RAILWAY SPECULATION--FAILURE OF THE POTATO CROP--SIR ROBERT PEEL'S
RESOLUTIONS--BIRTH OF PRINCESS HELENA--VISIT OF IBRAHIM PASHA.
One thousand eight hundred and forty-five had begun with what appeared
a fresh impetus to national prosperity--a new start full of life and
vigour, by which the whole resources of the country should be at once
stirred up and rendered ten times more available than they had ever
been before. This was known afterwards as "the Railway Mania," which,
like other manias, if they are not mere fever-fits of speculation, but
are founded on real and tangible gains, had its eager hopeful rise,
its inflated disproportioned exaggeration, its disastrous collapse,
its gradual recovery, and eventually its solid reasonable success. In
1845 the movement was hurrying on to the second stage of its history.
The great man of 1845 was Hudson the railway speculator, "the Railway
King." Fabulous wealth was attributed to him; immense power for the
hour was his. A seat in Parliament, entrance into aristocratic
circles, were trifles in comparison. We can remember hearing of a
great London dinner at which the lions were the gifted Prince, the
husband of the Queen, and the distorted shadow of George Stephenson,
the bourgeois creator of a network of railway lines, a Bourse of
railway shares; the winner, as it was then supposed, of a huge
fortune. It was said that Prince Albert himself had felt some
curiosity to see this man and hear him speak, and that their encounter
on this occasion was prearranged and not accidental.
The autumn of 1845 revealed another side to the country's history. The
rainy weather in the summer brought to sudden hideous maturity the
lurking potato disease. Any one who recalls the time and the aspect of
the fields must retain a vivid recollection of the sudden blight that
fell upon acres on acres of what had formerly been luxuriant
vegetation, under the sunshine which came late only to complete the
work of destruction; the withering and blackening of the leaves of the
plant, the sickening foetid odour of the decaying bulbs, which tainted
the heavy air for miles; the dismay that filled the minds of the
people, who, in the days of dear corn, had learnt more and more to
depend upon the cultivation of potatoes, to whom their failure meant
ruin and starvation.
This was especially the case in Ireland and the Highlands of Scotland,
where the year closed in gloom and apprehension; famine stalked
abroad, and doles of Indian corn administered by Government in
addition to the alms of the charitable, alone kept body and soul
together in fever-stricken multitudes.
About this time also, like another feature of the spirit of adventure
which sent Franklin to the North Pole, and operated to a certain
extent in the flush of railway enterprise, England was talking half
chivalrously, half commercially, and alas! more than half sceptically,
of Brook and Borneo, and the new attempt to establish civilization and
herald Christianity under English influence in the far seas. All these
conflicting elements of new history were felt in the palace as in
other dwellings, and made part of Queen Victoria's life in those days.
A great statesman closed his eyes on this changing world. Earl Grey,
who had been in the front in advocating change in his time, died.
A brave soldier fell in the last of his battles. Sir Robert Sale, who
had been the guest of his Queen a year before, having returned to
India and rejoined the army of the Sutlej on fresh disturbances
breaking out in the Punjab, was killed at the battle of Moodkee.
Something of the wit and humour of the country was quenched or
undergoing a transformation and passing into other hands. Two famous
English humorists, Sydney Smith and Tom Hood the elder, went over to
the great majority.
By the close of 1845 it had become clear that a change in the Corn
Laws was impending. In the circumstances Sir Robert Peel, who, though
he had been for some time approaching the conclusion, was not prepared
to take immediate steps--who was, indeed, the representative of the
Conservative party--resigned office. Lord John Russell, the great Whig
leader, was called upon by the Queen to summon a new Ministry; but in
consequence of difficulties with those who were to have been his
colleagues, Lord John was compelled to announce himself unable to form
a Cabinet, and Sir Robert Peel, at the Queen's request, resumed
office, conscious that he had to face one of the hardest tasks ever
offered to a statesman. He had to encounter "the coolness of former
friends, the grudging support of unwilling adherents, the rancour of
disappointed political antagonists."
In February, 1846, the royal family spent a week at Osborne, glad to
escape from the strife of tongues and the violent political contention
which they could do nothing to quell. The Prince was happy, "out all
day," directing the building which was going on, and laying out the
grounds of his new house; and the Queen was happy in her husband and
Children's happiness. During this short absence Sir Robert Peel's
resolutions were carried, and his Corn Bill, which was virtually the
repeal of the Corn Laws, passed. He had only to await the
consequences.
In the middle of the political excitement a single human tragedy,
which Sir Robert Peel did something to prevent, reached its climax.
Benjamin Haydon, the painter, the ardent advocate, both by principle
and practice, of high art, took his life, driven to despair by his
failure in worldly success--especially by the ill-success of his
cartoons at the exhibition in Westminster Hall.
On the 25th of May a third princess was born, and on the 20th of June
Sir Robert Peel's old allies, the Tories, who had but bided their time
for revenge, while his new Whig associates looked coldly on him,
conspired to defeat him in a Government measure to check assassination
in Ireland, so that he had no choice save to resign. He had sacrificed
himself as well as his party for what he conceived to be the good of
the nation. His reign of power was at an end; but for the moment, at
least, he was thankful.
To Lord John Russell, who was more successful than on an earlier
occasion, the task of forming a new Ministry was intrusted. The
parting from her late ministers, on the 6th of July, was a trial to
the Queen, as the same experience had been previously. "Yesterday,"
her Majesty wrote to King Leopold, "was a very hard day for me. I had
to part from Sir Robert Peel and Lord Aberdeen, who are irreparable
losses to us and to the country. They were both so much overcome that
it quite upset me. We have in them two devoted friends. We felt so
safe with them. Never during the five years that they were with me did
they ever recommend a person or a thing that was not for my or the
country's best, and never for the party's advantage _only_.... I
cannot tell you how sad I am to lose Aberdeen; you cannot think what a
delightful companion he was. The breaking up of all this intercourse
during our journeys is deplorable."
In the separation the Queen turned naturally to a nearer and dearer
friend, whom only death could remove from her. "Albert's use to me,
and I may say to the country, by his firmness and sagacity in these
moments of trial, is beyond all belief." And beyond all gainsaying
must have been the deep satisfaction with which the uncle, who was
like a father, heard the repeated assurance of how successful had been
his work--what a blessing had rested upon it.
Here is a note of exultation on the political changes from the
opposite side of the House. Lord Campbell wrote: "The transfer of the
ministerial offices took place at Buckingham Palace on the 6th of
July. I ought to have been satisfied, for I received two seals, one
for the Duchy of Lancaster and one for the County Palatine of
Lancaster. My ignorance of the double honour which awaited me caused
an awkward accident, for, when the Queen put two velvet bags into my
hand, I grasped one only, and the other with its heavy weight fell
down on the floor, and might have bruised the royal toes, but Prince
Albert good-naturedly picked it up and restored it to me."
In July the Court again paid a short visit to Osborne, that the
Queen's health might be recruited before the baptism of the little
Princess. Her Majesty earnestly desired that the Queen of the Belgians
might be present, as the baby was to be the godchild of the young
widow of Queen Louise's much-loved brother, the late Duc d'Orleans.
Unfortunately the wish could not be fulfilled. The child was
christened at Buckingham Palace. She received the names of "Helena
Augusta Victoria." Her sponsors were the Duchesse d'Orleans,
represented by the Duchess of Kent; the Duchess of Cambridge; and the
Hereditary Grand Duke of Mecklenburg-Strelitz. The illustration
represents the charming little Princess at rather a more advanced age.
At the end of July Prince Albert was away from home for a few days. He
visited Liverpool, which he had greatly wished to see, in order to lay
the foundation-stone of a Sailors' Home and open the Albert Dock. In
the middle of the bustle and enthusiasm of his reception he wrote to
the Queen: "I write hoping these lines, which go by the evening post,
may reach you by breakfast time to-morrow. As I write you will be
making your evening toilette, and not be ready in time for dinner.
[Footnote: The Queen dressed quickly, but sometimes she relied too
much on her powers in this respect, and failed in her wonted
punctuality.] I must set about the same task and not, let me hope,
with the same result. I cannot get it into my head that there are two
hundred and fifty miles between us.... I must conclude and enclose, by
way of close, two touching objects--a flower and a programme of the
procession."
The same day the Queen wrote to Baron Stockmar: "I feel very lonely
without my dear master; and though I know other people are often
separated for a few days, I feel habit could not make me get
accustomed to it. This I am sure you cannot blame. Without him
everything loses its interest.... It will always be a terrible pang
for me to separate from him even for two days." Then she added with a
ring of foreboding, "And I pray God never to let me survive him." She
concluded with the true woman's proud assertion, "I glory in his being
seen and heard."