delighted with the estate. “It is impossible to see a prettier place, with woods and valleys and
points de vue
, which would be beautiful anywhere; but when these are combined with the sea (to which the woods grow down), and a beach which is quite private, it is really everything one could wish.”
In 1845 the Queen asked Lord Aberdeen if she could not show in some way her appreciation of the courage with which Sir Robert Peel had brought forward and supported two great measures, in the face of tremendous opposition. She suggested that he should be offered the Order of the Garter, the highest distinction possible.
Sir Robert Peel’s reply was that he would much prefer not to accept any reward at all; he sprang, he said, from the people, and such a great honour in his case was out of the question. The only reward he asked for was Her Majesty’s confidence, and so long as he possessed that he was content.
When his ministry came to an end the Prince wrote to him, begging that their relations should not on that account cease. Sir Robert replied, thanking him for “the considerate kindness and indulgence” he had received at their hands, and regretting that he should no longer be able to correspond so frequently as before. The Prince and he were in the fullest sympathy in matters of politics, art, and literature, and Peel had supported the Prince loyally through all the anxieties connected with the arrangements for the Great Exhibition.
His death in 1850 was a calamity. Prince Albert, in a letter, speaks of Peel as “the best of men, our truest friend, the strongest bulwark of the throne, the greatest statesman of his time.”
The Duke of Wellington said in the Upper House: “In all the course of my acquaintance with Sir Robert Peel I never knew a man in whose truth and justice I had a more lively confidence, or in whom I saw a more invariable desire to promote the public service. In the whole course of my communications with him I never knew an instance in which he did not show the strongest attachment to truth; and I never saw in the whole course of my life the slightest reason for suspecting that he stated anything which he did not believe to be the fact.” The Queen writing to her uncle said that “Albert . . . felt and feels Sir Robert’s loss dreadfully. He feels he has lost a second father.”
As a statesman it was said of him that “for concocting, producing, explaining and defending measures, he had no equal, or anything like an equal.”
By far the most interesting person who acted as both friend and adviser to the Queen and her husband was the Baron Christian Friedrich von Stockmar, who had been private physician to Prince Leopold, and afterward private secretary and controller of his household. He took an active part in the negotiations which led to his master becoming King of the Belgians. Long residence in this country had given him a thorough knowledge of England and the English, and he claimed friendship with the leading diplomatists both at home and on the European continent.