WHENEVER life is difficult, if there seem too many dull duties to perform, or if Bertie is up to his old tricks, I think back to that night when I was floating on a sea of dreams. I was alone, buoyed by the sweet kindness of the world, and to recall it now covers me with a blanket of pleasure that protects me from any unhappiness. There was no ground beneath my feet then, only unseen currents to pull me from my happy childhood and into womanhood as partner to a charming prince. Good will was everywhere from the start, and the reception along the way had been enthusiastic. Mor wondered if it was dignified to smile so much, the girls waved calmly, practising for the time they would be queens, and Far, though secretly delighted, maintained his military bearing, and with a wink said, They are cheering because you are not German. Our royal yacht took us from Copenhagen to Kiel, then we went by train to meet old Uncle Leopold, who gave me the bridal gown of Brussels lace that was worth more than every outfit my family had ever bought (though I would be unable to wear it because it was “foreign” made). Then to Antwerp, where people filled the square outside the palace, cheering and waving their flags. Finally our party boarded the gleaming black royal yacht, twice as big as ours, with flags and pennants everywhere on her three tall masts that were topped with the prince’s royal standard and the red and white of Denmark. Sailors, like white mice, scurried up and down the rigging and everyone was at our disposal, though the crew never spoke, communicating with each either in signs, so as not to disturb us. I had the queen’s suite of maple and chintz, with a huge bed all to myself, though Dagmar and Thyra, who were just as excited as I was, wanted to share it. They bounced on the quilted cover, and Dagmar, recalling the tales that Mr Christian Anderson had read to us as children, swore she could feel a pea beneath the mattress. And so we sailed from Antwerp, from the continent, and as we left the river and moved into the sea, British warships gathered around us like brave men come to escort fair ladies to a dance. Their many coloured flags didn’t make them seem war-like at all. The sea stretched before us, calm as a carpet, and the paddle wheels turned at a leisurely pace, as they might have done among the islands of Copenhagen. That night we went quietly to bed, and we sailed through the next day, past herring boats and sailing barges becalmed on the sea. By the second evening we could all feel the pull of the Thames, of London, gathering us nearer. After dinner, the captain instructed the lamps to be dimmed. The dining room had windows all around, and as the room darkened, so lights flared on all quarters. Lanterns had been lit on every warship, and some of these spelled out the letter “A”. My initial fell on the black water, rushing towards me like so many arrows, all attention heading my way. Then the fireworks began, and somewhere a brass band played. It was as if the whole German Sea had risen up to greet me. Not just from its four corners, but from its past, through a score of brides who had begun a new adventure crossing this moat for convenience, alliances and love. A steward brought around glasses of Champagne, and though it was February, Dagmar and Thyra insisted on going on deck, but Mor said I should stay indoors as I was recovering from a cold. Far went with my little sisters and he was quite as excited as they were. After the marriage had been announced on Bertie’s coming of age, I had been to see Far in his study. He was never very convincing when he tried to look serious, frowning repeatedly, twirling his whiskers and trying to sound stern, as if he bore all the great weight of the state upon his shoulders, as one day he would. He tapped his right hand impatiently on the leather desktop and asked: Do you love the boy? I said, Oh yes, Far. He is handsome and kind, and he can make me laugh. Far continued to twirl his moustaches as he considered my answer, then he said, There are many handsome and jovial young men in the world, yet you have to go and pick the richest young prince of the greatest empire the western world has ever seen… He could not help it and neither could I. We both fell to laughter, and as I flung my arms around him he had given a kind of whoop, like a yacht’s horn. Now the dream was unfolding across the sea, heading for the river that led to the castle where the wedding would take place. If I could choose a moment from my life that would be frozen in time, it would be that night when I climbed between the silk sheets and lay my head on the down pillow. Though I was tired, I could hardly bare to sleep for leaving such a moment of pleasure, of the most exquisite expectation. I had only been asleep for an hour or two when I woke in the dark, and though I was tired I climbed out of the bed into the coldness of the room and went to the window. The water was as black as the sky: in fact there was no telling where one ended and where the other began, or which way up the whole world was. Stars were reflected in the water: there were two quarter moons, two Milky Ways. I was being transported through the heavens and didn't know if I was on my head or my heels. The three battleships kept their distance, their few lights giving them the shape of winged angels, guardians who never slept, who would be standing by me forever. But it was cold and I didn’t stay by the window long. Back in bed, I pulled the blankets over me, shivered with blissfulness, and fell asleep. When a boom of guns woke me, I wasn’t sure what I had dreamed and what had been real. My maid and Mor were soon fussing to have me dressed as a boat full of dignataries was heading out from Margate to welcome us to Her Majesty’s Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland. That was just the beginning. As we progressed up the estuary the flotillas of small boats, fireworks, flags and gunfire from the shore batteries increased. It was hard to concentrate on breakfast. Mor said: All of London must be here. Far said: Somebody has paid a thousand pounds to hire a place in London just to watch you drive by. Dagmar said: I’m dying to meet Bertie, I hope he doesn’t keep us waiting. My prince was coming down from London by train to greet us at Gravesend, where in due course I would step ashore and be received as no one had ever been received before, with so many cheers, with bouquets and poems and music composed for the occasion. But I was not nervous. The night on the water had left me serene and composed. When Bertie arrived at the pier, looking as radiant and happy as I felt, he almost ran up the gangway and into the lounge. We kissed as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Which it was. What else did I know? I was eighteen years old and I was in love.
No comments:
Post a Comment