I had read other biographies of British monarchs by Carolly Erickson, so I had high expectations for the quality of the research and the writing in Her Little Majesty. I was not the least bit disappointed. What I was also expecting, however, was to finish reading this book with a clear understanding of what made Queen Victoria great: how she balanced marriage and motherhood with the demands of politics and statecraft; how she managed, as such a physically small woman, to rule such a large empire for such a long time; how she endured so much criticism and ridicule to end her reign with such public popularity and endearment. I these areas, I’m still a little confused.
On the surface, the life of Queen Victoria seems like one of opulent privilege and indulgence. She seemed to lack nothing, but still had a great deal to complain about and much to lose her temper over. She did, however, manage to earn the respect of many statesmen with her knowledge of the situation of Europe and her grasp of politics. It was somewhat difficult for me to tell from this particular account, however, exactly how she did earn that respect.
Victoria’s childhood was really pretty nightmarish, with her mother and her mother’s financial advisor (probably really a con man) selfishly manipulating her life for their own personal gains. She was only eighteen years old when she became queen. Most of her life after that seems to be characterized by obsessive, and often unwise, attachment to one person or another, dramatic displays of temper, and constant struggles against various emotional burdens. She absolutely hated not getting her own way and couldn’t stand it when anyone, especially one of her nine children, did not do everything exactly how she wanted them to.
Something that completely baffled me, and disappointed me as well, was that Queen Victoria agreed with the sentiment of her time that characterized women as inferior to men. She seemed to believe that she was not cut out for her inherited job, not because it was extremely complicated, or because she had nine children, or because she was kind of a drama queen, but because a man would be better for it than a woman. I was hoping that she had had more strength, perhaps even more of a chip on her shoulder, trying to prove that she could do what no one thought women could do.
So, I was mostly through the book and I still didn’t understand why Queen Victoria was “great.” Then, I came to a particularly informative passage about the celebration of her Diamond Jubilee (sixty years of rule). This is not only a great example of Erickson’s high-quality, engaging prose, but also a demonstration of the most positive answer to the question, “But, what have you done for me lately?” that I have ever seen.
The frail, child-sized figure in her carriage was the focus of all eyes, the tender object of all hearts. No one in the crowd now thought of the dark years when the queen had been criticized for hiding herself away, or ridiculed for clinging to John Brown, or scoffed at as a quaint, naïve relic of the past in an increasingly sophisticated world. Instead the overwhelming feeling was a desire to cherish the precious sovereign who represented tradition, stability, worldwide authority. Victoria was the crown. Victoria was the empire. Victoria was the royal family. Victoria was Britain, her glory Britain’s glory, her endurance Britain’s triumphant durability in a world of change.
Huh. Well, in this era of too many people who are famous simply for being famous, I suppose I’m pretty content that Victoria, Queen of Great Britain and Ireland, Empress of India, has been remembered well for something of more significant substance, at least on a sentimental level. She represented the end of an age, whether anyone likes to admit it or not. Nothing has been quite the same since she’s been gone.
A Year of Books I Should Have Read By Now
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