Victoria’s treatment of her mother and her uncle Leopold arose, I feel convinced, from the same limitation, aided, perhaps, by a strong dislike to appear in leading-strings to anyone. The articles in The Times could hardly have had influence enough to cause this dislike, which was probably the outcome of her character, but those articles may have indicated a certain policy to her which she followed too rigidly. This led her to slight her mother and to exclude her uncle, as he reminded her, from the ceremonies attending her accession, her coronation, and her marriage. In his letter written in January, 1841, a slight bitterness of spirit and a wounded heart is shown when he says:—
“I should not have bored you by my presence, but the act of christening is, in my eyes, a sort of closing of the first cyclus of your dear life.” He then reminds her of his actions at her father’s death, how he went down to Sidmouth two days before that happened, and how so great was the Duchess’s need that she could not have left Sidmouth had he not been there to settle everything for her; and how, when the little party arrived in London, they were treated very unkindly by George IV. The copy of this letter, which is to be found in “The Letters of Queen Victoria,” recently published by command of His late Majesty, ends with: “I wished to assist at the christening of the little Princess, an event which is of great importance....” It is something of a relief to know that he was one of the sponsors to the Princess Royal.
When about a year later the Prince of Wales was christened, a great debate arose as to who should be the chief godfather, and Stockmar advised the exclusion of Leopold on the ground that both he and the King of Hanover could not be invited, and if the Belgian King were sponsor the Hanoverian King would be very angry; so to avoid this a mutually friendly Sovereign was asked to stand, and the King of Prussia accepted the invitation, Ernest of Hanover being furiously angry and considering himself slighted. This led to an attempt at pacification when Princess Alice was christened, and he was then invited to be sponsor. He promised to fill the post, and arrived in London two or three days after that fixed for the ceremony, “everyone asking why the King did not arrive or why the christening was not put off.” He stayed some weeks, showing that he resented the fact that Victoria occupied the throne of his fathers, and trying to belittle Prince Albert. During his visit Princess Augusta, daughter of the Duke of Cambridge, was married to the Grand Duke of Mecklenburg-Strelitz. All the Royalties were at the wedding, and there was a little amusing byplay in the vestry when names were appended to the register. While Victoria was signing the King of Hanover slipped to her side, intending to take the pen from her and add his name in front of Prince Albert; but the Queen saw his design and moved quickly round the table to where the Prince stood, had the book passed to her there, made her signature, and then gave the pen to the Prince, so by the time Ernest had also got round the table the deed was done. Once while in London the King asked the Prince to go for a walk with him, but the latter objected that they might be troubled with crowds.
“Oh, never mind that,” replied the King; “I was still more unpopular than you are now, and used to walk about with perfect impunity.”
Altogether he seems to have annoyed his niece very much, for she refused to go to Ascot that year, and it was currently reported that the reason was that she would have been obliged to have a houseparty at Windsor, which would have necessitated the inclusion of the King of Hanover among her guests.
While writing of christenings, I might tell the story of how the escort for the King of Prussia went to fetch him from Ostend. The squadron was under the command of Lord Hardwick, and it had a series of adventures which ought to justify the theory of ill-luck. His ship was the Firebrand, and it, with several other steamers and frigates, prepared to start on the Tuesday. Just as steam got up the Firebrand upheld its name by bursting its boiler. This was repaired during the day, and they started at night, promptly going aground in the darkness without getting damaged; but in the fog, which was very thick, one of the companion steamers ran into the Firebrand and broke off its figure-head. The third steamer ran ashore and could not be moved. In defiance of the advice of the pilots, Lord Hardwick insisted upon pushing on to the Nore. There it was found that the two frigates would, though the reason was not given, be unable to cross the Channel, and the second steamer broke her paddles, so the Firebrand steamed alone into Ostend Harbour at about the time that the King arrived there. The King decided to remain with the King of the Belgians that night, and Lord Hardwick remained on his ship. Just as he got to bed his cook walked over the ship’s side into the water, and one of the sailors slipped down the ladder and got hold of him. Lord Hardwick rushed on deck in his shirt, and, shouting for a boat, threw out a rope to the sailor and asked if he had got the cook safe.
“Yes,” said the man, who was so deep in the water that it was up to his neck, “yes, I’ve got his head tight between my knees.”
Fortunately at that moment a boat took them both in, the cook apparently dead. However, hot blankets, rubbing, and the pump restored animation, and Lord Hardwick was the longest sufferer, as he caught a very severe cold.
The economic conditions were so bad at this time that scarcely anything could raise the mob to enthusiasm. Why should a man with an empty stomach throw his hat in the air and shout for joy because his Queen passes him in the street? It is far more likely that he will scowl and say, “She has every luxury; I have nothing,” as he would say it of any rich person. Fanny Kemble discoursed upon the attitude of the people during the visit of the King of Prussia, saying that the concourse was immense, but that she was much surprised at the entire want of excitement and enthusiasm in the vast multitude who thronged and all but choked up the Queen’s way. All hats were lifted, but there was not a hatful of cheers, and the whole thing produced a disagreeable effect of coldness, indifference, and constraint. She went on to say that one person believed that it was nineteenth-century breeding which was too exquisite to allow of the mob shouting; and another person, who was a very warm Whig, thought the silence was to be accounted for by Paisley starvation and Windsor banquets. She concluded that when Horace Wilson was crossing the Park at the time that the Queen was driving through it, there was some, but not much, decided hissing.
When Queen Victoria found herself compelled to accept Peel as her chief Minister, she did not attempt to break off all intercourse with Lord Melbourne, though great pressure was put upon her from all sides, and especially by Stockmar, to make her refrain from either seeing him or writing to him. Both she absolutely refused to do, and for a time letters passed constantly between them. The German Baron grew almost hysterical over these letters, and did not hesitate to convey to Lord Melbourne his conviction that he was acting dishonourably and jeopardising the Queen’s honour, for nothing would convince him that Melbourne was not basely discussing politics with Her Majesty, doing all in his power to undermine Peel’s work, and nursing the prospect of a return to the headship of affairs himself. Stockmar acted always upon the supposition that men were evil, and Melbourne’s honour and magnanimity had no weight with him. Peel, however, was more just. Before he went to the Queen, Melbourne sent him a message, advising him of the things that the Queen liked or disliked, and doing his utmost to help his rival to obtain the Queen’s favour. On the receipt of this message Peel said how kind it was of Lord Melbourne, and, on the subject of the Queen’s friendship for her old Minister being mentioned, added that it was ridiculous to suppose that he could feel any jealousy, that he had full reliance on the Queen’s fairness, and that implicit confidence was the wisest course.