Life of Her Most Gracious Majesty Queen Victoria, vol 1 | Page 9

Canterbury and the Bishop
of London officiated, as they had done the year before at the
re-marriage of the Duke and Duchess. The godfathers were the Prince
Regent, present in person, and Alexander, Emperor of Russia, then at
the height of his popularity in England, represented by the Duke of
York. The godmothers were the Queen-dowager of Wurtemberg (the
Princess Royal), represented by Princess Augusta, and the
Duchess-dowager of Coburg (mother of the Duchess of Kent, and
grandmother of both the Queen and the Prince Consort), represented by
the Duchess of Gloucester (Princess Mary).
It is said there had been a proposal to name the little princess Georgiana
also, after her grandfather and uncle, George III. and George, Prince
Regent; but the idea was dropped because the latter would not permit
his name to stand second on the list.
Among the other privileged guests at the christening was Prince
Leopold, destined to be the child's second father, one of her kindest and
wisest friends. It is not difficult to comprehend what the scene must
have been to the young man whose cup had been so full two years
before, who was how a widower and childless. We have his own
reference to his feelings in a letter to one of the late Princess Charlotte's
friends. It had been hard for him to be present, but he had felt it to be
his duty, and he had made the effort. This was a man who was always
facing what was hard, always struggling and overcoming in the name
of right. The consequence was that, even in his youth, all connected
with him turned to him as to a natural stay. We have a still better idea
of what the victory cost him when we read, in the "Life of the Prince
Consort," it was not till a great misfortune happened to her that Prince
Leopold "had the courage to look into the blooming face of his infant
niece." With what manly pity and tenderness he overcame his
reluctance, and how he was rewarded, we all know.
In December, 1819, the Duke and Duchess of Kent went for sea-air to
Woolbrook Cottage, Sidmouth, Devonshire.

The first baby is always of consequence in a household, but of how
much consequence this baby was may be gleaned by the circumstance
that a startling little incident concerning the child made sufficient mark
to survive and be registered by a future chronicler. A boy shooting
sparrows fired unwittingly so near the house that the shot shattered one
of the windows of the nursery, and passed close to the head of the child
in the nurse's arms. Precious baby-head, that was one day to wear, with
honour, a venerable crown, to be thus lightly threatened at the very
outset! One can fancy the terror of the nurse, the distress of the
Duchess, the fright and ire of the Duke, the horror and humiliation of
the unhappy offender, with the gradual cooling down into
magnanimous amnesty--or at most dignified rebuke, mollified by
penitent tears into reassuring kindness, and just a little quiver of
half-affronted, half-nervous laughter.
But there was no more room for laughter at false alarms at Woolbrook
Cottage. Within a month the Duke was seized with the illness which
ended his life in a few days. The particulars are simple and touching.
He had taken a long walk with his equerry and great friend, Captain
Conroy, and came in heated, tired, and with his feet so wet that his
companion suggested the propriety of immediately changing his boots.
But the baby of whom he was so fond and proud came in his way. She
was eight months old, able to stretch out her little arms and laugh back
to him. He stayed to play with her. In the evening it was evident he had
caught a chill; he was hoarse, and showed symptoms of fever. The
complaint settled at once on his lungs, and ran its course with great
rapidity. We hardly need to be told that the Duchess was his devoted
nurse, concealing her anxiety and grief to minister to him in everything.
There is a pathetic little reference to the last illness of the Duke of Kent
in one of the Princess Hohenlohe's letters to the Queen. This elder sister
(Princess Feodora of Leiningen) was then a little girl of nine or ten
years of age, residing with her mother and stepfather. "Indeed, I well
remember that dreadful time at Sidmouth. I recollect praying on my
knees that God would not let your dear father die. I loved him dearly;
he always was so kind to me."
On the afternoon of the 22nd his case was hopeless, and it became a
question whether he had sufficient consciousness to sign his will. His
old friend, General