Victoria Victorious: The Story of Queen Victoria (13 page)

“I shall like that, Mama. It is always so interesting to meet cousins.”

“These are your Württemberg cousins. Your Uncle Leopold says that one day you must meet Ernest and Albert of Saxe-Coburg. I do believe they are his special favorites.”

“If they are Uncle Leopold's favorites, I daresay they will be mine.”

Mama smiled, for once pleased with me.

In due course the Württemberg cousins arrived—Ernest and Alexander. I was delighted with them. I liked the way in which they bowed over my hand and clicked their heels as they did so. So German! I thought. So enchanting! They were both tall and handsome and I found it hard to make up my mind which one I liked the better.

When the King and Queen heard that the Württemberg cousins were at Kensington, they decided to give a ball for them. I was very excited.

“You will love it,” I told the cousins. “Aunt Adelaide gives such wonderful balls.”

Mama grumbled and Sir John went to her apartments, I guessed to discuss the invitation. I was in a state of terror lest she find some excuse for refusing it, which I was sure she wanted to do if she dared.

I could not understand why she should be so anxious to keep our Württemberg relations to ourselves as I was quite proud of them.

Mama went about all that day and the next with tight lips and I thought she was on the point of saying I was to refuse the invitation to the ball, but she did not; and I was greatly relieved when it was time to leave and we set out in the carriage for St. James's. I was determined to
enjoy it. To dance would be delightful. There would be George Cambridge as well as the Württembergs—and they would all want to dance with
me
. I should dance till midnight. Nothing could be more exciting than that.

When we arrived, the King, with the Queen beside him, received our guests, and I was kept at their side so that the guests could greet me with them. Mama tried to stand beside me but the King signed to Sir John to move on with her.

I saw Mama's face flush and her earrings quiver, and my heart sank. However we were safely here and nothing could be done about that now.

My feet were twitching with their longing to dance, but the King said to me very kindly, “I do not see as much of you as I should wish. The Queen wants to arrange some parties for you. There are people you should meet. There's your cousin—young George. He is here all the time. How do you like him, eh?”

I said I liked my cousin George very much.

He went on to tell me what a fine boy he was. “Just about the same age as you. Good for people of an age to be together.”

I said I was sure it was. The Queen smiled encouragingly at me and said she would be happy to arrange some balls for me because she knew I liked dancing so much—and singing too. I had such a pretty singing voice. We ought to have concerts. She would invite people… good singers. She had heard how much I liked the opera.

I spoke of my enthusiasm and they both smiled at me in the most kindly manner.

Then the Queen said, “I know Victoria is longing to dance. Are you not, my dear?”

“Let her dance with George,” said the King. “I like to see them dance together.”

Aunt Adelaide took my hand. “There is George. We will go to him.”

As we moved away Mama swept down on us. I knew by her face that something awful was going to happen.

“I have come to inform Your Majesty that I am leaving with my party. Come, Victoria.”

“But Mama,” I cried indignantly, “the dancing is only just starting.”

“Come along,” she replied sternly.

“But the dance is for your guests,” protested Aunt Adelaide.

“My guests are exhausted.”

“They… they look very well,” began Aunt Adelaide.

“They have been to a review in the Park this afternoon.”

“But they appear to be…”

“Absolutely exhausted. Your Majesty must understand that I cannot allow my guests to overtire themselves.”

“The King will be most annoyed. The ball was expressly in their honor.”

Poor Aunt Adelaide! I was almost as sorry for her as I was for myself. I was furious. I so wanted to dance. But Aunt Adelaide was terribly worried because she was afraid of a scene between the King and my mother. Fortunately he had not noticed what was going on, but I could imagine his fury when he did discover.

Aunt Adelaide was trying to smooth everything over, trying to look as though this were not an unprecedented affront to royal dignity, which it was.

“The Princes must come and stay for a few days at Windsor,” she said.

“Their time is already accounted for,” said Mama coldly.

I saw the Queen flinch, but she said nothing and Mama gripped my hand firmly.

I sat silent, ashamed and angry, as the carriage took us back to Kensington.

T
HE MEMORY OF
that evening lingered on even through the exciting days which followed. I was more and more enchanted by the cousins, particularly as, when I appeared to pay more attention to one than the other, the other was a little jealous.

There was a wonderful occasion when we went to hear the great Paganini play the violin. He played some variations most wonderfully and I was glad to notice that dear Lehzen, who was with us, enjoyed it thoroughly. Unfortunately Sir John Conroy also accompanied us, but even he could not spoil such a marvelous experience.

Then Mama suggested that as the cousins must see something of the countryside, we should take them for a trip, and we might go to the Isle of Wight. That would have been perfection, but Mama would insist that the royal standard should fly over Norris Castle, and the guns were firing the royal salute, which reminded me of Uncle William and that terribly embarrassing time at the ball.

There was, however, one thing to be grateful for. Sir John and his
family did not stay with us at Norris Castle. This was because he owned a small house on the island called Osborne Lodge. It was close to the Castle and, of course, we visited the Conroys there. I thought how pleasant it was—or would have been if they had not been there; and indeed, I preferred it to Norris Castle. It was a blessing—though a small one—that when we were at this castle he was not under the same roof.

What happy days they were! I walked and rode with the cousins and took Dash down to the sea. The little darling loved everything as long as I was there to share it. The cousins played with him and he was quite fond of them. I was sure he preferred Alexander—because I did—although Ernest was very charming. Then there were the occasions when I was presented to the people and they cheered me and the guns fired, and I could see how impressed my cousins were because of my importance and popularity.

Mama watched me closely and told me that I must not become arrogant just because the guns were fired and the royal standard flown. “They are for the crown, not you, my child.”

I pointed out then that they must be for Uncle William.

At which she said, “Don't be so trying, Victoria.”

But I liked the truth and could become very obstinate even though I knew it would result in Mama's getting annoyed. She and I were growing farther and farther away from each other. I was seeing her too clearly. I wondered how fond she was of
me
, and whether it was the crown for which she had such overwhelming affection. She always stood forward and in front of me on ceremonial occasions, as though she were the heir to the throne and the one the people wanted to see even though they shouted my name and “God bless the little Princess.” Of course she liked to hear that because it meant that I was more popular than the King, but all the time she wanted them to cheer
her
. And the fact was that they did not really like her.

They liked me because I was the heir to the throne, destined to be Queen; I was young and innocent and smiled at them, and looked as though I was pleased. Mama always looked haughty, as though they were far beneath her—and naturally they did not like that.

There was one embarrassing incident when I was to open a pier. Mama suddenly decided that I was becoming conceited and must be taught a lesson. I should not open the pier, she said. She would.

I was astounded. It made me very ashamed to have to be present at such times, for there was great consternation when Mama announced to
the Mayor and his counselors that I should not be opening the pier and that she would do it instead.

They were so dismayed, they did not know what to say. Then the Mayor stammered that the crowds had come to see the little Princess.

“They may see her,” said Mama, “but I shall open the pier. Pray proceed with the ceremony.”

Mama was not always very wise. She did not seem to be aware that the people were greatly displeased and they liked her even less after that than they had before.

To make matters worse she, being aware of their disappointment, told them that we could not stay to the luncheon that was to follow the ceremony. We had an engagement elsewhere.

I could imagine the preparations that had gone into the luncheon and the expectations of the people.

Oh yes, Mama could not only be overbearing but foolish, and her behavior spoiled many days that should have been blissful.

I did not write then of my feelings in my journal. How could I for Mama to see? I often thought as I wrote laboriously—best handwriting—how much more relieved I should feel if I could only set down what I felt when it was happening. How much better I should have known myself if I could. But I had to remember that Mama and Lehzen read every word I wrote, and that had been Mama's intention when she gave me the journal. So I wrote an exercise, and only allowed my real feelings true range for enthusiasm over the opera and my pleasure in my cousins' visit—all of which were subjects that would not irritate Mama.

To crown my embarrassment, when we returned to Norris Castle there was a letter awaiting Mama from Earl Grey which stated that standards and royal salutes must only be employed when the King or Queen were in residence.

Still smarting from the reception the people had given her at the opening of the pier, Mama was furious.

H
OW SAD IT
was to say goodbye to the cousins. I was almost in tears. So were they.

“Please, please, come and see us again soon,” I begged.

They said they would not be happy until they did.

Mama smiled benignly to see the affection between us, and for once she and I shared the feeling of sorrow because they were leaving us.

They were so amiable, good-tempered, and interested in everything.

I wrote in my journal: “We shall miss them at breakfast, at luncheon, at dinner, riding, sailing, driving, walking—in fact everywhere.”

I L
OOKED FORWARD
to Uncle Leopold's letters and was delighted when he wrote to say that as soon as possible, he was going to bring his new wife Louise to England to meet his favorite child.

So that was something to look forward to.

I was so happy when he wrote to say he was expecting to become a father.

“That,” I said to Lehzen, “is just what he needs. It will make him happy. He mourned so long for Princess Charlotte.”

“Oh,” said Lehzen, “I think he revelled in his mourning now and then.”

I did not quite understand, but she would say no more. Was Lehzen a little jealous of my affection for Uncle Leopold? I am afraid that my vanity overcame my better nature when it was a question of people's being jealous, as had been the case with my cousins. It was so comforting to know that I was important to them.

But all the same I did not quite like any criticism of one who seemed so perfect to me as Uncle Leopold.

My fifteenth birthday was approaching and I was hoping that Aunt Adelaide would give another ball for me. I had so enjoyed the one on my fourteenth birthday, and surely Mama could not spoil it this time. In three years time I should reach the all-important age of eighteen.

Mama was getting more and more contentious; each day she said something detrimental about Uncle William because he refused to die; and there were only three years left. Any little rumor about his illness sent her into transports of delight. It seemed to me very wrong to wish another person dead with such vehemence. It was like murder…in a way.

Shortly before my birthday I had sad news from Uncle Leopold. His baby was dead.

Dear Uncle Leopold, how sad he must be! He wrote to me at length about his sorrow. He was desolate. Life was cruel to him. He and Louise were staggering under the blow.

I tried to comfort him, repeating many of those homilies he had
delivered to me over the years, and he wrote back saying my letter brought him consolation.

Aunt Adelaide had not forgotten my birthday. She visited Mama and when I was present she reminded us of the coming birthday.

“We must have another juvenile ball,” she said. “I know how much you enjoyed the one we gave on your fourteenth birthday. The King and I were saying we must do it again. I shall never forget the sight of you opening the ball with your cousin George.”

I saw Mama bridle and feared the worst.

“Dear Adelaide,” she said, “it is kind of you, but you have forgotten that I am in mourning for my brother's child.”

The Queen looked startled. “Oh …I had forgotten…”

“
I
do not forget such a bereavement in my family.”

“Perhaps,” said the Queen seeing my crestfallen looks, “Victoria might come. It is her birthday and there should be some celebration.”

Mama raised her eyebrows in that haughty way she had, and her earrings trembled. “I cannot see how Victoria could fail to be in mourning too. Leopold is her uncle… her very
favorite
uncle.”

The Queen looked as near annoyance as I had ever seen her. There was a look of resignation on her face. “Very well,” she said, and soon after that she left.

“How insensitive!” said Mama. “Some people have no family feeling.”

“I think she only wanted to please me.”

“She might have known that it is not the time for dancing and that if you have any fine feelings at all, it is the very last thing you would want to do.”

I was silent—sullen perhaps. I did not see what good I could do to Uncle Leopold's baby by staying at home on my birthday.