It is not to be wondered at that a girl brought up in such a guarded, reticent atmosphere as the Queen had been should be unduly reticent all through her days. The curious thing is that the impression she made upon all whom she met was that of absolute frankness; yet she had for eighteen years been accustomed to hide her thoughts and her emotions, to suppress all tendency to confidences, and it can scarcely be wondered at that in a matter which was very personal her secretiveness should reassert itself. It is impossible not to feel sorry that Melbourne should have been the person against whom she armed her mind in this case. The Queen did not speak to him of her marriage, neither by consulting him nor telling him of her intentions. He knew nothing but the report given in the Morning Post, and the talk of the clubs and the streets. At last he spoke to her, telling her that he could not pretend to be ignorant of the reports going about, nor could she; that though he would not presume to ask her what she intended to do, it was his duty to tell her that if she had any intentions it was necessary that the Ministers should know them. She replied that she had nothing to tell him. A somewhat doubtful statement, for she had already written to Leopold, asking him to keep her cousins from arriving before the 3rd of October, as she would have a number of Ministers at Windsor on that day, who, if they saw the Coburgs arrive, might say the Princes had come “to settle matters.”
A fortnight after Melbourne spoke and a day before her proposal to the Prince she told him that the matter was settled. These little evidences of haughty independence raised many apprehensions in the minds of those who served her, for they asked, “If she will deal thus with a Minister whom she likes, what will she do when those are in power whom she does not like?”
It is, of course, quite arguable that Victoria wished to have the opportunity, like other girls, of making up her mind in quiet and of having her little romance to herself. But she was not like other girls; and she did not forget what she considered the duties of her position when proposing to Albert, yet when those duties clashed with her inclination she allowed sentimentality to prevent her performing them.
The reports that Melbourne feared the loss of his power if Victoria married, and therefore was doing his best to induce her to keep single, were not confined to the gossip of London and Paris. There were many who wondered how Melbourne would behave if he saw before him the probability of the loss of his influence, as an introduction to the loss of his position. One of these was the Duke of Wellington, his great rival in personal weight at Court. Wellington felt that the genuineness of Melbourne’s devotion would be tested by such an event, for the old general knew that if, from personal or party motives, Melbourne wished to put off the Queen’s marriage, he could easily find specious, in fact almost unanswerable, reasons for such a course. Then if Victoria really made her choice, pretexts would be easy for causing delays. Thus our Prime Minister was watched with curiosity or malice from all sides. What will he do? Will he think of himself? Will he act the good father’s part? Will he feel disappointed that he is not the chosen man? Such were the questions prompted by those who knew much, little, or nothing, and these questions were asked everywhere, while the wags of the Press announced that the Devil’s Tower at Windsor had been assigned to him as a residence.
But Melbourne had watched the Queen with something more than affectionate criticism; he saw that she had grave faults which, if not trained into virtues, would lead her into evil, and he knew that outside influence would never be strong enough to counteract them. Gravely and anxiously he talked over all the possibilities of the matter with King Leopold. He felt that Albert, a young, untried man, who knew nothing of public business, and had practically no knowledge of the world, might be a great danger in himself, yet on the other hand he thought it very possible that the union might be all the more successful because of the youth of the two, and that Victoria’s influence would probably complete and strengthen the character of the young Prince. Melbourne had been assailed on every side for his residence in the Palace, for his untiring devotion to the Queen, yet it was his pride to be recognised as being the faithful and affectionate friend of Her Majesty. He knew well enough that he would be giving his own power into the hands of another, yet his sole desire was to do the best he could for his Queen and his country. It was natural in these circumstances that he should wish to know the Queen’s intentions in the matter, and when he received the news on the 14th of October, the day before Victoria’s momentous interview with Albert, his natural sweetness of disposition showed itself; for he said: “I think your news will be very well received everywhere; for I hear that there is an anxiety now that it should be, and I am very glad of it. You will be much more comfortable; for a woman cannot stand alone for any time, in whatever position she may be.”
Of Melbourne in this instance Leopold said to the Queen, he “has shown himself the amiable and excellent man I always took him for. Another man in his position, instead of your happiness, might have merely looked to his own personal views and imaginary interests. Not so our good friend; he saw what was best for you; and I feel it deeply to his praise.”
The Queen wrote to all her Royal relatives to impart her great news, and in writing to the Dowager Queen there was a curious mistake made by her secretary in addressing the envelope. Lord Howe, at his private residence, received a letter addressed to Lord How, the envelope being whitey-brown inscribed “per railroad.” He supposed it to be one of many letters he was in the habit of receiving from people who wanted money or subscriptions, or permission to dedicate something to him, or something equally unimportant, and very nearly threw it into the fire. However, he thought better of it, and opened the curious missive—to discover a letter from Queen Victoria announcing to Queen Adelaide her approaching marriage; it was written by her own hand, was instinct with kindness and affection, and “as full of love as Juliet!” Said Sir Robert Peel, in commenting on this, “I suppose some footboy at Windsor Castle had enclosed and directed it to Lord How. If it had been disregarded, and had thus remained unanswered, what an outcry there would have been of neglect, insult, and so forth—and not unjustly.”
When Daniel O’Connell heard the news he made an extravagant speech at Bandon—before the engagement, as a matter of fact—in which he said: “We must be—we are—loyal to our young and lovely Queen—God bless her! We must be—we are—attached to the Throne, and to the lovely being by whom it is filled. She is going to be married! I wish she may have as many children as my grandmother had—two-and-twenty! God bless the Queen! I am a father and a grandfather; and in the face of heaven I pray with as much honesty and fervency for Queen Victoria as I do for any one of my own progeny. The moment I heard of the daring and audacious menaces of the Tories towards the Sovereign[6] I promulgated, through the press, my feelings of detestation and my determination on the matter! Oh! if I be not greatly mistaken, I’d get in one day 500,000 brave Irishmen to defend the life, the honour, and the person of the beloved young lady by whom England’s Throne is now filled! Let every man in this vast and multitudinous assembly stretched out before me, who is loyal to the Queen and would defend her to the last, lift up his right hand! (The entire assembly responded to the appeal.) There are hearts in those hands. I tell you that, if necessity required, there would be swords in them! (Awful cheering.)” Thus reported the Annual Register of that date.
This sounds absurd and high falutin’, but it must have warmed the heart of the young lady. However, if some people welcomed the marriage, there were others who foretold from it national calamity. I have shown how keenly the ultra-Tories hated the idea of another Coburg alliance, and as soon as the matter was assured the whole Papist scare recommenced. Society people were filled with disdain for the Prince’s birth and position—“a younger son of a petty and undistinguished German Duke”! Albert was also accused of want of knowledge, want of manners, want of morals, and, in fact, a general poverty in all that made a good man; besides this—greatest crime of all—he was said to be a Whig! Thus the Queen had by no means regained her popularity with the disaffected of her people, and all the bitterness of feeling against her came out when the necessary arrangements were being made for Albert’s reception into English life.
It is not difficult to see that with her sense of Royal infallibility the Queen was likely to show little tact, and indeed she made such extravagant demands for her prospective husband that dismay was felt even by her warmest supporters.