Victoria Victorious: The Story of Queen Victoria

The Crowned Queen

I PUT ON A BLACK DRESS AND WENT DOWN TO BREAKFAST. Everything was different. Now I was a queen. There was one thought that kept hammering in my brain. I must be good. I must be wise. I must do my duty. I must put aside all frivolous desire for pleasure. I must serve my country.

There was Uncle Leopold to tell me what to do as he had been telling me all my life; but of course he was the king of another country and it was not really suitable for the King of the Belgians to have a hand in the ruling of England. I knew that in future I was going to have to be wary, even of Uncle Leopold, for as a good king—and I was sure he was that— he would have to put the interests of his country first.

Yes, I had to walk very carefully.

While I was breakfasting Baron Stockmar came down to talk to me. He was wise but of course he was Uncle Leopold's man. Everything had changed since I had become Queen.

I talked to him about Uncle William and my pity for Queen Adelaide, for I understood how deep her grief must be.

I left him after breakfast and went to my sitting room to write letters—one to Uncle Leopold, another to Feodore.

How strange it was to sign oneself Victoria R.

While I was writing, a letter arrived from the Prime Minister in which he said he would wait on me before nine o'clock.

I was very pleased that Lord Melbourne was Prime Minister. I had met him once or twice and been most impressed by his handsome appearance, his courtly manners and his amusing way of talking.

Lehzen was with me when the letter came and I said to her, “I shall see him quite alone as I intend to see all my ministers in future.”

Lehzen nodded. She understood. But she was a little uneasy, fearful that the crown was going to change me.

“It will change me,” I told her. “But nothing will ever change my love for you, dear Lehzen. You will find the Queen can be as affectionate as the Princess ever was.”

At which we wept, and she told me that I was the meaning of life to her, which was very affecting.

Lord Melbourne came as arranged. What a charming man! He bowed and kissed my hand and his beautiful blue-gray eyes filled with tears as he surveyed me which made me feel very warm toward him. I knew he was thinking of my youth and all the burdens that would descend on my shoulders.

He was most respectful and made me feel quite at ease, for although I knew he was so affected by my youth, at the same time he conveyed his faith in my ability to perform the tasks that lay ahead of me.

“Lord Melbourne,” I said, “it has long been my intention to retain your ministry at the head of affairs.”

“I am overwhelmed with gratitude, Ma'am,” he replied.

“I know it could not be in better hands.”

“Your Majesty is gracious.” He went on, “It is my duty to bring you the Declaration that Your Majesty will read to the Council. Would you just glance through it and see if it has your approval?”

“You wrote it, Lord Melbourne?”

“I confess to the deed,” he said with a slight lifting of his lips, which I thought rather amusing and which made me smile.

“I am sure it is just as it should be,” I said.

“I must leave Your Majesty to consider it. The Council meeting, which can be held here in the Palace, should take place at eleven-thirty. I will call again about eleven in case there is anything with which you do not agree. I must not encroach upon Your Majesty's time now. You will want to study the Declaration. It will be my great pleasure to call again in case Your Majesty wishes to make use of me.”

“You are very kind, Lord Melbourne.”

He replied, “Your Majesty is too gracious to your humble servant.” And he said it in an ironical way, which I thought so amusing. I knew that my meetings with my Prime Minister were not going to be the dreary sessions one might expect. They would be light-hearted, even though we were carrying out the most serious business.

I knew from the first day that I was lucky to have Lord Melbourne for my Prime Minister—a good, honest, clever man, who was at the same time such an attractive one.

When he had gone I read through the Declaration and composed my thoughts. It was very important that I behave with the right degree of dignity and modesty before the Council.

I thought Lord Melbourne's Declaration beautifully worded and as he would be present I should draw a certain confidence from him. The way in which he had looked at me gave me belief in myself. He was a very feeling man. I had seen in his eyes that he was very much aware of my youth and felt protective toward me, and yet at the same time he would never forget for one instant that I was the Queen. That was a very comforting thought. Once again I rejoiced that he was the Prime Minister. It might so easily have been someone else—the Duke of Wellington or Sir Robert Peel—very honorable men, of course, but without the charm of Lord Melbourne; and a queen did rely so much on her prime minister.

He came again at eleven and asked me if there was anything I wished to say to him before the Council meeting began.

“I hope I shall not disappoint them,” I said, for I felt I could talk like that with Lord Melbourne.

“Disappoint them, Ma'am! Why, you will enchant them. I'll tell you something. A queen is more appealing than a king. And a beautiful, young queen…well, none could be so effective. Have no qualms. Your youth…your sex… they are an advantage.”

“Do you really think so?”

“I do indeed.”

“But perhaps they are not all like you, Lord Melbourne.”

“I trust not, Your Majesty. I should not like to be among the common herd.”

That made me laugh and I felt considerably relaxed. He had made me feel that it was not such an ordeal after all.

“I was just wondering how I should be before them all.”

“Be yourself, Ma'am. No one else could be more delightful.”

Oh, what a comfort he was! I should be thinking of him all the time I was facing them.

The Council was held in the Red Salon at Kensington Palace.

Mama would have loved to accompany me but she was beginning to understand that everything had changed since this morning.

I went in alone. At the door of the Salon my two uncles, Cumberland and Sussex, were waiting with Lord Melbourne. Cumberland looked as repulsive as ever. What a contrast to handsome Lord Melbourne, who gave me such an enchanting smile, with a twinkle in his eyes—while he showed the utmost respect—as though there were a conspiracy between us.

I was led to the seat and sat down. I remained seated while I read the Declaration, I am glad to say without faltering.

A good deal of formality followed. There were a great many Privy Counselors who had to be sworn in. I received the homage of my uncles and my hand was kissed and allegiance sworn by important men like Lord Palmerston, Wellington, and Sir Robert Peel.

I was not nervous and I sensed that all—except Lord Melbourne— were surprised at my confident manner. I think they had been expecting a nervous young girl.

I went back to my room where there were audiences with Lord Melbourne, Lord John Russell, Lord Albemarle, who was my Master of Horse, and the Archbishop of Canterbury.

Then the ordeal was over.

Lord Melbourne whispered to me, “You were superb. A queen … every inch.”

What a charming way he had of expressing himself !

I wanted to tell him that what might have been an ordeal had been an invigorating experience, and it was due to him and the confidence he had inspired in me.

I felt excited at the prospects of more meetings with him. The country is in very good hands, I thought.

I spent several hours writing letters. I must convey my condolences to Queen Adelaide, who had always been so kind to me. Dear Aunt! How lost and lonely she must be feeling now. She would be thinking of me too—no doubt remembering incidents from my childhood. When she had given me the Big Doll would be one of the pleasantest of memories. There would be many—all due to Mama—that would be less so.

That reminded me.

When Lehzen came in, I said to her, “Lehzen, my bed is to be removed from my mother's room. In future I shall sleep alone.”

“I shall give orders that it is to be done at once,” said Lehzen.

I thought a great deal about Lehzen. She would have a position in the household now.

She came back to me and told me that the bed had been taken away from my mother's room. “The Duchess is most upset,” she added.

“Alas,” I replied, “I fear this will not be the only thing that upsets her.” Lehzen shook her head.

I said, “Lehzen, what is your position going to be?”

“I pray to God it will be as it ever was.”

“Lehzen, I don't need a governess any more.”

She looked alarmed, and I threw my arms around her. “But I shall always need you,” I went on.

She wept a little. Dear Lehzen! Her greatest fear in life was that she should be separated from me.

She said, “I think it would be better, my dearest, if I took no position but just remained beside you… always… the one who loves you… and none could love you more.”

“Dear, dear Lehzen, you will always be my friend. You shall have the title of Lady Attendant upon the Queen. What do you think of that?”

“Is there such a post?”

“There could be if I made one. But I don't see why you should not be the first. I will ask Lord Melbourne.”

“The Prime Minister! He would not want to concern himself with me!”

“Oh, he would, Lehzen. He is the most understanding man. He is so kind…so anxious to help.”

“You form your judgments too hastily. You always did.”

“Well, they are sometimes wise judgments. I hated Sir John Conroy from the moment I saw him and I loved you. Was I right, Lehzen? And how dare you criticize the Queen!”

We hugged each other, and Dash woke up, got out of his basket and leaped into my arms.

“Dear Dashy! He doesn't want to be left out.”

I felt very happy and confident in the future. I would have dear Lehzen as my closest friend; I had darling Dash; and now …Lord Melbourne.

He called again, which delighted me. The first thing he said was how impressed they all had been by the manner in which I conducted the Council.

“Believe me, Ma'am, they were all overwhelmed with admiration.”

“I think Sir John Conroy has given the impression that I am a frivolous girl.”

Lord Melbourne did not deny this.

“I am dismissing him from my household,” I told him.

“That does not surprise me. He will, however, remain in the Duchess's. It is a matter that you and I will discuss at greater length some time…very soon… with Your Majesty's permission, of course.”

“Yes. That would please me,” I said.

“We will deal with Master Conroy…Your Majesty and I.”

I laughed. How good it was to have such a man beside me!

“I was telling Your Majesty how successful the Council was. I heard it said that Your Majesty's hand was remarkably smooth and sweet.”

“Did they really say that?”

Lord Melbourne placed his hand on his heart and raised his eyes to Heaven.

“I swear it, Ma'am.”

I laughed and he laughed with me. He had such a wonderful gift for making everything amusing.

After he had left I decided that I would not keep Sir John Conroy in my household a day longer. I had the Prime Minister's approval for my actions. So I sent a note telling him that I should no longer need him to serve me.

I wondered what his reaction would be. I imagined his going to my mother, and their moaning together over the cruel fate that had allowed me to come of age and ascend the throne and so destroy their grandiose schemes for ruling the country together.

I was so glad to be free of them that I felt a twinge of pity for them— but not much. And in any case I had too many other matters with which to concern myself.

I said I would take my dinner upstairs… and alone.

How I enjoyed that! I felt I could look back over the events of the day with satisfaction.

I had not seen Mama all day and I was a little uncomfortable when the time came to say goodnight to her.

She looked different—subdued even. I felt a little sorry to see her so unlike her old self, but I forced myself to remember all the trouble she had made, and reminded myself that the only way I could make her happy was by giving way to her, which would have meant to allow her to run the country's affairs.

No. I had to be firm. She was vain in the extreme; she was quite unfit, as the last King had said, to take any part in affairs. She did not understand the people and had done much to antagonize them during the years of waiting.

No, Mama, I thought, this has to be an end to your ambitions.

I kissed her and said a cool goodnight. She looked stricken but she knew there was no turning back. Mama would no longer dare advise me as to what I must do.

I turned and left her and went to my bedroom—my own bedroom with my bed in it—and no other.

For the first time I should sleep alone.

I lay in bed thinking over my first day as Queen of England.

THE VERY NEXT day Lord Melbourne called upon me.

“There is this matter of our friend Sir John Conroy to discuss with Your Majesty,” he said.

The very manner in which he said “our friend” implied that Sir John was far from that, and that Lord Melbourne disliked him as much as I did.

“Oh yes. It is a matter I should like to get settled as soon as possible.”

“The man is a mountebank.”

How clever of Lord Melbourne to have discovered that so quickly! Sir John had deceived so many—chiefly Mama; but also Aunt Sophia, and people like Flora Hastings had been ready to work for him.

“When I was leaving the Council yesterday,” went on Lord Melbourne, “I was approached by Baron Stockmar who said he wished to speak to me urgently about Sir John Conroy.”

“So soon?” I asked.

“There is a man who knows when the battle is lost. Your Majesty was indeed a formidable enemy…fighting the forces of evil, I must say, and never wavering.”

How well he understood!

“Baron Stockmar told me that Sir John has given his terms.”

“Terms?” I cried.

“Oh yes. A sort of treaty. But he does not seem to realize he is the defeated. He is making the most exorbitant demands. He wants three thousand pounds a year, the Grand Cross of the Bath, a peerage and a seat on the Privy Council. I can tell Your Majesty that when I saw what was written in the paper, I dropped it in my disbelief.”

“I am not surprised.”

“Indeed not, Ma'am.”

“It is outrageous. I shall say no.”

“Quite so, Ma'am. There is a point. Unless we come to some compromise, he may still remain in the Duchess's service. Your Majesty can dismiss him from yours, which you have so rightly done. But the Duchess's service is another matter.”

“But we shall not give way to his demands.”

“It is a delicate matter, Ma'am.”

“Delicate? But I want to be rid of him.”

“And so do we all. We have taken the measure of Master Conroy and wish him … out. Let us wait a while, Your Majesty. Let him simmer in his uncertainty.”

“I should like to know that he was out and that I should never have to see him again.”

“There is no need for you to see him. Indeed, I fancy he will be ashamed to look Your Majesty in the face. At least, he should be. But will he be? He is a slippery customer.”

“I should like to be rid of him once and for all.”

“Ah. ‘…'Tis a consummation devoutly to be wished.' But let us be diplomatic, Ma'am. Let us leave it alone for a while. That can do no harm.”

“And meanwhile he will stay with my mother.”

“That is a matter for the Duchess to decide.”

“But if I wish…”

He looked at me, his head on one side, and there was a very tender expression in his beautiful eyes. He said, “Your Majesty's wish is law to her Prime Minister. Believe me, Ma'am, if I could wave a wand and grant your wishes, that is what I would do. But this…it is a difficult matter and when one is faced with a tricky situation, it is always better not to take hasty action.”

“I will take your advice, Lord Melbourne.”

He took my hand and kissed it.

And although I was a little sorry not to make a clean cut and get rid of Sir John without preamble, I was sure that Lord Melbourne knew best.

I WAS SEEING Lord Melbourne every day and my regard for him grew rapidly.

I no longer looked for Uncle Leopold's letters with quite the same eagerness. I did not need advice from him now that I had someone near at hand.

I wondered whether he sensed this. If I did not write to him so regularly and so fully, he must understand that I had my new duties and that my position had changed considerably.

He wrote to me:

My beloved Child, Your new dignities will not change or increase my old affection for you; may Heaven assist you, and may I have the happiness of being able to be of use to you, and to contribute to those successes in your new career for which I am so anxious…

I have been most happy to learn that the swearing in of the Council passed so well… The translation in the papers says, ‘J'ai été elevée en Angleterre.' I should advise you to say as often as possible that you are born in England. George III gloried in this, and as none of your cousins are born in England it is your interest de faire reporter cela fortement. You never can say too much in praise of your country and its inhabitants. Two nations in Europe are really most ridiculous in their exaggerated praises of themselves; these are the English and the French. Your being national is highly important, and as you happen to be born in England, and never to have left it a moment, it would be odd enough if people tried to make out to the contrary…

I felt faintly irritated by Uncle Leopold's criticism of the English. But, after all, I told myself, he is not an Englishman, and foreigners are inclined to regard us with certain dislike … as perhaps we regard them. Lord Melbourne seemed to me to be the perfect English gentleman, and it is hard to find a more agreeable type of man.

How lucky I had been in Lord Melbourne!

I had heard that he was a man who had what is referred to as “a past.” He had been involved in two divorce cases, and had had a tempestuous marriage. His only son had died. And yet he was full of good humor and always appeared to me to find life comical and amusing.

I longed to hear all about him but of course I could not ask him personally.

There were means of finding out.

I had appointed Harriet Leveson-Gower, Duchess of Sutherland, Mistress of the Robes. She was a very beautiful woman and I had always been drawn to beautiful people. She loved clothes and gossip, although she was involved in all kinds of good works. In fact she was a very interesting companion; and best of all she loved to talk and seemed to know a great deal about everyone at Court.

I found it easy to slip into conversation with her about Lord Melbourne.

She agreed that he was indeed a fascinating man. “And what is most amazing,” she went on, “is that he could have gone through all that scandal and yet become Prime Minister.”

I did not get the whole story all at once and I could not make Lord Melbourne the topic of conversation every time I was alone with Harriet, but I always tried to bring the talk around to him and after a few weeks I had acquired most of the facts.

His name was William Lamb, and he had inherited the title on the death of his elder brother. Even his birth was romantic. His mother had been the beautiful Elizabeth Milbanke, whose father was a Yorkshire baronet. Her family was more noble than that of the Lambs, for Lord Melbourne's father was only the first viscount. The Lambs had been lawyers who had built up a great fortune and were comparative newcomers to the peerage.

Lady Melbourne was fond of admiration. One of her lovers was said to be the Earl of Egremont.

“Lord Melbourne bears a striking resemblance to the Earl,” Harriet told me, “and I heard that he, as a boy, spent a great deal of time at Petworth, where the Earl made a great fuss of him. As his brother did not accompany him, it seemed rather significant that William was singled out. So perhaps the story is true.”

“How very shocking!” I said delightedly.

“But romantic,” added Harriet, and secretly I agreed with her. Everything about Lord Melbourne seemed romantic.

“He must have been very handsome when he was young,” went on Harriet.

“He is still very handsome,” I replied firmly.

“Indeed yes. Men like that are attractive from the cradle to the grave. What is so fascinating about him is that he does not seem to care …I mean he is never striving for anything. He just takes everything that comes as his right, as it were. He seems unhurried. I don't mean about people. His manners are beautiful. I mean about what happens to him. He is always so unruffled, so unperturbed.”

“I think that is because he is so much a man of the world,” I said.

She agreed.

“He is a man of the world. He goes everywhere. He was very friendly with George IV… especially when he was Regent. He was at Carlton House, Holland House and of course the Bessboroughs' place at Roehampton. That was where he met Lady Caroline Ponsonby—Lord Bessborough's youngest daughter. They say she was very attractive. They called her Ariel…Sprite and the Fairy Queen.”

“She must have been lovely,” I said, “and I daresay you are going to tell me that he fell in love with her.”

“Unfortunately for him … he did.”

“Why unfortunately?”

“At first her family did not think he was worthy of her.”

“Lord Melbourne… not worthy!” I cried indignantly.

“He wasn't Lord Melbourne then, only plain William Lamb. But then his brother died and Lord Melbourne was the heir, of course, and they changed their minds. At first the married pair were happy, and then she became … wild.”

“Wild? In what way?”

“Doing unconventional things.”

“Poor Lord Melbourne!”

“They said he endured it by developing that aloofness, that indifference. It was his only way of coping with that strange wife of his. And there was a child…a little boy who was never quite like other boys.”

“You mean he was mentally deficient?”

“Yes, I mean that.”

“My poor, poor Lord Melbourne. How wonderful he is! He is so merry… always.”

“But do you find him a little cynical?”

“I would say that he is laughing at the world…finding it amusing. He is very clever, I am sure of that.”

“He just shuts himself away with his books.”

“He is so well read.”

“Oh yes, he is certainly that.”

“And what happened about Lady Melbourne?”

“The great scandal was due to Lord Byron.”

“The poet?”

“Yes. She conceived a passion for him, and of course Your Majesty will have heard of his reputation.”

“Most scandalous.”

“She pursued him. He was very cruel to women. He took them up and discarded them. He took up Caroline Lamb, after she had made a shameful exhibition of herself, chasing him everywhere. He lived for a while at Melbourne Hall… about nine months, rumor has it. But of course he tired of her as he did of all women, and then, in the normal way, he discarded her.”

“And what happened then?”

“She was wild with jealousy and that meant that she behaved more outrageously than ever. She wrote a novel. I found an old copy and read it. It was called Glenarvon. The heroine, Lady Avondale, was of course Caroline herself. Lord Avondale was Lord Melbourne and the wicked Glenarvon was Byron. It had a big circulation. The whole of society was reading it. Poor Lord Melbourne separated from her, and then went back to her, and they lived in the same home but led separate lives, I believe.”

“How could Lord Melbourne endure such a life?” I asked.

“I have heard it said that his nature helped him. He cultivated that quality of aloofness which he has now. He was able to get outside events and view them from the edge. He did not allow himself to get involved. He devoted himself to his books. They say that he never fails to read every publication even now. It was his books which were so important to him. They enabled him to shut himself away from everyday life. He was just indifferent. Of course that maddened Caroline. She would have liked him to be frantically jealous of all her love affairs; but he would not be. He just smiled at them and let them pass over his head. Perhaps that is the only way to survive in such a situation.”

“He is a wonderful man. And what happened to her? She died, I know.”

“The end came when Byron died. She discovered this by accident and it was a terrible shock to her. She became really mad then and had to be shut away. She went down to Brocket, one of the Melbourne residences, and she died there.”

“That must have been a happy release for poor Lord Melbourne.”

“Indeed it must have been. He was already a Member of Parliament and he became Chief Secretary for Ireland in Canning's government. He went to Ireland and there he got caught up in another scandal. There was a certain Lady Brandon there with whom he became friendly and Lord Brandon accused him of improper intimacy with his wife, and sued him.”

“I daresay he was just being friendly with her. He is a very friendly man.”

“The Lord Chief Justice who tried the case pointed out to the jury that nobody could give a word of proof against Lord Melbourne who firmly denied the accusation, as did Lady Brandon. The case was dismissed.”

“I am sure that was the right verdict.”

“Then later there was the case of Caroline Norton.”

“I have heard of her. Was she not the playwright Sheridan's granddaughter?”

“She was. A very attractive woman, Your Majesty, and married to a rather insignificant man who was several years older than she was. He was a Member of Parliament but when the Reform Bill was passed and several boroughs were absorbed into others, he lost his seat. Caroline Norton asked Lord Melbourne's help to find a post for her husband. Lord Melbourne did help to find him something.”

“He is always so kind.”

“There was a friendship between Lord Melbourne and Caroline Norton, for she was a very intelligent woman and liked good conversation. She quarreled with her husband and he said he would divorce her and cite Lord Melbourne as co-respondent.”

“So that was the second divorce case in which he was involved.”

“There was a great deal of noise about that as you can imagine, he being Prime Minister; and of course the Tories thought this would be of great use to them and they decided to make the best use of it they could. The Norton servants gave evidence, and it was proved that they had been bribed, and many of them were far from reputable characters. The verdict in due course, much to the chagrin of the Tories, was in Lord Melbourne's favor.”

“I am sure it was the right one.”

“Your uncle, the King, was delighted, but he did say that Melbourne was lucky to have gotten away with it, and his friends induced him to be more careful in future. He was really very lucky both in the Brandon and Norton cases. He did offer to resign.”

“He would, of course. He would feel it was the honorable thing to do.”

“The Duke of Wellington would not accept his resignation. I believe he was of the opinion that Lord Melbourne was too good a politician to have his career ruined because of what might have been a run of bad fortune.”

“How right he was!” I shivered. Suppose Lord Melbourne had resigned. Someone else would have been Prime Minister. I could not imagine that there could be anyone who would please me as Lord Melbourne did. I was indeed glad that he had not resigned.

“And that son of his?”

“He died.”

“Oh dear. What terrible sadness he has had in his life!”

“In a way he was lucky. Lady Caroline would have been no wife for a Prime Minister. Imagine the scandal she would have created. He is better without her. As for his son…he would have been a grief to him. Imagine a man as erudite as Lord Melbourne with a son who could not read.”

“Oh yes, indeed. But he has had a sad, sad life.”

“He is really very resilient.”

“He is a wonderful man, and, of course, there are always those who are ready to pull down those who tower above them.”

“Your Majesty is right, but his lordship did get involved on these occasions, and he does seem a little unfortunate with the women with whom he became involved.”

“I have always found his conduct just what it should have been. I am sure he has been the prey of unscrupulous people.”

The Duchess looked at me intently and said, “I see that Lord Melbourne has made a favorable impression on Your Majesty.”

“I find him honest and straightforward; and I am sure he will not fail to be truthful to me.”

I was glad I knew something of his past. A man who had come through so much would naturally be very worldly and sophisticated. I admired him more than ever. I liked that easy nonchalance; and most of all, I think, I liked his manner, which was so delightfully protective. He gave me courage, which was what I needed at that time; he made me feel that I was entirely capable of performing my duty, and I was confident that, with such a man to guide me, I could not fail.

AFTER I HAD learned about Lord Melbourne's adventurous past I felt closer to him than ever. I had the greatest admiration for a man who could go through so much and appear unscathed by it. It was the right attitude to life, I decided. I must try to emulate it.

I told him once how I never ceased to be grateful that I had come to the throne when he was Prime Minister. “For,” I added, “it could so easily have been someone else.”

“You would have found whoever was there was just as able to advise Your Majesty.”

“This is the first time I have had to disagree with you, Lord Melbourne.”

“It is true, Your Majesty.”

“Lord Melbourne, I must ask you not to contradict the Queen.”

Then we burst into laughter. He stood up and bowed very solemnly. “A thousand pardons, Ma'am,” he said. “You are right, and to be honest, in my heart, I am in complete agreement with you.”

There was nothing solemn about him. He made everything a matter for amusement. He was so consoling.

I told him about my dear friend Harriet, of whom I grew fonder every day.

“Your Majesty is of a most affectionate nature.”

“Anyone would be fond of Harriet. She is so handsome…so tall. I do wish I were not so short. Everyone else seems to grow …except me. I always have to look up to people.”

“No, Ma'am, it is everyone who must look up to you.”

“I mean in inches.”

“We have so many instances in public life of people who are less than average height in stature rising to great heights in achievement. Think of Lord Nelson. He was a little man. Napoleon…”

“I would not wish to be as he was.”

He put his hand inside his jacket and struck a Napoleonic pose, which made me laugh.

“I think there is very little danger of that happening, Ma'am,” he said. “Oh, there are instances everywhere. Personally I think giantesses and Amazons a most unappealing brand of female.”

“You make me feel better, Lord Melbourne, as always.”

“Shall I tell you a secret?”

“Oh yes, please do.”

“You remember the first Council meeting when you came in looking so young…so tiny…so regal…? There was not a dry eye in the place. You conquered all by your… slightness. You looked so young, so appealing that there was not a man there who would not have died for you. I doubt they would have felt the same emotion if confronted by a monumental figure of a Queen.”

He looked at me with tears in his eyes and I thought: Yes, he is right. They did like me. I could sense their feeling for me. So perhaps it is not so bad to be small.

“Of course,” I went on, “I am a little plump.”

“We do not want a skeleton to rule us, Ma'am.”

And I was laughing again.

“It is because the Duchess is so beautiful …” I tried to explain. “I love to look at her face. She is so animated … almost always. She has a delicate nose, so beautifully shaped. Mine is rather big. You must admit it.”

“I will only admit to its being exactly the right shape and size to fit. In fact, did you know that people with little noses rarely achieve greatness?”

“Is that so?”

“Undeniable.”

I laughed and said, “This is a strange conversation for a queen to have with her prime minister. We ought to be talking of serious matters. Harriet is very serious.”

“She seems to possess all the virtues.”

“She is very good, quite noble. She is worried about the poor. She is on committees about slavery and chimney sweeps and children working in the mines. She says the government should do something about it. She talks very earnestly and sometimes she makes me weep. When I think of little ones dragging trolleys through underground passages… little children bent double… They are so young… little more than babies.”

“It is better for them to do that than to starve.”

“Harriet thinks something should be done for them. Could it be looked into? Harriet says it is the government's problem.”

“I don't think these children would be happy if their livelihood was taken away from them. It is better to leave these things alone.”

“It worries me. I think of it at night.”

“Your thoughts should not be disturbed by such matters. The Duchess of Sutherland is a very worthy lady—oh, so tall with the most squeeny nose—but that does not necessarily mean that she is the fount of all wisdom. As I told you, smaller people with larger noses, can have a greater share of that desirable commodity.”

So I was laughing with him again and he made me forget about those little children down the mines. After all, I told myself, it is better to work than to starve.

I did have one disagreement with Lord Melbourne and I think I rather surprised him by my firmness.

There was to be a review of the troops in Hyde Park and to my horror Mama suggested that I should ride in a carriage. I believe she had suggested this because if I did so, she could ride with me. I imagined her sitting there haughtily acknowledging the cheers of the crowd, which were meant for me.

I laughed at the idea.

“Of course not,” I said. “Monarchs review troops on horseback. The idea of reviewing troops in a carriage!”

Mama pointed out that I had not ridden since my attack of typhoid fever and I was unfit to do so.

It was true that I had not ridden since then, and that I had taken a long time to recover, but to ride in a carriage…Never!

I told Lord Melbourne about it and to my dismay he said, “I agree with the Duchess. Your Majesty must not review the troops on horseback.”

“How can troops be reviewed from a carriage?”

“Quite easily. Everyone will understand.”

“Understand what? That I am unfit to ride a horse… that I am afraid?”

“It would be too much of a risk, Ma'am. You would have to ride with Wellington.”

“And why should I not?”

“It must be a carriage. Parliament will insist.”

“Can they do that?”

He nodded gravely.

“Well then,” I said, “if there is to be no horse, there will be no review.”

He looked at me in astonishment. It was the first time I had seen him at a loss for words.

I did not believe for one moment that the review would be canceled, but it was. They were all—including Lord Melbourne—afraid that because it was some time since I had ridden, I should be unable to stand the strain.

Of course I realized that his attitude was due to his care of me and it did not make any difference to our relationship. But I think he was a little taken aback by my resolution to have my own way.

KENSINGTON PALACE WAS not a suitable home for the sovereign and about two weeks after my accession, I decided to make Buckingham Palace my London residence. The rooms pleased me. They were high, pleasant, and cheerful. It was great fun inspecting it. I decided that the Picture Gallery and the Bow Room should be properly ventilated, and that sinks must be put in the chambermaids' bedrooms. This could be done while I was at Windsor where I should be going shortly. I was delighted that Dash loved the gardens, and we enjoyed romping together on the grass all by ourselves.

There was one thing I did not like so much about the Palace. It was vast, and my bedroom seemed a long way from that of Lehzen. My mother, of course, had her own separate apartments, and I had made sure that they were some way from mine. Sometimes I would wake in the night and listen to the silence. Then I would hear a creaking board and fancy the little noises I heard were footsteps. I had never been nervous in Kensington. How could I have been? I was never alone, with Lehzen sitting with me until Mama came to bed. But now that I had the satisfaction of being alone, I found the nights eerie.

I was talking to Lord Melbourne one day. He came every morning to discuss State matters—and of course we liked to talk of other things as well. Nothing could have been less like a queen talking to her prime minister. I even used to bring Dash in with me. I was delighted that when Lord Melbourne spoke in his charming musical voice, Dash immediately responded. In no time he was licking the Prime Minister's hand.

“That is wonderful!” I cried. “He is not so friendly with everyone, I can tell you.”

“He knows I am a friend of yours. But dogs always like me.”

“They know who is good and kind to them.”

“Good and kind in an animal world often means the supplying of food; but I do believe dogs have a special sense.”

“Oh, so do I.”

“This little fellow would protect you with his life.”

“Yes, that is what I feel when I wake up in the night and see him asleep in his basket. I feel very comforted.”

Then because I could talk to him as easily as I could to Lehzen, I told him that, in the night when I awoke, I felt a little shivery. “It is so quiet there…so vast…I feel… rather alone.”

He was deeply concerned.

“You see,” I explained, “all my life I wanted to sleep alone, and I never did until I became Queen. Always I slept in Mama's room and Lehzen was there until Mama came up. I was never left alone for a moment and I thought: As soon as I become Queen, the first thing I shall do is sleep alone. On the very first day I had my bed removed from Mama's room. But when we went to Buckingham Palace I found that I was uneasy. When I am in bed alone I hear creaks in the corridors … sometimes they sound like footsteps, and I think of all the kings and queens who have been murdered in their beds.”

“Oh, but you are quite safe.”

“So thought they… and they were not. I think of the little Princes in the Tower and their wicked Uncle Richard having them murdered.”

“There is a theory that he did not do it.”

“Well, if he did not, who did?”

“It was, some say, Henry the Seventh. Horace Walpole started it a number of years ago.”

“I had not heard it.”

“We must discuss the evidence one day.”

“But that does not alter the fact that they disappeared mysteriously. Then there was Edward the Second, Richard the Second and what about Henry the Sixth and the Duke of Clarence. I believe he was pushed into a butt of Malmsey.”

“What dramatic lives your ancestors lived! But I suppose that is inevitable, taking into consideration the times.”

It occurred to me that kings were not the only ones who had dramatic lives. My dear Lord Melbourne had had his share of drama.

He went on, “But we cannot allow your fears to continue. We must make sure that you sleep soundly. You have your beloved Lehzen near at hand, I believe.”

“She seems very far away at Buckingham Palace.”

“I know what we will do. We will have a hole made in a wall and a communicating door to the next room made—and the next room shall be Lehzen's chamber.”

“I do not want not to be alone.”

“Of course not. To be alone! It is an achievement. You cannot go back to the watchdogs. That work must be put in hand right away and then I feel sure that instead of brooding on the gory ends of your ancestors, you will be lulled to gentle sleep.”

“Oh, Lord Melbourne,” I said, “you are so good. You have an answer for everything.”

And in the shortest possible time the work was done and I began to feel very comfortable at night, and to be entirely pleased that I had made the move to Buckingham Palace.

I wanted to give an entertainment there—a sort of housewarming; but it seemed out of the question because we were in mourning for the death of Uncle William. But Lord Melbourne, who was so advanced, said that he thought mourning was an old-fashioned custom that should have gone out long ago, and he suggested that there should be one day when the Court could go out of mourning. It was to be a concert which, he said, could not be called a riotous entertainment, but really very serious and in keeping with a mourning period.

“What an excellent idea!” I cried; and I started to plan.

I engaged my favorite artiste who was, of course, Madame Grisi. Madame Albertazzi, Signor Lablache, and Signor Tamburini joined her, and I was in an ecstasy of delight listening to their wonderful voices. It was a great success.

It had been an excellent idea to stop the mourning for a day, I told Lord Melbourne. I was sure Uncle William would have approved of that; he had always been one who liked to enjoy life and he would be the last to want people to be miserable because he was dead. Lord Melbourne agreed with me.

A few days later I went on my first official engagement after coming to the throne. It was to open a new gate in Hyde Park in the Bayswater Road, which I christened Victoria. I enjoyed it. I did like seeing the people, but as I remarked afterward to Lord Melbourne, I hoped they would not get tired of seeing me.

“There seems to be no sign of that, Ma'am,” he said.

“Not yet. But they have not seen much of me. I am young, you see, and I may be Queen for a very long time.”

“I pray that may be so,” he said fervently; and I saw the tears in his beautiful eyes. Again I thought how fortunate I was to have him as my Prime Minister.

I said to him, “Later on, when there is less talk of mourning, I should like to give a small dance once a week. Not a big ball… just a little dance for friends. You know I love to dance.”

“We all love doing that which we do well,” he commented, which was a lovely compliment; and he thought that a weekly dance was a good idea.

“Perhaps we could have a band in the Palace to play for us before dinner and during it.”

“Another excellent idea!” declared Lord Melbourne. “I can see you are going to give the Court a more cultural standing.”

“You do think that is a good idea…really?”

“I think all your ideas are good.”

“What of riding on horseback to review the troops?”

“There have to be exceptions to all rules. It is a law of nature.”

“I believe you were really worried about my falling off.”

“It is long since you rode, and reviewing troops can be a long and tedious business.”

“I am going to ride every day when we get to Windsor, and I will show you that I am as good a horsewoman as I ever was.”

“I am sure you will be.”

“In August we shall go to Windsor.”

“Your Majesty knows that there is to be an election.”

I was alarmed. “You will still be the Prime Minister.”

“If we are returned to power, yes.”

“And if not?”

“Doubtless my place will be taken by Sir Robert Peel.”

“Oh no!”

“He is a very worthy gentleman… highly thought of.”

“I could not bear it if you were taken away from me.”

“Then we will do our best to get a majority.”

“I hate those Tories!”

“Some of them are very estimable gentlemen. It is not their fault exactly if their views do not coincide with ours.”

“Of course you will be returned.”

He raised his eyebrows and a terrible misgiving came to me. I knew there had been a great deal of murmuring because the ladies of my household were the wives and daughters of Whigs. Sir Robert Peel did not like it. He thought I should have a mixture of Whig and Tory.

As a matter of fact so did Uncle Leopold. He had written to me telling me to select the ladies of my household with the greatest care, making sure not to let politics come into it. But Lord Melbourne and I had drawn up the list and had had the most amusing things to say about it; and all the ladies were of Whig persuasion naturally because Lord Melbourne was one and therefore so was I. Of course I did not listen to Uncle Leopold as much as I used to. He was after all a foreigner—which seems an odd thing to say about one so close to me—but Lord Melbourne was on the spot and he naturally was far more conversant with English politics than Uncle Leopold could possibly be.

It was my duty to go in state to dissolve Parliament, for according to law there must be a new election on the death of a sovereign. Had it not been for my fear that an election might rob me of Lord Melbourne, I could have enjoyed the occasion. I did feel very exhilarated by such state duties. They were so dignified and I do believe that I performed them well; and in those days there was scarcely a breath of criticism. I really was the beloved little Queen.

I set out in a crimson mantle lined with ermine over a dress of white satin embroidered with gold with a stomacher of diamonds; my tiara was of diamonds, and I looked scintillating.

There were gasps of admiration from the crowds and when I read the speech I felt overwhelmed with pride to be the sovereign of such a country.

When it was over Lord Melbourne came to me; he was very emotional.

“You were splendid,” he said. And later he told me that Fanny Kemble, the actress, who was present, said my voice was exquisite; and she had never heard a more musical rendering of the English language.

I was pleased and I knew that it was not false flattery. I had had to study speech assiduously, for Mama had been intent on eliminating any trace of a German accent, and I had practiced enunciation and perfect pronunciation very thoroughly. Moreover, my voice was one of my assets—both in singing and in speaking; and if I had not been the Queen I might have made some progress as a singer.

But the triumph was tarnished by the persistent fear that the coming election might rob me of my Prime Minister.

A great deal of election fever followed. Harriet talked of it constantly. She showed me an article in the Quarterly Review by a Tory named Croker who called attention to the fact that I was surrounded by the female relations of the Whig leaders; and Sir Robert Peel was making speeches in which he declared that I was ruled by Lord Melbourne, the head of one political party—a matter that must be rectified.

There were headlines in certain periodicals such as: Release the Queen from Whig Tyranny.

Whig tyranny! How dared they! My relationship with the Prime Minister was one of understanding and trust.

A verse was shown to me. It was one which was being circulated throughout the country.

‘The Queen is with us,' Whigs insulting say;

‘For when she found us in she let us stay,' It may be so, but give me leave to doubt

How long she'll keep you when she finds you out.

The Tories were growing in favor, and life, which I should have enjoyed so much because I saw that I could throw myself entirely into my new role and enjoy it to the full, was spoilt by this terrible fear. I tried to imagine Sir Robert Peel visiting me every day—his stiff manners, his serious face—I should not find it nearly so easy to understand politics as I did when they were so amusingly explained by Lord Melbourne. There would be none of those pleasant little chats. I should not be able to take Dash with me. I was sure the little darling would not want to lick the hand of Sir Robert Peel.

“Oh, please God, let the Whigs stay in power,” I prayed.

There was a great deal of talk about Uncle Cumberland, who on the death of Uncle William had become King of Hanover. That crown did not come to me because in Hanover the Salic Law prevailed and that meant that a woman could not inherit. Uncle Cumberland was something of a tyrant and as soon as he arrived in Hanover he had overturned the constitutional government and made himself a sort of dictator. The Whigs reacted to the Tory campaign by stressing the danger of the Duke of Cumberland's returning to make trouble in England; they were determined to keep him out at all costs. That wicked man wanted to bring the Salic Law into England so that he could add our crown to that of Hanover. There were cartoons showing us side by side—Uncle Cumberland and myself. I looked beautiful, young, with a dewy innocence—like an angel really—and my uncle was portrayed like a monster with his gaping eye socket quite repulsive. It was called “The Contrast.”

And the Whigs insisted that they were the only ones who could make the crown safe for me.

I shall never forget the day when the results were declared.

Lord Melbourne came at once to see me. I rushed to him and looked into his face. I could not read the truth there. He was always so impassive.

“Please tell me what has happened,” I begged.

He said slowly, “The Tories have gained many seats.”

“No!” I cried.

“Thirty-seven,” he said. “But we have just beaten them. You see before you one who is still your Prime Minister.”

He took my hands and kissed them. I lifted my face to his and saw the tears in his eyes.

LATE IN AUGUST we went to Windsor. I missed Buckingham Palace. The country seemed rather gloomy. There were a great many rooks at Windsor and I found their constant cawing not only monotonous but a little depressing.

I loved London—the streets and the people. Of course one could ride very happily in the Park at Windsor and it was perhaps the most splendid of all the royal homes; but for the first few days I was homesick for London.

Then Lord Melbourne came down. He arrived on a magnificent horse and he and I went riding. The forest was so beautiful, and Lord Melbourne so witty, that I was much amused.

There was a letter from Uncle Leopold. He was proposing visiting me and he would soon arrive at Windsor. This threw me into a flutter of excitement. It would be wonderful to see this favorite uncle again. I talked of him most enthusiastically to Lord Melbourne who listened most attentively.

And then Windsor became like a home. In the morning I was with Lord Melbourne—who was having a short stay at the Castle—and we went through the State papers, which he made so easy to understand, and I was so happy because he was still in power, although he did warn me that the ministry had a very tiny majority, and that was not a healthy state for a government to be in.

“Oh, we shall defeat those silly old Tories,” I said.

“Not so easy, Ma'am,” he said. “Not so easy.”

“Surely everyone must prefer you to Sir Robert?”

“Everyone has not Your Majesty's discernment,” he replied; and how we laughed together.

There were several children in the household. I remember chiefly the little Conynghams because they had such beautiful black eyelashes and the little one called me Tween, which I found very amusing. If I could I would play games with the children. It was fun running through the long corridors, and I indulged in battledore and shuttlecock with my ladies.

I was reading every day and found Coxe's Life of Sir Robert Walpole a little heavy going; but I did enjoy some of Sir Walter Scott's novels, also Fennimore Cooper's and Bulwer Lytton's.

I used to discuss them afterward with Lord Melbourne who, of course, seemed to have read everything and could discuss these books with grace and erudition. I thought of what Harriet had told me about his giving his life to his books when he had found Lady Caroline intolerable.

I often reflected on the sadness of his life and it made me all the more fond of him.

We dined at half-past seven to the strains of the band I had had installed, and the soft music made such an agreeable background. After dinner I usually played cards or chess or draughts and so passed many pleasant evenings. When the period of mourning for Uncle William was over there would be regular dancing and more music, but quiet table games were considered to be more suitable at this time.

Mama had her own separate table where she played whist with some of her attendants. It was the only thing that could keep her awake. Sometimes she would try to catch my eye and look at me appealingly, at others angrily. I was very sorry to be on those terms with her but it was the only way, for if I softened just a little toward her she would have tried to dominate me and browbeat me into taking Sir John Conroy back. He was still in her household. Nothing had been done yet and he refused to move until his demands were granted. I had spoken to Lord Melbourne about him once or twice but he had always said, “The time is not quite ripe. Leave it alone a little longer.”

So conditions with Mama remained very uneasy.

How wonderful it was to see dear Uncle Leopold! I was enfolded in his arms. Then he held me back to look at me and murmur, “My Queen…My little Queen.”

He kissed me again and again. And after that I was embracing Aunt Louise.

There was so much to talk about. How were the little ones? Had they seen Feodore? What were the children's latest sayings? Did young Leopold still think his little brother was pas beau frère?

We walked together in the gardens. I liked to see Uncle Leopold in conversation with Lord Melbourne… the two for whom I had such regard must like each other, and when I realized that they did, I was very happy.

When we rode out or walked together, Uncle Leopold contrived to be alone with me and then he spoke of my cousin Albert.

“Do you remember how much you liked him when you met?”

“Oh yes. I liked all the cousins.”

“But I think you had a special feeling for Albert.”

“Yes, I do believe he was my favorite of them all.”

“He is a splendid young man.”

“I thought he would be.”

“He would like to see you again.”

“He must visit us. What of his brother Ernest?”

“They are both in excellent health.”

“I am glad. I thought Albert seemed a little delicate.”

“Delicate?” cried Uncle Leopold.

“He was very tired sometimes and he did not like staying up late. I love staying up late. I think it is a shame to cut the night short.”

“Oh, Albert was growing. People get tired then.”

“Do they? I do not remember getting tired. But then I have not grown so much as Albert.”

“I thought you and he matched so well together.”

“Oh,” I said, “you are thinking of marriage.”

“Haven't you thought of it?”

“There has been so much to do. No, I had not thought of it, Uncle.”

“I believe you did once… when Albert was here.”

“I was young and romantic then. Now I have state duties. There has been little time to think…of other matters.”

Uncle Leopold laughed. “You have so recently come to the throne. You will learn that royal people have other duties besides officiating at ceremonies and signing papers.”

I thought he was a little displeased with me, and I sought to mollify him.

“You are right, Uncle, of course,” I said. “I hope Albert will pay us another visit.”

“Oh he will. He will.”

Then he talked of other things, of the possibility of there being another election soon, the near balance of the parties making it difficult to conduct government. I told him how relieved I was that the Whigs had retained power because I could get along so easily with Lord Melbourne; and the thought of his being replaced did not please me at all, and that I was taking singing lessons with dear old Lablache and that these took place twice a week.

“It is such a pleasant relaxation from all the business I do. Lablache is so delighted that I have called him in. He would like me to sing more in French but actually I prefer to sing in Italian which seems to suit the music so much more. Dear Uncle, you and I must sing some duets. I have learned some of your favorites … Just for the joy of singing with you.”

He was so delighted and we did sing together. Uncle Leopold said I had the sweetest voice and asked me to compliment Lablache on the excellence of his tuition.

In the evenings I played chess with Aunt Louise who—I suppose because she played with Uncle Leopold—was very good at the game.

On one occasion when we played, several of the gentlemen who were clearly eager for me to beat her, hovered over the table. There were Lord Melbourne, Lord Palmerston, and Lord Conyngham and they were all telling me how to move and very often the advice was contradictory. I do not think there is anything so disturbing—particularly in chess—as to be looked at while one is pondering the moves and to be given advice. Very naturally I lost to Aunt Louise.

I turned to my advisers and said, “The Queen of the Belgians has triumphed over my Council.”

They all thought this rather amusing, but I did feel I could have given a better account of myself if I had been left alone.

Uncle Leopold and Aunt Louise stayed at Windsor for three weeks. I urged them to stay longer but Uncle Leopold pointed out that he had a kingdom to govern.

Before he went he said, “Albert often thinks of you. You will meet soon, I hope.”

I assured him that I should be delighted to see Albert again. Then they had gone; and how I missed them!

I sat down and wrote to Uncle Leopold at once:

My dearest and most beloved Uncle

One line to express to you, imperfectly, my thanks for all your very great kindness to me, and my great, great grief at your departure. God knows how sad, how forlorn I feel. How I shall miss you, my dearest dear Uncle! every every where. How I shall miss your conversation! How I shall miss your protection out riding. Oh, I feel very very sad, and cannot speak of you both without crying.

Farewell, my beloved Uncle and father! May Heaven bless and protect you, and do not forget your most affectionate, devoted, attached Niece and Child. Victoria R.

How glad I was that Lord Melbourne and Lord Palmerston were staying at Windsor. They did help—both of them—and particularly my dear Lord Melbourne—to alleviate my grief.

I had the great pleasure when I was at Windsor of reviewing the troops. I wore something very like the Windsor uniform—and the garter ribbon; and I had a lovely little mare at Windsor called Barbara. She was very frisky and since Lord Melbourne insisted I did not take her to the review but went on steady old Leopold, which was really very wise of him for one needs a patient steed for such a ceremony, which lasts two and a half hours.

“There,” I said to Lord Melbourne afterward, “I have shown you that I can review my troops on a horse and let me tell you, Prime Minister, that I shall never do so from a carriage… until I am very very old.”

“You did splendidly, Ma'am,” said Lord Melbourne. Then he turned away to hide his emotion. “Forgive me,” he said.

My dear Lord Melbourne! I grew fonder of him every day.

I was very sorry when we had to leave Windsor, for although I had been there only six weeks I had grown to love the place. Time passes so quickly when one is happy and the summer of this wonderful year had been the happiest I had ever spent. The people loved me; there were compliments every time I appeared in public; I had spent three weeks with my beloved uncle; and Lord Melbourne had retained the premiership, by the skin of his teeth, as some said, but nevertheless he had held on. The election had been the only thing that had marred perfection, but as Lord Melbourne said, continual perfection might be a little dull, and it was as well to have the odd cloud to make one appreciate the beauty of the summer sky.

But all was well and the glorious year continued.

Alas, we must leave Windsor for I had to be in London for the opening of Parliament.

On the way home we were to call in at Brighton and of course we stayed at that really rather odd palace that my eccentric Uncle George had created.

This was not so pleasant because Lord Melbourne and Lord Palmerston had returned to London and the Chinese-looking structure with its low rooms did not appeal to me. One could get only the smallest glimpse of the sea from the strange place and it was all rather dull.

I wrote to Lord Melbourne and told him of my impressions of the place and stressed how sorry I was that he was not there.

He wrote back so charmingly—as he always did—and thanked me gracefully for my description of my coming to Brighton.

Lord Melbourne entirely partakes in the wish Your Majesty has been graciously pleased to express that he had been there to witness the scene; but Your Majesty will at once perceive that it is better that he was not, as in that case Lord Melbourne would have been accused of an attempt to take a political advantage of the general enthusiasm and to mix himself and the government with Your Majesty's personal popularity…

I supposed he was right. But how tiresome people were! Why could they not accept Lord Melbourne as their Prime Minister and be grateful for him. I was sure there could not be one better.

It was November when I rode into London. The people cheered wildly welcoming me back, and I was so pleased once more to be in dear Buckingham Palace.

Before the opening of Parliament I was to attend the Lord Mayor's Banquet at Guildhall.

At this time Mama showed me clearly that she did not really understand the state of affairs between us.

She wrote a note to me asking me to allow Sir John Conroy to attend the banquet.

I was astonished. Did she not know of the demands Sir John was making? Blackmail, Lord Melbourne called it. I heartily wished that the matter could have been settled and that Sir John would be banished from the Palace, but negotiations still hung fire.

“The Queen,” wrote Mama, “should forget what displeased the Princess.”

I showed the note to Lord Melbourne. “I do so dislike that man,” I said. “I shall never forget how offensive he was to me when he thought he had me in his power.”

“And now,” said Lord Melbourne, “he is in your power.”

“But he is still here. Mama says that my attitude toward him is causing talk.”

“The attitude of people in high places always causes talk.”

“She says my obstinacy in this matter is hurting me more than it is Sir John.”

“Are you hurt?”

“No, I am not. He deserves everything that comes to him. He is the most odious of men.”

“Then ignore him … until that time when we shall come to our decision.”

“What shall I say?”

“Nothing. Ignore your mother's letter. Leave it alone.”

“I do wish we could finish with him.”

“We will…in time. At the moment… let it go. Say nothing. That is the best way.”

I sighed. I did so wish it could be settled and I need never think of Sir John Conroy again.

Another letter came from Mama.

Really, dearest Angel, we have had too much of this affair. I have the greatest regard for Sir John. I cannot forget what he has done for me and for you, although he has had the misfortune to displease you …

That is it, Mama, I thought. I cannot forget how much he has displeased me. And your relationship with him has shocked me deeply.

Never, never would I forget opening the door and seeing them together and the dire incident that had been for poor Spath.

But I forgot the bitterness when I rode through the streets of London on my way to the Guildhall. The crowd was dense—so many people had come to see their Queen ride by and to express their loyalty to her. What a moving sight! I smiled and waved and there were tears in my eyes. They knew this and loved me for showing my emotion. And as I was sitting down they couldn't see how short I was, although Lord Melbourne was quite right. Many small people had done very well indeed and one should not be bothered by one's height.

There were fifty-eight carriages, and at Temple Bar I was received by the Lord Mayor, Sir John Cowan, with the sheriffs and members of the Corporation of London. It was really a splendid occasion, and I had to confess that I was beginning to love such ceremonies, with myself the center of attraction and the people showing so vociferously that they loved me.

But there was an angry note from Mama. She had not been given the right place at the dinner. Those who should not have been had been set above her. She must see me. It was cruel of me to shut myself away from my own mother. She was writing to me not as the Queen but as a daughter.

I did see her and it was like being a child again in Kensington Palace. Mama showed clearly that she had forgotten that I was now the Queen. She was quivering with indignation. My treatment of her, my treatment of Sir John Conroy, was monstrous. I was ungrateful. I had forgotten all she had done for me. It poured out of her, all that I had heard so many times before, how she had given up everything for me, how my welfare had been her one concern.

Before I entered the room I had been inclined to believe that I was a little harsh. I had made up my mind that I must see more of her. After all, she was my mother. But when I saw her like that, the old resentments came back, and my heart was hardened.

I remained cool and calm and she went on, “You have been so gracious to the Dowager Queen. You have visited her; you have told her that now she is settling in Marlborough House to take any pieces of furniture from Windsor which she may like to have. Oh, you can't do enough for spotty old Adelaide. It is very different with your poor mother.”

I said, “The Dowager Queen was always good to me. I have always been fond of her. She is very sad now, for she loved the King and she has lost him. I want to make her as happy as I can.”

“You always turned to her. And you were against me…your own mother. Adelaide tried to turn you from me.”

“She never did.”

“All those invitations to balls…so that she could get you to marry George Cambridge.”

“She thought I should live a normal childhood, that I should have some pleasure and be with other children. She knew that I was more or less a prisoner in Kensington.”

“I never heard such nonsense. And the bastards… the FitzClarences…You have taken good care of them too.”

I said, “They have never done me any harm. Aunt Adelaide treats them like her own children.”

“Then more fool her! All these you go out of your way to favor, and your poor mother, who looked after you, who gave her life to you…”

I said coldly, “Mama, you saw that I was fed and clothed, but your goal was to become Regent through me. That was why I was so important to you…not for my sake… but for your own. Always you pushed me aside—ridiculously often at ceremonies when people had come to see me. They called my name and you took it as homage to you. It never was. Nor to me either. It was to the Crown. Let us be fair. Let us be honest. I am now the Queen. I will not have Sir John Conroy in my household, and I will not be told by you what I must do. You have your apartments here, and I must ask you to keep to them unless you are invited otherwise.”

I turned and went out of the room, leaving her deflated and bewildered.

She could not now remain unconvinced that I was determined. I was of age. I was the Queen, and she must perforce obey me.

Ten days later I opened Parliament.

DURING THE FIRST session of that Parliament the Civil List came under discussion and to my joy I was voted £385,000 a year—£60,000 of which was for my privy purse. This was £10,000 more than had been allotted to my Uncle William and was most gratifying. I was now rich, but Lehzen had brought me up to be provident and I had learned that however much one had, if one were extravagant, that could not be enough. I should not be as my father had been and hoped that when I died I would not leave behind a mountain of debts as he had done. Certain debts of his were still outstanding and the first thing I should do was settle them out of my privy purse.

As a Queen I should have great expenses but I had been careful ever since the days when I had saved up six shillings to buy the beautiful doll I coveted.

Mama had received a further £8,000 a year.

“Which,” Lord Melbourne told me, “has been granted solely for your sake.”

“Oh, how good the government is to me!” I cried.

“Well,” admitted Lord Melbourne, “there was some opposition. There are some very mean fellows about. And do you know, I believe our odious friend Conroy did all he could to stop your getting such a large amount.”

“Oh,” I said, “he is a fiend.”

“The transition has taken place merely by removing the letter r. How easily it is done.”

I thought that was very amusing and typical of Lord Melbourne.

It was soon after that that Lord Melbourne attempted to get rid of Conroy.

“That man continues to importune and is a thorn in our flesh,” he said. “I think the best thing we can do is settle the matter.”

“Nothing would please me more,” I said.

“Well,” went on Lord Melbourne, “let us give him his pension of three thousand pounds a year and a baronetcy. That will shut him up.”

“Is that not giving in to his demands?” I asked.

“Sometimes it is better to make a compromise with the enemy. It saves a lot of trouble. We do not want this man creating trouble, do we?”

“It seems to me a little…weak.”

“Sometimes one has to appear weak to be strong.”

That sounded very profound and at length I agreed, although I hated to see our enemy get what he had demanded.

But that was not the end of the matter. Instead of being grateful that most of his demands had been met, Conroy stuck out for a peerage.

“It is too bad,” I said. “Why should this man benefit from his evil deeds?”

“We have much with which to concern ourselves. Let us get rid of him. I'll offer him an Irish peerage when one becomes available. That might get him out of the country.”

“I should like to see him go.”

“Then so be it. An Irish peerage…if I am Prime Minister… when one falls vacant. That should satisfy our rapacious gentleman.”

Lord Melbourne was smiling to himself and the thought occurred to me that he could be thinking that if and when an Irish peerage was available he, Lord Melbourne, might not be in a position to bestow it; and that worried me so much that it drove all thought of John Conroy out of my mind.

Christmas came. We spent it at Buckingham Palace and then left for Windsor. The days sped by and that glorious year was coming to a close. It had been the most exciting and happy year of my life.

I had not realized before how very irksome it had been to be kept under such close restraint, and in my mind Kensington Palace would always be remembered as a prison by me. Perhaps that was why I was so enchanted by Buckingham Palace and Windsor.

I was soon to be nineteen—no longer very young. I knew that I should have to consider marriage… but not yet. I thought of Albert who was clearly meant for me. Uncle Leopold was very anxious for our union; and of course Uncle Leopold was right. I remembered how charming Albert had been—quite handsome, but really rather serious. He was not merry like Lord Melbourne, who seemed to make a joke of everything. With Lord Melbourne one was constantly convulsed by laughter. I knew there were people who said I laughed too loudly and I opened my mouth as I did so, and that it was rather vulgar; but Lord Melbourne said it was the way to laugh. What was the good of restrained laughter; it made a mockery of the entire practice of laughing.

He was so comforting; he always made me feel that my faults were virtues. I could discuss anything with him, and I could feel sure of a reply that would be amusing and comforting at the same time.

Lehzen said I should guard my temper. It rose quickly and subsided very soon. But I should control it.

I asked Lord Melbourne if he thought I was hot-tempered.

“Perhaps a little choleric,” he replied.

“Choleric! I am passionate. I feel deeply… for the moment, and then I am good-tempered again, and sorry that I have been in the wrong. My Uncle George the Fourth was like that.”

“Let us be thankful that you are not going to be like him in other ways.”

He liked to talk about my relatives. He told me stories of them vividly and amusingly. I had never really known that Uncle Sussex went to find a bride for Uncle William and fell in love with her himself, until Lord Melbourne told me. I did not know the rather sad story of Maria Fitzherbert and how it was said that my uncle loved her till the end of his days and regretted not giving up the crown for her.

He told these stories so wittily that, although I thought some of them a little sad, he soon had me laughing.

What a wonderful year, which had brought me the friendship of Lord Melbourne!

I always felt sad when he did not come to see me. He had so many engagements. I could not stop myself asking where he was going and I used to say how sorry I was he was not dining with me.

He once told me that the Whigs were having a rough passage. It was devilish trying to make a ministry work on such a trivial majority. “It may be,” he said, “that we cannot hang on much longer.”

“But you must. I, the Queen, command you.”

“Alas, Ma'am, these matters are decided by the electorate…and since the passing of the Reform Bill we have all sorts and conditions deciding our affairs.”

But I refused to have these wonderful days spoilt by such gloomy predictions.

I wanted everything to stay as it was during that wonderful year.

It was the 24th May of the year 1838—my nineteenth birthday had arrived…my first birthday as Queen, and of course it must be very specially celebrated.

Mama threw a damper on the day by presenting me with a copy of King Lear. I had never greatly cared for that play, and I realized that she was calling attention to ungrateful daughters. How characteristic of Mama!

But I was too happy to care very much.

The Coronation was fixed for the 28th June and the festivities for that were to start before the great day so they coincided with my birthday.

There was a wonderful state ball. People clamored for invitations. Lord Melbourne went through the lists of guests with me and he said that it was quite pushing and degrading for some of them to ask to be invited.

It was so amusing sitting with him and ticking those who were suitable and crossing off those who were not.

How I enjoyed that ball! I danced whenever I could—quadrilles and cotillions; but I could not of course try the waltz, because that would have meant dancing with someone's arm about my waist, which would have been quite improper. It would have to be a king or someone as royal as myself. It was irritating to have to sit with my aunts and watch others dance the most delightful waltz.

Lord Melbourne was not present and that made me very anxious because I knew there was only one thing which would have kept him away. He was ill.

I was very relieved next morning to have a note from him begging me to excuse his absence. He had been indisposed but was a little better that morning.

I immediately wrote to him, begging him to take care of himself. I told him the ball had been a great success apart from one thing—his absence; and my anxiety would only cease when he called on me in person and I could satisfy myself that he had fully recovered.

I was relieved when he did call on me and was his old amusing self.

There were so many preparations for the coming Coronation.

I confessed to Lord Melbourne that I was a little nervous.

“Oh, you will like it very well when you are there,” he assured me. “There is great excitement throughout the capital. The whole of the country wants to see its little Queen crowned.”

“I hope everything goes well.”

“We shall see that everything goes well,” he replied firmly.

And I knew that he would.

It was wonderful to see Feodore again for she came over, with my brother Charles, for the ceremony. There was so much to talk about with my sister. I had heard about the children and it seemed to me that she was very happy; she was different from what I was—more amenable, which was admirable. Feodore would do what was decided to be right for her without complaint. I admired her very much, and it was a great pleasure for me to be with her again. I did not feel so warmly toward my brother because of the way he had tried to interfere over Sir John—and he had always been a friend of that man, which meant there must be certain vital matters about which we must be in disagreement.

The presence of my brother and sister meant that I saw more of Mama than I had been doing recently. She was a little wary of me but she made an attempt to behave as though there had been no upset between us—and I did my best.

I was not able to spend a great deal of time with Feodore for there was so much business to be done, including the preparations for the Coronation, and for most of the entire morning I was with Lord Melbourne going through state papers and having a little light amusing conversation in between.

Parliament had voted me £200,000 for the Coronation, which was indeed generous as Uncle William had only been given £50,000 for his. I was sure I owed this generosity to my dear prime minister.

There would be a royal procession to the Abbey and this had not happened during the coronation of the two previous monarchs.

“The last time there was a procession,” said Lord Melbourne, “was in 1761 for your grandfather George the Third.”

“Why are we going back to it then?” I asked.

“This is the coronation to surpass all coronations. We have a pretty young girl as our sovereign, and I can assure Your Majesty that there is nothing the people like better than a pretty young queen. Naturally they want to see her.”

“You are making me feel less and less nervous,” I told him; and so he was.

I took great comfort that he would be there in the Abbey while I underwent this awesome ordeal.

The great day arrived. I had had little sleep the night before. All through the previous days people had been crowding into London. They were camping in the streets and later I heard that there were four hundred thousand of them.

At four o'clock in the morning, I was awakened by the guns in the Park. I could hear the people shouting to each other; and then bands started to play.

At seven Lehzen was at my bedside.

In spite of a lack of sleep I felt exhilarated and ready. I went to my windows and looked out. There were crowds in the Park and bands were playing and there were red-coated soldiers everywhere.

Lehzen was fussing around with breakfast.

“Now you must eat, my darling. I am not having you starting off on an empty stomach.”

To please her I ate a little, but I was really too excited to think of food.

Feodore came into my dressing room. She hugged me and was very emotional.

“Dearest sister,” she said, “it has come at last … the day we were all waiting for all these years. What a future is yours! I wish you every happiness and joy.”

“Wish for me to do what is right, Feodore,” I said.

“I know you will.”

I said, “I shall do what I think right, but will that be what truly is?”

“I believe this will be a glorious reign,” said Feodore and she was too overcome to say more.

Dear sister! How I wished that we could have been together over the years as we had been when I was little. So many thoughts enter one's head at such a time. I remembered her in Uncle Sussex's garden and how happy she had been; and that had been the end of our close association. They had stopped her making the marriage she wanted to; but she seemed happy enough.

Marriage! That was something I did not want to think of yet. I had my coronation before me.

It was ten o'clock when I left Buckingham Palace. We passed down Constitution Hill along Piccadilly and down St. James's Street to Trafalgar Square. The crowds were denser than ever here. I supposed many of them wanted to see the square that had so recently been made a memorial for Lord Nelson. Our progress was slow. The people wanted to see me. They pressed forward on every side. Many of my German relations were there and they had gone on in advance. Most countries had their representative. The French had sent Marshal Soult. Lord Melbourne told me about his reception afterward most amusingly. He said, “The people cheered him madly as though they were so delighted to see him, which was strange as he had recently been one of our enemies.” Perhaps it was because of his magnificent uniform or more likely they were cheering him for giving us a chance to beat the French at Waterloo. However, Soult had a good welcome from the crowd, but when I appeared the tumult was at its height. I smiled and waved, and wiped the tears from my eyes because I was so touched by my dear people's loyalty.

“Long live little Victoria!” they cried. “God bless our little Queen!”

I thought then that Lord Melbourne was right and it was not such a disadvantage to be small. People seemed to like one for it. It made them feel protective. I was deeply touched.

We passed through Parliament Street to the Abbey, and by that time it was eleven-thirty.

I went into the robing room and put on my mantle. My eight train bearers were waiting for me, looking so beautiful, all dressed alike in white satin and silver tissue trimmed with silver corn-ears and small pink roses.

The ceremony began and I became a little concerned because I did not know what was expected of me. I whispered to the Bishop of Durham, asking him what I must do, but he could not tell me because he did not know. It was very confusing. When I told Lord Melbourne afterward he said it was remarkably maladroit.

As soon as the anthem started I was glad to retire to St. Edward's Chapel where I took off my crimson robe and kirtle and put on a little gown of linen, and over that I wore a supertunic of gold. My diamond circlet, which I had worn on my head, was taken off and I went bareheaded into the Abbey.

I was led to St. Edward's chair and Lord Conyngham came forward with the Dalmatic Robe, which he proceeded to wrap around me.

The Crown was put on my head and at that moment I looked up and saw Lord Melbourne. What a comfort to see him! He was watching me intently with such a dear fatherly expression on his good handsome face. He gave me that half smile of his that was so tender and meant he was proud of me and yet at the same time he found the ceremony, in spite of its solemnity, rather amusing. I thought: What fun it will be talking of this afterward!

The drums and trumpets, the shouting…it was all so impressive. Mama burst into tears, rather noisily, to call attention to herself; but few looked her way. They were all intent on watching me. I could only pray that I should be worthy of the trust all these people were placing in me.

There I sat, with the crown on my head, accepting the homage of the Bishops and the Peers.

Poor old Lord Rolle, who was eighty-two years old and whose limbs were so stiff that he could scarcely walk, tried to ascend the few steps to my chair. He slipped and rolled down to the bottom of the steps.

I was most alarmed, but he got up immediately and attempted to ascend the steps again. But I would not allow that. I went down to meet him.

There was a gasp all around. I realized it was a most unconventional thing to do. Lord Rolle looked at me disbelievingly. And how the people loved it! As for Lord Rolle as he swore his homage he looked at me as though I were an angel. It seemed a fuss to make of an ordinary action.

Lord Melbourne said afterward, “You acted just as I knew you would.”

“It was not a very queenly thing to do,” I murmured.

“It was a spontaneous act of kindness, and that is to be applauded in queens and serfs. You did the right thing. People talk of it. They love you for it more than they do for your charm and grace.”

Most of all I cherished the moment when Lord Melbourne came to do his homage. It is a touching ceremony at all times when they laid their hands on the crown and then kissed my hand. Lord Melbourne pressed my hand warmly and raised his face to mine, half laughing, half serious; he was telling me that I was doing very well indeed. There were tears in his eyes—as there often were when he looked at me; I loved to see them because they assured me of the depth and nature of his affection for me.

I raised my eyes to the gallery just above the royal box where dear Lehzen was sitting. She smiled at me with a look of infinite pride and I returned that smile, hoping I conveyed to her my gratitude for all the love and devotion she had given me during my life.

With her was dear old Spath who had come over with Feodore. I had had little chance to speak to her but I must do so before she left England. Dear Spath, did she think sadly of the old days? I should never forget how she was sent away. She was happy now, of course, for Feodore would see to that; and she had loved Feodore—in fact she had been her governess before she came to me. She would love Feodore's children. Oh yes, she must be happy now; but there would be sad memories, and I do not think I shall ever forget the tragedy on her dear face when she knew she was to be banished. So I do not suppose she would forget either.

The ceremony went on and finally I was in my purple velvet kirtle and mantle, and carrying the regalia, with all my ladies and the peers, I walked into St. Edward's Chapel.

“Anything less like a chapel I never saw,” whispered Lord Melbourne, for on the altar sandwiches and bottles of wine had been laid out.

“A new use for an altar,” murmured Lord Melbourne, and I tried not to laugh. It would have been laughter of relief as well as amusement, for I had passed through quite an ordeal. The Archbishop came in and he should have given me the orb, but he did not.

“Nobody except Your Majesty seemed to know what to do,” said Lord Melbourne afterward.

“I did not either,” I confessed.

“Ah but you knew by instinct.”

Standing there by the altar he helped himself to a glass of wine. “I need some fortification,” he whispered.

Then came the walk through the Abbey—I with my crown on my head, the orb in my left hand, the scepter in my right. I felt loaded, for it was certainly uncomfortable to carry so much and keep the crown on my head.

As I walked through the Abbey the cheers rang out to the rafters, and I walked slowly, as though, I told Melbourne, I was performing a balancing feat. He said no one would have believed it. I looked as though I had been carrying a crown, scepter, and orb all my life, I carried them so expertly.

There was one more error—a painful one for me—when the Archbishop rammed the ring on the wrong finger for which it was far too small. I almost called out with pain and afterward we had great difficulty in getting it off.

I could not help being relieved when I was seated in my carriage, crown balanced on my head, scepter and orb in my hands and we rode back through the crowds to Buckingham Palace.

The cheers were deafening and the loyal greetings heart-warming. it was half-past four when we left the Abbey and I was not inside the Palace until after six.

Lehzen was there with dear old Spath.

They helped me change and I told Spath how pleased I was to see her. Lehzen said, “I was so proud of you. You looked…perfect. The people thought so too. And now you are exhausted.”

“Indeed I am not,” I said. “I just feel exalted. Wasn't the singing magnificent?”

“It was you who were magnificent,” said loyal Lehzen; and she and Spath looked at each other and wept.

I said, “This is not an occasion for tears. It is the proudest day of my life and I shall never forget it.”

Dash rushed up, fearful that he was being forgotten. He leaped into my arms and started to lick my face.

“A little respect please, dear Dashy,” I said. “Your mistress is now a crowned Queen.”

But he wasn't going to let that make any difference.

“It is time for your bath, you naughty old dog,” I said. “You have been in the pond and then rolling in the grass.”

I then turned up my sleeves and gave Dash his bath.

Lehzen said, “That is a strange thing to do after a coronation.”

We dined at eight that night. My uncles, my sister, and brother were with us; and I was delighted that Lord Melbourne was one of the party.

At the table I sat next to Uncle Ernest and Lord Melbourne was on the other side of me as though to protect me from Uncle Ernest of the unsavory reputation. But I must say that he had behaved impeccably at the coronation, and none would have guessed that he had had plans to take my throne.

Lord Melbourne asked me if I was tired.

I said, “Not in the least. And you, Lord Melbourne?”

“No. I am wide awake. I must admit that the Sword of State I had to carry was very heavy. I wondered how you were getting on with the scepter and the orb.”

“It was the crown which weighed me down.”

“Symbolic,” he said. “The duties of the crown are sometimes arduous.”

“Unless one has a good prime minister to lighten the load.”

He pressed my hand.

“You did well,” he said. “Excellently. The robes suited you, particularly the Dalmatic.” He then remarked about Soult's reception and said that the English were a very kind people where their enemies were concerned, so kind that they had gone out of their way to give a special acclaim to Soult just in case he might have thought they were being cool to him, which any other nation would have been.

Lord Melbourne talked in his witty way about the peculiarities of the English, which I found most amusing.

He was beside me during the whole evening. Again and again he told me how beautifully I had done. “Every part of it,” he said.

“I wished that I had known what was going on all the time,” I said. “There were occasions when I was quite in the dark. I should have been told. Some of those churchmen did not know any more than I did.”

“It is a thing you cannot give a person advice on,” said Lord Melbourne. “It must be left to a person. And you did it all perfectly…with such taste.”

“Well, I should be satisfied with that… coming from such a dear friend.”

He looked at me very tenderly and said it was wonderful that I was not exhausted.

“Tonight,” he added, “I think you must be more tired than you think you are.”

“I had hardly any sleep the night before. There was such a noise in the streets and the guns woke me at four.”

“There is nothing more that keeps people awake than any consciousness of a great event's going to take place—and being agitated. You should retire and get some sleep with the satisfaction of knowing that all went off splendidly and that it was all due to you.”

I would, I told him; but before he left we went onto the balcony and watched the fireworks in Green Park.

Then I went to bed and that was the end of the most exciting, the proudest, and the most important day in my life up to that time.

I was now the crowned Queen of England.