"There is no one near me to call me 'Victoria' now!" is said to have been
the desolate cry of the Queen, when, on waking from that first sleep, the
cruel morning light, smote upon her with a full consciousness of her
bereavement, and a new sense of her royal isolation. She was on a height
where the storm beat fiercest and there was the least shelter. Her sacred
grief was the business of the world;--she could not long shut herself up
with it, and fold her hands in "blameless idleness"; but as the widowed
mother and housekeeper in humble life struggles up from the great stroke,
and staggers on, resolutely driving back the tears which "hinder needle
and thread," and choking down her sobs, to go wearily about her household
tasks,--so Victoria, after a little time, rose trembling to her feet, and
went through with such imperative State duties as could be delegated to
no one. To a near friend, who expressed joy to find her more calm than at
the time of her mother's death, she said simply, "I have had God's
teaching, and learned to bear all He lays upon me."
There is a record by Lord Beaconsfield of her faithful discharge of such
duties a few years later; but what was true of her then, was almost as
true an account of the routine of her official life, during a large part
of the first years of her widowhood.
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