Indeed, the English might have been excused some annoyance at the favour shown to the great Teutonic nation, for, in addition to the nine or ten gentlemen mentioned, there were also here in England during the same spring the Prince of Leiningen, Victoria’s half-brother, Prince Ernest of Hesse-Philippthal, and Prince Edward of Carolath. These last three and Prince Ferdinand with his sons were all invited to a great ball which the Duchess of Kent gave at the end of March, just as at the end of May she gave a brilliant ball at which her own guests and those of the King were naturally present. King William entertained the Coburgs as graciously as he did the lad from Brunswick and the Oranges, and, indeed, did his utmost to ensure that Victoria should meet them all together as often as possible. But it was inevitable that at Kensington Palace there should be many opportunities for the young Saxe-Coburgs to talk with their cousin. An aide-de-camp of the Duke of Cumberland’s, and Lord de Lisle, son-in-law of King William, watched Victoria and Albert pacing the Palace garden one day.
“Do you think they are lovers?” one man asked the other; and he shook his head dubiously, answering in non-committal way, “They seem to be good friends, anyhow.”
Whether there were too many from which to choose, or whether it was true that Victoria was, for the best of all reasons, proof against their attractions, this tribe of young men came and went, making no impression. She danced with them all, for she dearly loved dancing, talked German to them all, for it is doubtful whether one of them could speak English, and said good-bye to them all with an equable smile, and probably with a sigh of relief that now she would be free to go her own way to some extent.
The papers showed as much interest in their going as in their coming. All had an idea that, though nothing had been announced, something had been fixed up. Those who had no animus against the German “invasion” were contented with such ventures as, “I hear to-day that the young Prince of Saxe-Coburg is the destined husband of our Princess Victoria,” or, “It is rumoured that the two rival suitors (Coburg and Orange) for the highest and fairest hand in the kingdom, returned home without making any impression on the heart of the interesting lady in question.” One grumbler observed that the Princess had been prevented from going to Ascot, as she was kept at home to entertain “these round-faced youths.” But those who feared the youths lashed right and left, speaking of the impolitic liberality of certain high personages, and the dogged good nature of John Bull which gained for him the appellation of fool from all the world for allowing his means to be squandered over German fortune-hunters. The worst tirade was naturally given by the Age, which used Leopold as a whipping boy, and in rhythmic sentences announced:—“This King Leopold has become the Sovereign of a Popish country, the husband of a Popish Princess, and the son-in-law of a Popish Monarch. King Leopold was the accepted of Protestant England’s welcome—the chosen of Protestant England’s hope—and the son-in-law of Protestant England’s Sovereign. What a contrast! Nay, further—King Leopold, if not a convert to Popery, at least conforms to its rites; and mark this, the nephew whose matrimonial agent he had the arrogance to be is a member of the Roman Catholic Church; although, following his uncle’s example, the youth would also no doubt change his religion—for a Crown!”
As for the young people themselves, they were probably quite as unconscious of the agonised flutter which their meeting had raised in journalistic dove-cots as they were unmoved by love for each other. He thought she was very amiable and astonishingly self-possessed; she commended his welfare to her uncle’s protection, for the whole project had been explained to her, and her reason as well as her family affection had found good in it. So in her letter to Leopold she acknowledged this by saying, “I hope and trust that all will go on prosperously and well on this subject, now of so much importance to me.”
And so for a space the matter ended. But it is really worthy of note that among all the young visitors from Germany and elsewhere, there were no girls; no smart young cousins came to rival Victoria’s charms, and she had the field entirely to herself. This, at least, gives some justification for the belief that matchmaking was in the air.
After this, for some reason the Duchess of Kent withdrew Victoria entirely from Court. William and Adelaide sent her invitations in vain, and the irascible Monarch grew more and more angry over the matter. It may be, of course, that the Duchess was annoyed at the King’s very transparent attempt to frustrate her plans for her daughter, and showed her resentment in this somewhat trivial way, or she may have aimed more strenuously at removing the girl from influence which she had always deemed bad. It was quite useless for the King to fume, as all the Kents had to do was to go to Claremont and get out of his reach; and the only revenge he could take was that of denouncing the Duchess at any and every opportunity, and advertising his increasing dislike of her to all who would listen.
H.R.H. THE DUCHESS OF KENT.
In August, 1837, this simmering hatred came to the boil, and readily flowed over into the public ears. William invited the Duchess and her child to stay at Windsor from early in the month until after the 21st, hoping that they would be present to celebrate Queen Adelaide’s birthday on the 13th and his own on the 21st, for which latter two dinners were arranged, as the 21st was a Sunday; thus there was to be a family dinner on that day, and a more public one on the 22nd. The Duchess seems to have had an unfortunate knack of writing crude—not to say rude—letters. To this invitation she responded that as she wished to keep her own birthday on the 15th at Claremont, she could not be at Windsor until the 20th; and she entirely ignored all mention of the festivities for the Queen. There seems to have been little reason for this direct snub to Adelaide, and it was probably caused more by a want of imagination than through a definite desire to annoy, but it naturally resulted in irritating the King anew. He, however, made no reply to this letter, but that did not mean that the Duchess was not in his thoughts. Perhaps someone had given him a hint, or perhaps William suspected that the Duchess was taking liberties; but on the afternoon of the 20th, when he had prorogued Parliament, and when he probably knew that the Duchess would already have started for Windsor, he went down to Kensington Palace. There he found what he perhaps had expected to find, that his sister-in-law had appropriated to her own use seventeen extra rooms, of which a year before he had refused her the accommodation. He went straight from Kensington to Windsor, where the Duchess and her daughter had already arrived. Without waiting to change, he marched straight to the drawing-room, kissed the Princess, holding both her hands and telling her in fatherly way how pleased he was to see her. He then made a low bow to the Duchess, and, like the old dunderhead that he was, immediately began the battle.