I, Victoria

by Cynthia Harrod-Eagles

  ‘I don’t see why they should be so disliked,’ I said, a little nettled on behalf of my own family.

  ‘Do not you? But your mother is a Coburg – a good specimen of the breed, I should think.’

  I burst out laughing at that, and came to sit down opposite him. ‘Yes, Mamma is all Coburg! But the men are better, I assure you!’

  ‘I hope so indeed,’ he smiled. ‘It is well known that German men smoke excessively, and never wash their faces.’

  ‘Oh, but I have met several of my cousins – male cousins – and they have been charming!’

  ‘Ah, there you have it,’ he said seriously. ‘Cousins! I would not be doing my duty if I did not warn you that it is a very bad idea to marry one’s first cousin. There is no religious bar to it in this country, but a cousin is a very near relation, and there can be consequences – I think you understand me. It can happen that the children of such a union are – not quite the thing.’

  I blushed again, and said, to change the subject, ‘Well, then, but who else is there?’ Together we went through all the other eligible princes, but not one of them would do. ‘There are objections to all of them,’ I said mournfully.

  ‘And a foreigner would be unpopular in England,’ he agreed.

  ‘But I could never, never marry a subject!’ I said quickly. ‘It would be making yourself so much their equal; and then you would come so much into contact with all their family; and their most distant connections would put on airs and demand to be recognised, and it would be nothing but jealousies and impertinence.’

  ‘Oh, it would never do: the Court would be full of rustics,’ he said with a shudder, which made me laugh. ‘But still a foreigner would not be popular in England,’ he insisted.

  ‘For myself, my feeling is quite against marrying at all,’ I said, beginning to feel cross, ‘only my uncle presses me so about it.’

  ‘It is a great change in the situation,’ he agreed. ‘It is a very serious thing.’

  I remembered his own, unhappy marriage. He was a warning to me. ‘I need not come to a decision now, need I? Why need I marry for three or four more years? Except—’ I remembered, my mind swinging back again like a pendulum, ‘that this present state with Mamma is so dreadful.’

  ‘Always on the verge of a quarrel.’ He nodded. ‘It would try the patience of a saint.’

  ‘To be frank,’ I said with a burst of confidence, ‘I dread the thought of marrying. I am so accustomed to having my own way, you see.’

  ‘But you would have it still,’ he said. ‘You are the Queen.’

  ‘But it is ten to one that I should never agree with him – whoever he was. And even if I got my way in the end, how could I endure the terrible scenes beforehand? I am so passionate, we would be worn out with storms.’

  There was a silence. Then Lord M. said thoughtfully, ‘Is not your cousin coming to visit some time this year?’

  I nodded. ‘Uncle Leopold wants Ernst and Albert to come to Windsor in the autumn.’

  ‘There can be no harm in just seeing them,’ he said agreeably. ‘Nothing could be more natural than cousins coming to visit; but as to marriage, it is not necessary.’

  His willingness to accommodate my fears seemed only to irritate me. We were circling the problem without ever addressing it, for if I did not marry, I must continue to live with Mamma, and that was where we had started.

  ‘For myself, I don’t care if they come or not,’ I said with a burst of petulance. ‘The whole subject is odious to me! I would sooner never marry at all!’

  ‘Well, I don’t know about that,’ said Lord M., with such a droll look that my crossness dissolved and I began to laugh. ‘But there is no public anxiety about your marriage. It may be better to wait until some such demonstration is shown.’

  I could have flung my arms around his neck in gratitude. There he had given me the perfect excuse for fending off Uncles Leopold and Ernst, if they should press me to what I did not like. I was the Queen of England: I could not go marrying my cousin, just because my uncles wanted it!

  So things were left for the rest of the summer, and I tried to put it out of my head.

  Thursday the 10th of October was a day which I never forgot. It began strangely, for during the night a madman had thrown stones through some of my windows, breaking several panes of glass – a most disagreeable and upsetting thing. We never discovered who had done it, or why. Lord M. and I in any case felt rather cross and headachy, for we had eaten pork the night before, which had not agreed with us. Later we went for a long walk to clear our heads, and as we were returning along the Terrace (we were at Windsor) a page came running up to me with a letter just delivered. I examined it, and glanced at Lord M. nervously.

  ‘It is from Uncle Leopold,’ I said. It was quite short. ‘He says that my cousins will arrive this evening.’ He nodded, but I could see he didn’t like it, and I understood why. He was afraid that our comfortable times together were drawing to a close, and I had the same foreboding myself. Growing up was upon me. Very soon – in a matter of hours – I would see Albert again, and be forced to come to a decision. The worst thing, I thought, would be if I didn’t really either like him or hate him. If I were merely indifferent to him, what then? ‘They say he is grown quite handsome lately,’ I suggested nervously.

  Lord M. met my eyes. ‘Does he stay awake in the evenings now?’

  But I didn’t laugh. ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I suppose we shall soon find out.’

  At seven-thirty that evening we were warned that the carriage had arrived, and I went with Mamma to the top of the grand staircase to receive them. The crossing had been bad, and their luggage had gone astray. They would appear tired, pale, and seasick, I told myself, and I must make allowance for that.

  The two figures appeared and started up the stairs, and I was almost too nervous to look at them. Ernst was a step in front, and seemed not to have changed at all; but Albert – could it be Albert? He was tall and slender and – those who had said he had grown quite handsome had lied damnably. He was beautiful!

  He stood before me, looked down into my eyes, took the hand which I had held out almost without realising it. I gazed up at him, speechless, and my heart left my breast there and then to fly to his, never to leave it. It was my coup de foudre. I looked, and loved him utterly.

  The next evening we had an informal dance, and for once I did not mind the etiquette which forbade me to join in the more intimate dances, for I was quite happy to sit out and watch Albert at the waltz, the quadrille and the galop. He was so graceful, and held himself so well, and his figure was perfect – tall and fine, but strong, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. I had seen him in the saddle that day, and had observed the good calves which filled out his long boots, and the muscularity of his thighs, clad in fine cazimere pantaloons, skin tight, with nothing underneath them! The very maleness of this young man thrilled me; and yet there was a quality of spirituality about him which made him seem at the same time a creature from another, higher plane. His face was the work of a master artist and tinted by the most delicate hand: blue eyes of the most glorious colour, blue that would make the summer sky swoon with envy; an exquisite nose, fine and straight, a delicate mouth, sweet and expressive. His hair was about the colour of mine, light brown with golden lights here and there, and he wore a fine moustache and very delicate side-whiskers. They say he was the image of his mother, who had been a great beauty; and certainly he looked nothing like his brother, who was very dark, with black eyes, and nothing delicate about him. I was glad that Albert was nothing like him in character either. Their father, the Duke, was a profligate, both expensive and immoral, and Ernst had taken after him. When they visited that October he was already suffering from the syphilis that was eventually to kill him – though I did not know it then, of course! His frequent fevers while he was at Windsor, which made him take to his bed, were explained away as biliousness and jaundice.

  I had always longed to be beautiful, and k
new I was not, but I had always loved beauty in others. At St George’s Chapel on Sunday I was able to observe Albert’s delight in the music, and see how his beautiful face grew quite radiant when he listened, as though his soul had drifted close to the surface just for a little while and become visible. Music meant a great deal to me, and I was glad to feel I had something in common with this heavenly creature. He played the piano with great skill and execution, and sang in a sweet tenor voice. We had sung one or two duets, and he had praised my voice, and said – I treasured the words! – that we sounded remarkably well together.

  He could be merry, too. At luncheon he made us laugh with anecdotes about his student days at Bonn, and his clever, funny mimicry of various professors and eminent men. He had brought his dog to England with him, a beautiful greyhound called Eos. (He explained to me that ‘eos’ meant ‘dawn’, which suited her because she was as black as night, with one silver streak, like the first approach of sunrise.) People are said to be like their dogs, and Eos was exactly the dog I would have picked for him, slender and elegant, gentle and good, and with such a melancholy way of looking at you – not jolly and noisy like my little fellows! She was so well behaved and clever that at his command she walked round the table and gave the paw to each of us in turn. He showed us how she could jump immense heights, and was so dainty she could eat off his fork without spilling. Eos evidently adored him, and I thought that the most natural thing in the world!

  The next day I sent for Lord Melbourne, while Ernst and Albert were out shooting, and told him that my feelings about marrying had undergone a change.

  ‘It is very natural,’ he said, and gave me a significant look. ‘Prince Albert is a very good-looking young man.’

  ‘You guessed, then?’

  ‘I could see that he interested you. Yesterday when you sat on the sofa with him, looking at the book of etchings, your eyes were more often on him than on the drawings.’

  ‘You are very clever,’ I said, feeling my cheeks glow. ‘You will perhaps have guessed, then, that I have quite made up my mind – that is, about marrying Albert.’

  Was there the slightest pause? Did he seem to shrink a little under my gaze? At the time I was too full of my own feelings, but looking back I seem to see the blow it must have been to him. Young people are sadly heedless; now I am old myself, I can appreciate his self-restraint.

  ‘I am very glad of it,’ he said warmly. ‘I think it is a very good thing, and you will be much more comfortable. A woman cannot stand alone for long whatever her situation; and yours is a particularly difficult one.’

  ‘I do feel the need of someone to support me,’ I admitted. ‘And he is so very beautiful, and so amiable and good-tempered. I have such a bad temper, that must be an advantage, don’t you think?’

  ‘He is a very fine young man in every way,’ he said kindly. ‘And have you thought about the time, when you will do it?’

  ‘I don’t know. In a year, perhaps?’

  ‘Too long,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘Parliament must be assembled, in order to make provision for him – his pension and so on – but it is best not to leave it too long after that, to give no opportunity for talk. Preventing talk prevents objections – though I don’t think there’ll be much. On the contrary, I think it will be very well received, for I hear there’s an anxiety now that you should be married.’ We talked a little, and decided on February as a suitable time. ‘As to titles, he should be made a Field Marshal, of course. That is a usual thing.’

  ‘Yes, and he must be given the title of “Royal Highness” – no more of that horrid “Serene Highness”, which always sounds so second-rate!’

  ‘No pinchbeck for the Prince; only solid gold,’ Lord M. said, and we laughed.

  ‘As to making him a Duke—’ I began, but Lord M. interrupted.

  ‘No, no, certainly not! It would be most unwise. It would raise a great deal of resentment in the country, for I’m afraid everyone would accuse him of meddling in politics if he had a seat in the House of Lords.’

  ‘I was about to say that I don’t at all wish him to be made a Duke,’ I said with dignity. ‘It is not by any means high enough for him: I wish him to be made King Consort.’ I saw Lord M.’s jaw drop with horror, and added hastily, ‘Not straight away, perhaps, but in a little while – a year or two – when everyone has come to see his worth.’

  He found his voice. ‘No, no, ma’am, for God’s sake put that out of your head! Not King, never King! It would not do at all.’

  ‘But Princess Charlotte promised to make Uncle Leopold King when she came to the Throne. He will expect the same for Albert. And indeed, why should it not be? My power is not worth having if I cannot give my husband the rank he ought to have.’

  ‘It is not in your power to make him King,’ he said firmly. ‘It would take an Act of Parliament. That is what happened with William III and Queen Mary.’

  ‘If they had one, then I shall have one!’

  ‘Not by any means! Do you not see, if Parliament once gets into the habit of making Kings, it can get into the habit of unmaking them too! We will do nothing to encourage such pretensions, if you please.’ I did not please, and was silent for a while, scowling. Then he added gently, ‘There will be no difficulty, of course, in awarding him any precedence you wish. He will be first of all men.’

  ‘Before my English relations?’ I asked sharply.

  ‘Of course,’ he said, and smiled. ‘He will have the position in society that he holds in your heart.’

  I melted, and reached out and took his hand. ‘Thank you! Oh, you have been so very kind to me, so very fatherly! I quite thought you would dislike it amazingly when I told you!’

  ‘Dislike what makes Your Majesty happy?’ he said, pressing my hand. ‘How could that be?’

  Dear, kind Lord M.! He must have known how it would be afterwards, and that our happy, intimate days were over. But he never by the slightest word or gesture cast a shadow over my sunlit prospect.

  ‘I think you should tell the Prince of your feelings as soon as possible,’ he said, his voice very slightly unsteady.

  ‘I, tell him? Good heavens, what a strange reversal! How awkward I shall feel!’

  ‘You must be the man in this case,’ he said smiling. ‘That is another penalty of being Queen – you will be deprived of the privilege of being proposed to.’

  I laughed. ‘I would think that no privilege! I would far rather be doing, than waiting and hoping for an offer without any way of hastening it on.’

  ‘Oh, females usually manage to make their wishes felt, one way or another,’ he said lightly.

  We parted soon afterwards, and when he had made his leg and kissed my hand he asked, ‘When will you speak?’

  ‘Tomorrow,’ I said.

  ‘The 15th of October,’ he said. ‘It will be a date to remember.’ And he went away, tall, leonine, handsome still – but an old man from then on, stepping into the shadows and leaving the stage empty for the new actor who was to play the hero from tomorrow onwards.

  Eight

  4th May 1900, at Windsor

  TO RESUME: the next morning, which was Tuesday the 15th of October, Albert and Ernst went out hunting, and when I had done my boxes I went to the Blue Closet, which I used as my private sitting-room, and walked about the room, fretful with anxiety. I loved him, of that there was no possible doubt; but would he, could he love me? There had been encouraging signs: he had been very attentive to me – but then I was the Queen, who else should he notice? He was kind and charming and made me laugh – but then who didn’t he charm? (Lady Cowper, Lord M.’s sister, said he had very pretty manners, that he was charming and gay and just what a young man ought to be.) On the previous evening, when we stood in the corridor saying goodnight after the dancing, I had given him my hand and he had squeezed it affectionately – oh, but that was slight evidence on which to risk my all!

  I paused and stood on tiptoe and looked at myself in the glass over the chimneypiece. A s
mooth, plump face with a fine complexion, and smooth, light-brown hair. I had abandoned my side-curls now, and wore my hair drawn back to a chignon, with two side-pieces braided, and pinned in a loop over each ear, which Lehzen said made me look more dignified, and rather Plantagenet – like Queen Philippa. I stared at that familiar reflection. Item, two eyes sufficiently large, pale blue, but rather protuberant. Item, a nose quite beyond redemption. Item, two lips, indifferent red, the lower one drawn down by the lack of chin so that my teeth showed – quite nice teeth, small and even, but no-one falls in love with teeth! I had a ‘silvery’ voice, and I moved gracefully – those were my only assets.

  My only assets? Well, I was Queen of England, the matrimonial ‘catch’ of all Europe, I thought; he knew why he had come to Windsor – Uncle Leopold had assured me of that; he was not very likely to refuse me. Oh, but I was not beautiful, as he was, and I loved him so dreadfully much! If he should accept, but not love me, how would I bear it?

  I had told Lehzen to send word for him to come to me as soon as they got back from the hunt, and at about half past twelve I saw them come galloping up the slope. Already I could pick him out from a hundred horsemen: he and Ernst were riding side by side, racing each other; I could imagine their shouts and happy laughter, though they were too far away for me to hear them. Oh happy horse, to bear the weight of Antony! I thought. They disappeared from view, and there was a wait, while in my mind’s eye I followed him as he dismounted and handed over his horse, walked up the stairs, was met by his valet and given my message. He would want to change his clothes and wash his hands, of course. Would he be as nervous as I was, knowing what was to come? Or would he be cool and indifferent, secure in his superiority to me and all living things?

  When the tap came at my door, I jumped almost out of my skin. I called, and he appeared, my most beautiful angel, his eyes bright and his cheeks still flushed from the exercise – I suppose!