It was in the rooms, rich with such varied associations as those, some few of which we have cited, and surrounded by the remarkable collection of pictures, chiefly by Byzantine and early German painters—that England’s future Queen grew up from babyhood to womanhood. Amongst the very earliest notices of the infant Princess is the following, which we cite from a letter written by Wilberforce to his friend, Hannah More, on the 21st July, 1820. He says:—
In consequence of a very civil message from the Duchess of Kent, I waited on her this morning. She received me with her fine animated child on the floor by her side, with its playthings, of which I soon became one. She was very civil; but, as she did not sit down, I did not think it right to stay above a quarter of an hour; and there being but a female attendant and footman present, I could not well get up any topic, so as to carry on a continued discourse. She apologised for not speaking English well enough to talk it; but intimated a hope that she might talk it better and longer with me at some future time. She spoke of her situation [this was, probably, in reference to the cold treatment of her and hers by George IV.], and her manner was quite delightful.
Four years later, the Duchess and the little Princess paid one of many visits to Ramsgate: and it would appear that the Duchess of Kent had already succeeded in being able to talk English “better and longer” with Wilberforce “at some future time;” for an eye-witness, who was familiar with all the group, witnessed the following scene. It was a fine summer day: too warm anywhere but on the shore of the sea, the breeze from which sufficiently moderated the temperature. A little girl, with a fair, light form, was sporting on the sands in all the redolence of youth and health. Her dress was simple—plain straw bonnet, with a white riband round the crown, a coloured muslin frock, and “as pretty a pair of shoes, on as pretty a pair of feet, as I ever remember to have seen from China to Kamschatka”—so testifies the authority from whom we quote. The child had two companions—her mother and William Wilberforce. The latter looked as lovingly on the child as did her mother. His kindly eye followed with tender interest her every footstep, and he was evidently meditating on the great destiny which was in store for her, when her mother, less meditative, more concerned with the affairs of the present, suddenly observed that her daughter had got her shoe’s wetted by a breaker. She waved her hand, and Victoria, obedient to the signal, at once rejoined her mother and her friend. Perhaps another motive might have been at work in the mother’s breast; for immediately the child had joined the elders, Wilberforce took her hand in both of his, and addressed to her some kindly words, doubtless of excellent counsel, for the blue eyes of the girl looked fixedly at her venerable instructor, and the devoted mother glanced from one to the other, evidently interested and affected by the contrast. Wilberforce was no wearisome restrainer of the buoyancy of youth; a few minutes later, he and his young companion were standing at the margin of the tide, watching the encroachments of each new breaker, and the dexterity with which a pet Newfoundland dog brought bits of stick out of the waves.
MORAL TRAINING.
During the earliest years of her childhood, Victoria does not seem to have been harassed with book-learning—a most wise and excellent omission. In 1823, the Dowager Duchess of Coburg wrote to her daughter—“Do not yet tease your little puss with learning; she is so young still.” The Queen’s mother followed the good advice; it was the cultivation of the heart of her child at which she first strove. Above everything, any approach to pride or hauteur was discouraged. The convictions equally with the natural temperament of the Duchess, led her to regard such a quality as specially to be avoided. She was trained to be courteous, affable, lively, and to put social inferiors perfectly at their ease. In her juvenile sea-side and other excursions, it was constantly observed by every one that the faces of the bathing-women, and others of the same class, whose services were needed, lighted up with genuine, unaffected gladness whenever the young Princess appeared. The following little picture deserves to be reproduced, without tampering with the colours of its portrayer:—“As she proceeded up the High Street from the sands, there sat on the low step of a closed shop an aged Irishwoman, pale, wan, dejected, sorrowful, her head bent forward, and whilst all nature was gay, she looked sickly, sad, and famishing. Whether she was too depressed to beg, or too exhausted at that moment to make the effort, I cannot tell, but she asked for no alms, and even looked not at the passers-by. The young Princess was attracted by her appearance, and spoke to the Duchess: ‘I think not,’ were the only words I heard from her mamma; and, ‘Oh, yes, indeed!’ was all I could catch of the youthful reply. I have no doubt the Duchess thought the old woman was not in need of relief, or would be offended by the offer of alms; but the Princess had looked under her bonnet, and gained a better insight into her condition. There was a momentary pause; the Princess ran back a few steps most nimbly, and with a smile of heartfelt delight placed some silver in the hands of the old Irishwoman. Tall and stately was the poor creature, and as she rose slowly with clasped hands and riveted features, she implored the blessing of Heaven on the ‘English lady.’ She was so taken by surprise by this unexpected mark of beneficence on the part of she knew not whom, that she turned over her sixpences again and again, thanked the Virgin, as well as the ‘young lady,’ a thousand times, and related to those who stopped to hear her exclamations, the ‘good luck’ that had come upon her.”
THE QUEEN’S CHILDHOOD.
While still not a year old, and ere her father’s death, the intensity of interest which the people took in the safety and welfare of the Princess had been strongly displayed in the universal satisfaction which was expressed at her providential escape from being wounded, if not killed, in consequence of some boys shooting at birds near the temporary residence of the Duke at Sidmouth. Some of the shots penetrated the window of the nursery, and passed very near the child’s head. This universal interest became yet deeper, when, after the lapse of two or three years, both of the daughters of the Duke of Clarence having died, and there being no probability of any issue in the line of either the Dukes of York or Clarence, she became the eventual successor to the throne, in the event of the deaths of these two elder brothers of her father. It was now learned with delight that she passed through the ordinary maladies of childhood favourably, and that her recovery from them was speedy. The public had ample opportunities afforded them of observing her growing and healthful strength; and all commented with pleasure upon the circumstance that she was not kept secluded from the view and observation of the people, that her rides and walks were generally in public, that she was growing up towards maturity in the sight of the nation, and as the child of the country. It was further a matter of great general rejoicing that those who were selected, even from the earliest period, to surround her person were of the most irreproachable character, and that moral worth was sought for in her preceptors even more than brilliant attainments.
It is especially worthy of notice that the Duke and Duchess of Clarence, their hearts not being made in the slightest degree callous or soured by their own melancholy bereavements and the disappointment of their fondest hopes, formed and displayed for their niece a sincere and warm attachment. They took from the very first the warmest interest in all her vicissitudes and illnesses; and when they became King and Queen their elevated positions only seemed to increase the warmth of their regard, and the copious flow of their practical kindness. It was, therefore, no wonder that when, under Providence, Victoria became Queen she treated the Queen Dowager with most unequivocal respect and esteem, regarding her suggestions with deference, and her wishes with loving compliance.
Spite of many sinister rumours, the Princess grew up strong and vigorous. Her mother was especially careful to fortify her constitution, and so to prepare it to encounter the hard work and manifold anxiety which are the inevitable lot of a British sovereign. Many there were—some of them with ends of their own to gain—who kept prophesying that “the daughter of the Duke of Kent would never attain her legal majority;” or, that “she would never marry;” again, that “she could never become the mother of a family.” Much alarm was caused by these prognostications. For one thing was above all others ardently desired by the nation—that the Duke of Cumberland, who stood next in succession after the Princess, should never become King of England. Even if he had not been an object of something more than suspicion, it was universally desired that England should never again (after King William’s death) be united with Hanover under one monarch. But as facts became known by degrees about the Princess, as her healthy face and agile frame became familiar in London, and in many parts of the land, the apprehensions died away, and the “frail, delicate, sickly child,” whose fabricated ailments had been made the subject of so much sham sympathy, was looked upon as a fabulous invention.
LEARNING TO READ.