Prince Albert and His Silver Hands
Here’s a story that didn’t make the cut for the final draft of the #MonuMeta.
But I still like it.
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PRINCE ALBERT AND HIS SILVER HANDS
The story of ‘Silver Hands’ is an interesting one. Not many people know that the big golden book that Prince Albert keeps on his knee at his grand memorial in Kensington Gardens is the first (and only) edition of this tale.
Here’s how it came to be…
Allied to his natural intellect and drive, Prince Albert was an extremely well intentioned man who believed in the transformational properties of stories.
His greatest yarns were the ones he told about civic pride and good works — as demonstrated by his celebration of innovation and empire, The Great Exhibition of 1851, and the great museums, colleges and arts institutions that he helped to establish in South Kensington.
But when his public duty was done, at the end of the day there was nothing he loved more than to read fairy tales to his children at bed time. They made a perfect antidote to the pressures of royalty.
His favourite stories came from the forests of Bavaria — that dark and verdant make believe land of tall trees and tall tales from whence he came. For it was there that his compatriots the Brothers Grimm collected and published their famous almanac of folk tales.
One year, Albert had the bright idea that Victoria might like a special tale, made especially for her, for her birthday — one that Albert could rightfully say was hers and hers only.
Like many of Albert’s ideas it was a lovely but flawed idea. What could be a better birthday gift? Well, a happy tale would have beeen a good bet. Unfortunately, Victoria got something quite different.
Three months before the Queen’s birthday — in between the birth of Prince Alfred and Princess Helena, when Victoria was still a youthful 26 — Albert journeyed to his homeland and commissioned Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm to find him a fairy tale fit for a queen.
So far so good…
But if you’ve ever read any of the original Brothers Grimm tales, you’ll appreciate that some of them are wholly out of place in a royal nursery. And, by the time that Albert arrived, these were precisely the tales that the brothers had grown to love the most. Why, we’ll never know. Perhaps it was because Jacob and Wilhelm had become jaded by their success, because they now spent more time in the company of their favourite beer — the world-renown Aecht Schlenkerla Rauchbier — than they did with the storytellers of Bavaria.
At any rate, the brothers were drunk when they welcomed Albert home; and they were also drunk when he left, with Victoria’s gift in hand.
In between times, they led Albert on a merry dance through the Barvarian forests, from one storyteller to another, each meeting taking place in an inn, over a glass or five of beer. Albert had to admit that this made his search most convivial, because with each glass of Rauchbier, the tales seemed to get better.
In time they met an old man called Prauss who lived deep in the Bamberg hills (where in fact Rauchbier is still brewed today) and he told them the story of ‘Silver Hands.’
It’s a shame that Albert wasn’t sober at the time, because the tale of ‘Silver Hands’ is — much like the beer they’d been drinking night and day for the best part of two months — impossibly dark, a bit sticky and hard to digest.
(You’ll appreciate this if you try some Aecht Schlenkerla Rauchbier. It’s known to beer connoisseurs outside of Germany as ‘smoky cheese bacon beer,’ thanks to its unique and centuries old brewing method that uses beech wood infused malt and some arcane maturation techniques. It’s an incredible beer — but be sure to drink the first glass fast, because only this way will the second become palatable. The third glass will make your words dance like fairies. The fourth will give you a wobbly journey home and the fifth will take you to places unimaginable.)
Since Albert was on his sixth glass of the dark stuff he fell for Mr Prauss’ tale immediately and vowed to have it for his Queen.
And Victoria hated it.
Silver Hands — or Mädchen ohne Hände, The Girl with No Hands as it now commonly known — is a story about escape and the legacy of one’s choices. It is absurd, extremely gruesome and strangely prescient in terms of Victoria and Albert’s life together.
Here’s how it goes…
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+The Story of Silver Hands, Part I+
A poor miller is accosted by an odd man in the forest. The man promises him riches if only he will give to him whatever is behind his mill. The miller — an unimaginative chap — assumes the man means his apple tree and gleefully accepts.
Upon explaining his good fortune (and the sudden appearance of gold in his house) to his wife, he learns of his error. His wife tells him that his daughter was playing behind their house that day.
Three years later, the man from the woods — the devil of course — comes to the miller’s house to collect his debt. At first he is kept at bay by the cunningness of the daughter, who scrubs her hands so pure and so clean that the devil cannot touch her. But eventually he prevails. He demands that the miller chop the daughter’s hands off so that he can touch her, or he threatens take the miller’s life. And guess what? The miller is not only unimaginative but gutless. He agrees to the devil’s demand in order to preserve himself and the enjoyment of his new found riches.
And so he cuts his daughter’s hands clean off.
Can you imagine?
But as she cries with pain her tears wash the stubs of her wrists completely clean so that the devil again cannot touch her. The devil gives up his pursuit at this point, and the miller rejoices, promising to keep his daughter in luxury. But, feeling betrayed by her father, she declines and leaves the house to find her own path in life.
Off she wanders far and wide until she stumbles upon the King’s palace garden and eats one of his pears. The King is outraged and demands to know who has stolen his precious fruit. His servant tells him of the strange girl with no hands and, taking pity on her, the King decides to take her in. He also casts a new pair of hands for her in silver and they quickly fall in love and set their minds to marriage. Her luck well and truly changed, the daughter accepts the King’s proposal and they settle down together, looking forward to a long and loving life — albeit hampered by the Queen’s clumsy, metallic fingers.
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So much for part one.
You might already see why Victoria took such an immediate dislike to it. She had an inauspicious start in family life, what with her childhood captivity in Kensington Palace, the legacy of a dead and debt-ridden father, her evil, scheming mother, and her royal-life-to-be all mapped out for her by governors, prime ministers and other important men …like her hands were well and truly tied.
Albert, of course, interpreted the tale differently. He was a Prince from Bavaria and saw himself as Victoria’s shining knight in armour. But sadly, as time would tell and as Victoria already knew, this was not to be his role.
(He also failed to notice that Silver Hands was a tale about greed, hideous brutality to women and men that have a habit of letting you down precisely when they are needed most.)
Part two of the story is even more illuminating in this regard. For now, though, please note: never buy a gift for your wife whilst you’re drunk.
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For Albert, the most confusing thing about his life with Victoria as Queen and Prince was how their contempt for one another had grown completely in step with their love. It was almost impossible to hold those two feelings simultaneously in one’s heart, but somehow they both managed to do it. How it happened he wasn’t entirely sure. He knew she was aware of his frustrations as a Prince-not-King and he appreciated the little things she did for him, but still it was never enough.
Victoria, with the help of some political fixers, organised Albert’s modest salary. He was not to be titled formally — when he arrived from provincial Germany and married Victoria he was known as plain old “Albert” — but at least she managed to persuade the royal treasury to give him a living wage. Victoria also allowed him to reorganise her household, which is no trivial affair when your home is Buckingham Palace. With Albert’s help, out went an army of Victoria’s old maids and in came a new band of hyper-organised staff. Budgets and expenses were reviewed and revitalised by Albert’s strong hand and keen eye for detail. And, when it came to the business of royal administration, Victoria found a place for her husband there too. She moved a new desk for Albert into her office so that, whilst the royal stamp of approval would always remain hers, he could at least direct it a little. And from such changes Albert was able to shape and influence many of the forward looking policies of Victoria’s reign.
But it wasn’t what Albert wanted.
Albert wanted everything in his name and on his terms. And so the more Victoria embraced him in the day-to-day duties of an Empress, the worse he felt. It was always, always, about her and not him. And, as long as the work that he did was all about her, then his adopted nation would never, ever show him their love.
Love and Pride. Those perfectly imperfect things that never seem to add up. To truly feel one, Albert knew he had to swallow the other.
Silver Hands! Oh, Silver Hands!
What the devil went wrong?
Here’s how the rest of the story unfolds…
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+The Story of Silver Hands, Part II+
Soon after his marriage to the miller’s daughter, the King is called away to war and leaves her expectant with their first child. Whilst he is away the new Queen with the silver hands gives birth to a fine baby girl. She calls her Vicky.
The King’s mother sends the King a message explaining the good news. Inspired, he enjoys his finest hour on the battlefield, defeating the enemy almost single handedly so that he can rush home to see his new daughter before the month is out (for he is waging war many miles away).
Overjoyed to be together again, upon his return the King and Queen celebrate like all nearly-newly weds would do.
Again the King is called away to war — only this time further afield. Again the Queen with the silver hands gives birth. This time to twins. She calls them Ned and Ally.
Once again the King’s mother sends him the good news. The King is so overcome with joy at the news of a son that he surpasses his feats of the previous war, and returns home within the fortnight.
‘Three beautiful babies,’ he says to his Queen. ‘How blessed we are. And how blessed is our kingdom now that it has a Prince to carry our name and good works forwards.’
‘Indeed, my love,’ says the Queen, although a little fatigued for three babies is a lot to juggle in such quick succession.
‘And how are your hands?’ asks the King. ‘Are they fit for such work?’
‘Indeed, my love,’ says the Queen, lovingly for she truly appreciates the King’s great gift of her fancy silver appendages. ‘They are firm and strong and they wash exceedingly well so all of our baby’s food and clothes will be sterile.’
‘Good,’ says the King, just moments before his messenger arrives to tell him of further unrest to the east. ‘I must tend to this, my love,’ the King says as he mounts his great white horse. ‘But I shall return triumphant soon.’
And as you may have already guessed, whilst he was away, the Queen gave birth once again. To twins once more! She names them Fred and Helen and her mother-in-law dispatches a messenger to tell the King, who dashes his sword with great precision and exceeds all previous performances in combat before returning home to his beloved Queen — this time within the week.
‘Five beautiful babies,’ the King says to his Queen. ‘How blessed we are!’
‘Indeed, my love,’ says the Queen, although by now she does not look so great what with all the nursing and the crying and the lack of sleep.
‘And how are your hands?’ asks the King. ‘Can they cope with so many and your duties as a Queen?’
‘Indeed, my love,’ says the Queen, still lovingly for she truly does appreciate her children and the marvellous man in her life. ‘When I blow on the fingers they make the most wonderful tunes, which the children simply adore.’
‘Good,’ says the King, before setting off to war. (For no other reason than habit. He’d decided upon his return to invade the country to the west just as soon as his baby business was done.)
And once again the Queen gives birth. Only this time to quadruplets! Oh how the Kingdom rejoiced! She names them LouLou, Andy, Leo and Bee. And, just as soon as they’d dropped, the Queen’s mother-in-law sends for the king, who once again puts all enemies to his mighty sword and rides home triumphant, right after that weekend.
‘Good heavens!’ he cries when he sees her, reclining on her day bed (and barely breathing) with all of their nine progeny at her feet. ‘How truly we are blessed!’
‘Indeed,’ murmurs the Queen in reply, for now she is looking and feeling old beyond her years and, if the truth be told, looks less forward to the King’s comings and goings than she once did.
‘And tell me,’ asks the King. ‘Your hands. How are they coping?’
‘Fine,’ replies the Queen. ‘For, being made of the finest silver, they are very strong. And when Vicky, Ned and Ally need reminding how to behave, they stay hit for a very long time.’
‘How happy I am,’ says the King, feeling very, very pleased with himself. ‘Our Kingdom grows each year and so does my family. What a legacy we shall leave!’
Sixteen years have passed between first and ninth child. The King declares he will cease his war mongering and settle down to a life of marital bliss with his Queen. The happy couple renew their wedding vows and live a long and prosperous life together.
—
Perhaps you can see why Albert fell in love with the story and wanted it so much for his Queen. What a King he would make! All conquering, virile and kind. And what a couple they would be! Such a dynasty they would create!
Except that’s not how the story was received: a life of screaming children and marital servitude was not what Victoria had imagined for her reign…
