Queen Victoria (17 page)

The early part of 1850 was entirely devoted by the Prince to the organisation of the great enterprise he had undertaken for the next year. He had received warm encouragement from many and influential quarters, but there was an undercurrent of hostile criticism which occasioned him much anxiety. The first great public meeting on the subject of the Exhibition, held on the 21st of February at Willis’s Rooms, was a conspicuous success. But the strongest impetus to the movement was given by the Prince himself in his speech at the banquet held at the Mansion House on the 21st of March, when he explained to the Ambassadors of foreign States, to the Royal Commissioners for the Exhibition, and to the chief magistrates of more than two hundred towns, his conception of the scope and purpose of the proposed Exhibition. This memorable speech, too long to be quoted in these pages but well worth perusal, was received with enthusiasm, and the congratulations which the Prince received assured him that his cherished scheme had taken a firm hold on the hearts of the people. The Queen was deeply touched by the warmth with which her husband’s powers of mind and heart were received, and writing to her uncle a few days afterwards, says of the Prince: “People are much struck by his great power and energy; by the great self-denial and constant wish to work for others which are so striking in his character. But this is the happiest life. Pining for what one cannot have, and trying to run after what is pleasantest, invariably end in disappointment.”

Of the great self-denial invariably shown by the Prince a conspicuous instance occurred almost immediately after these lines had been written by the Queen. The Duke of Wellington proposed that the Prince should succeed him in his office of Commander-in-Chief. This “tempting offer for a young man,” as the Prince himself terms it, was fully discussed, and eventually refused, for reasons which the Prince embodied in a letter to the Duke. One paragraph of this letter is quoted here, as it explains the course of action which his Royal Highness had adopted when first he became the Consort of the Queen, and this he continued to pursue while his life was spared to Her Majesty and to the nation. “Whilst a female Sovereign has a great many disadvantages in comparison with a King, yet, if she is married, and her husband understands and does his duty, her position, on the other hand, has many compensating advantages, and, in the long run, will be found even to be stronger than that of a male Sovereign. But this requires that the husband should entirely sink his own
individual
existence in that of his wife; that he should aim at no power by himself or for himself; should shun all contention, assume no separate responsibility before the public, but make his position entirely a part of hers; fill up every gap which, as a woman, she would naturally leave in the exercise of her regal functions; continually and anxiously watch every part of the public business, in order to be able to advise and assist her at any moment in any of the multifarious and difficult questions or duties brought before her, sometimes international, sometimes political, or social, or personal. As the natural head of her family, superintendent of her household, manager of her private affairs, sole
confidential
adviser in politics, and only assistant in her communications with the officers of the Government, he is, besides, the husband of the Queen, the tutor of the Royal children, the private secretary of the Sovereign, and her permanent Minister.” The Duke of Wellington was convinced by the arguments of the Prince, and Lord John Russell, to whom the whole correspondence, which may be found in Sir Theodore Martin’s “Life,” was submitted, also agreed in the conclusions at which the Queen and Prince had arrived.

On the 1st of May, 1850, the Queen’s seventh child and third son was born at Buckingham Palace. The day was the birthday of the veteran Duke of Wellington, and this coincidence gave the Queen and Prince the opportunity of marking their friendship and esteem for one of their most valued subjects. Writing a few days afterwards to Baron Stockmar, the Prince says of the infant: “He is to be called Arthur William Patrick Albert. His first name is in compliment to the good old Duke, on whose eighty-first birthday he first saw the light. Patrick is in remembrance of our recent visit to Ireland; William, of the Prince of Prussia (late Emperor of Germany), whom we shall ask to be godfather, and also in remembrance of poor Queen Adelaide, on whose account we have also selected the Duchess Ida of Saxe-Weimar (Queen Adelaide’s sister) as godmother. My name the Queen insists on retaining by way of
coda
.” The infant Prince, now Duke of Connaught, was baptized in the following June, the Prince of Prussia and the Duke of Wellington both being present.

On the 27th of May the Queen was again the object of a cowardly outrage while leaving Cambridge House, where her uncle was lying at the point of death. A man, dressed as a gentleman, darted forward and struck with a stick at the Queen’s face; the force of the blow was fortunately broken by the bonnet, which was crushed in, but Her Majesty’s forehead was severely bruised. The injury was not so serious as to prevent a visit to the opera in the evening, where, on the appearance of Her Majesty, the performance was stopped, and the National Anthem sung amidst enthusiastic cheering. The ruffian proved to be one Robert Pate, formerly holding a commission in the 10th Hussars. He was tried on the 11th of July, found guilty, and sentenced to seven years’ transportation.

On the 29th of July of this year the Queen lost a valued friend and counsellor in Sir Robert Peel, who died from the effects of a fall from his horse on Constitution Hill. In a letter written to her uncle a few days afterwards Her Majesty says: - “The sorrow and grief at his death are most touching, and the country mourns over him as over a father. Every one seems to have lost a personal friend.” Nor was this the only loss which this year was to bring. Before Sir Robert Peel was laid in his grave, the Duke of Cambridge, who had been long ill, died, and the news arrived of the serious illness of the Queen of the Belgians, an illness which proved fatal in October following. Her father, the exiled Louis Philippe, had passed away at Claremont on the 25th of August, just as the Queen and Prince Albert were starting for Scotland to enjoy a brief respite from the cares of State, which, at this crisis, were more than usually burdensome, owing to the state of foreign affairs.

On the journey to the north the Queen and Prince rested at Castle Howard, the seat of the Earl of Carlisle, and on the continuation of the journey to Edinburgh opened the railway bridge at Newcastle over the Tyne, and another at Berwick over the Tweed. At Edinburgh the Queen occupied the Royal palace of Holyrood, which then for the first time since the flight of Mary Queen of Scots sheltered a Queen. The stay in the northern capital was keenly enjoyed, the Queen especially admiring the view from Arthur’s Seat, to which she climbed. During this visit the Prince laid the first stone of the Scottish National Gallery. The whole of the month of September was passed at Balmoral, and on the 10th of October the Royal party returned to the south, passing one night at Holyrood on the journey.

The serenity of the political atmosphere at the close of the year was seriously disturbed by a Brief from the Vatican, which re-established in the kingdom of England a hierarchy of Bishops, deriving their titles from English Sees. It came at a moment when the “Tractarian” movement had caused much excitement among the members of the Church of England, and the popular indignation at this “aggression” was raised to fervent heat. Sir Theodore Martin, in his Life of the Prince Consort, writes: “Men of all classes and all denominations poured in addresses to the Crown condemning in the strongest terms the invasion of the Royal supremacy, and urging determined resistance to the Papal pretensions. The Universities of Oxford and Cambridge, and the Corporation of London, sent their representatives by hundreds with similar addresses to Windsor Castle, where they were presented in St. George’s Hall on the 10th of December. To each of these replies were returned by Her Majesty in person. The Oxford address, presented by the Duke of Wellington as Chancellor, was noted at the time as having been read by him in his peculiar energetic manner, with great vigour and animation.’ The Cambridge address,” the same chronicler states, “was read by the Prince ‘with great clearness and well-marked emphasis,’ and responded to by Her Majesty with great deliberation and with decided accents.’” These addresses and replies were drawn up with a moderation which might well have been imitated by some of Her Majesty’s Ministers. In a letter on the subject to her aunt, the Duchess of Gloucester, the Queen writes: “I would never have consented to say anything which breathed a spirit of intolerance. Sincerely Protestant as I always have been and always shall be, and indignant as I am at those who call themselves Protestant while they are, in fact, quite the contrary, I must regret the unchristian and intolerant spirit exhibited by many people at the public meetings. I cannot bear to hear the violent abuse of the Catholic religion, which is so painful and so cruel towards the many good and innocent Roman Catholics. However, we must hope and trust this excitement will cease, and that the wholesome effect of it upon our Church will be lasting.”

On the 4th of February, 1851, Parliament was opened by Her Majesty in person. The Queen was loudly cheered, the cheers being mingled with the cry of “No Popery!” Fierce debates on the Ecclesiastical Titles Bill followed; the Government was beaten, and resigned; but, as Lord Stanley was not prepared to form a Government, Lord John Russell and his colleagues resumed office. It was not till the middle of the year that the excitement caused by the explosion died away. During this anxious time the Queen and Prince were much occupied with the hard work and anxieties caused by the approach of the opening of the Great Exhibition. Croakers and prophets of evil were busy all around. Writing to the Dowager Duchess of Coburg, the Prince, a fortnight before the appointed day, says: “Just at present I am more dead than alive from overwork. The opponents of the Exhibition work with might and main to throw all the women into panic and to drive myself crazy. The strangers, they give out, are certain to commence a thorough revolution here, to murder Victoria and myself, and to proclaim the Red Republic in England; the plague is certain to ensue from the confluence of such vast multitudes, and to swallow up those whom the increased price of everything has not already swept away. For all this I am to be responsible, and against all this I have to make efficient provision.”

The success of the Exhibition is a matter of history: no building like it had ever before been seen, and no such collection of arts and manufactures had ever been brought together. Of the opening ceremony the Queen gives her own impressions in her diary: “May 1. - 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!… 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… 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 just 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 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 today! 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 one 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 must not omit to mention an interesting episode of this day, viz., the visit of the good old Duke on this his eighty-second birthday to his little godson, our dear little boy. He came to us both at five, and gave him a golden cup and some toys which he had himself chosen, and Arthur gave him a nosegay. We dined
en
famille
, and then went to the Covent Garden Opera. I was rather tired, but we were both so happy, so full of thankfulness! God is indeed our kind and merciful Father!”

On the 13th of June Her Majesty gave a State ball of great magnificence, at which all the company wore costumes of the time of the Restoration, and on the 9th of July the Queen and Prince accepted the invitation of the Lord Mayor and the Corporation of London to an entertainment to celebrate the success of the Great Exhibition. The route lay through the City from Temple Bar; it was brilliantly illuminated, and the crowd in the streets enormous. The Guildhall was magnificently decorated, and supper was served in the ancient crypt.

After a short stay at Osborne the Queen and Prince returned to London for the prorogation of Parliament on the 8th of August, and for another visit to the Exhibition. On the 29th they arrived at Balmoral, now the property of Her Majesty, to enjoy the rest and quiet so much needed after the strain and anxieties of the summer. The journey was for the first time made by the Great Northern Railway. It had been arranged that on the return journey a visit should be paid to Liverpool, now the first shipping port of the kingdom. After halting at Lancaster to see “Gaunt’s embattled pile,” the Royal party paid a visit to Croxteth, the seat of the Earl of Sefton, whence, next morning, passing through Knowsley, they reached Liverpool. Here the warmth of their reception was unchilled by the unusually inclement weather. Having viewed the docks, Her Majesty left Liverpool by canal for Worsley Hall, the seat of the Earl of Ellesmere. Thence she visited Manchester, where, in finer weather, she was received by enthusiastic multitudes. The great feature of the reception was the gathering of eighty thousand children of schools of all denominations, who were arranged in fourteen tiers of galleries round the Peel Park. Of this spectacle the Queen in her diary speaks as “A most extraordinary and totally unprecedented sightAll the children sang ‘God save the Queen’ extremely well together, the director being placed on a very high stand, from which he could command the whole park. It was a very pleasant and interesting visit. We went through Manchester and had an opportunity of seeing the extraordinary number of warehouses and manufactories it contains, and how large it is.”