of her life, would have been completely changed.

And why should they not last? She, for one, was very anxious that they
should. Let them last for ever! She was surrounded by Whigs, she was
free to do whatever she wanted, she had Lord M.; she could not believe
that she could ever be happier. Any change would be for the worse; and
the worst change of all... no, she would not hear of it; it would be
quite intolerable, it would upset everything, if she were to marry. And
yet everyone seemed to want her to--the general public, the Ministers,
her Saxe-Coburg relations--it was always the same story. Of course, she
knew very well that there were excellent reasons for it. For one thing,
if she remained childless, and were to die, her uncle Cumberland, who
was now the King of Hanover, would succeed to the Throne of England.
That, no doubt, would be a most unpleasant event; and she entirely
sympathised with everybody who wished to avoid it. But there was no
hurry; naturally, she would marry in the end--but not just yet--not for
three or four years. What was tiresome was that her uncle Leopold had
apparently determined, not only that she ought to marry, but that her
cousin Albert ought to be her husband. That was very like her uncle
Leopold, who wanted to have a finger in every pie; and it was true that
long ago, in far-off days, before her accession even, she had written to
him in a way which might well have encouraged him in such a notion. She
had told him then that Albert possessed "every quality that could be
desired to render her perfectly happy," and had begged her "dearest
uncle to take care of the health of one, now so dear to me, and to take
him under your special protection," adding, "I hope and trust all will
go on prosperously and well on this subject of so much importance to
me." But that had been years ago, when she was a mere child; perhaps,
indeed, to judge from the language, the letter had been dictated by
Lehzen; at any rate, her feelings, and all the circumstances, had now
entirely changed. Albert hardly interested her at all.

In later life the Queen declared that she had never for a moment dreamt
of marrying anyone but her cousin; her letters and diaries tell a very
different story. On August 26, 1837, she wrote in her journal: "To-day
is my dearest cousin Albert's 18th birthday, and I pray Heaven to pour
its choicest blessings on his beloved head!" In the subsequent years,
however, the date passes unnoticed.