Victoria R.
Footnote 9: The Duchess of Kent died on the 16th of March. She had had a surgical operation in the arm, on account of an abscess, a short time before, but till the 15th the medical reports had been encouraging. On that day the Queen went to Frogmore, and was with her mother at the time of her death.
Queen Victoria to the King of the Belgians.
BEREAVEMENT
Windsor Castle, 26th March 1861.
My dearest Uncle,—Your sad little letter of the 21st reached me on Saturday. On Sunday I took leave of those dearly beloved remains—a dreadful moment; I had never been near a coffin before, but dreadful and heartrending as it was, it was so beautifully arranged that it would have pleased her, and most probably she looked down and blessed us—as we poor sorrowing mortals knelt around, overwhelmed with grief! It was covered with wreaths, and the carpet strewed with sweet, white flowers. I and our daughters did not go yesterday—it would have been far too much for me—and Albert when he returned, with tearful eyes told me it was well I did not go—so affecting had been the sight—so universal the sympathy.
Poor little Arthur went too. I and my girls prayed at home together, and dwelt on her happiness and peace.
But oh! dearest Uncle—the loss—the truth of it—which I cannot, do not realise even when I go (as I do daily) to Frogmore—the blank becomes daily worse!
The constant intercourse of forty-one, years cannot cease without the total want of power of real enjoyment of anything. A sort of cloud which hangs over you, and seems to oppress everything—and a positive weakness in the powers of reflection and mental exertion. The doctors tell me I must not attempt to force this. Long conversation, loud talking, the talking of many people together, I can't bear yet. It must come very gradually....
I try to be, and very often am, quite resigned—but dearest Uncle, this is a life sorrow. On all festive or mournful occasions, on all family events, her love and sympathy will be so fearfully wanting. Then again, except Albert (who I very often don't see but very little in the day), I have no human being except our children, and that is not the same Verhältniss, to open myself to; and besides, a woman requires woman's society and sympathy sometimes, as men do men's. All this, beloved Uncle, will show you that, without dwelling constantly upon it, or moping or becoming morbid, though the blank and the loss to me, in my isolated position especially, is such a dreadful, and such an irreparable one, the worst trials are yet to come. My poor birthday, I can hardly think of it! Strange it is how often little trifles, insignificant in themselves, upset one more even than greater things....