Well aware of the system being adopted at Kensington, the Duchess of Clarence wrote to her sister-in-law to advise her against a policy which was attributed - 'rightly or wrongly', she could not judge - to Sir John Conroy, 'a man of merit' but one whose family was 'not of so high a rank that they alone should be the entourage and companions of the future Queen of England'. She must not allow Conroy to exercise 'too much influence over her but keep him in his place'. The Duchess of Kent, a willing accomplice in the 'system', paid no attention.6
As well as being separated from the Royal Family, the Princess must also be shielded from any English lady who might have undesirable connections and friends; and Baroness Lehzen, being German, and 'entirely dependent' upon the Duchess, happily had none of these. The Princess must also, like her mother, 'acquire popularity and a wide following', clearly distinguishing her from all her dissolute relations.
Fortunately, though little was known about her, the glimpses which the public were permitted to see had already created a favourable impression of Princess Victoria. She had been seen riding her white donkey in Kensington Gardens with 'an old soldier, a former retainer of her father's, leading her bridle rein', 'riding in a pony chaise over the gravel walks, led by a page', and walking along the paths there followed by a very tall footman looking like 'a gigantic fairy'.7 Lord Albemarle, a member of the Duke of Sussex's household, had watched from a window of the Palace 'a bright, pretty little girl' in a large white hat 'impartially' dividing the contents of a watering can 'between the flowers and her own little feet'.8 Charles Knight, the publisher, also caught a glimpse of her one day having breakfast with her mother on the lawn outside Kensington Palace and running off to pick a flower in the adjoining meadow. 'I passed on,' Knight wrote, 'and blessed her.'9
Charles Greville saw her at a children's ball, given by the King and attended by the ten-year-old Queen of Portugal, and he thought that 'our little Princess' was a 'short, vulgar-looking child, and not near so good-looking as the Portuguese'.10 But this was not a characteristic verdict. Most of those few people who came across her were more likely to share the opinion of Lady Wharncliffe, who was invited to dinner at Kensington where the Princess was occasionally allowed down from her bedroom to sit at the table, eating her 'bread and milk out of a small silver basin'. Lady Wharncliffe was delighted with 'our little future Queen'.
She is very much grown, though short for her age [she wrote],has a nice countenance and distingue figure, tho' not very good; and her manner the most perfect mixture of childishness and civility I ever saw. She is born a Princess without the least appearance of art or affectation ... When she went to bed we all stood up and after kissing Aunt Sophia, she curtsied, first to one side, and then the other, to all the Ladies, and then walked off with her governess. She is really very accomplished by taste, being very fond both of music and drawing, but fondest of all of her dolls. In short I look to her to save us from Democracy, for it is impossible she should not be popular when she is older and more seen.11
The Duke of Wellington's friend, Harriet Arbuthnot, was equally taken with the little girl, 'the most charming child' she ever saw. 'She is a fine, beautifully made, handsome creature,' Mrs Arbuthnot continued, 'quite playful & childish [she was nearly nine], playing with her dolls and in high spirits, but civil & well bred & Princess-like to the greatest degree.'12 She was graceful in her movements and walked with a regal air, an accomplishment attributed to her having had to submit on occasions to a bunch of prickly holly pinned to the front of her dress to keep her head up.
It was not until she was nearly eleven years old that the Princess learned how near she was to the throne. Of course, she knew that she was an honoured little personage. Servants behaved to her with noticeable deference; when she was out walking, gentlemen touched or raised their hats to her. She herself once told a child who put a hand out to play with her toys, 'You must not touch those, they are mine. And I may call you Jane but you must not call me Victoria.' According to Baroness Lehzen, a few days after her charge had been cross-examined by the Bishops of London and Lincoln, and having discussed the matter with the Duchess of Kent, the Baroness placed a genealogical table into one of the Princess's history books. 'I never saw that before,' Victoria said; and, after examining the table, she commented, 'I see I am nearer to the throne than I thought. '13 She then burst into tears. Lehzen reminded her that Aunt Adelaide was still young and might yet have children and, of course, if she did, it was they who would ascend the throne after their father died.
A few weeks later, on 26 June 1830, King George IV died at Windsor Castle and the short reign of King William IV began.
Chapter 5
PROGRESSES
'When one arrives at any nobleman's seat, one must instantly dress for dinner and consequently I could never rest properly.'
When she was two years old, Princess Victoria had received a letter from her 'truly affectionate Aunt', the Duchess of Clarence, in which the Duchess referred to her as 'my dear little Heart'; and, when she lost her second baby daughter, she wrote to the Duchess of Kent to say 'My children are dead, but yours lives and She is mine too.'1
A good-natured, unselfish and religious woman, almost thirty years younger than her husband, she was quite sincere in expressing these sentiments, and upon his accession to the throne she was as kind to her little niece as ever, doing all she could to persuade her guardians at Kensington to allow her to appear at Court. Her husband also strongly expressed his wish to see her there.
On becoming King, William, as good-natured as his wife, 'began immediately to do good-natured things'. He clearly loved being a king; and, excited by his rank, he strode about the London streets, nodding cheerfully to right and left, relishing his popularity. Expressing a general opinion, Charles Greville said that he was 'a kind-hearted, well-meaning ... bustling old fellow [sixty-five years of age] and, if he doesn't go mad, may make a very decent King.' Contrasting his gregarious familiarity with the seclusion in which his predecessor had chosen to spend the last years of his life, the Duke of Wellington, the Prime Minister, told Dorothea Lieven that this was not so much a new reign; it was 'a new dynasty'. At Kensington Palace, however, the new reign had no effect whatsoever upon the 'system' practised there. Sir John Conroy remained as the Duchess of Kent's Comptroller, organizing the household and all the particularities of its life, telling the Duchess to report to him upon 'everything' that happened to the Princess down to the 'smallest and insignificant detail'. As soon as he heard of King George IV's death, Conroy wrote a letter which, signed by the Duchess, was sent to the Duke of Wellington for onward transmission to King William IV. This letter, referring to Princess Victoria as now being 'more than Heiress Presumptive' to the throne, required the appointment of the Duchess as Regent 'without any interference whatsoever'. It also required the appointment of an English lady of rank to be appointed governess to the Princess, superseding Baroness Lehzen, and requested the recognition of the Duchess as Dowager Princess of Wales with an increased allowance for her in her new position in the kingdom.
Dismayed by both the tone and the contents of this importunate letter, Wellington replied that he earnestly entreated her Royal Highness to allow him to consider it as 'a Private and Confidential Communication; or rather as never having been written'.2 Angered by this rebuff, the Duchess, advised by Conroy, immediately returned a sharp reply, contending that she would find it irksome to be Regent but that she owed it to her conscience for her daughter's sake to undertake the duty. Wellington answered her letter in a mollifying tone but thought it as well to offer a guarded warning by urging her Royal Highness 'not to allow any Person' to persuade her to entertain the idea that there was any 'Party or Individual of influence in the Country' who wished to injure the interests of the Duchess and her daughter. Deeply offended by this reference to her Comptroller, the Duchess declined to see the Duke when he proposed to bring her a draft of a Regency Bill, telling him to communicate with Sir John Conroy, and refusing to talk t
o him for 'a long time after'.3 The Regency Bill, introduced by the Lord Chancellor in Lord Grey's government which succeeded Wellington's in November 1830, did, however, provide for her appointment as sole Regent in the event of King William dying before her daughter reached the age of eighteen, the House of Commons recoiling in horror from the thought that the dreadful Duke of Cumberland might otherwise lay claim to share the appointment with her. When she was told of Parliament's decision, the Duchess, reduced to tears, said that it gave her more pleasure than anything else had done since the death of her husband.4
Yet the settlement of the Regency question, and the appointment of the Duchess of Northumberland as the Princess's English Governess, did nothing to improve relations between the Duchess of Kent and the Court which were also soured not only by the Duchess's attitude towards the King's illegitimate children but also by political differences; the King and Queen Adelaide both being strong Tories and known to be opposed to the Reform Bill which Lord Grey was endeavouring to push through Parliament; the Duchess of Kent, following her late husband's example, being as committed a Whig, and welcoming Whigs and reformers to Kensington Palace.
The family quarrel was exacerbated when the King proposed that the Princess's name of Victoria should be changed for an English one. Since Victoria had been named after herself, the Duchess naturally was upset by this request; but since the two names, Alexandrina and Victoria, her daughter bore had not been chosen by her but had been forced upon her by the late King, and since she was ready to concede that both, being foreign, were 'not suited to our national feeling', she agreed that they might be 'laid aside'. Soon afterwards, however, she changed her mind and much annoyed the King, who, persisting in his objection to Victoria as a name 'never known heretofore as a Christian name in this country', proposed Elizabeth instead. The Duchess declined to consider it.5
Then there was trouble over Princess Victoria's appearances at Court, which the King and Queen wished were more frequent and which the Duchess and Conroy wanted to be 'as few as possible'.[iii]
One reason which the Duchess persistently gave for keeping her daughter away from Court as much as possible was the presence of the King's bastard children, the FitzClarences, who moved into Windsor Castle, one after the other, until it was 'quite full with toute la bdtardise'.6 Queen Adelaide raised no objection at all to this, but not so the Duchess of Kent. She insisted that nothing would induce her to allow her daughter to mix freely with the offspring of such a shameful relationship. 'I never did, neither will I ever, associate Victoria in any way with the illegitimate members of the Royal Family,' she told the Duchess of Northumberland. 'Did I not keep this line, how would it be possible to teach Victoria the difference between vice and virtue?'7
Quarrels over Princess Victoria's attendances at Court were followed by a dispute over the Princess's style as Royal Highness, the word Royal having been omitted in a message to Parliament from the King concerning a proposed increased allowance of £6,000 for the Duchess. Then there was trouble over the Princess's precedence at the coronation, the King declaring that she must follow his brothers in the procession through Westminster Abbey, the Duchess insisting that she follow immediately after the King. When the King stood firm, the Duchess declared that, in that case, the Princess would not attend the coronation at all - maintaining that she could not afford the expense and that, in any case, the child's health made her attendance out of the question. The Princess, who had not been consulted, cried bitterly. 'Nothing could console me,' she said, 'not even my dolls.'8 She would have loved to go, she said: it would have been a special treat like her rare visits to Windsor, even though, being well aware of how much her mother disapproved of them, she was sometimes so nervous in the King's presence on these visits that he once complained of her stony stares. 'I was very much pleased there,' she wrote of one such visit, 'as both my Uncle and Aunt are so very kind to me.' She felt nothing but 'affectionate gratitude' to the King whose wish it was that 'she should be duly prepared for the duties' which she was destined to perform.9
Kept apart from the King and Queen for months on end, with her uncle Leopold preoccupied with affairs in Belgium and with her half-sister, Feodora, now living in Germany, the Princess was more and more isolated at Kensington where she felt increasingly defenceless against the rule of Conroy so unquestioningly supported by her mother. Baroness Spath, who had presumed to question the 'Kensington System' and was believed to indulge the Princess unduly, had been dismissed after having been in the Duchess's service for a quarter of a century. It was decided that the time would also soon come to get rid of the Duchess of Northumberland who was not sufficiently subservient to Conroy's rule. At the same time an extra lady-in-waiting was appointed to the Duchess of Kent's household in the person of Lady Flora Hastings, daughter of the first Marquess of Hastings.
In the meantime steps were being taken to bring about the removal, or at least to lessen the influence, of Baroness Lehzen who was treated so rudely that it was hoped she would resign. This merely resulted in Princess Victoria becoming more attached than ever to Lehzen. 'I can never sufficiently repay her for all she has borne and done for me,' she wrote. 'She is the most affectionate, devoted, attached and disinterested friend that I have.' She was, the Princess added later, 'my ANGELIC dearest mother Lehzen, who I do so love'. It could not but give grim satisfaction to the Princess, as well as embarrass her, when the King, who warmly supported Lehzen, dismissed Conroy from the Chapel Royal -where his niece, looking so demure in a white lace dress and rose-trimmed bonnet, was about to be confirmed - on the grounds that the Duchess's retinue was too large. Upon her return to the Palace, upset as much by the Archbishop of Canterbury's admonitory sermon as by the stuffiness of the Chapel on that hot July day and by her mother's anger at the King's behaviour, she burst into tears.
On this day, 30 July 1835, Princess Victoria received a firm letter from her mother telling her that her relationship with Lehzen must now change: the Baroness was to be treated with more formality, less intimate affection. Dignity and friendly manners were 'quite compatible'. 'Until you are at the age of 18 or 21 years,' the Duchess added, 'you are still confided to the guidance of your affectionate mother and friend. '10
Nothing about the Duchess of Kent's behaviour exasperated King William more than what he termed the 'Royal Progresses' upon which she and Conroy took Princess Victoria so as to make her better known to the people over whom she was destined to rule and to introduce her to the leading families in the counties through which she passed.
The first of these journeys was undertaken in the summer and autumn of 1830 when the Duchess and Sir John Conroy and, as an unwanted companion for the Princess, Conroy's daughter Victoire, drove to Holly-mount in the Malvern hills, calling on the way at Stratford-on-Avon, Kenilworth and Warwick, and paying a visit to the Duke and Duchess of Marlborough at Blenheim Palace. They also went to Earl Beauchamp's house, Madresfield Court, Malvern and to the Duke of Beaufort's Badmin ton House. They visited Hereford, Gloucester and Stonehenge; at Bath on 23 October the Princess opened the Royal Victoria Park; at Worcester she was taken round the porcelain works.
There was another tour two years later when, in the summer of 1832, the Princess and her incompatible entourage set off for north Wales by way of the Midland counties. With the utmost annoyance, the King read of these 'disgusting parades', of the vociferous welcome accorded to his niece, of the bands and choirs, of the loyal addresses delivered and graciously accepted, the decorated triumphal arches, the salutes of cannon from the walls of castles, the flags and flowers, the cheering crowds, the escorts of regiments of yeomanry, the presentation of medals. Drawn by grey horses, caparisoned with ribbons and artificial flowers, the post-boys wearing conspicuous pink silk jackets and black hats, the royal party - 'the Conroyal party' as the disapproving called it - passed through Welshpool to Powis Castle and Caernarvon, then on to Plas Newydd on the island of Anglesey, home of the first Marquess of Anglesey, the one-legged cavalry commander,
who had offered them the use of it. They returned by way of Eaton Hall in Cheshire, home of Lord Grosvenor, calling at Chester, where the Princess opened the Victoria Bridge spanning the river Dee, on their way to the Devonshires at Chatsworth where the Princess played her first game of charades and enjoyed her first tableaux vivants.
From Chatsworth they drove to the Earl of Shrewsbury at Alton Towers and then to Pitchford in Lancashire, seat of the Earl of Liverpool, half-brother of the former Prime Minister, whose daughter, Lady Catherine Jenkinson, a young woman of whom the Princess was fond, had been appointed lady-in-waiting to the Duchess of Kent two years before.
QUEEN VICTORIA A Personal History Page 4