Victoria Victorious: The Story of Queen Victoria (17 page)

Lehzen did not say anything. She was too upset. She kept calling me her baby; and I had a feeling that she, like my mother, did not want me to grow up.

I
T TOOK ME
quite a long time to recover from my illness. Lehzen used to brush my hair every night and she always said it was growing and would soon be as thick as it used to be, but whether that was true or
whether she was comforting me I was not sure. But I did begin to feel stronger and more like my old self.

I think many people had believed that I would not get over my illness. It was certain that the Duke of Cumberland did. How he longed to be King himself with poor blind George to follow him. Sly and ruthless as he was, he did act rather incautiously. Very often instead of furthering his schemes, he ruined them.

I did hear a disquieting story. During my illness he had been often with the King. I remembered how he had been in attendance on the late George IV right up to the time of his death and what anxiety there had been when Mama had thought he was trying to get Uncle George to insist that I go to Windsor, where Mama was sure Cumberland would try to get rid of me. Now that I was ill he was currying favor with William.

That was not easy. Uncle William might be called a bumbling old fool, but he was not without a certain shrewdness and he could not be so easily duped.

The story was that during a banquet when the monarch's health was being drunk, Cumberland raised his glass and said, “The King's heir. God bless
him
.”

There was silence around the table for Cumberland was behaving as though I were as good as dead—in which case he would be the next.

Uncle William was furious. He went very red in the face and standing up he lifted his glass and cried very loudly, “The King's heir. God bless
her
!”

Dear Uncle William!

Mama laughed heartily over that. I heard her talking to the odious one about it.

“That has finished him! He was a little too sure of himself this time.”

It seemed that she was right. Cumberland disappeared from Court and I began to get better.

W
HAT A JOY
it was to return to Kensington. There, a surprise awaited me, for I found that we had better apartments than before. We had seventeen rooms in all and that was a great improvement.

“Only what is due to the dignity of a queen,” said Mama.

I wanted to remind her that I was not yet that, but refrained from doing so. She was so excited because Uncle Leopold had written to tell her that two cousins, with their father, were coming to England; and she was always delighted to see her relatives.

This was her brother Ferdinand and his two sons, Ferdinand and Augustus. I was a little disappointed, for when I had first heard that cousins were coming I had thought of Ernest and Albert. However the prospect of a visit from cousins was always interesting and I shared Mama's happy anticipation.

In due course they arrived, and they were all charming, particularly Ferdinand, the elder cousin. He was on his way to Portugal to be married, and that made him seem a very romantic figure.

It was a repetition of that other cousinly visit; we rode, walked, danced, and sang together. They were able to bring us news of Uncle Leopold and Aunt Louise; and I was very happy for them because they now had a little son who was named Leopold after his father. I had been in transports of joy when I had heard of the child's safe arrival. Dear Aunt Louise must have been particularly joyful as she had been disappointed once before.

When Uncle William and Aunt Adelaide invited the cousins to Windsor I was in a fever of apprehension lest there should be tension between the King and Mama.

He did ignore her and made a point of my sitting between him and George Cambridge at dinner there; but perhaps due to Aunt Adelaide's tact, we managed to avoid a real upset and Mama and the King satisfied themselves with black looks.

I was glad when the visit was over, which was such a pity, for I did love Windsor and the King was always so kind to me. We danced often and that was a great pleasure. I had too little dancing. Mama said I should not dance with anyone who was not royal, which meant that there were very few people with whom I could dance. But the cousins loved dancing, and would often whirl me around the drawing-room—which was of course permissible.

I was very sorry when they left and kept telling myself how fortunate I was to have such delightful cousins.

That was like a prelude. It was not long after the departure of those cousins when Mama summoned me to her apartments. She was waving a letter in her hand and I knew that it was good news.

My heart began to beat more quickly. Could it really be…at last?

“Your Uncle Ernest is coming.”

Uncle Ernest! He was the one who had been so harsh with his wife Luise—Albert's mother.

“And,” went on Mama, “he is bringing with him his two sons—your cousins Ernest and Albert.”

“Oh, Mama!”

“I thought you would be pleased. Uncle Leopold is delighted that they are coming. He says he very much hopes that you and Albert will like each other. He is, as a matter of fact, certain that you will. He says he knows you both so very well and he regards you as his beloved children.”

“Oh Mama, that is wonderful!”

“They will be here in May.”

“For my birthday?”

Mama nodded.

I said, “My seventeenth birthday!” Mama looked a little less pleased, but I took every opportunity of reminding her how old I was getting.

Excitedly I discussed the visit with Lehzen. I would get out my drawing books to show them. I wondered if Albert … the cousins… liked drawing. I wondered if they sang. Did they like dancing?

“They would have been taught these accomplishments as a part of their education,” said Lehzen.

“Yes, Lehzen, but there is a difference between being taught and liking.”

Lehzen patted my shoulder and smiled at me.

Inevitably trouble began to show itself. I had not realized before how anxious people were for me to marry a husband who should be chosen for me by them. Being in my position meant that there were differing opinions in the family and it was a foregone conclusion that the one chosen for me by my mother would not be the King's elect.

The King very much wanted me to marry George Cambridge. There was no doubt that George was a very charming boy; he had been more or less brought up by Aunt Adelaide when his parents were abroad, and she and the King looked upon him as the son they had not had. They considered him ideal for me. But on the other hand Uncle Leopold and my mother had chosen Albert. It was natural for me to lean toward Uncle Leopold's choice. I had adored him, looked up to him. Of course the dearest friend I had ever had was Lehzen, but that was different. I did not idolize her; I merely loved her. Besides, Uncle Leopold's being a man made him seem more grand, more important; and I felt, at that time, that if Albert was his choice, he must be mine too. The fact was that I had fallen in love with Albert's image before I met him. I was determined to
love Albert, because, since Uncle Leopold thought he was the most charming and the most suitable young man in the world, he must be.

The King was very well aware of Uncle Leopold's intentions—just as Uncle Leopold was of the King's. I had heard the King refer to Uncle Leopold as “that water-drinking nincompoop, always thinking he is ill, prancing about in built-up shoes in his feather boa.” Uncle Leopold's opinion of the King was equally unflattering.

I was horrified though when the King tried to prevent my uncle and cousins from coming to England. But the Prime Minister apparently said this could not be done, for there was no political reason why their visit should be banned. Then Uncle William looked around for the best ways of discomfiting them and he decided to invite the Prince of Orange and his sons to come to England, and their visit should coincide with that of my uncle and cousins. The Prince of Orange had long been an enemy of Uncle Leopold's.

It seemed that, as usual, someone was going to do something to spoil the visit.

Uncle Leopold was incensed.

He wrote to me:

How angry he was! And how disappointed I was that this great occasion should be tarnished by this perpetual family bickering.

But nothing could really spoil that encounter.

Albert! What can I say of that first meeting? It is so sad to recall it now and remember him as he stood before me—tall, handsome—more handsome than anyone I had ever seen—
quite
beautiful—those large clear blue eyes, so earnest, so serious. I chide myself now because there was a time when his seriousness irked me a little. How could I ever have been irked by anything about my beloved Albert?

I was greeted first by Uncle Ernest, who smiled so warmly and affectionately; then Albert's brother, that other Ernest, who was tall and handsome, but not quite so tall, nor quite so handsome as Albert; and he was very thin, far too thin. Albert was a little … just a little stouter—and that was just right.

Mama was so kind and gracious. How charming she could be when she allowed her love to overcome her need always to have her position recognized! There was a wonderful family feeling about this encounter. Mama knew Uncle Leopold's wishes about Albert and me, and she was in wholehearted agreement with them. So this was the happiest occasion I had ever known because it was my first meeting with my beloved Albert.

It is hard to recall it in detail, and it is too sad now that he has gone and there are only memories left. But I remember our going into the drawing room where Uncle Ernest gave Mama a beautiful lory, knowing how fond she was of birds; and Albert told her that it would not bite even if she put her finger into its mouth.

“The colors are so lovely!” I cried. “I shall paint your lory, Mama.”

“Victoria is very pleased with her little sketches,” said Mama, and dear Albert said he would like to see them; so I sat on the sofa, between my two cousins, and showed them my sketch books.

Ernest said flatteringly, “They are wonderful. You are a great artist.”

Albert commented that they were really quite good, which was, after all, honest.

Then we talked about music and I discovered that they both loved it, and that they played the piano and sang. How wonderful to sing duets with Albert!

Mama clapped her hands and said how well our voices went together.

My seventeenth birthday came. Another year and I should be eighteen—the magic age. Seventeen seemed almost there. I wrote in my journal:

“Today I completed my seventeenth year. I am an old person indeed.”

The days were so short. Every morning I woke up, I thought: The cousins are here. Dear Ernest and dear, dear Albert.

I wonder sometimes whether I should have been quite so taken with Albert had it not been that Uncle Leopold had imprinted such a picture of his perfections in my mind.

Perhaps I eulogize, looking back, and imagine I felt more strongly than I did. I had been deeply impressed by all the cousins. Should I have been as ready to fall in love with any one of them as I was with Albert? And was I in love with Albert at this stage, or did the overwhelming love for him which came later, make me believe I had been?

We were not so much alike in those days, although afterward we grew to think alike, to admire the same things and strive for the same ends.

I was at that time frivolous and pleasure-loving. How I enjoyed dancing! And it was my great delight to stay up late indulging in light entertainment. I was impetuous, loving people almost as soon as I set eyes on them, and showing my feelings. I could dislike people too. There was nothing restrained about me, and my dear Albert was all restraint.

Then he did not care about dancing when to me it was the most enjoyable of entertainments, and he grew very sleepy at night. I was never sleepy when something was going on and I wanted to take it all in.

No, we were not very much alike. It was only later that we grew together. So it may well be that I did not appreciate him at the time as much as I later thought I did.

We were invited to Windsor. The King could hardly ignore them, even though he had not wanted them to come. I was in a fever of apprehension during the visit, but it went off fairly smoothly. I noticed that Albert was yawning during one of the King's levees and I was afraid that others would see it too. I could imagine the King's comment. Not that he could talk. He often nodded off and everyone knew it for when he opened his eyes he would often say something quite irrelevant to what was happening.

Albert was aloof, reticent by nature; I was the reverse. He was witty and very thoughtful; he was cleverer than his brother; and when I looked at Albert I wondered why I had ever thought Ernest handsome.