The Captive of Kensington Palace

Chapter XIX DEAR ALBERT

The cousins had left. How she missed them! There was no one to dance with.

‘You must never dance with anyone who is not royal,’ said the Duchess, which meant a dearth of partners. But with her cousins Victoria could dance round the schoolroom at any moment of the day when she was free. She could ride and walk with her cousins; she could show them her drawings; they could help her seal letters which they did and it seemed a great joke when Augustus burned a letter during the process. Everything seemed gay and amusing when shared with them.

And when they had gone she felt that she had stepped back into captivity. It was the old routine, never to be left alone, always supervised.

She was now openly showing her hostility to Sir John who was growing very uneasy and seeking to placate her; she believed she disliked his oily hypocrisy more than the sneers of the past.

She would never forget that moment when he had come to stand by her bedside and almost forced her to do what he wanted. She had written and told Uncle Leopold who was most shocked and did not feel so kindly as he had once towards Sir John. With the support of Uncle Leopold she felt bolder. A certain coolness had crept into her attitude towards her mother. After all, she was growing up. She was just over a year from independence, and the Duchess and Sir John knew that if they did not get the Regency set up and Victoria in leading strings before her eighteenth birthday they never would.

The Duchess sent for her daughter. She still sent for her but whenever she received a summons Victoria thought: ‘It will not be for long. Very soon I shall be sending for people.’

‘My dear child,’ said the Duchess, who called Victoria ‘child’ frequently in the hope that by so doing she could ignore that fast-approaching eighteenth birthday, ‘you miss your cousins sadly, I know.’

‘Yes, Mamma, I do.’

‘Well, here is a letter from your Uncle Leopold. He suggests that I invite our brother Ernest’s sons to Kensington.’

‘Ernest and Albert?’ asked Victoria. ‘Uncle Leopold has already mentioned them.’

The Duchess inclined her head. ‘I have already sent an invitation.’ Her smile was a little coy and Victoria guessed what this meant. After all, Uncle Leopold had hinted at it.

The visit of these two cousins was more important than any other because one of these boys could be her future husband.

‘You will greatly enjoy their visit,’ said the Duchess as though this was an order; and Victoria was too excited to feel resentful.

‘I’m sure I shall, Mamma,’ she said; and a pleasant little refrain started up in her head and would not be dismissed.

‘Albert or Ernest – Ernest or Albert.’

Feodora, happy in her Langenburg Castle, wrote loving letters to Victoria which bubbled over with cosy domesticity. Marriage was clearly a desirable state, thought Victoria – happy marriage that was. There was Feodora with her drawing and painting, her reading, her devoted husband and her growing family whose little ways were so lovable and diverting.

Her life was dull, she wrote, compared with that of Victoria, but she was very happy. The two eldest children had just paid their first visit to the theatre. They had been so excited that they had laughed merrily all the time and the audience had been more diverted by them than what was happening on the stage. The babies were well and merry and content and they talked often of their Aunt Victoria. Of course Feodora discussed this aunt constantly and the children felt that they knew her. They were very interested in all she used to do and quite consoled that sometimes she was just a little naughty. In fact they liked the stories of Victoria’s bad behaviour better than her good. Perhaps because those stories were so rare.

And now she had the news that their two Coburg cousins were coming to Kensington. Victoria would like them she was sure, even more than Ferdinand and Augustus. They were more manly in Feodora’s opinion; she was very fond of them both.

‘Ernest is my favourite, although Albert is much more handsome and cleverer too, but Ernest is honest and good natured. I shall be very curious to hear your opinion of them.’

Victoria read and re-read the letter.

So Feodora preferred Ernest. But she loved them both.

‘I shall use my own judgment,’ she told herself resolutely; but in her heart she knew Albert would be favourite with her because that was what Uncle Leopold wished.

‘So,’ cried the King in fury, ‘she’s bringing these Coburgs over. That water-drinking fellow has arranged this! They know I want her for George Cambridge so they bring over these Coburgs.’

‘Do sit down, Papa,’ said Sophia. ‘You are getting far too upset.’

‘Upset. That woman is enough to upset anybody. I’ll send her back where she belongs. She can leave Victoria to Adelaide. Adelaide will look after her better than that feathered vixen.’

‘She is her mother, dear,’ said Adelaide gently.

‘More’s the pity. I won’t have those young fellows here. They seem to forget I’m the King. Why should I have these foreigners in my kingdom when I have no wish to? They’re not going to be asked to Windsor. They’re not even coming to England.’

Lady de l’Isle and Dudley exchanged glances with the Queen. When he was in this mood it was better to let him work out his fury rather than frustrate him. Later, between them, they would persuade him that it would be a major affront to a foreign power to refuse the Princes of Saxe-Coburg admittance to England.

In his heart he knew it; but he was disappointed. He liked young people. He had no heir of his own body; he would have enjoyed fathering Victoria. He liked the girl. He wanted to have her here in his household like his daughter. That would have been pleasant. They could have been seen more together. The King and the heiress to the throne! It was what the people wanted; it was good for the Monarchy. But that woman at Kensington had spoilt everything.

He went on at length about his intended refusal to permit the landing in England of the Saxe-Coburg Princes. Victoria was going to have George Cambridge. A nicer boy there could not be. He would rather see her married to blind George Cumberland – a charming fellow if ever there was one and a boy who had overcome his handicap. Why shouldn’t he be the Queen’s consort? ‘No reason,’ said the King. ‘No reason at all.’

Then he laughed. ‘I’ve only got to live a little longer, Adelaide, and that child will be eighteen. Once she is, that mother of hers will have no power over her whatsoever. It’s clear what I’ve got to do. I’ve got to live till after Victoria’s eighteenth birthday.’

‘It’s only next year, William, and you’ve got years ahead of you.’

‘I’m a sick old man, Adelaide. But I am going to do everything in my power to foil that woman. She is never going to be Regent of this country. I am going to see Victoria Queen … then I’ll die. Not before.’

At length Adelaide succeeded in persuading him that he could not forbid the Saxe-Coburgs to come to England. He then devised another plan.

It made him laugh so much he almost choked.

‘I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Adelaide … and I’ve done it. I didn’t want you persuading me. You’re too good a woman, Adelaide. That Kent woman is a she-wolf and you’re too good to know it. Time and time again you’ve smoothed things over for her. I know. You’ve shielded her. You’ve kept me from knowing. That’s what you’ve done. Well, now I’ll tell you what I’ve done. I’ve invited the Prince of Orange and his son over. They’ll be here the same time as those Coburgs. That will put their German noses out of joint.’

‘But you don’t like the Oranges overmuch.’

‘But the Water Drinker will think I do. He’ll be in a panic. He’ll think young Orange has been brought over for Victoria.’

‘But it’s our George … George Cambridge who is to have Victoria.’

‘Of course it is. But let Leopold think it’s going to be young Orange. That’ll shake him. That’ll make him see that I won’t have him interfering in my Kingdom.’

So there was nothing the Queen could do. At least she had averted a major quarrel with the Saxe-Coburgs; and now she would do her best to entertain the Oranges without alienating the Saxe-Coburgs and the Duchess of Kent.

When Leopold heard that the Prince of Orange and his son had been invited to England he was furious. This was a double insult. There had always been an uneasy relationship between himself and the Prince of Orange, for Orange had been one of the Princess Charlotte’s suitors. She had rather brusquely jilted him and when Leopold arrived had fallen passionately in love with him. It was something which made Orange regard the King of the Belgians with a certain pique.

And to invite him at the same time as Leopold’s protégés were in England was, Leopold considered, an insult to himself.

Leopold had long decided that the husband for Victoria was Albert of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha. Albert was his protégé as Victoria was. Leopold’s great hobby was the guiding and directing of his young relations. He was not only a King but a maker of Kings and Queens. He had written a treatise on how to govern for young Ferdinand; he had tutored Victoria since she was a child; and he had been equally watchful of Albert.

Albert was three months younger than Victoria – a bagatelle, said Leopold. They were of an age.

Albert had taken to Leopold when he was a little fellow just over a year old. His enormous blue eyes had regarded his uncle with adoration; he had shown his pleasure to be near him and had constantly put his arms about his uncle’s neck and kissed him. This was gratifying to Leopold who greatly desired the adoration of the young members of his family.

After the divorce between Albert’s parents, Leopold had felt himself to be even more the boy’s guardian and had kept in constant touch with him as he had with Victoria. He was determined on a marriage between his nephew and niece; everything told him that they were ideally suited; moreover, they both turned to him naturally and that would mean that when Victoria was Queen and Albert her consort there would be no diversity of opinion between them, for they had both been brought up to trust and adore Uncle Leopold.

Some time before he had arranged for the cousins to meet, Leopold had sent his friend and physician, Baron Christian Friedrich von Stockmar, to Albert. Leopold trusted Stockmar more than any man he knew; and he wanted his opinion of Albert and for him to be with Albert to advise him in the difficult role which Leopold had chosen for him.

The Baron at this time was some fifty years old; he was a native of Coburg, and had been in Leopold’s service even before his marriage to the Princess Charlotte. Stockmar was no respecter of persons, no seeker after favours. He was just the man on whom Leopold could rely in the delicate task of bringing these two young people together.

His report on Albert was encouraging:‘He is a fine young fellow,’ he wrote to Leopold, ‘well grown for his age and with agreeable and valuable qualities; and who, if things go well, may in a few years turn out a strong handsome man of a kindly, simple yet dignified demeanour. Externally, therefore, he possesses all that pleases the sex, and at all times and in all countries must please. It may prove too a lucky circumstance, that even now he has something of an English look.’

Very encouraging, thought Leopold.

Stockmar, who was of course well aware of his master’s intentions, wrote later:‘But it must be made a sine qua non that the object of the visit must be kept strictly secret from the Princess as well as from the Prince, so as to leave them completely at their ease.’

But of course Stockmar did not know Victoria. The very fact that she knew Leopold had chosen Albert for her would predispose her in his favour; as for Albert, his grandmothers had talked so often of the possibilities of a match with England that he could not think of the Princess Victoria in any connection than as that of a possible wife.

These two young people were Leopold’s creatures and they had been so accustomed to regarding him as a superior being that they would continue to do so.

And just as he was about to set his plans in motion that old fool of a King had decided to frustrate him. Victoria’s uncles had seemed a poor lot to Leopold. His own father-in-law, George IV, had disliked him from the start and had done all he could to frustrate his match with his daughter, but at least he had been a man of taste and culture. William was a coarse sailor and a fool at that. And if he were not careful the plan he had had brewing for years could be frustrated.

Orange! No, it was too much to be borne. He did not fear Cambridge half as much; and Cumberland, being blind, was out of the running. The Duchess had made sure that Victoria did not see much of her cousins on her father’s side; naturally she was all for a husband from her own side of the family. And he could trust his sister. But if the King brought Orange in, who knew what could happen? What sort of a man was the Young Prince of Orange? Victoria was so impressionable, her mother said. So she was; the dear child was brimming over with affection. But no, he, Leopold, had made it clear that he wanted her to choose Albert. He could trust Victoria.

He took up his pen and wrote to her:‘I am really astonished at the conduct of your old uncle the King. This invitation to the Prince of Orange is very extraordinary …’

His anger was so great that the pen was shaking in his hands. The Duchess had told him that Victoria was inclined to be very fond of her Aunt Adelaide and that she had an affection for the King too. They were on the spot. They might have some influence. Leopold was well aware that Victoria was leaning farther and farther from her mother, and that her dislike of Sir John Conroy was growing into hatred.‘I had a communication hinting that it would be highly desirable that the visit of your relatives should not take place this year … I have never heard of anything like it and I hope it will arouse your spirit. Slavery has recently been abolished in the British colonies. I do not understand why you should be kept as a little white slave in England for the pleasure of the Court. I am not aware of the King’s having spent a sixpence on you; and I have no doubt that in his passion for the Oranges, the King will be excessively rude to your relations. This will not signify much. They will be your guests not his.’

Angrily he sealed the letter and sent it off at once. Then he felt better. Once Victoria knew what his wishes were she would act accordingly.

Victoria and the Duchess stood in the hall waiting to greet their guests.

Victoria’s heart was beating wildly beneath her rather prim white dress. ‘Albert and Ernest’ it seemed to be saying. ‘Ernest and Albert’ – the cousins whom dearest Uncle Leopold so fervently wanted her to love.

And here they were – Uncle Ernest a few paces ahead of them, embracing Mamma, and Mamma looked younger, tender and very, very happy. Now it was her turn.

Uncle Ernest held her tightly against him. It was too emotional a moment for ceremony.

‘And your cousins are longing to kiss your hand.’

Ernest first because he was the eldest – tall, dark-haired and very, very handsome. ‘Dear cousin Ernest, what a joy for us to meet at last!’

And Albert. As tall as Ernest she noticed, but not so dark – more my colour with big blue eyes – such beautiful eyes – a little stouter then Ernest who was just a little too thin – and a handsome nose and mouth and such white teeth.

They were charming and so clever and intelligent – both of them.

Her hand was held and kissed and the large blue eyes of Victoria met those of Albert and she wondered a little apprehensively if he thought she was as handsome as she found him.

‘Let us go upstairs,’ said Mamma.

She led the way with her brother and Victoria fell into step between the two cousins. They smiled at each other and the cousins talked to her in English which they spoke well and she thought how poised they were, what men of the world, far more sophisticated than Ferdinand and Augustus. Oh yes, Ferdinand and Augustus were ‘new in the world’ – not so dear Ernest and dear Albert.

Upstairs in the drawing-room Ernest was telling his cousin Victoria that he would be eighteen in a month.

‘My seventeenth birthday is only a few days away,’ Victoria replied.

‘Then Albert is the youngest for he will not be seventeen until August.’

Victoria smiled at Albert. She rather enjoyed the idea of being a little older than he was.

Uncle Ernest said he had a present for Victoria and the Duchess ordered that it be brought into the drawing-room. It turned out to be a lory which was so tame that she was able to hold it in her hand.

‘You may put your finger in its mouth and it will not bite you,’ Albert told her.

She promptly did so, laughing with delight.

‘Such glorious colours,’ she cried. ‘Purple and brown, red, blue and yellow. I shall sketch and paint him afterwards. Oh, I love him already. He is bigger than your grey parrot, Mamma.’

The Duchess agreed that he was, and they all went to see the grey parrot and Victoria told the cousins how Mamma had bought him from a man on the roadside when they were taking one of their walks.

‘You must not forget,’ said the Duchess to Victoria, ‘that you are dining with the Archbishop of York.’

Victoria looked so downhearted that everyone laughed.

‘It appears to me,’ said the Duchess in a pleased voice, ‘that you would prefer the company of your uncle and cousins.’

‘It’s true,’ admitted Victoria.

‘So soon,’ asked Albert who, she noticed, was never at a loss.

‘Yes, so soon,’ she replied.

The Duchess thought: A good beginning. Leopold will be pleased.

What a happy visit! What a pleasure to wake up every morning and think: My cousins are here. What shall we do today? I can go riding with them. I can sketch with them. They could both draw well – particularly Albert. They loved music and could play the piano. This they did charmingly. Particularly Albert.

How they laughed together! They were so easily amused and yet they could be so grown up.

They were the most fascinating cousins anyone could have.

Her seventeenth birthday came. But there was little time for writing in the Journal now. She did record it though.

‘I awoke at seven. Today I completed my seventeenth year; a very old person I am indeed.’

A very old person! One more year and she would be quite grown up. She was really looking forward to that very much.

Then she began to wonder what life would be like when the cousins had gone. How desolate! Not to walk with dear Albert … and Ernest; not to listen to their merry jokes and marvel at the way they suddenly became very solemn and grown up and talked about serious matters!

I shall be far more sad than when Ferdinand and Augustus went, she thought.

‘I’ll not have those damned Coburgs at Windsor,’ said the King.

‘Perhaps a brief visit,’ suggested Adelaide.

‘Just a brief one,’ Lady de l’Isle backed her up.

The King growled and supposed he’d have to receive them. He had to entertain the Oranges in any case.

‘But they’ll not get a ball,’ he insisted.

Never mind. He received them and there was no friction during their brief stay at Court.

They and Victoria were glad to be back in Kensington where the Duchess gave a ball for them and Victoria had the pleasure of dancing with her cousins.

Albert secretly found it all rather tiring. He was not fond of the social life and he thought the rooms overheated. He would have liked to be in his room reading – perhaps to Victoria – but not dancing which he found rather fatiguing.

He tried not to give any indication of this; he was aware that Uncle Leopold – that oracle of wisdom – wished him to like Victoria and her to like him, and he was determined to do his duty. Apart from the physical exertion required this was no hardship, for Victoria was an enchanting girl; she was so eager to please. He liked the times better when they talked or played the piano or sang and sketched together. The manner in which he was expected to stand at levees tired him considerably. He did not like the late hours which so delighted Victoria; he longed for his bed. Stockmar had said that he was growing too fast and that was why he was so drowsy early in the evenings. Once he grew so pale and looked so ready to faint that Victoria noticed. She was ‘all concern and there was that sweet anxious voice beside him. Dear Albert, are you sure you feel quite well?’

He assured her that he did and that it was merely the heat of the rooms which had overwhelmed him. He did not tell her that he was fighting off the desire to go to sleep all the time.

After that he saw his cousin regarding him anxiously. But he could always make her laugh with his quick wit, and even the way he played with Dash amused her. He wished that she did not enjoy dancing so obviously. What a pleasant companion she would have been if she only cared for the less demanding pleasures of life. But she was charming and he could not help being eager to please her.

At last the day came for the departure. When the last farewells had been said Victoria wept bitterly. Her only comfort was her Journal.‘At nine we all breakfasted for the last time together. It was our last happy, happy breakfast with this dear uncle and those dearest cousins whom I do love so very very dearly; much more dearly than any other cousins in the world. Dearly as I loved Ferdinand and also good Augustus, I love Ernest and Albert more than them. Oh yes, much more. Augustus was like a good affectionate child, quite unacquainted with the world, phlegmatic, and talking very little; but dearest Ernest and dearest Albert are so grown up in their manners, so gentle, so kind, so amiable, so agreeable, so very sensible and reasonable and so really and truly good and kind-hearted … Albert is the more reflecting of the two. They like talking about serious and instructive things …‘At eleven dear Uncle and my dearest beloved cousins left us … I embraced both my dearest cousins most warmly, also my dear Uncle. I cried bitterly.’

She had written to dear Uncle Leopold. She knew that he would be eagerly awaiting for her verdict on the cousins and particularly on Albert; and that very soon he would be seeing her uncle and cousins and asking them their opinion of England and her.

So before they left she had given Uncle Ernest the letter and asked him to hand it to Uncle Leopold when they met.‘I must thank you, my beloved Uncle,’ she wrote, ‘for the prospect of great happiness you have contributed to give me in the person of dear Albert …‘He possesses every quality that could be desired to make me perfectly happy. He is so sensible, so kind, so good and so amiable too. He has, besides, the most pleasing exterior and appearance you can possibly see. I have only now to beg you, dearest uncle, to take care of the health of one so dear to me and to take him under your special protection …’

When he received her letter Leopold smiled complacently. He had known he could rely on Victoria.