healthy child had failed, and, though the Queen was still quite young, the King was in declining health. It was now clear to William IV that he must make an effort to reach out to his niece Victoria and bring her back into the fold of the English royal family. He had some small initial successes, but, to his anger and sorrow, proved incapable of breaking Sir John Conroy’s hold over the Duchess of Kent and the duchess’s hold over her daughter.
Protocol demanded that a lady of the highest nobility should become Victoria’s governess, and the King appointed his friend the Duchess of Northumberland. The King also appointed James Clark as Victoria’s personal physician, and the earnest young Scottish doctor quickly earned the princess’s trust and friendship. Seconded by King Leopold, William IV was able to prevent Sir John Conroy from getting rid of Baroness Lehzen. Sir John now recognized Lehzen as hostile to the duchess’s interests.
Despite this change of personnel at the palace, the Kensington System remained intact and became increasingly rigid as Conroy and the duchess felt themselves under attack. The two made sure that the princess was never able to speak privately with her new governess or any of her tutors. When the Duchess of Northumberland attempted to take an active part in Victoria’s education, Victoria’s mother had the temerity to dismiss her. The King was reduced to fuming impotently.
In 1834, to combat the influence of Lehzen, Conroy brought an ally into Kensington Palace. Lady Flora Hastings, an unmarried lady from an aristocratic Tory family some twelve years older than the princess, becameVictoria’s lady-in-waiting. Lady Flora had fallen under Conroy’s spell, and she was happy to act as Conroy’s spy. Victoria detested her from the outset but was powerless to block the appointment. As she stoically recorded in her diary Lady Flora or Miss Victoire Conroy Sir John’s oldest daughter, or both were with her every minute of the day, at home or away.
Life at Kensington Palace was not all gloom for the teenaged princess. Riding, music, drawing, and painting watercolors were sanctioned activities, and she enjoyed them all. Victoria loved her horses, extolling the merits of each in her journal, and her equestrian prowess was admired when she rode out with her party in Hyde Park. Her greatest moments of freedom came when she was galloping her horse and outdistanced her escort.
Music was an important part of Victoria’s heritage from the Hanoverian as well as the Coburg side, and she was an accomplished amateur pianist and singer. Opera was a passion with her, and in her sixteenth year, she was overjoyed to begin singing lessons with the world-renowned bass Luigi Lablache. He was an exuberant Neapolitan who was funny and treated the princess like a fellow musician. She wished she could have a singing lesson every day. The Duchess of Kent had a fondness for drama, so her daughter was often to be seen at London theaters, leaning eagerly out from her box to follow the action. When she returned home from a play or an opera, Victoria, who had been taught to draw by competent professionals, would try to capture the moments of delight by sketching the performers from memory.
Victoria’s mother’s most thoughtful birthday present came on May 19, 1835. A private concert was arranged for the princess’s sixteenth birthday at which four of the greatest singers of the day—Lablache, Antonio Tamburini, Giulia Grisi, and Maria Malibran—sang selections from various operas. Victoria had learned much of the vocal material and was already a connoisseur of operatic singing. She knew what an immense treat she had been given. Her diary entry for the day ends with the exuberant: “I was
most exceedingly
delighted.”
But such moments of delight were rare. The invisible net around the Princess Victoria tightened as she grew older, while relations between her mother and the King and Queen deteriorated. As Queen
Protocol demanded that a lady of the highest nobility should become Victoria’s governess, and the King appointed his friend the Duchess of Northumberland. The King also appointed James Clark as Victoria’s personal physician, and the earnest young Scottish doctor quickly earned the princess’s trust and friendship. Seconded by King Leopold, William IV was able to prevent Sir John Conroy from getting rid of Baroness Lehzen. Sir John now recognized Lehzen as hostile to the duchess’s interests.
Despite this change of personnel at the palace, the Kensington System remained intact and became increasingly rigid as Conroy and the duchess felt themselves under attack. The two made sure that the princess was never able to speak privately with her new governess or any of her tutors. When the Duchess of Northumberland attempted to take an active part in Victoria’s education, Victoria’s mother had the temerity to dismiss her. The King was reduced to fuming impotently.
In 1834, to combat the influence of Lehzen, Conroy brought an ally into Kensington Palace. Lady Flora Hastings, an unmarried lady from an aristocratic Tory family some twelve years older than the princess, becameVictoria’s lady-in-waiting. Lady Flora had fallen under Conroy’s spell, and she was happy to act as Conroy’s spy. Victoria detested her from the outset but was powerless to block the appointment. As she stoically recorded in her diary Lady Flora or Miss Victoire Conroy Sir John’s oldest daughter, or both were with her every minute of the day, at home or away.
Life at Kensington Palace was not all gloom for the teenaged princess. Riding, music, drawing, and painting watercolors were sanctioned activities, and she enjoyed them all. Victoria loved her horses, extolling the merits of each in her journal, and her equestrian prowess was admired when she rode out with her party in Hyde Park. Her greatest moments of freedom came when she was galloping her horse and outdistanced her escort.
Music was an important part of Victoria’s heritage from the Hanoverian as well as the Coburg side, and she was an accomplished amateur pianist and singer. Opera was a passion with her, and in her sixteenth year, she was overjoyed to begin singing lessons with the world-renowned bass Luigi Lablache. He was an exuberant Neapolitan who was funny and treated the princess like a fellow musician. She wished she could have a singing lesson every day. The Duchess of Kent had a fondness for drama, so her daughter was often to be seen at London theaters, leaning eagerly out from her box to follow the action. When she returned home from a play or an opera, Victoria, who had been taught to draw by competent professionals, would try to capture the moments of delight by sketching the performers from memory.
Victoria’s mother’s most thoughtful birthday present came on May 19, 1835. A private concert was arranged for the princess’s sixteenth birthday at which four of the greatest singers of the day—Lablache, Antonio Tamburini, Giulia Grisi, and Maria Malibran—sang selections from various operas. Victoria had learned much of the vocal material and was already a connoisseur of operatic singing. She knew what an immense treat she had been given. Her diary entry for the day ends with the exuberant: “I was
most exceedingly
delighted.”
But such moments of delight were rare. The invisible net around the Princess Victoria tightened as she grew older, while relations between her mother and the King and Queen deteriorated. As Queen
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