On a whim, I decided
to visit the Kensington Palace, the former residence of Queen Victoria.
Even though I know very little about British
history, I figured I’d take a peek inside.
I usually associate British aristocracy with haughty etiquette, puffy
clothes, and numbing boredom. But this
exhibit illuminated the human qualities of the kings and queens.
George I spent a lot
of time in Hanover in the German territories, so when he became king of England
he wasn’t very well versed in the English language. Given these circumstances, his coronation
seems very far-fetched to me.
Personally, I would’ve thought him under-qualified for the job. How can you rule the people if you have
difficulty understanding them? I could
not imagine voting for a president with a deficiency in the local tongue. I would worry that he would sign documents he
could not confidently decipher.
But, of course, the
English citizens didn’t elect their leaders back then. If your superior died and you were next in
line, you got the job. Apparently, a lot
of these kings and queens of European nations were related or were at least
good chums. That doesn’t seem fair. I bet the poor and middle-class citizens had
very little say in how their countries were run. I understand now why certain Europeans
settled in America while the rest tried to behead their rulers.
When George I came
over from Germany, he thought the Kensington Palace was drab, so he hired
artists to create this marvelous staircase with portraits of himself and his
friends having a jolly time. Aside from
this narcissistic contribution, the rest of George’s efforts did not interest
me.
However, I found the
exhibit on Queen Victoria to be very enlightening. When she was a child, she had very few
friends, and often her toys were her only company. One room of the palace was devoted to her old
playthings. There was an old trunk
filled with trains and basic amusements.
Whenever Victoria met Albert, who would later become king, she blossomed
and found meaning in her life. Her diary
entries were written everywhere in the palace-turned-museum: on the walls, on the mirrors, on the carpets. She wrote that she hadn’t intended on marrying
at such a young age, but she changed her mind after she met Albert. Victoria struck me as a clingy, yet appreciative
woman. She didn’t have many close companions
growing up, so she held on tightly to those she loved.
She had many children
with her husband. When I think of queens,
I think of them as the mothers of their countries. Monarchs have such a demanding job of maintaining
the nation’s sovereignty that I suspect they rely on nannies to raise the kids.
But Victoria did her best to perform both
jobs. She said that to be a mother to her
children, a loving wife to her husband, and the queen of a nation took all the strength
one could muster.
When her husband Albert
passed away, Victoria isolated herself. She
grieved for a very long time, but she was criticized for stepping out of the public
eye. To have a private life, for her, was
impossible.
I didn’t really care
to see the lavish ballrooms and the gigantic closets filled with whale-boned dresses.
Those are the kinds of dresses in which women
must turn sideways to fit through doorways. I guess British aristocrats had to guess at a woman’s
figure should he desire a mate at a royal ball. Those displays of wealth are off-putting.
Instead, I was intrigued by the human elements
of the Kensington Palace. The exhibit offered
intimate glimpses into royal personalities. The prim-and-proper façade dissolved. Kings and queens became ordinary people.
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