The Prince's triumph was short-lived. A few weeks later, owing to Palmerston's influence, the Government was defeated in the House, and Lord John resigned. Then, after a short interval, a coalition between the Whigs and the followers of Peel came into power, under the premiership of Lord Aberdeen. Once more, Palmerston was in the Cabinet. It was true that he did not return to the Foreign Office; that was something to the good; in the Home Department it might be hoped that his activities would be less dangerous and disagreeable. But the Foreign Secretary was no longer the complacent Granville; and in Lord Clarendon the Prince knew that he had a Minister to deal with, who, discreet and courteous as he was, had a mind of his own.
These changes, however, were merely the preliminaries of a far more serious development. Events, on every side, were moving towards a catastrophe. Suddenly the nation found itself under the awful shadow of imminent war. For several months, amid theshifting mysteries of diplomacy and the perplexed agitations of politics, the issue grew more doubtful and more dark, while the national temper was strained to the breaking-point. At the very crisis of the long and ominous negotiations, it was announced that Lord Palmerston had resigned. Then the pent-up fury of the people burst forth. They had felt that in the terrible complexity of events they were being guided by weak and embarrassed counsels; but they had been reassured by the knowledge that at the centre of power there was one man with strength, with courage, with determination, in whom they could put their trust. They now learnt that that man was no longer among their leaders. Why? In their rage, anxiety, and nervous exhaustion, they looked round desperately for some hidden and horrible explanation of what had occurred. They suspected plots, they smelt treachery in the air. It was easy to guess the object upon which their frenzy would vent itself. Was there not a foreigner in the highest of high places, a foreigner whose hostility to their own adored champion was unrelenting and unconcealed? The moment that Palmerston's resignation was known, there was a universal outcry; and an extraordinary tempest of anger and hatred burst, with unparalleled violence, upon the head of the Prince.
It was everywhere asserted and believed that the Queen's husband was a traitor to the country, that he was a tool of the Russian Court, that in obedience to Russian influences he had forced Palmerston out of the Government, and that he was directing the foreign policy of England in the interests of England's enemies. For many weeks these accusations filled the whole of thepress; repeated at public meetings, elaborated in private talk, they flew over the country, growing every moment more extreme and more improbable. While respectable newspapers thundered out their grave invectives, halfpenny broadsides, hawked through the streets of London, re-echoed in doggerel vulgarity the same sentiments and the same suspicions.[28] At last the wildest rumours began to spread.
In January 1854, it was whispered that the Prince had been seized, that he had been found guilty of high treason, that he was to be committed to the Tower. The Queen herself, some declared, had been arrested,and large crowds actually collected round the Tower to watch the incarceration of the royal miscreants.[29]
These fantastic hallucinations were the result of the fevered atmosphere of approaching war. The cause of Palmerston's resignation, indeed, remains wrapped in obscurity, and it is possible that it was brought about by the continued hostility of the Court.[30] But the supposition that Albert's influence had been used to favour the interests of Russia was devoid of any basis in actual fact. As often happens in such cases, the Government had been swinging backwards and forwards between two incompatible policies—that of non-interference and that of threats supported by force—either of which, if consistently followed, might well have had a successful and peaceful issue, but which, mingled together, could only lead to war. Albert, with characteristic scrupulosity, attempted to thread his way through the complicated labyrinth of European diplomacy, and eventually was lost in the maze. But so was the whole of the Cabinet; and, when war came, his anti-Russian feelings were quite as vehement as those of the most bellicose of Englishmen.
Nevertheless, though the gravest of the charges levelled against the Prince were certainly without foundation, there were underlying elements in the situationwhich explained, if they did not justify, the popular state of mind. It was true that the Queen's husband was a foreigner, who had been brought up in a foreign Court, was impregnated with foreign ideas, and was closely related to a multitude of foreign princes. Clearly this, though perhaps an unavoidable, was an undesirable, state of affairs; nor were the objections to it merely theoretical; it had in fact produced unpleasant consequences of a serious kind. The Prince's German proclivities were perpetually lamented by English Ministers; Lord Palmerston, Lord Clarendon, Lord Aberdeen,[31] all told the same tale; and it was constantly necessary, in grave questions of national policy, to combat the prepossessions of a Court in which German views and German sentiments held a disproportionate place. As for Palmerston, his language on this topic was apt to be unbridled. At the height of his annoyance over his resignation, he roundly declared that he had been made a victim to foreign intrigue.[32] He afterwards toned down this accusation; but the mere fact that such a suggestion from such a quarter was possible at all showed to what unfortunate consequences Albert's foreign birth and foreign upbringing might lead.
But this was not all. A constitutional question of the most profound importance was raised by the position of the Prince in England. His presence gave a new prominence to an old problem—the precise definition of the functions and the powers of the Crown. Those functions and powers had become, in effect, his; andwhat sort of use was he making of them? His views as to the place of the Crown in the Constitution are easily ascertainable; for they were Stockmar's; and it happens that we possess a detailed account of Stockmar's opinions upon the subject in a long letter addressed by him to the Prince at the time of this very crisis, just before the outbreak of the Crimean War. Constitutional Monarchy, according to the Baron, had suffered an eclipse since the passing of the Reform Bill. It was now 'constantly in danger of becoming a pure Ministerial Government.' The old race of Tories, who 'had a direct interest in upholding the prerogatives of the Crown,' had died out; and the Whigs were 'nothing but partly conscious, partly unconscious Republicans, who stand in the same relation to the Throne as the wolf does to the lamb.' There was a rule that it was unconstitutional to introduce 'the name and person of the irresponsible Sovereign' into parliamentary debates on constitutional matters; this was 'a constitutional fiction, which, although undoubtedly of old standing, was fraught with danger'; and the Baron warned the Prince that 'if the English Crown permit a Whig Ministry to follow this rule in practice, without exception, you must not wonder if in a little time you find the majority of the people impressed with the belief that the King, in the view of the law, is nothing but a mandarin figure, which has to nod its head in assent, or shake it in denial, as his Minister pleases.' To prevent this from happening, it was of extreme importance, said the Baron, 'that no opportunity should be let slip of vindicating the legitimate position of the Crown.' 'And this is not hard to do,' he added, 'and can never embarrass a Minister where such straightforward loyal personages as the Queen andthe Prince are concerned.' In his opinion, the very lowest claim of the Royal Prerogative should include 'a right on the part of the King to be the permanent President of his Ministerial Council.' The Sovereign ought to be 'in the position of a permanent Premier, who takes rank above the temporary head of the Cabinet, and in matters of discipline exercises supreme authority.' The Sovereign 'may even take a part in the initiation and the maturing of the Government measures; for it would be unreasonable to expect that a King, himself as able, as accomplished, and as patriotic as the best of his Ministers, should be prevented from making use of these qualities at the deliberations of his Council.' 'The judicious exercise of this right,' concluded the Baron, 'which certainly requires a master mind, would not only be the best guarantee for Constitutional Monarchy, but would raise it to a height of power, stability, and symmetry, which has never been attained.'[33]
Now it may be that this reading of the Constitution is a possible one, though indeed it is hard to see how it can be made compatible with the fundamental doctrine of ministerial responsibility. William III presided over his Council, and he was a constitutional monarch; and it seems that Stockmar had in his mind a conception of the Crown which would have given it a place in the Constitution analogous to that which it filled at the time of William III. But it is clear that such a theory, which would invest the Crown with more power than it possessed even under George III, runs counter to the whole development of English public life since the Revolution; and the fact that it was held by Stockmar, and instilled by him into Albert, was of very seriousimportance. For there was good reason to believe not only that these doctrines were held by Albert in theory, but that he was making a deliberate and sustained attempt to give them practical validity. The history of the struggle between the Crown and Palmerston provided startling evidence that this was the case. That struggle reached its culmination when, in Stockmar's memorandum of 1850, the Queen asserted her 'constitutional right' to dismiss the Foreign Secretary if he altered a despatch which had received her sanction. The memorandum was, in fact, a plain declaration that the Crown intended to act independently of the Prime Minister. Lord John Russell, anxious at all costs to strengthen himself against Palmerston, accepted the memorandum, and thereby implicitly allowed the claim of the Crown. More than that; after the dismissal of Palmerston, among the grounds on which Lord John justified that dismissal in the House of Commons he gave a prominent place to the memorandum of 1850. It became apparent that the displeasure of the Sovereign might be a reason for the removal of a powerful and popular Minister. It seemed indeed as if, under the guidance of Stockmar and Albert, the 'Constitutional Monarchy' might in very truth be rising 'to a height of power, stability, and symmetry, which had never been attained.'
But this new development in the position of the Crown, grave as it was in itself, was rendered peculiarly disquieting by the unusual circumstances which surrounded it. For the functions of the Crown were now, in effect, being exercised by a person unknown to the Constitution, who wielded over the Sovereign an undefined and unbounded influence. The fact that this person was the Sovereign's husband, while itexplained his influence and even made it inevitable, by no means diminished its strange and momentous import. An ambiguous, prepotent figure had come to disturb the ancient, subtle, and jealously guarded balance of the English Constitution. Such had been the unexpected outcome of the tentative and faint-hearted opening of Albert's political life. He himself made no attempt to minimise either the multiplicity or the significance of the functions he performed. He considered that it was his duty, he told the Duke of Wellington in 1850, to 'sink hisown individualexistence in that of his wife ... —assume no separate responsibility before the public, but make his position entirely a part of hers—fill up every gap which, as a woman, she would naturally leave in the exercise of her regal functions—continually and anxiously watch every part of the public business, in order to be able to advise and assist her at any moment in any of the multifarious and difficult questions or duties brought before her, sometimes international, sometimes political, or social, or personal. As the natural head of her family, superintendent of her household, manager of her private affairs, soleconfidentialadviser in politics, and only assistant in her communications with the officers of the Government, he is, besides, the husband of the Queen, the tutor of the royal children, the private secretary of the Sovereign, and her permanent minister.'[34] Stockmar's pupil had assuredly gone far and learnt well. Stockmar's pupil!—precisely; the public, painfully aware of Albert's predominance, had grown, too, uneasily conscious that Victoria's master had a master of his own. Deep in the darkness the Baron loomed. Another foreigner! Decidedly, there were elementsin the situation which went far to justify the popular alarm. A foreign Baron controlled a foreign Prince, and the foreign Prince controlled the Crown of England. And the Crown itself was creeping forward ominously; and when, from under its shadow, the Baron and the Prince had frowned, a great Minister, beloved of the people, had fallen. Where was all this to end?
Within a few weeks Palmerston withdrew his resignation, and the public frenzy subsided as quickly as it had arisen. When Parliament met, the leaders of both the parties in both the Houses made speeches in favour of the Prince, asserting his unimpeachable loyalty to the country and vindicating his right to advise the Sovereign in all matters of State. Victoria was delighted. 'The position of my beloved lord and master,' she told the Baron, 'has been defined for once and all and his merits have been acknowledged on all sides most duly. There was an immense concourse of people assembled when we went to the House of Lords, and the people were very friendly.'[35] Immediately afterwards, the country finally plunged into the Crimean War. In the struggle that followed, Albert's patriotism was put beyond a doubt, and the animosities of the past were forgotten. But the war had another consequence, less gratifying to the royal couple: it crowned the ambition of Lord Palmerston. In 1855, the man who five years before had been pronounced by Lord John Russell to be 'too old to do much in the future,' became Prime Minister of England, and, with one short interval, remained in that position for ten years.
[1] Martin, I, 194-6;Letters, I, 510-11.
[2] Bunsen, II, 152.
[3] Dalling, I, 346.
[4] Dalling, III, 413-5.
[5] Ashley, II, 213.
[6] Greville, VI, 33.
[7]Letters, I, 511.
[8]Letters, II, 100-1.
[9] Dalling, III, chaps. vii and viii; Stockmar, cap. xxi.
[10]Letters, II, 181.
[11]Ibid., II, 194.
[12]Letters, II, 195.
[13] Venice and Lombardy.
[14]Letters, II, 199.
[15]Letters, II, 221; Ashley, II, 195-6.
[16] Greville, VI, 63-4.
[17] Greville, VI, 324-6; Clarendon, I, 341.
[18] Clarendon, I, 337, 342.
[19]Letters, II, 235-7.
[20]Letters, II, 261-4.
[21]Ibid., II, 253.
[22]Letters, II, 238 and 264.
[23] Martin, II, 307-10.
[24]Letters, II, 267-70; Martin, II, 324-7; Ashley, II, 169-70.
[25]Letters, II, 324-31; Martin, II, 406-11; Spencer Walpole, II, 133-7; Stockmar, 642; Greville, VI, 421-4.
[26]Letters, II, 334-43; Martin, II, 411-18; Ashley, II, 200-12; Walpole, II, 138-42; Clarendon, I, 338.
[27] Ernest, III, 14.
[28] 'The Turkish war both far and nearHas played the very deuce then,And little Al, the royal pal,They say has turned a Russian;Old Aberdeen, as may be seen,Looks woeful pale and yellow,And Old John Bull had his belly fullOf dirty Russian tallow.
Chorus.
'We'll send him home and make him groan,Oh, Al! you've played the deuce then;The German lad has acted sadAnd turned tail with the Russians.
*****
'Last Monday night, all in a fright,Al out of bed did tumble.The German lad was raving mad,How he did groan and grumble!He cried to Vic, "I've cut my stick:To St. Petersburg go right slap."When Vic, 'tis said, jumped out of bed,And wopped him with her night-cap.'
FromLovely Albert!a broadside preserved at the British Museum; Martin, II, 539-41; Greville, VII, 127-9.
[29] Martin, II, 540, 562.
'You jolly Turks, now go to work,And show the Bear your power.It is rumoured over Britain's isleThat A—— is in the Tower;The Postmen some suspicion had,And opened the two letters,'Twas a pity sad the German ladShould not have known much better.'Lovely Albert!
[30] Kinglake, II, 27-32.
[31] 'Aberdeen spoke much of the Queen and Prince, of course with great praise. He said the Prince's views were generally sound and wise, with one exception, which was his violent and incorrigible German unionism. He goes all lengths with Prussia.'—Greville, VI, 305.
[32] Ashley, II, 218.
[33] Martin, II, 545-57.
[34] Martin, II, 259-60.
[35] Martin, II, 563-4.
QUEEN VICTORIA AND THE PRINCE CONSORT IN 1860.QUEEN VICTORIA AND THE PRINCE CONSORT IN 1860.
QUEEN VICTORIA AND THE PRINCE CONSORT IN 1860.QUEEN VICTORIA AND THE PRINCE CONSORT IN 1860.
The weak-willed youth who took no interest in politics and never read a newspaper had grown into a man of unbending determination whose tireless energies were incessantly concentrated upon the laborious business of government and the highest questions of State. He was busy now from morning till night. In the winter, before the dawn, he was to be seen, seated at his writing-table, working by the light of the green reading-lamp which he had brought over with him from Germany, and the construction of which he had much improved by an ingenious device. Victoria was early too, but she was not so early as Albert; and when, in the chill darkness, she took her seat at her own writing-table, placed side by side with his, she invariably found upon it a neat pile of papers arranged for her inspection and her signature.[1] The day, thus begun, continued in unremitting industry. At breakfast, the newspapers—the once hated newspapers—made their appearance, and the Prince, absorbed in their perusal, would answer no questions, or, if an article struck him, would read it aloud. After that there were ministers and secretaries to interview; there was a vast correspondence to be carried on; there were numerousmemoranda to be made. Victoria, treasuring every word, preserving every letter, was all breathless attention and eager obedience. Sometimes Albert would actually ask her advice. He consulted her about his English: 'Lese recht aufmerksam, und sage wenn irgend ein Fehler ist,'[2] he would say; or, as he handed her a draft for her signature, he would observe 'Ich hab' Dir hier ein Draft gemacht, lese es mal! Ich dächte es wäre recht so.'[3] Thus the diligent, scrupulous, absorbing hours passed by. Fewer and fewer grew the moments of recreation and of exercise. The demands of society were narrowed down to the smallest limits, and even then but grudgingly attended to. It was no longer a mere pleasure, it was a positive necessity, to go to bed as early as possible in order to be up and at work on the morrow betimes.[4]
The important and exacting business of government, which became at last the dominating preoccupation in Albert's mind, still left unimpaired his old tastes and interests; he remained devoted to art, to science, to philosophy; and a multitude of subsidiary activities showed how his energies increased as the demands upon them grew. For whenever duty called, the Prince was all alertness. With indefatigable perseverance he opened museums, laid the foundation-stones of hospitals, made speeches to the Royal Agricultural Society, and attended meetings of the British Association.[5] The National Gallery particularly interested him: he drew up careful regulations for the arrangement of the pictures according to schools; and he attempted—thoughin vain—to have the whole collection transported to South Kensington.[6] Feodora, now the Princess Hohenlohe, after a visit to England, expressed in a letter to Victoria her admiration of Albert both as a private and a public character. Nor did she rely only on her own opinion. 'I must just copy out,' she said, 'what Mr. Klumpp wrote to me some little time ago, and which is quite true.—"Prince Albert is one of the few Royal personages who can sacrifice to any principle (as soon as it has become evident to them to be good and noble) all those notions (or sentiments) to which others, owing to their narrow-mindedness, or to the prejudices of their rank, are so thoroughly inclined strongly to cling."—There is something so truly religious in this,' the Princess added, 'as well as humane and just, most soothing to my feelings which are so often hurt and disturbed by what I hear and see.'[7]
Victoria, from the depth of her heart, subscribed to all the eulogies of Feodora and Mr. Klumpp. She only found that they were insufficient. As she watched her beloved Albert, after toiling with state documents and public functions, devoting every spare moment of his time to domestic duties, to artistic appreciation, and to intellectual improvements; as she listened to him cracking his jokes at the luncheon-table, or playing Mendelssohn on the organ, or pointing out the merits of Sir Edwin Landseer's pictures; as she followed him round while he gave instructions about the breeding of cattle, or decided that the Gainsboroughs must be hung higher up so that the Winterhalters might be properly seen—she felt perfectly certain that no other wife had ever had such a husband. His mind was apparently capable of everything, and she was hardlysurprised to learn that he had made an important discovery for the conversion of sewage into agricultural manure. Filtration from below upwards, he explained, through some appropriate medium, which retained the solids and set free the fluid sewage for irrigation, was the principle of the scheme. 'All previous plans,' he said, 'would have cost millions; mine costs next to nothing.' Unfortunately, owing to a slight miscalculation, the invention proved to be impracticable; but Albert's intelligence was unrebuffed, and he passed on, to plunge with all his accustomed ardour into a prolonged study of the rudiments of lithography.[8]
But naturally it was upon his children that his private interests and those of Victoria were concentrated most vigorously. The royal nurseries showed no sign of emptying. The birth of the Prince Arthur in 1850 was followed, three years later, by that of the Prince Leopold; and in 1857 the Princess Beatrice was born. A family of nine must be, in any circumstances, a grave responsibility; and the Prince realised to the full how much the high destinies of his offspring intensified the need of parental care. It was inevitable that he should believe profoundly in the importance of education; he himself had been the product of education; Stockmar had made him what he was; it was for him, in his turn, to be a Stockmar—to be even more than a Stockmar—to the young creatures he had brought into the world. Victoria would assist him; a Stockmar, no doubt, she could hardly be; but she could be perpetually vigilant, she could mingle strictness with her affection, and she could always set a good example. These considerations, of course, applied pre-eminently to the education of the Prince of Wales. How tremendous was the significanceof every particle of influence which went to the making of the future King of England! Albert set to work with a will. But, watching with Victoria the minutest details of the physical, intellectual, and moral training of his children, he soon perceived, to his distress, that there was something unsatisfactory in the development of his eldest son. The Princess Royal was an extremely intelligent child; but Bertie, though he was good-humoured and gentle, seemed to display a deep-seated repugnance to every form of mental exertion. This was most regrettable, but the remedy was obvious: the parental efforts must be redoubled; instruction must be multiplied; not for a single instant must the educational pressure be allowed to relax. Accordingly, more tutors were selected, the curriculum was revised, the time-table of studies was rearranged, elaborate memoranda dealing with every possible contingency were drawn up. It was above all essential that there should be no slackness: 'work,' said the Prince, 'must be work.' And work indeed it was. The boy grew up amid a ceaseless round of paradigms, syntactical exercises, dates, genealogical tables, and lists of capes. Constant notes flew backwards and forwards between the Prince, the Queen, and the tutors, with inquiries, with reports of progress, with detailed recommendations; and these notes were all carefully preserved for future reference. It was, besides, vital that the heir to the throne should be protected from the slightest possibility of contamination from the outside world. The Prince of Wales was not as other boys; he might, occasionally, be allowed to invite some sons of the nobility, boys of good character, to play with him in the garden of Buckingham Palace; but his father presided, with alarming precision, over their sports. In short, everypossible precaution was taken, every conceivable effort was made. Yet, strange to say, the object of all this vigilance and solicitude continued to be unsatisfactory—appeared, in fact, to be positively growing worse. It was certainly very odd: the more lessons that Bertie had to do, the less he did them; and the more carefully he was guarded against excitements and frivolities, the more desirous of mere amusement he seemed to become. Albert was deeply grieved and Victoria was sometimes very angry; but grief and anger produced no more effect than supervision and time-tables. The Prince of Wales, in spite of everything, grew up into manhood without the faintest sign of 'adherence to and perseverance in the plan both of studies and life'—as one of the Royal memoranda put it—which had been laid down with such extraordinary forethought by his father.[9]
Against the insidious worries of politics, the boredom of society functions, and the pompous publicity of state ceremonies, Osborne had afforded a welcome refuge; but it soon appeared that even Osborne was too little removed from the world. After all, the Solent was a feeble barrier. Oh, for some distant, some almost inaccessible sanctuary, where, in true domestic privacy, one could make happy holiday, just as if—or at least very, very, nearly—one were anybody else! Victoria, ever since, together with Albert, she had visited Scotland in the early years of her marriage, had felt that her heart was in the Highlands. She hadreturned to them a few years later, and her passion had grown. How romantic they were! And how Albert enjoyed them too! His spirits rose quite wonderfully as soon as he found himself among the hills and the conifers. 'It is a happiness to see him,' she wrote. 'Oh! What can equal the beauties of nature!' she exclaimed in her journal, during one of these visits. 'What enjoyment there is in them! Albert enjoys it so much; he is in ecstasies here.' 'Albert said,' she noted next day, 'that the chief beauty of mountain scenery consists in its frequent changes. We came home at six o'clock.' Then she went on a longer expedition—up to the very top of a high hill. 'It was quite romantic. Here we were with only this Highlander behind us holding the ponies (for we got off twice and walked about) .... We came home at half past eleven,—the most delightful, most romantic ride and walk I ever had. I had never been up such a mountain, and then the day was so fine. The Highlanders, too, were such astonishing people. They 'never make difficulties,' she noted, 'but are cheerful, and happy, and merry, and ready to walk, and run, and do anything.' As for Albert he 'highly appreciated the good-breeding, simplicity, and intelligence, which make it so pleasant and even instructive to talk to them.' 'We were always in the habit,' wrote Her Majesty, 'of conversing with the Highlanders—with whom one comes so much in contact in the Highlands.' She loved everything about them—their customs, their dress, their dances, even their musical instruments. 'There were nine pipers at the castle,' she wrote, after staying with Lord Breadalbane; 'sometimes one and sometimes three played. They always played about breakfast-time, again during themorning, at luncheon, and also whenever we went in and out; again before dinner, and during most of dinner-time. We both have become quite fond of the bag-pipes.'[10]
It was quite impossible not to wish to return to such pleasures again and again; and in 1848 the Queen took a lease of Balmoral House, a small residence near Braemar in the wilds of Aberdeenshire. Four years later she bought the place outright. Now she could be really happy every summer; now she could be simple and at her ease; now she could be romantic every evening, and dote upon Albert, without a single distraction, all day long. The diminutive scale of the house was in itself a charm. Nothing was more amusing than to find oneself living in two or three little sitting-rooms, with the children crammed away upstairs, and the Minister in attendance with only a tiny bedroom to do all his work in. And then to be able to run in and out of doors as one liked, and to sketch, and to walk, and to watch the red deer coming so surprisingly close, and to pay visits to the cottagers! And occasionally one could be more adventurous still—one could go and stay for a night or two at the Bothie at Alt-na-giuthasach—a mere couple of huts with 'a wooden addition'—and only eleven people in the whole party! And there were mountains to be climbed and cairns to be built in solemn pomp. 'At last, when the cairn, which is, I think, seven or eight feet high, was nearly completed, Albert climbed up to the top of it, and placed the last stone; after which three cheers were given. It was a gay, pretty, and touching sight; and I felt almost inclined to cry. The view was so beautiful over the dear hills; the day so fine; thewhole sogemüthlich.'[11] And in the evening there were sword-dances and reels.
But Albert had determined to pull down the little old house, and to build in its place a Castle of his own designing. With great ceremony, in accordance with a memorandum drawn up by the Prince for the occasion, the foundation-stone of the new edifice was laid,[12] and by 1855 it was habitable. Spacious, built of granite in the Scotch baronial style, with a tower 100 feet high, and minor turrets and castellated gables, the Castle was skilfully arranged to command the finest views of the surrounding mountains and of the neighbouring river Dee. Upon the interior decorations Albert and Victoria lavished all their care. The walls and the floors were of pitch-pine, and covered with specially manufactured tartans. The Balmoral tartan, in red and grey, designed by the Prince, and the Victoria tartan, with a white stripe, designed by the Queen, were to be seen in every room: there were tartan curtains, and tartan chair-covers, and even tartan linoleums. Occasionally the Royal Stuart tartan appeared, for Her Majesty always maintained that she was an ardent Jacobite. Water-colour sketches by Victoria hung upon the walls, together with innumerable stags' antlers, and the head of a boar, which had been shot by Albert in Germany. In an alcove in the hall stood a life-sized statue of Albert in Highland dress.[13]
Victoria declared that it was perfection. 'Every year,' she wrote, 'my heart becomes more fixed in this dear paradise, and so much more so now, thatallhas become my dear Albert'sowncreation, own work, ownbuilding, own laying-out; ... and his great taste, and the impress of his dear hand, have been stamped everywhere.'[14]
And here, in very truth, her happiest days were passed. In after years, when she looked back upon them, a kind of glory, a radiance as of an unearthly holiness, seemed to glow about these golden hours. Each hallowed moment stood out clear, beautiful, eternally significant. For, at the time, every experience there, sentimental, or grave, or trivial, had come upon her with a peculiar vividness, like a flashing of marvellous lights. Albert's stalkings—an evening walk when she lost her way—Vicky sitting down on a wasps' nest—a torchlight dance—with what intensity such things, and ten thousand like them, impressed themselves upon her eager consciousness! And how she flew to her journal to note them down! The news of the Duke's death! What a moment!—when, as she sat sketching after a picnic by a loch in the lonely hills, Lord Derby's letter had been brought to her, and she had learnt that 'England's, or ratherBritain'spride, her glory, her hero, the greatest man she had ever produced, was no more!' For such were her reflections upon the 'old rebel' of former days. But that past had been utterly obliterated—no faintest memory of it remained. For years she had looked up to the Duke as a figure almost superhuman. Had he not been a supporter of good Sir Robert? Had he not asked Albert to succeed him as Commander-in-Chief? And what a proud moment it had been when he stood as sponsor to her son Arthur, who was born on his eighty-first birthday! So now she filled a whole page of her diary with panegyrical regrets. 'His position was the highest a subject everhad—above party,—looked up to by all,—revered by the whole nation,—the friend of the Sovereign ... The Crown never possessed,—and I fear neverwill—sodevoted, loyal, and faithful a subject, so staunch a supporter! To us his loss isirreparable... To Albert he showed the greatest kindness and the utmost confidence ... Not an eye will be dry in the whole country.'[15] These were serious thoughts; but they were soon succeeded by others hardly less moving—by events as impossible to forget—by Mr. MacLeod's sermon on Nicodemus,—by the gift of a red flannel petticoat to Mrs. P. Farquharson, and another to old Kitty Kear.[16]
But, without doubt, most memorable, most delightful of all were the expeditions—the rare, exciting expeditions up distant mountains, across broad rivers, through strange country, and lasting several days. With only two gillies—Grant and Brown—for servants, and with assumed names ... it was more like something in a story than real life. 'We had decided to call ourselvesLord and Lady Churchill and party—Lady Churchill passing asMiss Spencerand General Grey asDr. Grey! Brown once forgot this and called me "Your Majesty" as I was getting into the carriage, and Grant on the box once called Albert "Your Royal Highness," which set us off laughing, but no one observed it.' Strong, vigorous, enthusiastic, bringing, so it seemed, good fortune with her—the Highlanders declared she had 'a lucky foot'—she relished everything—the scrambles and the views and the contretemps and the rough inns with their coarse fare and Brown and Grant waiting at table. She could have gone on for ever and ever, absolutely happy with Albert beside her and Brown ather pony's head. But the time came for turning homewards; alas! the time came for going back to England. She could hardly bear it; she sat disconsolate in her room and watched the snow falling. The last day! Oh! If only she could be snowed up![17]