by Jean Plaidy
And I thought: A Regency! Mama as Regent! Oh no! Please God don't let Uncle William die until I am eighteen.
I thought I should never get over my sadness at losing Spath, but a greater catastrophe threatened. They were going to send Lehzen away.
I think they both realized that they would have to tread more warily over Lehzen. I had loved Spath but Lehzen was very special to me. She was, I had often said, the best friend I had ever had up to that time—and I meant it. If I faced any difficulties it had always been to Lehzen I had gone, and she had smoothed them out. She had been something of a disciplinarian, of course, but I think I needed that and I respected her for it. It gave me a sense of security. I could not really imagine my life without Lehzen, and as soon as I realized what was going on I became very determined to stop it.
I heard Aunt Adelaide say to Mama, “But you couldn't. It would kill poor Lehzen. Victoria is her life.”
They stopped talking when I came in—but I knew.
They shall never do it, I said to myself firmly.
I was growing up. I was destined to be the Queen; they must realize that they had to go very carefully with me.
Mama said to me one day, “Dear Feodore, she is so happy. Two little babies. What a joy. She needs a very good governess for them.”
I was alert. I said quickly, “I am sure she and the Count will find an excellent governess.”
“There is one Feodore would rather have than any other.”
I waited. Now it was coming.
“Who is that?” I asked in a cold voice.
“Well, there is only one,” replied Mama with a little laugh. “She is a very good governess, and now you are beginning to grow up, you need a different sort of tuition. Feodore would be delighted and so would dear Lehzen. She would be so good for the children.”
I said very firmly, “Mama, I could not do without Lehzen.”
Sir John had come in and I knew that they had discussed this together, arranging it, and he had come to add his voice to my mother's; that enraged me.
My mother laughed. “Oh, come, come. She was very useful to you when you were young, and I know how fond you are of her.”
“You do not know how fond I am of her, Mama,” I said. “She is the best friend I ever had.”
“My dear child, you have many friends and you will have many more.”
“There will never be one like Lehzen,” I said.
Mama laughed again. “Dear me, you are so vehement.”
“Yes, Mama,” I said. “Vehement and determined.”
Sir John said with an unpleasant sneering laugh, “Oh, here is the Queen herself.”
“I am not the Queen…yet, Sir John,” I retorted. “But I will not allow you to send Lehzen away.”
“You will not allow it,” said Mama.
“That is what I said, Mama. I will not.”
“You are only a child.”
“I am old enough… and I am getting older every day.”
“A profound statement,” sneered Sir John, “and one with which we must all agree.”
“If you attempt to send Lehzen away,” I told them, “I shall go to the King and ask him to forbid it.”
“That pineapple-headed old bore,” said Mama contemptuously.
“The King, Mama, whom I respect more than some.” I looked venomously at Sir John. “I am his subject and so are you… both of you. It would be well for us all to remember that.”
They stared at me in amazement and I could see that Mama was trying to reduce me to the child I once was. But I had acquired a new dignity since seeing that table in the history book. I was going to be the Queen, and as heir to the throne these two took their importance through me. But for me what would they be? I was young, it was true; but this was a matter of vital importance to me. I was learning to rule.
I could see that I was making some impression for they were both startled, and yes, I was sure they were a little alarmed.
“Oh,” said Mama, “I see we are in for a little storm.”
“Not a little storm, Mama,” I corrected her. “A big one. Lehzen is not going to leave me.”
“You are arrogant… conceited …,” spluttered Mama, her earrings shaking with the rage she felt.
“I am the heir to the throne,” I said. “I may be Queen very soon, though I hope Uncle William will live for a long time yet. But for now I say this: Lehzen is staying with me. I know the King will forbid you to send her away, and whatever you say about him he is the King and it would be well for us all to remember that we are his subjects.”
With that I walked out of the room. I was trembling with fear.
They were absolutely startled by my firmness—and so was I. But they knew they were defeated, and there was no doubt of it because there was no more mention of Lehzen's leaving.
I HAD SCORED a victory, but that did not mean that I had changed anything very much. Mama was still in command and although she realized that I could be what she called stubborn on matters over which I felt deeply, I was still the child as far as she was concerned.
Aunt Adelaide, who was a mediator between my mother and the King, intimated that, now I was recognized as next in the succession, I should appear more in public. Mama agreed with this.
Aunt Adelaide was doing everything she could to bring about a reconciliation between the King and my mother, and I have to say that it was Mama's fault that it was without success. That the King disliked her there could be no doubt, but if she had not continually asserted what she called her rights and attempted to push me forward and to behave generally as though Uncle William was already as good as dead and I on the throne, I think there might have been, if not a friendship, a fairly reasonable compromise between them. But she would not.
I was not so much invited to Court as summoned to Aunt Adelaide's birthday party celebration. I wanted to go. I loved such occasions. I was quite intrigued by the two Georges and they were very attentive to me on the rare occasions when I had met them; and there was dancing, singing, and playing games, which I very much enjoyed. Aunt Adelaide did everything possible to make all the young people happy, so I could have been very amused if I had been allowed to be.
That occasion was a failure. I should have thought that after my victory over Lehzen I should have been able to shake off Mama's influence, but this was not so and there were times when I felt completely overawed.
I was very apprehensive when I considered the way in which Sir John and my mother had managed to get rid of poor Spath and the attempts they had made to do the same to Lehzen. I was really worried and sometimes I felt very young and inadequate.
On the occasion of Aunt Adelaide's birthday there was a certain formality, which even the King could not escape, although, as my mother said, never had a king behaved with less majesty. This was true in a way. The King would go about and talk to his most humble subjects and when after a visit his guests left he would go down to see them off and help them into their carriages and then stand waving them off—which no king had surely ever done before. He was a bluff sailor, and he was not going to change his ways just because he was a king.
Before we set out Mama continued to lecture me. “The King will try to keep you down. You must be sure that you are in your rightful place. It would never do for the people to forget that you are the rightful heir to the throne. You must not be too effusive. You always are. You must not look as though you think it is a great honor to be presented to the King. It is as much an honor for him that I allow you to go. Do not smile on all and sundry. Show them you are serious… aware of your rank…”
And so it was that whenever the King looked my way I cast down my eyes because I was afraid that I should smile in too friendly a way, and yet if I did not smile it looked as though I were sulking.
I was glad when it was over.
But my demeanor was noticed. Aunt Adelaide looked bewildered and unhappy; and the King scowled.
I heard that he had been very angry and had said, “T
hat child would not look at me. I will not have it. She is getting like her mother.”
That amused my mother and she told me I had behaved with dignity. I was less pleased and very sorry that I had hurt the King and Aunt Adelaide.
My mother said I should travel a little to show myself to the people, and let them become acquainted with their Queen-to-be.
I loved the excitement of travel. I enjoyed seeing new places. Sir John Conroy and Mama planned the journeys, where we should stay and when we should meet the people. We were greeted with enthusiasm wherever we went and that was very pleasant. But it was always Mama who spoke to the crowds, who took the front seat. She brought me forward sometimes, and told them how she had devoted her life to me ever since I had been born.
There was one thing that worried me very much and that was that wherever we went, Sir John ordered the guns to fire the royal salute.
I said to Lehzen, “I thought that was done only for sovereigns.”
Lehzen shook her head. She had not fully recovered from the scare we had had when we thought that Sir John and my mother might succeed in getting her sent away. She was more reticent than usual, but I knew she agreed with me and that it was not correct to insist on the royal salute.
I heard the King was very annoyed when he discovered what was happening. “Guns popping here, there, and everywhere,” he said. “There's to be an end to this popping and pretty sharp.”
Sir John's reply was that as Victoria was heiress to the throne, the firing of the guns was in order. He was getting reckless, I believe. He thought the King's end was near, and he saw me on the throne with Mama as Regent and himself governing Mama.
How people love power! A little while ago my life seemed to be in danger because Cumberland wanted me out of the way and a clear run for himself; now Sir John was taking risks, for after all Uncle William was the King, and Sir John was causing him great offense. In fact he was always urging Mama to further recklessness—not that she needed much urging.
We were at Norris Castle in the Isle of Wight. The guns had been popping away in Portsmouth in my honor, when a summons came from my mother to attend the King's coronation.
“You,” said Mama, “will walk immediately behind the King. As heir to the throne that is your place.”
But it seemed the King had other ideas. Further news came from Windsor. I was assigned a place behind the royal dukes.
“Never!” cried Mama.
“Certainly not!” echoed Sir John. “We must have our little girl where she belongs.”
I talked it over with Lehzen. “But what difference does it make where I am. I shall be there… and walking behind the uncles doesn't make me any less heir to the throne.”
Lehzen said it seemed of great importance to the Duchess that I should walk immediately behind the King.
“He will be very angry,” I said anxiously. “He is already cross because I didn't smile at him when I last saw him. Oh, Lehzen, I wanted to. I like him and I love Aunt Adelaide. But…it is so difficult.”
“Life often is, my dear,” said Lehzen.
The wrangle went on. “No,” said the King. “Behind the royal dukes.”
I believed that he did not greatly care where I walked, but he did dislike Mama so much that he would not give way to her.
“In her rightful place or not at all,” said Mama.
And so it was not at all.
I wept with frustration. I had wanted so much to go to the Coronation; and most of all I hated quarrels.
I watched the Coronation procession from Marlborough House.
SOON AFTER THE Coronation there was a great deal of controversy throughout the country because of the Reform Bill.
Lehzen was well informed and explained to me what it was all about.
“The trouble started,” she said, “because there are what are called Rotten Boroughs, which means that there are under two thousand people there who are able to send a member to Parliament to represent them, while on the other hand there are others who have only one member for a very large population. And some people don't get a vote at all.”
“That seems very wrong,” I said.
“You are in agreement with a large number of people, it would seem,” said Lehzen.
There was so much personal intrigue in our apartments with the machinations of Conroy and his schemes with Mama, which were all about their own gains really, that not much attention was paid to what was going on in the country.
I knew it was very serious and I became quite worried when I heard that violent rioting had broken out all over the country.
When we went for our walks I saw placards on the walls: GIVE US OUR RIGHTS.
Lehzen said, “The people believe that once the Bill is passed all their dreams will come true.”
EVERYBODY WILL HAVE EVERYTHING, I saw on another poster.
I did not see how that could be.
“When the people become obsessed by an idea they will make the wildest claims. They believe everything that is told them,” said Lehzen.
“I never would,” I asserted.
“Of course not. You have been well brought up. I have taught you to think for yourself…to face the truth, however unpleasant.”
“It will be unpleasant for the people if this Bill is passed and they find they have not everything.”
“They will learn,” said Lehzen. “I heard one of the serving maids say that when the Bill was passed, her Fred would marry her and they would have a little house in the country.”
“Oh dear!” I sighed. “How disappointed she will be!”
“And children believe that there will be no more school when the Bill is passed. It will be all picnics and strawberry jam.”
“Is that why they are rioting?”
“They are rioting because, although the Bill has been passed by the Commons, the Lords have thrown it out, and Lord Grey has asked the King to create new peers so that the Bill can be passed.”
“But I don't understand, Lehzen. If when something is refused and new people have to be brought in to pass it… why has it to be passed in the first place?”
“Ah, my dearest, you are getting into deep waters. The King has refused Grey's request so he has resigned and the King has no alternative but to call Wellington back to office. Wellington's windows at Apsley House have been smashed. They say Wellington is the most unpopular man in the country.”
“How long is it since he was the most popular after Waterloo?”
“There! You see how the pendulum swings. The most popular man one day, the most unpopular the next.”
“Like Palm Sunday and the Crucifixion.”
“Yes… like that.”
I thought a great deal about the Reform Bill. It was quite wrong that those few people should send one man to represent them in Parliament, and thousands of others only have one—and some no chance to vote at all. Of course quite a lot of them were without education and knew nothing of what they were voting for. They could not write their names even… let alone vote. It all seemed very complicated. But I did hate to hear of the riots. They always frightened me, because I had heard a great deal about the French Revolution, and in my lessons I had suffered with poor Marie Antoinette and King Louis XVI who had been so badly treated by the mob and had even lost their heads in a most humiliating manner.
I was relieved when Wellington was able to form a Ministry and Lord Grey was brought back. The new peers were created and the Reform Bill was passed. Seats in Parliament were to be more fairly distributed in accordance with the number of people in the boroughs.
Peace settled over the country.
But when I thought of how Wellington had lost the admiration and love of the people, I was depressed by their fickleness, for whatever were his personal views about reform, he had saved the country from Napoleon at Waterloo. The thought of angry mobs throwing stones at Apsley House made me very sad.
I was becoming more and more aware of the responsibilities I should have to face if
the destiny that my mother was determined should be mine—and indeed was mine by right of birth—should ever come to pass.
THE CORONATION OF King William did not curb my mother's inclination to show me to the people and to receive the honors due to my rank. In August we left Kensington for Wales. Before we went Mama presented me with a journal in which she said I was to write every day. That was when I first discovered the joy of writing down my thoughts, but, of course, I was fully aware that every word I wrote would be read by Mama. Therefore I was most cautious. I could not set down my enthusiasms— except of course for such things as the countryside and what would please her; I could not record my deep dislike and suspicion of Sir John. I couldn't help laughing to imagine what the outcome would be if I did! So although I dutifully wrote in my journal every day, I did not, of course, mention my secret thoughts. And Mama was very pleased because it must have seemed to her that I was much more innocent than I actually was—and therefore, I supposed, more malleable.
After leaving London we went to Birmingham, Wolverhampton, and Shrewsbury, and over the Menai Bridge. We rented a house for a month in Beaumaris, and I presented the prizes at the Eisteddfod. While we were there, there was an outbreak of cholera and it was hastily decided that we move on.
We visited so many places that I am afraid, looking back, I confuse one with another, but I do remember staying at Chatsworth and visiting some cotton mills at Belper.
And I remember Oxford because Sir John Conroy was actually made a Doctor of Civil Law there and received the Freedom of the City which irritated me considerably—but not so much as my visit to the Bodleian Library, where some gentleman very proudly produced Queen Elizabeth's Latin Exercise Book. I glanced at it and saw at once that her grasp of the language quite outdid mine. There were gasps of amazement that one so young could have been so proficient.
“And she was only thirteen years old!” demanded Mama, looking sternly at me, for that was my age.
“That is all she was, Your Grace, when she used that exercise book. It is one of our most treasured possessions.”
“She was a very clever girl.”
“I doubt there has ever been one to excel her,” said the old man.
