Childhood at Court, 1819-1914 (7 page)

As a father, he intended to give his sons and daughters the happy childhood that he had never known. He was affectionate, patient and understanding with the children, ever ready to enter the nursery and play with the youngsters. He loved to dandle one on each knee while he played the organ, or teach them to sing nursery rhymes. Queen Victoria was the first to admit that she was never completely at ease with children, be they hers or anybody else’s. Albert it was who never had to be persuaded to play hide-and-seek, turn somersaults, chase butterflies, demonstrate card games, perform magic tricks, or fly kites with the growing family.

Every Easter he helped to organize a hunt for eggs. It had been the custom in Germany for fathers to hide coloured eggs on Maundy Thursday and send his children to find them. They were boiled hard and quite inedible, but it was a game of which generations of royal children never tired.

Prince Albert’s eager encouragement of them in their nursery games reveals him to have been far from the cold, remote
paterfamilias
, whose children were terrified of him, of popular legend. In the nursery at Claremont, he enjoyed building houses with Vicky’s wooden bricks, so tall that he had to stand on a chair to finish them, reaching above his head. ‘Such a fall as it made! He enjoyed it much the most.’
²⁰
When they were older he would take them to see the waxworks at Madame Tussaud’s, or the animals at London Zoo, like generations of proud fathers ever since who enjoyed mixing education with pleasure.

His regular nursery visits gave him the chance to prepare special surprises. When Princess Alice was only a few days old, he smuggled the painter Edwin Landseer in, to paint her in her cradle, guarded by Dandie, the black terrier. The result was ready, framed and wreathed with flowers for the Queen’s birthday the following month.

Princess Alice was generally a placid baby, although Lady Lyttelton recorded one exception to this rule when she was ten months old – at her vaccination taken ‘from a
magnificent
baby. Such a duett [sic] of shrieks as the two kept up, staring and terrified at each other, and ascribing the cuts, no doubt, to each other, instead of Mr Brown [the doctor]!’
²¹

There were regular outbursts between the two elder children. Some sibling rivalry between the Princess Royal and the Prince of Wales was inevitable. Fights in their mother’s room early in the morning were nothing unusual, and sending them downstairs separately did not stop the Princess from picking quarrels with him as soon as they were together again.

Both were jealous of the other; Pussy had screamed and refused to be pacified when taken for her first peep at the small occupant of the cradle that had formerly been hers. ‘The Boy’ was slow to cut his teeth, learn to walk and talk. His sister, so much more forward in every way, could not resist teasing him. Overshadowed by her intelligence and obvious cleverness, and not slow to notice how she was petted and admired by their parents and vistors at court, he fought back the only way he knew how, with fists and displays of temper.

Noticing that he seemed to sense his inadequacy beside his elder sister, Lady Lyttelton was quick to spring to his defence. In February 1844 she found him

not articulate like his sister, but rather babyish in accent . . . altogether backward in language, very intelligent, and generous and good-tempered, with a few passions and
stampings
occasionally; most exemplary in politeness and manner, bows and offers his hand beautifully, besides saluting à
la militaire
– all unbidden. He is very handsome, but still very small every way.
²²

In her sympathy, she underestimated the ‘passions’. Shortly after his second birthday, Dr Clark detected the cause of his lateness in talking with any clarity – a minor speech impediment. This, and a slight stutter (which he soon outgrew), prevented him from making himself understood properly. The impediment remained, and was the cause of his guttural accent. Contrary to popular belief, the future King Edward VII did not speak English with a pronounced German accent, although his voice had a deep guttural tone, with a German style of speech and particular stress on certain syllables. The children spoke nothing but English at home, and as they generally saw more of their nurses and governesses than their father – the only one in their childhood circle with a definite German accent – Prince Albert Edward did not acquire a German intonation. Warned of the problem, Albert treated his son’s mild handicap with patience and commonsense, and there was a rapid improvement.

Between Bertie and Alice there was an exceptionally close bond, which remained so until death separated them. When the latter was only eighteen months old, the Queen remarked on their being ‘the greatest friends & always playing together’.
²³
Alice could bring out the best in him, and on the rare occasions that she was sent to her room for being naughty, he would creep silently up the stairs and along the corridors, only to be intercepted by a watchful adult and confess guiltily that he was ‘going to give Alee a morsel of news’.

On 6 August 1844 the Queen gave birth to a second son. Describing his wife’s confinement, Albert wrote to his brother Ernest, who had succeeded their father as Duke of Saxe-Coburg Gotha six months previously, that ‘she let us wait a long time and consequently the child is unusually large and strong’.
²⁴

The new Prince was christened on 6 September, and given the names Alfred Ernest Albert. To the family he was always ‘Affie’. His sponsors at the ceremony were his aunt Alexandrine, Duchess of Saxe-Coburg Gotha (represented in
absentia
by the Duchess of Kent), Prince George of Cambridge, and Prince William of Prussia.

Affie inherited the full measure of Hanoverian high spirits. He appeared completely oblivious of danger; as soon as he could walk on his own, he climbed out of windows and balanced on ledges thirty feet or more above the ground unless restrained, or jumped across fast-running streams before he could swim. He slid down banisters, falling off and concussing himself, once narrowly avoiding a fractured skull. Despite a severe scolding he would do the same the next day. If sent to his room or given a sharp smack by his mother for fooling about, he would be duly penitent – and do just the same the next day. Almost every week he had some minor accident, but emerged unscathed apart from bruises or the occasional black eye.

In the spring of 1845, when Affie was nine months old, Mrs Sly resigned, and her place was taken by Mary Ann Thurston. A young widow of thirty-five, her husband had died before their first wedding anniversary and two months before the birth of their daughter Elizabeth, or ‘Libbie’. Mrs Thurston soon fitted into her new role, second only to Lady Lyttelton in the nursery hierarchy, and it was only a matter of months before Queen Victoria was praising her ‘way with the children’.

‘It gives me the greatest pleasure to be able to announce to Your Majesty that yesterday afternoon at 3 o’clock the Queen was safely delivered of a Princess,’ Prince Albert wrote to King Frederick William IV of Prussia (26 May 1846). ‘The many proofs of friendship which Your Majesty has given to us assure me that you will receive the news of this gladdening event with your former interest.’
²⁵

To his brother Ernest, he wrote the same day that ‘Heaven gave us a third little daughter. She came into this world rather blue; but she is quite well now. Victoria suffered longer and more than the other times and she will have to remain very quiet to recover from all.’
²⁶
Though it was a severe and protracted labour, mother and child both made a quick recovery, and the latter grew up to be physically the toughest of the royal sisters.

She was christened on 25 July at Buckingham Palace, and given the names Helena Augusta Victoria. Two of her sponsors were present in person, the Hereditary Grand Duke of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, and the Duchess of Cambridge; the third sponsor, the Duchess of Orleans, was represented by the infant’s grandmother, the Duchess of Kent. Princess Helena disgraced herself by alternately crying lustily and sucking her thumb at the ceremony.

Lady Lyttelton left a description of Alice on her fourth birthday, 1847:

Dear Princess Alice is too pretty, in her low frock and pearl necklace, tripping about and blushing and smiling at her honours. The whole family, indeed, appear to advantage on birthdays; no tradesman or county squire can keep one with such hearty simple affection and enjoyment.
One
present I think we shall all wish to live farther off: a live lamb, all over pink ribbons and bells. He is already the greatest pet, as one may suppose.

Princess Alice’s pet lamb is the cause of many tears. He will not take to his mistress, but runs away lustily, and will soon butt at her, though she is most coaxy, and said to him in her sweetest tones, after kissing his nose often, ‘Milly,
dear
Milly!
do
you like me?’
²⁷

Vicky and Alice were always close. They shared a bedroom, each others clothes, and general confidences. Like Bertie, perhaps Alice was discouraged at being apparently put in the shade by their brilliant, clever eldest sister and looking slow by comparison. Yet she was intelligent and quick to learn, not given to showing off, and more tactful. A former dresser of the Queen, who was unusually tall, passed the royal children playing in the corridor. The Prince of Wales made a joke about her height, but Alice retorted loudly and clearly, ‘It is very nice to be tall; Papa would like us all to be tall.’
²⁸

Vicky took on the mantle of elder sister-protector, and sometimes this led to pranks. Aged seven, Vicky was in an obstreperous mood one day after an argument with Lady Lyttelton. Walking out of the palace nursery in a sulk, she invited Alice to come exploring with her into some of the rooms they were not generally allowed to visit. When they found a servant girl cleaning the fireplace, Vicky promptly announced that they would help. The girl felt she could hardly say anything, even when the Princesses stopped working on the grate and applied the brushes to her face and clothes. They scampered away, leaving the unfortunate employee to pluck up courage to go and tidy herself up before anybody else saw her. On her way she had to walk past an amazed Prince Albert, who insisted on knowing what had happened. Within minutes a stony-faced Queen Victoria, leading a daughter firmly by each hand, marched across the courtyard to the servants’ quarters. The girl, now clean again, was called and each Princess begged her pardon. Later they were sent out by carriage to go shopping – to buy a new dress, cap and apron from their pocket money.

There was no question of the royal children being given unlimited amounts of money to indulge their every whim. Queen Victoria had known what it was like to scrimp and save. Her promise to pay off the outstanding debts left by her spendthrift father as soon as she was in a position to do so had left her with a horror of extravagance. Stockmar had never ceased to impress on her and Prince Albert how the free and easy ways of King George IV had damaged the monarchy’s standing at a time of national economic crisis. The Coburgs had had a reputation for parsimony, and Prince Albert proved himself adept at financial management. His reorganization of the royal household had been done partly with a view to cutting back unnecessary expenditure, and in some cases servants’ wages, a move which did not endear him to everyone.
Punch
, founded in 1841 and frequently critical of royalty in its early years, rumoured that he dabbled in railway shares, and when he won prizes at agricultural shows for animals and produce from the Windsor farms, other competitors were disgusted to watch him pocket the silver coins he received as prize money.

To some Prince Albert appeared mean, but he could never be accused of spending recklessly on the family while others went hungry. In Luton it was believed that the Queen was advocating having all children under the age of five put to death as famine was so severe. At Christmas 1842 he had suggested that they should set a good example to the nation by celebrating less lavishly than before. There were fewer courses and less wine at dinner, a mild sacrifice which could perhaps be partly – but not wholly – explained by his aversion to drunkenness and antipathy to rich food.

On 18 March 1848 a fifth daughter appeared. Princess Louise had the dubious distinction of being born during the year of revolutions. During the previous month the exiled French royal family had come to seek refuge in England, and Queen Victoria was allowed barely a moment’s rest while approaching her sixth confinement, comforting her harassed, careworn husband one moment, helping to organize accommodation for their Bourbon guests the next. The baby, she was convinced, would be sure to turn out ‘something peculiar’. Louise was perfectly healthy, and enjoyed excellent health until her death over ninety-one years later. In one sense, though, she would turn out ‘something peculiar’. As a grown woman she would prove to be the rebel of the family.

Queen Victoria lacked the maternal touch which would have put her completely at ease with her children, and in their early years she was too preoccupied with matters of sovereignty. Prince Albert also found that the call of duty and endless state papers frustrated his desire to spend as much time with his children as he liked. All the same, by and large it was a happy childhood for youngsters in the nursery at Buckingham Palace. Lady Lyttleton took care to ensure a steady balance between toys in the nursery – soldiers, dolls and tea sets – and more stimulating learning materials. Books of children’s tales and songs were also provided and regularly used.

The general practice for children of middle- and upper-class parents in Victorian times was to be ‘seen but not heard’. They generally lived in stuffy nursery quarters well away from the rest of the house, supervised dutifully by nursemaids, watched over by a governess, and given unappetizing meals with a high proportion of boiled vegetables and milk puddings. As a special treat, they might be allowed downstairs to the dining-room, when their parents had finished their meal, for a small piece of fruit or jelly. When older, they would be allowed to sit through a whole meal downstairs. Smaller children, however, might only see their parents for an hour or so in the day, when they were expected to behave like small, quiet adults.