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Life of Her Most Gracious Majesty the Queen, (Victoria) Vol II

S >> Sarah Tytler >> Life of Her Most Gracious Majesty the Queen, (Victoria) Vol II




Lady Lyttelton refers to the Prince's cutting jokes, and the Queen has
written of his abiding cheerfulness. People are apt to forget in their
very admiration of his noble thoughtfulness, earnestness, and
tenderness of heart that he was also full of fun, keenly relishing a
good story, the life of the great royal household.

The Queen had been grieved this summer by hearing of the serious
illness of her greatest friend, the Queen of the Belgians, who was
suffering from the same dangerous disease of which her sister,
Princess Marie, had died. Probably it was with the hope of cheering
King Leopold, and of perhaps getting a glimpse of the much-loved
invalid, that the Queen, after proroguing Parliament in person, sailed
on the 21st of August with the Prince and their four elder children in
the royal yacht on a short trip to Ostend, where the party spent a
day. King Leopold met the visitors--the younger of whom were much
interested by their first experience of a foreign town. The Queen had
the satisfaction of finding her uncle well and pleased to see her, so
that she could call the meeting afterwards a "delightful, happy
dream;" but there was a sorrowful element in the happiness, occasioned
by the absence of Queen Louise, whose strength was not sufficient for
the journey to Ostend, and of whose case Sir James Clark, sent by the
Queen to Laeken, thought badly.

The poor Orleans family had another blow in store for them. On Prince
Albert's thirty-first birthday, the 26th of August, which he passed at
Osborne, news arrived of the death that morning, at Claremont, of
Louis Philippe, late King of the French, in his seventy-seventh year.

The Queen and the Prince had been prepared to start with their elder
children for Scotland the day after they heard of the death, and by
setting out at six o'clock in the morning they were enabled to pay a
passing visit to the house of mourning.

We may be permitted to remark here, by what quiet, unconscious touches
in letters and journals we have brought home to us the dual life, full
of duty and kindliness, led by the highest couple in the land. Whether
it is in going with a family of cousins to take the last look at a
departed kinsman, or in getting up at daybreak to express personal
sympathy with another family in sorrow, we cannot fail to see, while
it is all so simply said and done, that no painful ordeal is shirked,
no excuse is made of weighty tasks and engrossing occupations, to free
either Queen or Prince from the gentle courtesies and tender charities
of everyday humanity; we recognise that the noblest and busiest are
also the bravest, the most faithful, the most full of pity.




CHAPTER XVI.


THE QUEEN'S FIRST STAY AT HOLYROOD--LIFE IN THE HIGHLANDS--THE DEATH
OF THE QUEEN OF THE BELGIANS.

This year the Queen went north by Castle Howard, the fine seat of the
Earl of Carlisle, the Duchess of Sutherland's brother, where her
Majesty made her first halt. After stopping to open the railway
bridges, triumphs of engineering, over the Tyne and the Tweed, the
travellers reached Edinburgh, where, to the gratification of an
immense gathering of her Scotch subjects, her Majesty spent her first
night in Holyrood, the palace of her Stewart ancestors. The place was
full of interest and charm for her, and though it was late in the
afternoon before she arrived, she hardly waited to rest, before
setting out incognito, so far as the old housekeeper was concerned, to
inspect the historical relics of the building. She wandered out with
her "two girls and their governess" to the ruins of the chapel or old
abbey, and stood by the altar at which Mary Stewart, the fair young
French widow, wedded "the long lad Darnley," and read the inscriptions
on the tombs of various members of noble Scotch houses, coming to a
familiar name on the slab which marked the grave of the mother of one
of her own maids of honour, a daughter of Clanranald's.

The Queen then visited Queen Mary's rooms, being shown, like other
strangers, the closet where her ancestress had sat at supper on a
memorable night, and the stair from the chapel up which Ruthven, risen
from a sick-bed, led the conspirators who seized Davie Rizzio, dragged
him from his mistress's knees, to which he clung, and slew him
pitilessly on the boards which, according to old tradition, still bear
the stain of his blood. After that ghastly token, authentic or non-
authentic, which would thrill the hearts of the young princesses as it
has stirred many a youthful imagination, Darnley's armour and Mary's
work-table, with its embroidery worked by her own hand, must have
fallen comparatively flat.

The next morning the Queen and the Prince, with their children, took
their first drive round the beautiful road, then just completed, which
bears her name, and, encircling Arthur's Seat, is the goal of every
stranger visiting Edinburgh, affording as it does in miniature an
excellent idea of Scotch scenery. On this occasion the party alighted
and climbed to the top of the hill, rejoicing in the view. "You see
the beautiful town, with the Calton Hill, and the bay with the island
of Inchkeith stretching out before you, and the Bass Rock quite in the
distance, rising behind the coast.... The view when we gained the
carriage hear Dunsappie Loch, quite a small lake, overhung by a crag,
with the sea in the distance, is extremely pretty.... The air was
delicious."

In the course of the forenoon the Prince laid the foundation stone of
the Scotch National Gallery, and made his first speech (which was an
undoubted success) before one of those Edinburgh audiences, noted for
their fastidiousness and critical faculty. The afternoon drive was by
the beautiful Scott monument, the finest modern ornament of the city,
Donaldson's Hospital, the High Street, and the Canongate, and the
lower part of the Queen's Drive, which encloses the Queen's Park. "A
beautiful park indeed," she wrote, "with such a view, and such
mountain scenery in the midst of it."

In the evening there was assembled such a circle as had not been
gathered in royal old Holyrood since poor Prince Charlie kept brief
state there. Her Majesty wrote in her journal, "The Buccleuchs, the
Roxburghs, the Mortons, Lord Roseberry, Principal Lee, the Belhavens,
and the Lord Justice General, dined with us. Everybody so pleased at
our living at my old palace." The talk seems to have been, as was
fitting, on old times and the unfortunate Queen Mary, the heroine of
Holyrood. Sir Theodore Martin thinks it may have been in remembrance
of this evening that Lord Belhaven, on his death, left a bequest to
the Queen "of a cabinet which had been brought by Queen Mary from
France, and given by her to the Regent Mar, from whom it passed into
the family of Lord Belhaven." The cabinet contains a lock of Queen
Mary's golden hair, and a purse worked by her.

On the following day the royal party left Holyrood and travelled to
Balmoral. The Queen, with the Prince and her children, and the Duchess
of Kent, with her son and grandson, were at the great gala of the
district, the Braemar gathering, where the honour of her Majesty's
presence is always eagerly craved.

Another amusement was the _leistering_, or spearing, of salmon in
the Dee. Captain Forbes of Newe, and from forty to fifty of his clan,
on their return to Strathdon from the Braemar gathering, were
attracted by the fishing to the river's edge, when they were carried
over the water on the backs of the Queen's men, who volunteered the
service, "Macdonald, at their head, carrying Captain Forbes on his
back." The courteous act, which was quite spontaneous, charmed the
Queen and the Prince. The latter in writing to Germany gave further
details of the incident. "Our people in the Highlands are altogether
primitive, true-hearted and without guile.... Yesterday the Forbeses
of Strath Don passed through here. When they came to the Dee our
people (of Strath Dee) offered to carry them across the river, and did
so, whereupon they drank to the health of Victoria and the inmates of
Balmoral in whisky (_schnapps_), but as there was no cup to be
had, their chief, Captain Forbes, pulled off his shoe, and he and his
fifty men drank out of it."

The Forbeses got permission to march through the grounds of Balmoral,
"the pipers going, in front. They stopped and cheered three times
three, throwing up their bonnets." The Queen describes the
characteristic demonstration, and she then mentions listening with
pleasure "to the distant shouts and the sound of the pibroch."

There were two drawbacks to the peace and happiness of Balmoral this
year. The one was occasioned by an unforeseen vexatious occurrence,
and the complications which arose from it. General Haynau, the
Austrian officer whose brutalities to the conquered and to women
during the Hungarian war had aroused detestation in England, happened
to visit London, and was attacked by the men in Barclay's brewery.
Austria remonstrated, and Lord Palmerston made a rash reply, which had
to be recalled.

The other care which darkened the Balmoral horizon in 1850 was the
growing certainty of a fatal termination to the illness of the Queen
of the Belgians. Immediately after the Court returned to Osborne the
blow fell. Queen Louise died at Ostend on the 11th of October, 1850.
She was only in her thirty-ninth year, not more than eight years older
than Queen Victoria. She was the second daughter of Louis Philippe,
Princess Marie having been the elder sister.




CHAPTER XVII.


THE PAPAL BULL--THE GREAT EXHIBITION.

In the winter of 1850 the whole of England was disturbed by the Papal
Bull which professed to divide England afresh into Roman Catholic
bishoprics, with a cardinal-archbishop at their head. Protestant
England hotly resented the liberty the Pope had taken, the more so
that the Tractarian movement in the Church seemed to point to
treachery within the camp. Lord John Russell took this view of it, and
the announcement of his opinion intensified the excitement which
expressed itself, in meetings all over the county and numerous
addresses to the Queen, condemning the act of aggression and urging
resistance. The protests of the Universities of Oxford and Cambridge,
and of the Corporation of London, were presented to her Majesty in St.
George's Hall, Windsor Castle, on the 10th of December. The Oxford
address was read by the Chancellor of Oxford, the Duke of Wellington,
the old soldier speaking "in his peculiar energetic manner with great
vigour and animation." The Cambridge address was read by the
Chancellor of Cambridge, Prince Albert, "with great clearness and
well-marked emphasis." The Queen replied "with great deliberation and
with decided accents." Her Majesty, while repelling the invasion of
her rights and the offence to the religious principles of the country,
held, with the calmer judges of the situation, that no pretence,
however loudly asserted, could constitute reality. The Pope might call
England what he liked, but he could not make it Catholic.

In January, 1851, the Court had a great loss in the retirement of Lady
Lyttelton from her office of governess to the royal children, which
she had filled for eight years; while her service at Court, including
the time that she had been a lady-in-waiting, had lasted over twelve
years. Thenceforth her bright sympathetic accounts of striking events
in the life at Windsor and Osborne cease. The daughter of the second
Earl of Spenser married, at twenty-six years of age, the third Lord
Lyttelton. She was forty-two when she became a lady-in-waiting, and
fifty-four when she resigned the office of governess to the Queen's
children. She desired to quit the Court because, as she said, she was
old enough to be at rest for whatever time might be left her. In the
tranquillity and leisure which she sought, she survived for twenty
years, dying at the age of seventy-four in 1870. The parting in 1851
was a trial to all. "The Queen has told me I may be free about the
middle of January," wrote Lady Lyttelton, "and she said it with all
the feeling and kindness of which I have received such incessant
proofs through the whole long twelve years during which I have served
her. Never by a word or look has it been interrupted." Neither could
Lady Lyttelton say enough in praise of the Prince, of "his wisdom, his
ready helpfulness, his consideration for others, his constant
kindness." "In the evening I was sent for to my last audience in the
Queen's own room," Lady Lyttelton wrote again, "and I quite broke down
and could hardly speak or hear. I remember the Prince's face, pale as
ashes, and a few words of praise and thanks from them both, but it is
all misty; and I had to stop on the private staircase and have my cry
out before I could go up again."

Lady Lyttelton was succeeded in her office by Lady Caroline
Barrington, sister of Earl Grey, who held the post for twenty-four
years, till her death in 1875. She too was much and deservedly
esteemed by the Queen and the royal family.

The Exhibition was the event in England of 1851. From the end of March
till the opening-day, for which May-day was fitly chosen, Prince
Albert strove manfully day and night to fulfil his important part in
the programme, and it goes without saying that the Queen shared in
much of his work, and in all his hopes and fears and ardent desires.

Already the building, with its great transept and naves, lofty dome,
transparent walls and roof, enclosing great trees within their ample
bounds, the _chef-d'-oeuvre_ of Sir Joseph Paxton--who received
knighthood for the feat--the admiration of all beholders, had sprung
up in Hyde Park like a fairy palace, the growth of a night. Ships and
waggons in hundreds and thousands, laden by commerce, science and art,
were trooping from far and near to the common destination. Great and
small throughout the country and across the seas were planning to make
the Exhibition their school of design and progress, as well as their
holiday goal.

It must be said that the dread of what might be the behaviour of the
vast crowds of all nations gathered together at one spot, and that
spot London, assailed many people both at home and abroad. But as
those who are not "evil-doers" are seldom "evil-dreaders," the Queen
and the Prince always dismissed the idea of such a danger with
something like bright incredulous scorn, which proved in the end wiser
than cynical suspicion and gloomy apprehension.

The Exhibition of 1851, with its reverent motto, chosen by Prince
Albert, "The earth is the Lord's, and the fullness thereof; the
compass of the world, and they that dwell therein," is an old story
now, and only elderly people remember some of its marvels--like the
creations of the "Arabian Nights'" tales--and its works of art, which,
though they may have been excelled before and since, had never yet
been so widely seen and widely criticised. The feathery palm-trees and
falling fountains, especially the great central cascade, seemed to
harmonize with objects of beauty and forms of grace on every side. The
East contended with the West in soft and deep colours and sumptuous
stuffs. Huge iron machines had their region, and trophies of cobweb
lace theirs; while "walking-beams" clanked and shuttles flew, working
wonders before amazed and enchanted-eyes.

Especially never had there been seen, such modern triumphs in carved
woodwork, in moulded iron, zinc, and bronze, in goldsmiths' work, in
stoneware and porcelain, in designs for damasks in silk and linen.

The largest diamond in the world, the Koh-i-Noor or "mountain of
light," found in the mines of Golconda, presented to the great Mogul,
having passed through the hands of a succession of murderous and
plundering Shahs, had been brought to England and laid at the feet of
Queen Victoria as one of the fruits of her Afghan conquests, the year
before the Exhibition. It was now for the first time publicly
displayed. Like many valuable articles, its appearance, marred by bad
cutting, did not quite correspond with the large estimate of its
worth, about two millions. In order to increase its effect, the
precious clumsily-cut "goose's egg," relieved against a background of
crimson velvet in its strong cage, was shown by gas-light alone. Since
those days, the jewel has been cut, so that its radiance may have full
play when it is worn by her Majesty on great occasions. To keep the
Koh-i-Noor in company, one of the largest emeralds and one of the
largest pearls in the world were in this Exhibition. So were "_le
saphir merveilleux_"--of amethystine colour by candle-light, once
the property of Egalité Orleans, and the subject of a tale by Madame
Genlis-and a renowned Hungarian opal.

Hiram Powers's "Greek Slave" from America more than rivalled Monti's
veiled statue from Italy, while far surpassing both in majesty was
Kiss's grand group of the "Mounted Amazon defending herself from, the
attack of a Lioness," cast in zinc and bronzed. Statues and statuettes
of the Queen abounded, and must have constantly met her eye, from Mrs.
Thornycroft's spirited equestrian statue to the great pedestal and
statue, in zinc, of her Majesty, crowned, in robes of State, with the
sceptre in one hand and the orb in the other, modelled by Danton,
which stood in the centre of the foreign nave.

What enhanced the fascination of the scene to untravelled spectators
was that without the deliberate contrivance brought to perfection in
the great Paris Exhibition, real Chinamen walked among their junks and
pagodas, Russians stood by their malachite gates, Turks hovered about
their carpets.

Women's quaint or exquisite work, whether professional or amateur, was
not absent. It was notable in the magnificent covers for the head and
footboard of a bed which had occupied thirty girls for many weeks, and
in a carpet worked in squares by a company of ladies, and presented as
a tribute of their respect and love for the most unremittingly
diligent woman in England, her Majesty the Queen.




CHAPTER XVIII.


THE QUEEN'S ACCOUNT OF THE OPENING OF THE EXHIBITION.

Of all the many descriptions of the Exhibition of 1851, which survive
after more than thirty years, the best are those written by the Queen,
which we gratefully borrow, as we have already borrowed so many of the
extracts from her journal in the Prince's "Life."

Sir Theodore Martin has alluded to the special attraction lent to the
Exhibition on its opening day by the excitement of the glad
ceremonial, the throng of spectators, the Court element with "its
splendid toilets" and uniforms, while Thackeray has a verse for the
chief figure.

Behold her in her royal place,
A gentle lady, and the hand
That sways the sceptre of this land,
How frail and weak
Soft is the voice and fair the face;
She breathes amen to prayer and hymn
No wonder that her eyes are dim,
And pale her cheek.

But she has deigned to speak for herself, and no other speaks words
so noble and tender in their simplicity.

"May 1st. The great event has taken place, a complete and beautiful
triumph, a glorious and touching sight, one which I shall ever be
proud of for my beloved Albert and my country.... Yes, it is a day
which makes my heart swell with pride and glory and thankfulness.

"We began it with tenderest greetings for the birthday of our dear
little Arthur. At breakfast there was nothing but congratulations....
Mamma and Victor (the Queen's nephew, son of the Princess of
Hohenlohe, now well-known as Count Gleichen) were there, and all the
children and our guests. Our humble gifts of toys were added to by a
beautiful little bronze _replica_ of the 'Amazon' (Kiss's) from
the Prince (of Prussia), a beautiful paper-knife from the Princess (of
Prussia), and a nice little clock from mamma.

"The Park presented a wonderful spectacle, crowds streaming through
it, carriages and troops passing quite like the Coronation day, and
for me the same anxiety; no, much greater anxiety, on account of my
beloved Albert. The day was bright, and all bustle and excitement....
At half-past eleven the whole procession, in State carriages, was in
motion.... The Green Park and Hyde Park were one densely crowded mass
of human beings in the highest good-humour and most enthusiastic. I
never saw Hyde Park look as it did, as far as the eye could reach. A
little rain fell just as we started, but before we came near the
Crystal Palace the sun shone and gleamed upon the gigantic edifice,
upon which the flags of all the nations were floating. We drove up
Rotten Row and got out at the entrance on that side.

"The glimpse of the transept through the iron gates--the waving palms,
flowers, statues, myriads of people filling the galleries and seats
around, with the flourish of trumpets as we entered, gave us a
sensation which, I can never forget, and I felt much moved. We went
for a moment to a little side-room, where we left our shawls, and
where we found mamma and Mary (now Duchess of Teck), and outside which
were standing the other Princes. In a few seconds we proceeded, Albert
leading me, having Vicky at his hand, and Bertie holding mine. The
sight as we came to the middle, where the steps and chair (which I did
not sit on) were placed, with the beautiful crystal fountain in front
of it, was magical--so vast, so glorious, so touching. One felt, as so
many did whom I have since spoken to, filled with devotion, more so
than by any service I have ever heard. The tremendous cheers, the joy
expressed in every face, the immensity of the building, the mixture of
palms, flowers, trees, statues, fountains--the organ (with two hundred
instruments and six hundred voices, which sounded like nothing), and
my beloved husband the author of this peace festival, which united the
industry of all nations of the earth--all this was moving indeed, and
it was and is a day to live for ever. God bless my dearest Albert, God
bless my dearest country, which has shown itself so great to-day! One
felt so grateful to the great God who seemed to pervade all and to
bless all. The only event it in the slightest degree reminded me of
was the Coronation, but this day's festival was a thousand times
superior. In fact it is unique and can bear no comparison, from its
peculiarity, beauty, and combination of such different and striking
objects. I mean the slight resemblance only as to its solemnity; the
enthusiasm and cheering, too, were much more touching, for in a church
naturally all is silent.

"Albert left my side after "God save the Queen" had been sung, and at
the head of the commissioners, a curious assemblage of political and
distinguished men, read me the report, which is a long one, and to
which I read a short answer; after which the Archbishop of Canterbury
offered up a short and appropriate prayer, followed by the "Hallelujah
Chorus," during which the Chinese mandarin came forward and made his
obeisance. This concluded, the procession began. It was beautifully
arranged and of great length, the prescribed order being exactly
adhered to. The nave was full, which had not been intended; but still
there was no difficulty, and the whole long walk, from one end to the
other, was made in the midst of continued and deafening cheers and
waving of handkerchiefs. Everyone's face was bright and smiling, many
with tears in their eyes. Many Frenchmen called out "_Vive la
Reine_!" One could, of course, see nothing but what was near in the
nave, and nothing in the courts. The organs were but little heard, but
the military band at one end had a very fine effect as we passed
along. They played the march from _Athalie_.... The old Duke and
Lord Anglesey walked arm in arm, which was a touching sight. I saw
many acquaintances among those present. We returned to our own place,
and Albert told Lord Breadalbane to declare that the Exhibition was
opened, which he did in a loud voice: 'Her Majesty commands me to
declare this Exhibition open,' which was followed by a flourish of
trumpets and immense cheering. All the commissioners, the executive
committee, who worked so hard, and to whom such immense praise is due,
seemed truly happy, and no one more so than Paxton, who may be justly
proud; he rose from being a common gardener's boy. Everybody was
astonished and delighted, Sir George Grey (Home Secretary) in tears.

"The return was equally satisfactory, the crowd most enthusiastic, the
order perfect. We reached the palace at twenty minutes past one, and
went out on the balcony and were loudly cheered, the Prince and
Princess (of Prussia) quite delighted and impressed. That we felt
happy, thankful, I need not say; proud of all that had passed, of my
darling husband's success, and of the behaviour of my good people. I
was more impressed than I can say by the scene. It was one that can
never be effaced from my memory, and never will be from that of any
one who witnessed it. Albert's name is immortalised, and the wicked
reports of dangers of every kind, which a set of people, viz. the
_soi disant_ fashionables, the most violent Protectionists,
spread, are silenced. It is therefore doubly satisfactory, and that
all should have gone off so well, and without the slightest accident
or mishap.... Albert's emphatic words last year, when he said that the
feeling would be _that of deep thankfulness to the Almighty for the
blessings which He has bestowed on us here below_ this day
realised....

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