Miscreants and Monarchs--A visit from Mendelssohn--The Queen's first
visit to Scotland--Anecdote--A trip to France and Belgium--Death of the
Duke of Sussex and of Prince Albert's father--The Dwarf and the Giant.
This year of 1842 was not all joy and festivity. It was the year of the
massacres of the British forces in Cabul; there was financial distress in
England, which a charitable masked ball at Buckingham Palace did not
wholly relieve; and in May occurred the second attempt on the life of the
Queen--that of John Francis.
The Queen behaved with her own wonderful courage on this occasion--which
was expected by her and Prince Albert, from their having a strong
impression that the same wretch had the day before pointed at them, from
the midst of a crowd, a pistol which had missed fire. They drove out
alone together, keeping a pretty sharp lookout for the assassin--and at
last, they saw him just as he fired. The ball passed under the carriage,
and Francis was at once arrested. Lady Bloomfield, who was then Maid of
Honor, gives an account of the excitement at the Palace that evening, and
quotes some words of the Queen, very beautiful because revealing her rare
consideration for others. She says that Sir Robert Peel was there, and
showed intense feeling about the risk Her Majesty had run, and that the
Queen, turning to her, said: "I dare say, Georgy, you were surprised at
not driving with me to-day--but the fact was, that as we were returning
from church yesterday, a man presented a pistol at the carriage window.
It flashed in the pan, and we were so taken by surprise that he had time
to escape. I knew what was hanging over me to-day, and was determined not
to expose any life but my own."
Francis was tried and sentenced to death, but through the Queen's
clemency the sentence was commuted to transportation for life, and the
very day after, Bean, the hunchback, essayed to shoot Her Majesty with a
charge of paper and bits of clay-pipe. He was such a miserable, feeble-
minded creature, that they only gave him eighteen months' imprisonment.
Soon after, the Queen was called to mourn with her aunt of Belgium, and
the rest of the family of Louis Philippe of France, for the death of the
Duke of Orleans, who was killed by being thrown from his carriage. If he
had lived, Louis Napoleon would hardly have been Emperor of France.
So it was hardly a gay summer for the Queen, though she had some
pleasure, especially in receiving Prince Albert's brother, Ernest, Duke
of Saxe-Coburg, and his bride, who came to England for their honeymoon.
They had also a pleasant visit from the great composer, Mendelssohn, who
thus wrote from Windsor to his mother, "Add to this the pretty and most
charming Queen Victoria, who looks so youthful, and is so gently
courteous and gracious, who speaks such good German, and knows all my
music so well,"--great praise from a Teutonic and Mendelssohnian point of
view. In the autumn, the Queen and Prince made their first visit to
Scotland--were received with immense enthusiasm everywhere, and had a
charming and health-bracing tour. They took Edinburgh by surprise--
entering the city from the sea, so early in the morning, that the
authorities, who had made great preparations to receive them, and rain
flowers and speeches upon them, were still in bed. Still the Queen made
up for it, by afterwards making a grand State-procession through the
grand old town. All the country for many miles about, poured into the
city on that day, and among some amusing anecdotes of the occasion, I
find this: "A gentleman living near Edinburgh, said to his farm-servant,
'Well, John, did you see the Queen?' 'Troth did I that, sir.' 'Well,
what did you think of her?' 'In truth, sir, I was terrible 'feared afore
she came forrit--my heart was maist in my mouth, but whan she did come
forrit, I was na feared at a'; I just lookit at her, and she lookit at
me, an' she bowed her heid at me, an' I bowed my heid at her.'"
The Queen traveled then with a much larger Court than she takes with her
nowadays, and to this were added the escorts of honor which the great
Scottish nobles and Highland chiefs furnished her, till it grew to be a
monster of a caravan. Among the items, I find that in conveying Her
Majesty and suite from Dalkeith to Taymouth, and from Taymouth back to
Dalkeith, 656 horses were employed. Yet this was nothing to the number of
animals engaged on the royal progresses of former times. It is stated
that 20,000 horses were in all employed in conveying Marie Antoinette,
her enormous suite and cumbrous belongings, from Vienna to Paris. Poor
woman!--it took all those horses to bring her into her kingdom, but only
one to carry her out of her kingdom, _via_ the Place de la
Revolution.
In the spring of the year following this tour, another Princess was born
in Buckingham Palace, and christened Alice Maud Mary. The summer went by
as usual, or even more pleasantly, for every new baby seemed to make this
family happier and gayer.
Lady Bloomfield gives some charming pictures of the happy home-life at
Windsor--of the children, pretty, merry, healthy, and well-bred; tells
very pleasant things of the Queen, and of the sweet and noble Duchess of
Kent--but gives only now and then, a glimpse of that gracious and
graceful presence, Prince Albert. Her Majesty made the life of her maids
of honor almost too easy. No long, tiresome waiting on their poor, tired
feet--no long hours of reading aloud, such as poor Miss Burney had to
endure, in the time of old Queen Charlotte. Lady Bloomfield--then
Georgiana Ravensworth--had little to do but to hand the Queen her bouquet
at dinner--to ride out with her and sing with her.
In the summer of 1843, the Queen and Prince made their first visit to the
King and Queen of France, at the Chateau d'Eu, near Treport, on the
coast. The King and several of his sons came off in the royal barge to
meet their yacht, which they boarded. One account says that Louis
Philippe, most unceremonious of monarchs, caught up the little Queen,
kissed her on both cheeks, and carried her bodily on to his barge.
Two Queens--Marie Amélie of France and her daughter, Louise of Belgium,
and two of her daughters-in-law--were at the landing to receive the first
Sovereign of England who had ever come to their shores on a friendly,
neighborly visit. It was a visit "of unmixed pleasure," says the Queen,
and the account of it is very pleasant reading now; but I have not space
to reproduce it. One little passage, in reference to the widowed Duchesse
d'Orleans, strikes my eye at this moment: "At ten, dear Hélène came to me
with little Paris, and stayed till the King and Queen came to fetch us to
breakfast."
"Little Paris" is the present Bourbon-Orleanist bugbear of the French
Republic--a very tame and well-behaved _bête noir_, but distrusted
and dreaded all the same.
After this French visit, the Queen and Prince went over to see their
uncle and aunt, at Brussels, and had a very interesting tour through
Belgium. Prince Albert, writing to the Baron soon after, said: "We found
uncle and aunt well. ... The children are blooming. Little Charlotte is
quite the prettiest child you ever saw." This "little Charlotte"
afterwards married Maximilian of Austria, the imperial puppet of Louis
Napoleon in Mexico. So Charlotte was for a brief, stormy time an Empress
--then came misfortune and madness. She is living yet, in that world of
shadows so much sadder than "the valley of the shadow of death."
In the spring of this year, the Duke of Sussex died, and at the next
prorogation of Parliament I read that the Queen, no longer fearing to
wound the susceptibilities of her proud old uncle, said to her husband,
"Come up higher!"--and had a chair for him, precisely like her own, on a
level with her own. It was on her left. The smaller chair, on her right,
belonged to "little Bertie," who was not yet quite ready to occupy it.
In the autumn, came a visit to the University of Cambridge, where the
Queen had the delight of seeing the degree of LL.D. conferred on her
husband. So he mounted, step by step, into the honorable position which
belonged to him. In this year also, he won laurels which he cared little
for, but which counted much for him among a class of Englishmen who
lightly esteemed his literary, artistic, and scientific taste and
knowledge. In a great hunting-party he carried off the honors by his
fearless and admirable riding. Sporting men said: "Why, there really is
something in the man beside good looks and German music and metaphysics.
He can take hedges and ditches as well as degrees."
I do not think Prince Albert did justice to the English people, when,
after his father's death, in the following year, he wrote in the first
gush of his grief, to the Baron: "Here we sit together, poor Mama,
Victoria and I, and weep, with a great, cold public around us, insensible
as stone."
I cannot believe that the British public is ever insensible to royal
sorrow.
The Prince-Consort went over to Coburg on a visit of condolence. Some
passages in his letters to the Queen, who took this first separation from
him hard, are nice reading for their homely and husbandly spirit. From
the yacht, before sailing, he wrote: "I have been here an hour, and
regret the lost time which I might have spent with you. Poor child! you
will, while I write, be getting ready for luncheon, and you will find a
place vacant where I sat yesterday. In your heart, however, I hope my
place will not be vacant. I at least, have you on board with me in
spirit. I reiterate my entreaty, 'Bear up! and don't give way to low
spirits, but try to occupy yourself as much as possible.'" ... "I have
got toys for the children, and porcelain views for you." ... "Oh! how
lovely and friendly is this dear old country. How glad I should be to
have my little wife beside me, to share my pleasure."
Miss Mitford, speaking of a desire expressed by the Queen, to see that
quaint old place, Strawberry Hill and all its curiosities, says: "Nothing
can tend more to ensure popularity than that Her Majesty should partake
of the national amusements and the natural curiosity of the more
cultivated portion of her subjects."
In such directions, certainly, the Queen was never found wanting in those
days. In "natural curiosity" she was a veritable daughter of Eve, and
granddaughter of George the Third. She was interested not only in the
scientific discoveries, new mechanical inventions, and agricultural
improvements which so interested her husband, but in odd varieties of
animals and human creatures. She accepted with pleasure the gift of a
Liliputian horse, supposed to be the smallest in the world--over five
years old, and only twenty-seven and a half inches high--brought from
Java, by a sea-captain, who used to take the gallant steed under his arm,
and run down-stairs with him; and she very graciously received and was
immensely entertained with the distinguished young American, who should
have been the Alexander of that Bucephalus--General Tom Thumb. This
little _lusus naturæ_, under the masterly management of Mr. Barnum,
had made a great sensation in London--which, after the Queen had summoned
him two or three times to Windsor, grew into a fashionable furor. Mr.
Barnum's description of those visits to the royal palaces is very
amusing. They were first received in the grand picture-gallery by the
Queen, the Duchess of Kent, Prince Albert, and the usual Court ladies and
gentlemen. Mr. Barnum writes: "They were standing at the farther end of
the room when the doors were thrown open, and the General walked in,
looking like a wax-doll gifted with the powers of locomotion. Surprise
and pleasure were depicted on the faces of the royal circle, at beholding
this remarkable specimen of humanity, so much smaller than they had
evidently expected to see him. The General advanced with a firm step, and
as he came within hailing distance, made a graceful bow, and said, 'Good-
evening, ladies and gentlemen!'
"A burst of laughter followed this salutation. The Queen then took him by
the hand, and led him about the gallery, and asked him many questions,
the answers to which kept the party in continual merriment. The General
informed the Queen, that her picture-gallery was 'first-rate,' and said
he should like to see the Prince of Wales. The Queen replied that the
Prince had gone to bed, but that he should see him on a future occasion."
The General then gave his songs, dances, and imitations; and after an
hour's talk with Prince Albert and the rest, departed as coolly as he had
come, but not as leisurely, as the long backing-out process being too
tedious, he varied it with little runs, which drew from the Queen,
Prince, and Court peels of laughter, and roused the ire of the Queen's
poodle, who attacked the small Yankee stranger. The General defended
himself with his little cane, as valiantly as the original Tom Thumb with
his mother's darning-needle. On the next visit, he was introduced to the
Prince of Wales, whom he addressed with a startling, "How are you,
Prince?" He then received a costly souvenir from the Queen, and, each
time he performed, generous pay in gold. The Queen Dowager was also much
taken with him, and presented him with a beautiful little watch. She
called him "dear little General," and took him on her lap. The time came
(when this "full-grown" dwarf was fuller-grown) that the most powerful
Queen Dowager would have found it difficult to dandle him, Charles
Stratton, Esq., a husband and father, on her knee: The fact is the
General was a bit of a humbug, being considerably younger than he was
given out to be. But he was an exceedingly pretty, amusing little humbug,
so it was no matter then. But when the truth came out, the Queen's faith
in Yankee showmen must have suffered a shock, as must that of the honest
old Duke of Wellington, who used to drop in at Egyptian Hall so often to
see the tiny creature assume the dress and the pensive pose of Napoleon
"thinking of the loss of the battle of Waterloo," and looking so like his
old enemy, seen through a reversed field-glass. Very likely the Queen's
"full-grown" Java horse turned out to be a young colt.
After the dwarf, came the giant--the tallest and grandest of the
sovereigns of Europe, Nicholas, the Emperor of all the Russias. He came
on one of his war-ships, but with the friendliest feelings, and "just
dropped in" on the Queen, with only a few hours' notice. It was a
pleasant little way he had of surprising his friends. However, he was
made welcome, and everything possible was done to entertain and do him
honor during his stay. He had visited England before, when he was much
younger and handsomer. Baron Stockmar met him at Claremont, in the time
of the Princess Charlotte and Prince Leopold, and quotes a compliment
paid him by a Court lady, in the refined language of the Regency: "What
an amiable creature! He is devilish handsome! He will be the handsomest
man in Europe." And so he might have been, had he possessed a heart and
soul. But his expression was always, if not actually bad, severe and
repellant. The look his large, keen eyes, which had very pale lashes, and
every now and then showed the white all round the iris, is said to have
been quite awful. He was a soldier above all things, and told the Queen
he felt very awkward in evening-dress, as though in leaving off his
uniform he had "taken off his skin." He must have been rather a
discommoding guest, from a little whim he had of sleeping only on straw.
He always had with him a leathern case, which at every place he stopped,
was filled with fresh straw from the stables.
He was an excessively polite man--this towering Czar; but for all that, a
very cruel man--a colossal embodiment of the autocratic principle--
selfish and cold and hard--though he did win upon the Queen's heart by
praise of her husband. He said: "Nowhere will you find a handsomer young
man; he has such an air of nobility and goodness." It was a mystery how
he could so well appreciate that pure and lovable character, for the
Prince Consort must always have been a mystery to men like the Czar
Nicholas.