Queen Victoria, her girlhood and womanhood Part 3

On Lord Mayor's Day, the Queen went in state to dine with her brother- monarch, the King of "Great London Town." It was a memorable, magnificent occasion. The Queen was attended by all the great ladies and gentlemen of her Court, and followed by an immense train of members of the royal family, amba.s.sadors, cabinet ministers and n.o.bility generally-in all, two hundred carriages of them. The day was a general holiday, and the streets all along the line of the splendid procession were lined with people half wild with loyal excitement, shouting and waving hats and handkerchiefs. It may have been on this day that Lord Albemarle got off his famous pun. On the Queen saying to him, "I wonder if my good people of London are as glad to see me as I am to see them?" he replied by pointing to the letters "V. R." "Your Majesty can see their loyal c.o.c.kney answer-'Ve are.'"

One account states that, "the young sovereign was quite overcome by the enthusiastic outbursts of loyalty which greeted her all along the route," but a description of the scene sent me by a friend, Mrs. Newton Crosland, the charming English novelist and poet, paints her as perfectly composed. My friend says: "I well remember seeing the young Queen on her way to dine with the Lord Mayor, on the 9th of November, 1837, the year of her accession. The crowd was so great that there were constant stoppages, and, luckily for me, one of them occurred just under the window of a house in the Strand, where I was a spectator. I shall never forget the appearance of the maiden-sovereign. Youthful as she was, she looked every inch a Queen. Seated with their backs to the horses were a lady and gentleman, in full Court-dress-(the d.u.c.h.ess of Sutherland, Mistress of the Robes-and the Earl of Albemarle, Master of the Horse), and in the centre of the opposite seat, a little raised, was the Queen. All I saw of her dress was a ma.s.s of pink satin and swan's-down. I think she wore a large cape or wrap of these materials. The swan's-down encircled her throat, from which rose the fair young face-the blue eyes beaming with goodness and intelligence-the rose-bloom of girlhood on her cheeks, and her soft, light brown hair, on which gleamed a circlet of diamonds, braided as it is seen in the early portraits. Her small, white-gloved hands were reposing easily in her lap.

"On this occasion not only were the streets thronged, but every window in the long line of the procession was literally filled, while men and boys were seen in perilous positions on roofs and lamp-posts, trees and railings. Loud and hearty cheers, so unanimous they were like one immense mult.i.tudinous shout, heralded the royal carriage.

"A little before this date, a story was told of the lamentations of the Queen's coachman. He declared that he had driven Her Majesty for six weeks, without once being able to see her. Of course he could not turn his head or his eyes from his horses."

At Temple Bar-poor, old Temple Bar, now a thing of the past!-the Queen was met by the Lord Mayor, who handed her the city keys and sword, which she returned to his keeping-a little further on, the scholars of Christ's Hospital-the "Blue-Coat Boys," offered her an address of congratulation, saying how glad they were to have a woman to rule over them, which was a good deal for boys to say, and also sung the National Anthem with a will.

The drawing-room of Guildhall was fitted up most gorgeously. Here the address of the city magnates was read and replied to,-and here in the midst of Princes and n.o.bles, Her Majesty performed a brave and memorable act. She knighted Sheriff Montefiore, the first man of his race to receive such an honor from a British sovereign, and Sir Moses Montefiore, now nearly a centenarian, has ever since, by a n.o.ble life and good works, reflected only honor on his Queen. But ah, what would her uncle, the late King, have said, had he seen her profaning a Christian sword by laying it on the shoulders of a Jew! He would rather have used it on the unbeliever's ears, after Peter's fashion.

After this ceremony, they all pa.s.sed into the Great Hall, which had been marvellously metamorphosed, by hangings and gildings, and all sorts of magnificent decorations, by mirrors and l.u.s.ters, and the display of vast quant.i.ties of gold and silver plate-much of it lent for the occasion by n.o.blemen and private gentlemen, but rivalled in splendor and value by the plate of the Corporation and the City Companies. From the roof hung two immense chandeliers of stained gla.s.s and prisms, which with the flashing of innumerable gas-jets, lighting up gorgeous Court-dresses, and the most superb old diamonds of the realm, made up a scene of dazzling splendor, of enchantment, which people who were there go wild over to this day. Poets say it was like a vision of fairyland, among the highest circles of that most poetic kingdom-and they know. I think a poet must have managed the musical portion of the entertainment, for when Victoria appeared sweet voices sang-

"At Oriana's presence all things smile!"

and presently-

"Oh happy fair!

Your eyes are lode-stars and your tongue's sweet air, More tunable than lark to shepherd's ear, When wheat is green, when hawthorn buds appear."

There was a raised platform at the east end of the hall, and on it the throne, a beautiful state-chair, of dainty proportions, made expressly for that fairy Princess, who took her seat thereon amid the most joyous acclamations. On the platform before her, was placed the royal table, decorated with exquisite flowers, and covered with a costly, gold-fringed damask cloth, on which were served the most delicate viands and delicious fruits, in season and out of season. Ah, as the young Queen, seated up there, received the homage of the richly-robed Aldermen, and the resplendent Sheriffs, and that effulgent Lord Mayor, she must have fancied herself something more than a fairy Princess,-say, an Oriental G.o.ddess being adored and sacrificed to by gorgeous Oriental Princes, Sultans and Satraps, Pashas, Padishas, and the Grand-Panjandrum himself.

After the dinner, an imposing personage, called the Common Crier, strode into the middle of the hall, and solemnly cried out: "The Right Honorable the Lord Mayor gives the health of our Most Gracious Sovereign, Queen Victoria!" This, of course, was drunk with all the honors, and extra shouts that made the old hall ring. The Queen rose and bowed her thanks, and then the Common Crier announced-Her Majesty's toast: "The Lord Mayor, and prosperity to the City of London." The Queen, it is stated, honored this toast in sherry one hundred and twenty years old-liquid gold! Very gracious of her if she furnished the sherry. I hope, at all events, she drank it with reverence. Why, when that old wine was bottled, Her Majesty's grandfather lacked some twenty years of being born, and the American Colonies were as loyal as London;-then the trunk of the royal old Bourbon tree, whose last branch death lopped away but yesterday at Frohsdorf, seemed solid enough, though rotten at the core; and, the great French Revolution was undreamed of, except in the seething brain of some wild political theorist, or in some poor peasant's nightmare of starvation. When that old wine was bottled, Temple Bar, under the garlanded arch of which Her Majesty had just pa.s.sed so smilingly, was often adorned with gory heads of traitors, and long after that old wine was bottled, men and women could be seen of a Friday, dangling from the front of Newgate prison, and swinging in the morning air, like so many ghastly pendulums.

This year 1837, Victoria spent her first Christmas as a Queen at Windsor, right royally I doubt not, and I think it probable she received a few presents. A few days before, she had gone in state to Parliament, to give her a.s.sent to the New Civil List Act-not a hard duty for her to perform, it would seem, as that act settled on her for life an annual income of 385,000. Let Americans who begrudge our President his $50,000, and wail over our taxation, just put that sum into dollars. The English people did not grumble at this grant, as they had grumbled over the large sums demanded by Her Majesty's immediate predecessors. They knew it would not be recklessly and wickedly squandered, and they liked to have their bonnie young Queen make a handsome appearance among crowned heads. She had not then revealed those strong and admirable traits of character which later won their respect and affection,-but they were fond of her, and took a sort of amused delight in her, as though they, were all children, and she a wonderful new doll, with new-fashioned talking and walking arrangements. The friend from whom I have quoted-Mrs. Crosland- writes me: "I consider that it would be impossible to exaggerate the enthusiasm of the English people on the accession of Queen Victoria to the throne. To be able at all to understand it, we must recollect the sovereigns she succeeded-the Sailor-King, a most commonplace old man, with 'a head like a pine-apple'; George IV., a most unkingly king, extremely unpopular, except with a small party, of High Tories; and poor George III., who by the generation Victoria followed, could only be remembered as a frail, afflicted, blind old man-for a long period shut up at Kew, and never seen by his people. It was not only that Victoria was a really lovely girl, but that she had the prestige of having been brought up as a Liberal, and then she kept the hated Duke of c.u.mberland from the throne. Possibly he was not guilty of half the atrocious sins attributed to him, but I do not remember any royal personage so universally hated."

It was fear of this bogie of a c.u.mberland that made the English people anxious for the early marriage of the Queen, and yet caused them to dread it, for the fate of poor Princess Charlotte had not been forgotten. But I do not think that political or dynastic questions had much to do with the popularity of the young Queen. It was the resurrection of the dead dignity of the Royal House of Brunswick, in her fair person-the resuscitation of the half-dead principle of loyalty in the hearts of her people. Of her Majesty's subjects of the better cla.s.s, actors and quakers alone seem to have taken her accession with all its splendid accessions, coolly,-the former, perhaps, because much mock royalty had somehow cheapened the real thing, and the latter because trained from infancy to disregard the pomps and show of this world. Macready jots down among the little matters in his "Diary," the fact of Her Majesty coming to his theatre, and waiting awhile after the play to see him and congratulate him. He speaks of her as "a pretty little girl," and does not seem particularly "set up" by her compliments. Joseph Sturge, the eminent and most lovable philanthropist of Birmingham,-a "Friend indeed" to all "in need,"-waited on Her Majesty, soon after her accession, as one of a delegation of the Society of Friends. Some years after, he related the circ.u.mstance to me, and simply described her to me as "a nice, pleasant, modest young woman,-graceful, though a little shy, and on the whole, comely."

"Did you kiss her hand?" I asked. "O yes, and found that act of homage no hardship, I a.s.sure thee. It was a fair, soft, delicate little hand."

I afterwards regretted that I had not asked him what he did with his broad-brimmed hat when he was about to be presented, knowing that the principles of Fox and Penn forbade his removing that article in homage to any human creature; but I have just discovered in a volume of Court Records, that "the deputation from the Society of Friends, commonly called Quakers, were uncovered, according to custom, by the Yeoman of the Guard." As they were all non-resistants, they doubtless bore the indignity pa.s.sively and placidly. Moreover, they all bowed, if they did not kneel, before the throne on which their Queen was seated, and as I said kissed her hand, in token of their friendly fealty.

In June, 1838, were issued the first gold sovereigns, bearing the head of the Queen-the same spirited young head that we see now on all the modern gold and silver pieces of the realm. That on the copper is a little different, but all are pretty-so pretty that Her Majesty's loyal subjects prefer them to all other likenesses, even poor men feeling that they cannot have too many of them.

CHAPTER XII.

The Coronation.

The coronation was fixed for June 28, 1838 a little more than a year from the accession.

The, Queen had been slightly troubled at the thought of some of the antiquated forms of that grand and complicated ceremony-for instance, the homage of the Peers, spiritual and temporal. As the rule stood, they were all required after kneeling to her, and pledging their allegiance, to rise and kiss her on the left cheek. She might be able to bear up under the salutes of those holy old gentlemen, the archbishops and bishops-but the antic.i.p.ation of the kisses of all the temporal Peers, old and young, was enough to appall her-there were six hundred of them. So she issued a proclamation excusing the n.o.ble gentlemen from that onerous duty, and at the coronation only the Royal Dukes, Suss.e.x and Cambridge, kissed the Queen's rosy cheek, by special kinship privilege. The others had to be content with her hand. The other omitted ceremony was one which formerly took place in Westminster Hall-consisting chiefly of the appearance of a knight armed, mailed and mounted, who as Royal Champion proceeded to challenge the enemies of the new Sovereign to mortal combat. This, which had appeared ridiculous in the case of the burly George IV., would have been something pretty and poetic in that of the young maiden-Queen, but she doubtless felt that as every Englishman was disposed to be her champion, the old form would be the idlest, melodramatic bravado.

The crown which had fitted George and William was too big and heavy for their niece-so it was taken to pieces, and the jewels re-set in a way to greatly reduce the size and weight. A description now before me, of the new crown is too dazzling for me to transcribe. I must keep my eyes for plainer work; but I can give the value of the bauble-112,760!-and this was before the acquisition of the koh-i-noor.

Of the coronation I will try to give a clear, if not a full account.

It was a wonderful time in London when that day of days was ushered in, by the roar of cannon from the grim old Tower, answered by a battery in St. James' Park. Such a world of people everywhere! All Great Britain and much of the Continent seemed to have emptied themselves into this metropolis, which overflowed with a surging, murmuring tide of humanity. Ah me, how much of that eager, noisy life is silent and forgotten now!

There may have before been coronations surpa.s.sing that of Victoria in scenic splendor, if not in solid magnificence-that of the first Napoleon and his Empress, perhaps-but there has been nothing so grand as a royal pageant seen since, until the crowning of the present Russian Emperor at Moscow, where the almost intolerable splendor was seen against a dark background of tragic possibilities. This English coronation was less brilliant, perhaps, but also less barbaric than that august, overpowering ceremony over which it seemed there might hover "perturbed spirits" of men slain in mad revolts against tyranny-of youths and women done to death on the red scaffold, in dungeons, in midnight mines, and Siberian snows; and about which there surely lurked the fiends of dynamite. But this pure young girl, trusting implicitly in the loving loyalty of her subjects-relying on Heaven for help and guidance, lifted to the throne by the Const.i.tution and the will of a free people, as conquerors have been upborne on shields, what had she to fear? A very different and un- nihilistic "cloud of witnesses" was hers, we may believe. If ever there was a mortal state-occasion for the immortals to be abroad, it was this.

The great procession started from Buckingham Palace at about 10 o'clock. The first two state carriages, each drawn by six horses, held the d.u.c.h.ess of Kent and her attendants. The Queen's mother, regally attired, was enthusiastically cheered all along the way. The Queen was, of course, in the grand state coach, which is mostly gilding and gla.s.s-a prodigiously imposing affair. It was drawn by eight cream-colored horses-great stately creatures-with white flowing manes, and tails like mountain cascades. Many battalions and military bands were stationed along the line, presenting arms and playing the National Anthem, "And the People, O the People!" Every window, balcony, and door-step was swarming, every foot of standing room occupied-even on roofs and chimneys. Ladies and children waved handkerchiefs and dropped flowers from balconies, and the shouts from below and the shouts from above seemed to meet and break into joyous storm-bursts in the air. Accounts state that Her Majesty "looked exceedingly well, and that she seemed in excellent spirits, and highly delighted with the imposing scene and the enthusiasm of her subjects." One would think she might have been.

She had a great deal to go through with that day. She must have rehea.r.s.ed well, or she would have been confused by the multiform ceremonials of that grand spectacular performance. The scene, as she entered Westminster Abbey, might well have startled her out of her serene calm, but it didn't. On each side of the nave, reaching from the western door to the organ screen, were the galleries, erected for the spectators. These were all covered with crimson cloth fringed with gold. Underneath them were lines of foot-guards, very martial-looking, fellows. The old stone floor, worn with the tread of Kings' coronations and funeral processions, was covered with matting, and purple and crimson cloth. Immediately under the central tower of the Abbey, inside the choir, five steps from the floor, on a carpet of purple and gold, was a platform covered with cloth of gold, and on it was the golden "Chair of Homage." Within the chancel, near the altar, stood the stiff, quaint old chair in I which all the sovereigns of England since Edward the Confessor have been crowned. Cloth of gold quite concealed the "chunk of old red sandstone," called the "stone of Scone," on which the ancient Scottish Kings were crowned, and which the English seem to keep and use for luck. There were galleries on galleries upholstered in crimson cloth, and splendid tapestries, wherein sat members of Parliament and foreign Princes and Emba.s.sadors. In the organ loft were singers in white, and instrumental performers in scarlet -all looking very fine and festive; and up very high was a band of trumpeters, whose music, pealing over the heads of the people, produced, at times, a wonderful effect.

Fashionable people had got up early for once. Many were at the Abbey doors long before 5 o'clock, and when the Queen arrived at 11:30, hundreds of delicate ladies in full evening-dress, had been waiting for her for seven long hours. The foreign Princes and Emba.s.sadors were in gorgeous costumes; and there was the Lord Mayor in all his glory, blinding to behold. His most formidable rival was Prince Esterhazy, who sparkled with costly jewels from his head down to his boots-looking as though he had been snowed upon with pearls, and had also been caught out in a rain of diamonds, and had come in dripping. All these grand personages and the Peers and Peeresses were so placed as to have a perfect view of the part of the minster in which the coronation took place-called, in the programme, "the Theatre."

The Queen came in about the middle of the splendid procession. In her royal robe of crimson velvet, furred with ermine, and trimmed with gold lace, wearing the collars of her orders, and on her head a circlet of gold-her immense train borne by eight very n.o.ble young ladies, she is said to have looked "truly royal," though so young, and only four feet eight inches in height. As she entered the Abbey, the orchestra and choir broke out into the National Anthem. They performed bravely, but were scarcely heard for the mighty cheers which went up from the great a.s.sembly, making the old minster resound in all its aisles and arches and ancient chapels. Then, as she advanced slowly towards the choir, the anthem, "I was glad" was sung, and after that, the sweet-voiced choir-boys of Westminster chanted like so many white-gowned, sleek-headed angels, "Vivat Victoria Regina!" Ah, then she felt very solemnly that she was Queen; and moving softly to a chair placed between the Chair of Homage and the altar, she knelt down on the "faldstool" before it, and meekly said her prayers.

When the boys had finished their glad anthem, the Archbishop of Canterbury, with several high officers of state, moved to the east side of the theatre, when the Primate, in a loud voice, said: "I here present unto you Queen Victoria, the undoubted Queen of this realm, wherefore all you who are come this day to your homage, are you willing to do the same?"

It seems a little confused, but the people understood it, and shouted, "G.o.d save Queen Victoria!" This "recognition," as it was called, was repeated at the south, west, and north sides of the "theatre," and every time was answered by that joyous shout, and by the pealing of trumpets and the beating of drums. The Queen stood throughout this ceremony, each time turning her head towards the point from which the recognition came.

One may almost wonder if all those loyal shouts and triumphant trumpetings and drum-beatings did not trouble somewhat the long quiet of death in the dusky old chapels in which sleep the fair Queen Eleanor, and the gracious Philippa, and valiant Elizabeth, and hapless Mary Stuart.

Then followed a great many curious rites and ceremonies of receiving and presenting offerings; and many prayers and the reading of the Litany, and the preaching of the sermon, in which the poor Queen was exhorted to "follow in the footsteps of her predecessor"-which would have been to walk "sailor-fashion" morally. Then came the administration of the oath. After having been catechised by the Archbishop in regard to the Established Church, Her Majesty was conducted to the altar, where kneeling, and laying her hand on the Gospels in the great Bible, she said, in clear tones, silvery yet solemn: "The things which I have here before promised, I will perform and keep. So help me G.o.d!"

She then kissed the book, and after that the hymn, "Come, Holy Ghost, our souls inspire" was sung by the choir, the Queen still kneeling.

I read the other day that the Duke of Connaught (Prince Arthur), on visiting Norwich Cathedral, was shown the very Bible on which his mother took her well-kept coronation oath, forty-five years ago. It was a most solemn pledge, and yet it was all comprehended in the little girl Victoria's promise to her governess, "I will be good."

Her Majesty next seated herself in St. Edward's chair; a rich cloth of gold was held over her head, and the Archbishop anointed her with holy oil, in the form of a cross. Then followed more prayers, more forms and ceremonies, the presentation of swords and spurs, and such like little feminine adornments, the investing with the Imperial robe, the sceptre and the ring, the consecration and blessing of the new crown, and at last the crowning. In this august ceremony three Archbishops, two Bishops, a Dean, and several other clergymen were somehow employed. The task was most religiously performed. It was the Primate of all England who reverently placed the crown on that reverent young head. The moment this was done all the Peers and Peeresses, who, with their coronets in their hands, or borne by pages at their sides, had been intently watching the proceedings, crowned themselves, shouting, "G.o.d save the Queen!" while again trumpets pealed forth, and drums sounded, and the far-off Tower and Park guns, fired by signal, boomed over the glad Capital.

It is stated that the most magically beautiful effect of all was produced by the Peeresses, in suddenly and simultaneously donning their coronets. It was as though the stars had somehow kept back their radiance till the young moon revealed herself in all her silver splendor.

Then came the exhortation, an anthem, and a benediction, and after a few more forms and pomps, the Queen was conducted to the Chair of Homage. Before the next long ceremony began, the Queen handed her two sceptres to two of the lords in attendance, to keep for her, as quietly as any other girl might hand over to a couple of dangling young gentlemen her fan and bouquet to hold for her, while she drew on her gloves.

The Lords Spiritual, headed by the Primate, began the homage by kneeling, and kissing the Queen's hand. Then came the Dukes of Suss.e.x and Cambridge, who, removing their coronets, and touching them to the Crown, solemnly pledged their allegiance, and kissed their niece on the left cheek. Her manner to them was observed to be very affectionate. Then the other Dukes, and Peers on Peers did homage by kneeling, touching coronet to crown, and kissing that little white hand. When the turn of the Duke of Wellington came, the entire a.s.sembly broke into applause; and yet he was not the hero of the day, but an older and far more infirm Peer, Lord Rolle, who mounted the steps with difficulty, and stumbling at the top, fell, and rolled all the way back to the floor, where "he lay at the bottom of the steps, coiled up in his robes." At sight of the accident the Queen rose from her throne, and held out her hands as though to help him. It was a pretty incident, not for the poor Peer, but as showing Her Majesty's impulsive kindness of heart. The old n.o.bleman was not hurt, but quickly unwound himself, rose, mounted the steps, and tried again and again to touch the crown with the coronet in his weak, uncertain hand, every plucky effort being hailed with cheers. At length the Queen, smiling, gave him her hand to kiss, dispensing with the form of touching her crown. Miss Martineau, who witnessed the scene, states that a foreigner who was present was made to believe by a wag that this ludicrous tumble was a part of the regular programme, and that the Lords Rolle held their t.i.tle on condition of performing that feat at every coronation, Rolle meaning roll.

This most tedious ceremony over, finishing up with more anthems, trumpets, drums, and shouts, the Sacrament was administered to the Queen -she discrowning herself, and kneeling while she partook of the holy elements. Then a re-crowning, a re-enthronement, more anthems, and the blessed release of the final benediction. Pa.s.sing into King Edward's chapel, the Queen changed the Imperial for the Royal robe of purple velvet, and pa.s.sed out of the Abbey, wearing her crown, bearing the sceptre in her right hand, and the orb in her left, and so got into her carriage, and drove home through the shouting mult.i.tude. It is stated that Her Majesty did not seem exhausted, though she was observed to put her hand to her head frequently, as though the crown was not, after all, a very comfortable fit.

After reigning more than a year, she had been obliged to spend nearly five fatiguing hours in being finished as a Queen. How strange it all seems to us American Republicans, who make and unmake our rulers with such expedition and scant ceremony.

CHAPTER XIII.

Pictures and descriptions of the Queen-Her love of pets-Her pa.s.sion for horseback exercise-Her spirited behavior in the first change of her Ministers.

In the Hall of the St. George's Society of Philadelphia there is a very interesting picture by the late Mr. Sully of Queen Victoria in her coronation robes. It is life-size, and represents her as mounting the steps of the throne, her head slightly turned, and looking back over the left shoulder. It seems to me that Her Majesty should own this picture, for it is an exquisite specimen of Mr. Sully's peculiar coloring, and a very lovely portrait. Here is no rigidity, no constraint, no irksome state. There is a springy, exultant vitality in the bearing of the graceful figure, and the light poise of the head, while in the complexion there is a tender softness and a freshness of tints belonging only to the dewy morning of life. The princeliness of youth, the glow of joy and hope overtop and outshine the crown which she wears as lightly as though it were a May-queen's Coronal of roses; and the dignity of simple girlish purity envelops her more royally than velvet and ermine. The eyes have the softness of morning skies and spring violets, and the smile hovering about the red lips, a little parted, is that of an unworn heart and an eager, confident spirit. This was the first portrait of the young Queen I ever saw, and still seems to me the loveliest.

Another American artist, Mr. Leslie, painted a large picture of the coronation, which Her Majesty purchased. As he was to paint the scene, he was provided with a very good seat near the throne-so near that he said he could plainly see, when she came to sign her coronation oath, that she wrote a large, bold hand, doing credit to her old writing master, Mr. Steward.

In his recollections he says: "I don't know why, but the first sight of her in her robes of state brought tears into my eyes, and it had this effect upon many people; she looked almost like a child." Campbell, the poet, is related to have said to a friend: "I was at Her Majesty's coronation in Westminster Abbey, and she conducted herself so well during the long and fatiguing ceremony that I shed tears many times."

Carlyle said at the time, with a shake of his craggy, s.h.a.ggy head: "Poor little Queen! she is at an age at which a girl can hardly be trusted to choose a bonnet for herself, yet a task is laid upon her from which an archangel might shrink.":

And yet, according to Earl Russell, this "poor little Queen," over whom the painters and poets wept, and the great critic "roared gently" his lofty commiseration, informed her anxious mother that she "ascended the throne without alarm." Victoria, if reminded of this in later years, might have said, "They who know nothing, fear nothing"; and yet the very vagueness, as well as vastness, of the untried life would have appalled many spirits.

The Queen was certainly a very valiant little woman, but there would have been something unnatural, almost uncanny, about her had the regal calm and religious seriousness which marked her mien during those imposing rites, continued indefinitely, and it is right pleasant to read in the reminiscences of Leslie, how the child in her broke out when all the magnificent but tiresome parade, all the grand stage-business with those heavy actors, was over. The painter says: "She is very fond of dogs, and has one favorite little spaniel, who is always on the lookout for her return when she is from home. She had, of course, been separated from him on that day longer than usual, and when the state-coach drove up to the Palace steps she heard him barking joyously in the hall, and exclaimed, 'There's Dash,' and was in a hurry to doff her crown and royal robe, and lay down the sceptre and the orb, which she carried in her hands, and go and give Dash his bath."

I hope this story is literally true, for I have a strong impression that it was this peculiar love of pets, this sense of companionship with intelligent, affectionate animals, especially dogs and horses, that with an ever-fresh delight in riding and dancing, healthful sports and merry games, was the salvation of the young Queen. Without such vents, the mighty responsibility of her dizzy position, the grandeur, the dignity, the decorum, the awful etiquette would have killed her-or at least, puffed her up with pride, or petrified her with formality. Sir John Campbell wrote of her at this time: "She is as merry and playful as a kitten."-I hope she loved kittens! Again he says: "The Queen was in great spirits, and danced with more than usual gaiety, a romping, country-dance, called the Tempest."