Bronte’s comment as the royal carriage and six flashed by her, making her wait on the pavement for a moment, and interrupting the train of her reflections.  Victoria was in high spirits, and even succeeded in instilling a little cheerfulness into her uncle’s sombre Court.  King Leopold, indeed, was perfectly contented.  His dearest hopes had been fulfilled; all his ambitions were satisfied; and for the rest of his life he had only to enjoy, in undisturbed decorum, his throne, his respectability, the table of precedence, and the punctual discharge of his irksome duties.  But unfortunately the felicity of those who surrounded him was less complete.  His Court, it was murmured, was as gloomy as a conventicle, and the most dismal of all the sufferers was his wife.  “Pas de plaisanteries, madame!” he had exclaimed to the unfortunate successor of the Princess Charlotte, when, in the early days of their marriage, she had attempted a feeble joke.  Did she not understand that the consort of a constitutional sovereign must not be frivolous?  She understood, at last, only too well; and when the startled walls of the state apartments re-echoed to the chattering and the laughter of Victoria, the poor lady found that she had almost forgotten how to smile.

Another year, Germany was visited, and Albert displayed the beauties of his home.  When Victoria crossed the frontier, she was much excited—­and she was astonished as well.  “To hear the people speak German,” she noted in her diary, “and to see the German soldiers, etc., seemed to me so singular.”  Having recovered from this slight shock, she found the country charming.  She was feted everywhere, crowds of the surrounding royalties swooped down to welcome her, and the prettiest groups of peasant children, dressed in their best clothes, presented her with bunches of flowers.  The principality of Coburg, with its romantic scenery and its well-behaved inhabitants, particularly delighted her; and when she woke up one morning to find herself in “dear Rosenau, my Albert’s birthplace,” it was “like a beautiful dream.”  On her return home, she expatiated, in a letter to King Leopold, upon the pleasures of the trip, dwelling especially upon the intensity of her affection for Albert’s native land.  “I have a feeling,” she said, “for our dear little Germany, which I cannot describe.  I felt it at Rosenau so much.  It is a something which touches me, and which goes to my heart, and makes me inclined to cry.  I never felt at any other place that sort of pensive pleasure and peace which I felt there.  I fear I almost like it too much.”

V