In addition to this there were rumours that the split between the Queen and her mother was complete, that disputes constantly took place, and that the Duchess was feeling anew the slights put upon Sir John Conroy: “There are insinuations that the Duchess of Kent is malignantly enraged at the removal of Sir John Conroy, and that there are deep dissensions between mother and daughter,” is one paragraph of many. When we remember that the animus against Sir John was believed to be one of the reasons for showing so much indelicate harshness to Lady Flora Hastings, it is easy to understand that the Duchess would have liked to bring the matter of Conroy to a head once for all.
Melbourne had been gravely troubled by Victoria’s display of temper and self-will over the Bedchamber question, and reports were now current everywhere of scenes of bad temper at the Palace; “even noble dames can brook no longer the rebuffs and contumely to which they are exposed.” “Tudor tempest bursts,” was the expression used by one journal.
At the end of August Leopold and his Queen came to England, staying at Ramsgate, and it was asserted that the visit had the express purpose of an attempt to reconcile the Queen and the Duchess of Kent, though before the King of the Belgians went away it was said that both he and Lord Melbourne were suffering from the Queen’s unevenness of temper; to which was added the news that the Duchess intended to go abroad for a time.
Poor little Queen! When we private people have gone through a period of shock and trouble, so that our nerves are all a-jangle, we indulge our little tempest-bursts, are rude to those about us and let the trouble wear itself away, without more than half-a-dozen people knowing or caring about it. But this imperious and wilful girl could utter no word that was not reported outside; in spite of her youth she was expected to be perfect, and when she proved entirely human and sometimes wrong-headed, the whole nation talked of it as a crime.
Only a year and a bit had passed since she had said that she would not marry for two or three years, yet now she was wondering where to look for sympathy and support. Of course, it was not the helpful hand of a husband that she needed, she was quite sure of that, and yet subconsciously this solution must have presented itself to her mind; so much so that a little earlier she had felt it necessary to impress once more upon her uncle that she did not mean yet to take the important step. It was in the midst of the indignation which followed Lady Flora Hastings’s death that she wrote again to Leopold on this subject, probably in answer to a letter from him urging the marriage. She said that she was anxious that the family should understand that even if she should like Albert she would make no final promise during that year and would not marry for two or three years. She spoke of her youth, her great repugnance to change her position, and the fact that no anxiety was shown in the country for her marriage. The following paragraph is natural in one who had been practically disposed of in her childhood and who for two years had had a husband urged on her with a faint but unremitting pressure by her uncle:
“Though all the reports of Albert are most favourable, and though I have little doubt I shall like him, still one can never answer beforehand for feelings, and I may not have the feeling for him which is requisite to insure happiness. I may like him as a friend, as a cousin, and as a brother, but not more; and should this be the case (which is not likely), I am very anxious that it should be understood that I am not guilty of any breach of promise, for I never gave any. I am sure you will understand my anxiety, for I should otherwise, were this not completely understood, be in a very painful position. As it is, I am rather nervous about the visit (a suggestion that the young Princes should come to England), for the subject I allude to is not an agreeable one to me.”
Leopold was wise enough to put no further pressure upon her, but to leave circumstances to do their work. There can be no doubt but that the Queen was very lonely and ill at ease just then. She had lost the confidence of the nation, and her pride stood in the way of her setting herself right with it. By her own acts she had alienated her mother, with whom, as a matter of fact, she showed no signs of renewing the lost intimacy; she had clung to the people accused of wrong behaviour in the Hastings affair, yet the sight of them constantly reminded her of her humiliation; and through prejudice she had turned her back upon a vast number of delightful people, whose only sin was to hold different political views from herself; in truth, there seemed to be no real comfort anywhere.
When the King and Queen of the Belgians went to Windsor after their stay at Ramsgate, and Leopold saw how matters stood, he came to the conclusion that it was time for him to act; thus on his return home he instructed his two nephews to go and pay the promised visit to England.
Gossip about Victoria’s marriage was always ready when other excitements failed, and it was now said that Prince Albert had refused to accept the position of husband to his cousin, and that the Camarilla had failed in its object, and was now bending its energies to the keeping of the Queen unmarried, its method being to harp on the fate of Princess Charlotte, in the hope that that would deter her from making any matrimonial arrangement. Which, of course, was all nonsense. The Prince was preparing for his visit, and Victoria was preparing a way for herself which should at least halve all her troubles, even though it meant also submitting her own autocratic will.
In the summer of 1839 Stockmar gave an interesting criticism of the character of Prince Albert, which I reproduce, for it is by no means the judgment of one who flatters:—