He hemmed and hawed and said he would do so. He seemed to think it was necessary for him to make speeches and talked all around the subject. How dreadfully different from the frank, open, natural, most kind and warm manner of dear Lord M!

The more I saw of Robert Peel, the more I was reminded of Lord M by the very contrast of the two men.

He mentioned one or two names to me of those who would hold posts in his ministry. I listened to him vaguely, wondering all the time how I could get rid of him and bring back Lord Melbourne. The Earl of Aberdeen, he was saying. He was one of those who had said that Lord Melbourne ruled the country and that I was wax in his hands, so I was not inclined to favor him; Lord Lyndhurst; he had openly sided with my mother and Sir John Conroy. Sir James Graham; I knew nothing against him, but on the one or two occasions when I had seen him I had thought he resembled Conroy, which was enough to make me dislike him. I felt I was going to loathe Peel's ministers as heartily as I did him.

Oh, it was a sad and sorry business!

I was glad when the dancing master bowed himself out. I thought he was going to fall over the furniture as he did so and was disappointed when he did not.

The next day he called again and we took up the interview where we left off. I remained seated, haughtily watching his gyrations on the carpet. He was really very uneasy. Perhaps I should have been more gracious to him, but I could not forget that he was depriving me of my dear Lord M—and delighting in it.

“Your Majesty,” he said at length, “there is the matter of your household.”

“What of my household?” I asked.

“Your ladies, Ma'am.”

“What of my ladies?”

He coughed slightly, nervously, and pointed his toe and lifted his foot for all the world as though he were about to perform in the minuet. He went on, “Ma'am, they are all members of Whig families. In view of the…er… alterations in circumstances, it would be advisable if changes were made. Your Majesty will understand…”

“But I do not understand,” I said firmly. “And I do not wish to have my household disrupted.”

“Your Majesty does not intend to retain all your ladies?”

“All,” I said firmly.

“The Mistress of the Robes… the Ladies of the Bedchamber…”

I looked at the wretched man and repeated firmly, “All.”

“These ladies, Ma'am, are all married to Whig opponents of the government.”

“I never talk politics with my ladies. I believe some of them have Tory relations, which might be a comfort to you.”

“It is the ladies who hold important posts who must be changed.”

“This sort of thing has never been done before.”

“You are a Queen Regnant, Ma'am, and that makes a difference.”

“I shall maintain my rights.”

He looked so miserable and helpless that I was almost sorry for him, but I continued to regard him haughtily and he said he thought he should discuss the matter with the Duke of Wellington.

“Pray do so,” I said, showing my pleasure in his dismissal.

But when he had gone I was so overwrought that I sat down and wrote to Lord Melbourne.

The Queen feels Lord Melbourne will understand her wretchedness among enemies of those she most relied on and most esteemed, but what is worst of all is being deprived of seeing Lord Melbourne as she used to.

In a short time he replied to me, urging me to the necessity of making the best of everything. He stressed the worthiness of Sir Robert Peel and pointed out that I should not condemn him because his outward appearance did not please me. As for the ladies of my household, he did say that I should stand out for what I desired because that was a matter for my personal concern; and he added that if Sir Robert found himself unable to concede the point, I should not refuse to reconsider it.

I was disappointed. I was not going to submit to tyranny. The dancing master must remember that I was the Queen.

I wrote back to Lord Melbourne:

I will never consent to give up my ladies. I think you would have been pleased to see my great composure and firmness. The Queen of England will not submit to trickery. Keep yourself in readiness.

My spirits were lifted. I saw this matter of the Bedchamber Ladies as a way out of this tragic situation. If I would not give way and Peel would not either, we should have reached an impasse and he would not be able to form a government.

I was not surprised to receive another visit from the Duke of Wellington.

“I heard there is a difficulty, Ma'am,” he said.

“Peel began it, not I,” I retorted.

He looked at me intently. I wondered if he were comparing me with Napoleon. He would find the little Queen as formidable a foe as the little Corporal. My will was going to prove stronger than Napoleon's military genius; it would stand more firmly than French artillery.

“Why is Sir Robert so adamant?” I asked. “Is he so weak that even ladies have to share his opinion?”

That seemed to decide him. He was defeated.

I immediately wrote to Lord Melbourne to acquaint him with the interview:

Lord Melbourne must not think the Queen rash in her conduct. She felt this was an attempt to see if she could be led like a child.

I was not really surprised when Sir Robert asked for another audience. I granted it willingly.

He came quickly to the point on this occasion. “If Your Majesty insists on retaining all your ladies I could not form a government.”

I was cool, hiding my exultation. I bowed my head in acceptance of his decision.

I was delighted to have a letter from Lord Melbourne telling me that he had shown the Whig Cabinet my letters and his advice to me was to break off all negotiations with Sir Robert Peel.

This I most willingly did and to my great joy recalled Lord Melbourne.

He came at once and stood before me, tears in his dear eyes. He laughed and said my conduct had been most unconstitutional.

“Is that important if it achieves the desirable result?”

“Desirable for whom? Sir Robert Peel?”

We laughed together and I am sure I showed my gums and laughed too loudly on that occasion; but I did not care. I was so happy. And I reflected sagely that if I had not known such despair, I could never have been quite so joyous.

Afterward we talked about it in the old cozy fashion. Lord Melbourne reminded me that I had not taken his advice, but when the whole story was laid before his Cabinet they declared that it would be impossible to abandon such a Queen and such a woman. So, hampered as they were by that feeble majority, they decided to come back and attempt to carry on.

It was a great victory.

That evening there was a grand ball. I danced into the early hours of the morning. I was very joyous—happier than I had been since the miserable Flora Hastings affair had started.


* * *

THE VISIT OF the Tsarevitch Alexander, Hereditary Grand Duke of Russia, helped me to forget the upset of what was being called the Bedchamber Plot. There was, as was to be expected with the Tories putting their case, a real scandal about this. It was a little different from that of Flora Hastings because I had some supporters this time. There were proPeel and pro-Queen factions. Of course I had flouted the Duke of Wellington's advice, and that was a bold thing to have done.

However, I was always delighted to have visitors from other countries, because it meant a round of entertainments, including balls, which I loved.

I found the Russian Duke a very charming man. He was goodlooking and dignified, and I began to think that he liked me as much as I liked him. I was reminded of the visits of the German cousins before I had come to the throne. What fun they had been! And how I had enjoyed them and how desolate I had been when they went away. That brought my thoughts back to Albert a little guiltily. I had liked him so much when we had met and had been reconciled then to the possibility of marriage. I had, in fact, almost welcomed it. But how differently I felt now! It must have been because in those days, when I thought of myself as Mama's prisoner, I was so glad of any excitement, any change… and marriage would have been that. But being the Queen was quite another matter. There was so much happening in my daily existence and even the minor irritations like the Flora Hastings affair and that of the bedchamber women occupied my mind to such an extent that I did not want to think of marriage.

But now there was this charming young man, and I did find his society amusing.

He was very Russian, which meant that at times he could assume a very melancholy countenance, and then he would be very merry and light-hearted; which made one a little unsure of how one was going to find him. But that made him interesting.

He danced divinely. He taught me the mazurka—a lovely dance I had never seen before. It was amusing, for the Grand Duke was so agile that when one was required to run around, one had to be very quick to follow him. Then, when we were close together, he whisked me around in a valse.

Another dance he taught me was the Grossvater which was a country dance performed a great deal in Germany. The men had to jump over a pocket handkerchief which was very tricky and often resulted in a fall for some of them. I laughed and laughed. I used to stay up dancing until after two in the morning; then I would be unable to sleep for very excitement, lying in my bed, remembering how the Grand Duke leaped and some of the dancers had fallen over. It was very amusing and I was growing more and more fond of the Grand Duke.