We remember well the peculiar kind of personal pleasure which it gave us to see the future Queen, the first time we ever did see her, coming up a cross path from the Bayswater Gate, with a girl of her own age by her side, whose hand she was holding, as if she loved her. It brought to our mind the warmth of our own juvenile friendships, and made us fancy that she loved everything else that we had loved in like measure—books, trees, verses, Arabian tales, and the good mother who had helped to make her so affectionate. A magnificent footman, in scarlet, came behind her, with the splendidest pair of calves, in white stockings, that we had ever beheld. He looked somehow like a gigantic fairy, personating, for his little lady’s sake, the grandest footman he could think of; and his calves he seemed to have made out of a couple of the biggest chaise-lamps in the possession of the godmother of Cinderella. As the Princess grew up, the world seemed never to hear of her except as it wished to hear—that is to say, in connection with her mother; and now it never hears of her but in connection with children of her own, and her husband, and her mother still [this was written in 1855], and all good household pleasures and hospitalities, and public virtues of a piece with them. May life ever continue to appear to her what, indeed, it really is to all who have eyes for seeing beyond the surface—namely, a wondrous fairy scene, strange, beautiful, mournful too, yet hopeful of being “happy ever after,” when its story is over; and wise, meantime, in seeing much where others see nothing, in shedding its tears patiently, and in doing its best to diminish the tears around it.
CHAPTER V.
EDUCATION OF THE PRINCESS VICTORIA.
Additional Grant by Parliament for the Maintenance and Education of the Princess—Wise Lessons learned at her Mother’s Knees—A Visit to George IV. at Windsor—Assiduous Pursuit of Knowledge—Accession of William IV.—Victoria becomes next in succession to the Crown—Regency Bill—Satisfaction of the good Grandmother at Coburg—Her Death—Joy of Victoria at the Elevation of her Uncle to the Belgian Throne—Parliamentary Inquiry into the Progress of her Education—Satisfactory Report in Response—Presented at Court—Great Ball on her Twelfth Birthday at St. James’s Palace—Court Scandal and Baseless Rumours—The Duchess of Northumberland appointed Governess—The Princess and the Poet Southey.
The time had now arrived when, in the opinion, not only of the private friends of the Duchess of Kent, but of the Ministers of the Crown, it was held that a more liberal provision should be made for the increasing cost of the training of the Princess, than the very moderate annual allowance which the Duchess of Kent had as yet received. This matter was formally brought before Parliament on the occasion of the Princess attaining her sixth birthday. Up to this date, and for some little time subsequently to it, King George IV. seems to have hardly paid the slightest heed to his niece and ultimate successor. On her fifth birthday, Prince Leopold, who throughout filled a true father’s place, gave a banquet in her honour, at which most of the members of the English Royal Family, and the Prince Leiningen, son of the Duchess of Kent and half-brother of Victoria, were present. On this occasion, the child was much admired for her frankness, quickness, and talent, but especially for her deep attachment to her mother. Her mother took occasion to impress upon her the consideration that such attentions as those which were then shown her were rendered in the hope that she would cultivate the qualities and graces which alone could make her a worthy and acceptable ruler of the British empire. “It is not you,” said she, “but your future office and rank which are regarded by the country; and you must so act as never to bring that office and that rank into disgrace or disrespect.” And when the Duchess took her child to see for the first time the statue which had just been erected at the top of Portland Place to her father’s memory, she was careful to make her know and feel that “dear papa’s likeness was placed there, not merely because he was a prince, but because he was a good man, was kind to the poor, caused little boys and girls to be taught to read and write, helped to get money from good people to cure the sick, the lame, the blind, the deaf, and did all he could to make bad people good.”
In May, 1825, the sixth birthday of the Princess arrived. It became desirable, not merely to extend the sphere of her knowledge, but to introduce her to society at unavoidable expense; and, when she appeared in public and took trips in the country, to surround her with some of the splendour which properly belonged to her position. Accordingly, Lord Liverpool, the Premier, presented a Message from the King, requesting that some provision should be made for the Princess. His lordship spoke in the highest terms of the Duchess of Kent; eulogised her for having supported and educated her daughter without making any application to Parliament; and demonstrated, that her education must, from that date, be much more wide and costly. He proposed an additional grant of £6,000 per annum to the Duchess, to continue throughout the minority of her daughter. The House of Lords cordially acquiesced in the proposal. In the Lower House, Mr. Brougham, although uniting mother and daughter in one common eulogy, objected to the amount proposed. Mr. Hume supported him, suggesting an annuity increasing from year to year; but, on a division, the original proposal was carried by a majority of fifty.
GEORGE IV. AND THE PRINCESS VICTORIA.
Only after this formal act of national recognition does it appear that the King deigned to turn his personal attention in the direction of his niece. The year after, we find the Duchess of Coburg writing to her daughter, and referring to the fact that she had seen by the English papers, that “His Majesty, Her Royal Highness the Duchess of Kent, and the Princess Victoria, went on Virginia Water.” “The little monkey,” she writes, “must have pleased him. She is such a pretty, clever child.” It was reported at the time that the King, on the occasion of this visit to Windsor, shared the general delight at the intelligence and sprightliness of his charming little niece. He caused her to dine in state with him, and when he asked her what tune she would like the band to play during dinner, she courteously and naïvely replied, “God save the King.”