In the Days of Queen Victoria Part 6

Of course the devoted Baroness Lehzen had followed her beloved pupil, for one of the first acts of the Queen was to appoint her private secretary. The Baroness said: "I copy all her private correspondence just as I used to do when she was my Princess, and she is as frank with me as when she was a child; but she has never shown me a state doc.u.ment or said a word to me about any state business. She knows that such matters should go to her advisers, and not to me or any other woman."

Surely the little Queen was not without good friends. There were King Leopold, the wisest sovereign in Europe; Baron Stockmar, the "only honest man"; Lord Melbourne, who seemed to have no thought but for her, and Baroness Lehzen, who had loved her from her babyhood. The position of her mother was very peculiar and not agreeable in all respects. For eighteen years her only aim in life had been to prepare her daughter for the throne of England. The daughter was now on the throne, and the d.u.c.h.ess felt that her occupation was gone. She realized that matters of state must be discussed with the councilors only, and for this she was prepared; but it was not a pleasant surprise to find that the young girl who less than a year before her accession had meekly left the ballroom for bed at her mother's bidding was now manifesting very decided opinions of her own. The d.u.c.h.ess had the fullest confidence in one of the executors of her husband's will, and she would have been glad that he should hold some office in the new government. The Queen treated her mother with the most tender affection, and she willingly granted the gentleman a generous pension, but she refused to have anything to do with him.

Victoria had ascended the throne, but she had never yet worn the English crown, for though a young girl may become a queen in a moment, a coronation is a different matter. "The King is dead, and therefore Victoria is Queen," declared the Council, and she was Queen; but the preparations for a coronation require more time than does the writing of an address of loyalty, and it was a whole year before these preparations were completed. It was not an easy task to decide just what ceremonies should be observed. One matter to be seriously deliberated upon was whether the left cheek of the young girl should be forced to endure six hundred kisses of state from the six hundred n.o.bles and bishops. There was not even a crown suited to the occasion, for the old one weighed seven pounds, and the most devoted admirers of the ancient usages could not ask that the "little Queen" should carry that load on her head. After many lengthy consultations, these momentous questions were decided. The tradesmen were a.s.sured that there would be enough ceremony to bring about large sales, the peers and bishops were told that they would not be allowed to kiss the pink cheek of the Queen, and the crown jewelers were bidden to set to work on a new crown that should weigh only half as much as the old one.

The day came at last, June 28, 1838. London evidently meant to make the most of it, and as soon as the eager watchers saw the first glimpse of dawn, a salute of twenty-one cannon was fired. It was only a little after three o'clock, but the earliness of the hour made little difference to the thousands that had been up all night. Some had stayed up to be sure of securing a good place to see the procession, some because the services of the hairdressers were in such demand that, when a head was once in order, no risk of disarrangement could be ventured upon, and some had been kept awake by pure excitement and nervousness.

There was no sleeping after daylight for anyone, for those who were far enough from the Tower to drowse through the firing of cannon were aroused by the ringing of bells which followed, as every church tower rang out its merriest chimes. At five o'clock Westminster Abbey was opened, and this was none too early, for the people who were fortunate enough and rich enough to obtain tickets had long been thronging the entrance. These people in the Abbey had a long time to wait, for it was fully ten o'clock before the salute of twenty-one guns from the park gave the signal that the procession had started from Buckingham Palace.

Such a procession as it was! First came the trumpeters, then the Life Guards, bands, foreign amba.s.sadors in most gorgeous carriages, more Life Guards, the carriage of the d.u.c.h.ess of Kent, the Duke of Suss.e.x, and others of the royal family, the officers of the royal household, and the Yeomen of the Guard. Then all the thousands along the way were agape, for the eight cream-colored horses were seen drawing the chariot of state, wherein sat the pretty little maiden who was the center and cause of all this magnificence. A circlet of diamonds was on her head.

She wore a dress of gold tissue, and a mantle of crimson velvet trimmed with gold lace and lined with ermine. Pearls and diamonds gleamed and flashed at every motion. With her rode the Mistress of the Robes and the Master of the Horse. A body of cavalry followed her.

The procession was nearly an hour and a half in reaching the Abbey, for the Queen would not go by the shortest way. All that time people were shouting, and banners were waving, for every house along the line of march was brilliant with as much decoration as its owner could afford.

Half a million strangers were in London, and many houses were rented at enormous rates. Five or six thousand dollars was not looked upon as a rental at all exorbitant, and some were let at a much higher price.

At the door of the Abbey, the Queen was met by the chief officers of state. She walked slowly up the aisle, but not alone by any means.

Heralds, clergy, and officers of state came first; then a n.o.ble bearing the coronet of the d.u.c.h.ess of Cambridge, followed by the d.u.c.h.ess herself, with her long train of purple velvet. Another coronet was borne on a silken cushion, and after it came the d.u.c.h.ess of Kent. Then came six n.o.bles, each carrying some piece of the regalia. There were dukes and earls and marquises and generals and field marshals and bishops, all in their most brilliant array. A little whisper, "The Queen, the Queen!" ran through the long lines of peers and peeresses and amba.s.sadors and judges. It was followed by the waving of handkerchiefs and scarfs and such shouts of applause as shook the Abbey to its foundations, and Victoria advanced, escorted by three bishops.

Eight young girls in white silk and silver, with blush roses, carried her train. Then came members of the royal household, gentlemen-at-arms, lords-in-waiting, and other officials without number.

All this time the choir were singing "I was glad when they said unto me, Let us go into the house of the Lord." Then they sang "G.o.d save the Queen!" and the trumpets sounded the accompaniment. A most impressive moment followed. The trumpets ceased, every voice was hushed, not a sound was heard among all the thousands in the vast Abbey. The Queen had pa.s.sed through the door looking "like a young girl on her birthday," but now her face was grave, and she knelt before the altar for a moment of silent prayer. By an ancient privilege, the Westminster schoolboys had the right to give the first greeting to the sovereign, and as she rose, the Abbey rang with their shouts, "Victoria! Victoria!

Vivat Victoria Regina!"

The next part of the ceremony is known as the "Recognition"--that is, the recognition of the new sovereign as the lawful sovereign. The Queen and the Archbishop of Canterbury turned to the north, and the Archbishop said:

"Sirs, I here present unto you Queen Victoria, the undoubted Queen of this realm; wherefore, all you who are come this day to do your homage are you willing to do the same?" "G.o.d save Queen Victoria!" the people cried. The Archbishop and the Queen then turned to the south, to the east, and to the west, and the same words were repeated with the same response. This signified that the people of the land had formally accepted her as their sovereign.

After this, the Queen, followed by the eight train-bearers, walked to the altar, and she made an offering of a golden altar cloth and a pound's weight of gold. This was only the beginning of the four-hours'

ceremony, and next came a long sermon preached by the Bishop of London, followed by the solemn oath of the Queen to be just and govern according to the law.

Then came the act of coronation, but for this Victoria was not to appear in jewels and ermine. She was escorted to one of the chapels and robed in a flowing gown of fine white muslin. Over this was thrown a robe of gold brocade worked with the rose, the shamrock, and the thistle emblematic of England, Ireland, and Scotland. In this quaint and ancient costume she knelt before the altar. The Archbishop led her to the famous old chair of St. Edward, wherein was the stone of Scone, and touched her head and hands with the holy oil. The scepter, orb, sword, and other things signifying power and authority in either Church or state, were handed to her, each with a few words from the Archbishop, exhorting her to use it properly. The ruby ring was placed upon her finger, and the cloth-of-gold mantle upon her shoulders. Then the Archbishop slowly lifted the crown, which was blazing with diamonds, sapphires, rubies, and emeralds, and placed it upon her head.

The next moment all the peers and peeresses lifted their coronets and put them on. The whole building flashed and glittered until one might have fancied that it was raining diamonds. "G.o.d save the Queen!" echoed and re-echoed. The thousands who stood outside the Abbey caught up the cry, the bells of all the churches in London began to ring, and the guns of all the garrison towns were fired.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Coronation of Queen Victoria.

(_From painting by Sir George Hayter._)]

The ceremony of homage followed. The Archbishop, the two royal dukes, and many other dukes, marquises, earls, viscounts, and barons knelt and, kissing her hand, said: "I do become your liege man of life and limb, and of earthly worship, and faith and truth I will bear unto you, to live and die against all manner of folk, so help me G.o.d!" One of the peers was so aged and infirm that he tried twice in vain to ascend the steps. The Queen rose and moved toward him and extended her hand to him as simply and naturally as any other young girl might have done who was not sitting on a throne. After the homage, she received the Holy Sacrament; the "Hallelujah Chorus" was sung; and then the procession re-formed and went slowly over the way to Buckingham Palace.

When George III. was crowned, he complained of some blunders that were made, but he could hardly have been much comforted by the reply that matters would "go better next time." Even though Victoria was the third sovereign crowned since the time of George III., there were still some mistakes. England was accustomed to crowning strong men, but not slender young girls, and the orb was made so heavy that holding it was very wearisome, while the ruby ring was made for the little finger and had to be forced upon the ring finger as best it could be. When the peers did homage, they were required to touch the crown; and the Queen said it was fortunate that she had had it made as tight as possible, for many of them knocked it, and one actually clutched it.

After such a day as this, Victoria must have felt that she was "really and truly" a queen; but with all her dignity and her royalty, she was still a frank, natural young girl, and the story is told that when she entered Buckingham Palace and heard the bark of her favorite dog, she exclaimed, "Oh, there's Dash! I must go and give him his bath."

The English were proud of their Queen, of her dignity and her royal bearing, but it was these touches of frankness and simplicity that won their hearts, and made them feel that with all her jewels, her velvets, and her ermine, she was, after all, one of themselves. It was at this time that the Duke of Suss.e.x wrote to a friend:

"The girl Queen is becoming more and more popular. You would simply idolize her if you saw that bright little face, with clear blue eyes, winning all hearts and making us all say, 'G.o.d save the Queen!'"

CHAPTER VI

THE COMING OF THE PRINCE

The coronation ceremonies in Westminster Abbey were, indeed, magnificent, but it must not be supposed that England was satisfied with no further celebration of so joyful an event. Throughout the realm there were for several days fairs, b.a.l.l.s, and entertainments of all kinds. London was illuminated, and the theaters were made free to all who chose to attend them. People's hearts and purses were opened. The rich were not satisfied with having a good time themselves; they wanted the children of the land and the poor to have a good time also. In many places feasts were given, and one of the most famous of these was held in a great open field in Cambridge, where more than fourteen thousand persons were entertained.

In the center of the field was a s.p.a.ce for the band, and around it a platform. Much money had been subscribed for the feast, but the committee felt sure that large numbers of people would be ready to pay from seventy-five cents to one dollar and a half for the privilege of walking about on this platform and seeing what was to be seen. They were right, for there was "a most fashionable and select company," who promenaded around the circular platform and watched the feasters.

Sixty tables, each two hundred and thirty feet long, stretched out from the central platform like the rays of a star; and when the signal was given, the fourteen thousand persons, poor people and children of all ages, marched to their places. It must have been an amusing procession for each one was obliged to bring his own plate, knife, fork, and mug for beer. There was roast beef, and there were various other good things; but the member of the committee who wrote the account of the dinner seems to have been especially interested in the puddings.

"Beautiful puddings," he says they were, and he tells just where each one was boiled. He states, too, that 2475 pounds of raisins were put into them.

At the end of the dinner, pipes, tobacco, and snuff were pa.s.sed to the grown folk. There was a salute of nineteen guns in honor of the Queen's nineteen years. A balloon, which the enthusiastic committeeman calls a "stupendous machine," was sent up, and the health of the Queen was drunk. The Sunday-school children sang a song of better intention than rhyme, which began:

"Victoria! Victoria!

We hail thy gentle rule; Victoria! the Patroness Of every Sunday school."

After the singing, came various games and contests. Men tried to climb a well-soaped pole to get a leg of mutton which was fastened to the top. Others were tied into sacks, and jumped as far as possible in the attempt to win a pair of boots. There was a wheelbarrow race run by ten blindfolded men. A pig was offered to the man who could catch the animal and swing it over his shoulder by the well-greased tail. Men grinned through horse-collars to see who could make the ugliest face and so win a pair of new trousers. Six boys with their hands tied behind their backs were given penny loaves and mola.s.ses, and a new hat was waiting for the one who ate his loaf first. Other boys with their hands tied were "bobbing for apples"--that is, trying to lift apples with their teeth from a tub of water--and another group of boys were struggling to see who could first swallow a pennyworth of dry biscuit, and so win a new waistcoat. There were foot races and donkey races and hurdle races, and races among men each with one leg tied up. At last the day came to an end with fireworks, and all the happy, tired people went home, fully convinced that under this new sovereign their country would be more prosperous than ever.

It seems very strange that this Queen who was worshiped by her people in the summer of 1838 should in the course of a few months have become exceedingly unpopular with some of her subjects, but so it was. There were in England two political parties, the Whigs and the Tories. Queen Victoria's sympathies were with the Whigs. They were in power when she came to the throne, but in the spring of 1839 the Cabinet proposed an important bill which Parliament refused to make a law. Under such circ.u.mstances it is the custom for the Prime Minister and the Cabinet to resign, because such a refusal is supposed to signify that the people, whom Parliament represents, do not approve of their acts.

When Lord Melbourne told the Queen that he must resign, she felt very badly. She must stand at the head of a great nation, and the one in whose advice she had trusted could advise her no longer. The leaders of the Tories were "the Duke," as the Duke of Wellington was called, and Sir Robert Peel; and Lord Melbourne told her that her wisest course would be to ask the Duke to become her Prime Minister and select a Cabinet of Tories. The Duke had declared before this that he did not know what the Tories would do for a Prime Minister if they should come into power. "I have no small talk," he said, "and Peel has no manners?"

but when the Queen sent for him, of course he obeyed. She asked him to be her Prime Minister, and said to him honestly: "I cannot help being very sorry to make a change and give up my Ministers, especially Lord Melbourne, for he has been almost a father to me."

The straightforward old soldier was delighted with her frankness, but he said: "I am somewhat deaf, and I am too old a man to undertake this work and serve you properly. Moreover, it would be much better for one who can lead the House of Commons to be your Majesty's Prime Minister.

I advise you to send for Sir Robert Peel."

Now, this girl of nineteen did not like the man who had "no manners,"

but she was a lady as well as a Queen, and when Sir Robert appeared--in full dress, as was required--she received him so courteously that he went away much pleased, having promised to obey her command and form a Cabinet. This was easily done, and the next morning he brought her a list of names.

"But you must not expect me to give up the society of Lord Melbourne,"

she said.

"Certainly not," was Peel's reply. "Moreover Lord Melbourne is too honorable a man to attempt to influence your Majesty in any way against the existing government." Sir Robert then suggested several men whom he knew that she liked for various positions of honor in the royal household. Finally he said, perhaps a little bluntly, "It will be desirable to make some changes in the ladies of your Majesty's household." Then a storm arose.

"I shall not part with any of my ladies," declared the Queen.

"But, your Majesty," said Sir Robert, "most of these ladies are closely related to the former Cabinet Ministers." The Queen would not yield, but she was willing to discuss the subject later with him and the Duke.

When they appeared before her, they said: "Your Majesty, the ladies of the household are on the same footing as the lords."

"No," declared the Queen, "I have lords besides and I have let you do with them as you chose. If you had just been put out of office and Lord Melbourne had come in, I am sure that he would not have asked me to give up my ladies."

"There are more Whigs than Tories in the House of Commons," said Peel, "and if these ladies who are closely related to prominent Whigs are retained, all Europe will look upon England as the country that is governed by a party which the sovereign dislikes and in which she has no confidence."

"I give you my lords," replied the Queen steadfastly, "but I keep my ladies." The two n.o.bles were in a dilemma. According to the British const.i.tution, "The Queen can do no wrong"--that is, not she, but the Prime Minister is held responsible for every public act. Sir Robert could not remain Prime Minister if the Queen positively refused to yield to a course which he thought necessary.

While the Tory leaders were trying to plan some way out of the difficulty, the Queen sent a letter to Lord Melbourne which was written in much the same way that an indignant young girl would write to her father. "Do not fear," she said, "that I was not calm and composed.

They wanted to deprive me of my ladies, and I suppose they would deprive me next of my dressers and housemaids; they wished to treat me like a girl, but I will show them that I am Queen of England."

Lord Melbourne called his Cabinet together in such haste that one member had to be brought from the opera and another from a dinner party. He read them the Queen's letter, and asked, "What shall we advise?"