Queen Victoria (22 page)

In June, 1860, the Prince, writing to Baron Stockmar, announced a piece of news of much family interest: “The two young Princes of Hesse-Darm-stadt leave England to-day, and have just taken leave. There is no doubt that the eldest (Louis) and Alice have formed a mutual liking, and although the visit fortunately has passed over without any declaration, I have no doubt that it will lead to further advances from the young gentleman’s family. We should not be averse to such an alliance, as the family is good and estimable, and the young man is unexceptionable in morals, manly, and both in body and mind distinguished by youthful freshness and vigour. As heir-presumptive to the Grand Duchy his position would, moreover, not be unsuitable… The Queen and myself look on as passive observers, which is undoubtedly our best course, as matters at present stand.” A month later the Princess Charles of Hesse, mother of Prince Louis, informed the Princess Frederick William of her son’s attachment, and by her this was communicated to the Queen. An extract, sent at the same time, of a letter from the young Prince himself, produced such an impression upon the Queen and the Prince Consort that they felt bound to ascertain the state of their daughter’s feelings. The result was such as to justify the encouragement of the young Prince’s hopes. No engagement was made; but some months later Prince Louis was to return, and have an opportunity of pressing his suit in person. A few weeks later came the news that to the Princess Frederick William was born a daughter, and to the Queen and Prince a second grandchild. To the mother her father wrote on the 28th of July from Osborne: “The little girl must be a darling. Little girls are much prettier than boys. I advise her to model herself after her Aunt Beatrice. That excellent lady has not now a moment to spare. ‘I have no time,’ she says, when she is asked for anything; ‘I must write letters to my niece.’”

On the 8th of August the Court arrived at Balmoral, and an interesting account is given, in the “Leaves from the Journal of our Life,” of an expedition to Glen Fishie and Grantown. Attended by only Lady Churchill and General Grey, the Queen and Prince passed two days in the wildest scenery of the Highlands, travelling unrecognised as “Lord and Lady Churchill and party.” Shortly after the return South, on the 22nd of September, the Queen and the Prince Consort, with Princess Alice, left Gravesend in the
Victoria
and
Albert
, on their way to Coburg. Here they were welcomed by the Duke and Duchess of Saxe-Coburg Gotha, and had the additional delight of seeing again the Prince and Princess Frederick William of Prussia. But the festivities which were intended to enliven their visit were prevented by the death of the Dowager Duchess of Saxe-Coburg.

The Royal travellers left Coburg on the 12th of October, passing through Coblentz and Aix-la-Chapelle to Antwerp, where the yacht re-embarked her passengers and brought them to Gravesend on the 17th. During the stay at Coburg the Prince narrowly escaped a serious carriage accident. In thankfulness for his escape, the Queen founded a permanent charity in the town of Coburg, from which a benevolent distribution should be made annually on the 1st of October, the day of the Prince’s escape. This trust, called the
Victoria
-
Stift
(Victoria foundation), still provides means for apprenticing or helping a number of young men and women just entering life in the way of earning their own livelihood. On the gth of November Prince Alfred arrived safely from his visit to the Cape, and on the 10th the Prince of Wales returned home after his memorable visit to Canada and to the United States. On the 30th another event of deep interest to the family took place, described by the Queen in her Diary. “After dinner, while talking to the gentlemen, I perceived Alice and Louis talking before the fire-place more earnestly than usual, and, when I passed to go to the other room, both came up to me, and Alice in much agitation said he had proposed to her, and he begged for my blessing. I could only squeeze his hand and say ‘Certainly,’ and that we would see him in our room later. Got through the evening, working as well as we could; Alice came to our room… agitated but quiet… Albert sent for Louis to his room - went first to him, and then called Alice and me in… Louis has a warm noble heart.” The welcome news of the satisfactory conclusion of the war with China contributed to the enjoyment of the Christmas festivities at Windsor.

The condition of the country at the beginning of 1861, when the Queen on the 5th of February opened Parliament in person, was tranquil and prosperous. Abroad were difficulties, the most ominous being the rupture between the northern and southern portions of the United States; and the Italian question also caused the Queen and Prince much anxiety. The 10th of February was the twenty-first anniversary of the Queen’s wedding, of which the Queen wrote to her uncle as “a day which has brought to us, and I may say to the world at large, such incalculable blessings! Very few can say with me, that this husband at the end of twenty-one years is not only full of the friendship, kindness, and affection which a truly happy marriage brings with it, but of the same tender love as in the very first days of our marriage. We missed dear mama and three of our children, but had six dear ones round us.” The Duchess of Kent, who was so missed at this gathering, never again joined the family circle. On the 15th of March the alarming news was brought to Buckingham Palace that Her Royal Highness had been seized with a shivering fit. With all possible speed the Queen and Prince hastened to Frogmore, to find the Duchess unconscious. She passed away on the morning of the next day. The loss of her mother was the deepest sorrow which the Queen had ever felt. Writing to her uncle the same day, Her Majesty says: “
She
is gone, - that precious, dearly beloved, tender mother, whom I have never parted from but for a few months - without whom I cannot imagine life - has been taken from us! It is too dreadful! But she is at peace!”

In this great sorrow the Queen was supported by a husband’s love. It was also no small consolation to feel that the heart of the whole nation sympathised with her in her loss. Addresses of condolence were voted in both Houses of Parliament. “In the history of our reigning house,” said Mr. Disraeli, who seconded the Address in the House of Commons, “none were ever placed as the widowed Princess and her royal child. Never before developed upon a delicate sex a more august or more awful responsibility. How these great duties were encountered - how fulfilled - may be read in the conscience of a grateful and a loyal people. Therefore the name of the Duchess of Kent will remain in our history from its interesting and benignant connexion with an illustrious reign. For the great grief which has fallen upon the Queen there is only one source of human consolation - the recollection of unbroken devotedness to the being whom we have loved and whom we have lost. That tranquillising and sustaining memory is the inheritance of our Sovereign. She who reigns over us has elected, amid all the splendour of Empire, to establish her life on the principle of domestic love. It is this, it is the remembrance and consciousness of this, which now sincerely saddens the public spirit, and permits a nation to bear its heartfelt sympathy to the foot of a bereaved throne, and to whisper solace to a royal heart.”

The funeral of the Duchess took place on March 25th in St. George’s Chapel, Windsor, where the remains were deposited till the completion of a mausoleum in the grounds of Frogmore. The death of the Duchess of Kent added much to the labours of the Prince Consort, upon whom unremitting work had begun seriously to tell. He was much occupied with the anxious state of affairs in Europe, and the preparations for the International Exhibition of 1862, which he was never to see, engaged much of his thoughts. When on the 5th of June he appeared, for the last time, at a public ceremonial, in order to open the Royal Horticultural Gardens at South Kensington, it was noticed how pale and worn he looked, and a much-needed move was made to Osborne, where the whole of July was passed.

On the 21st of August the Queen and Prince, with the Princesses Alice and Helena and Prince Alfred, crossed in the Royal yacht from Holyhead to Dublin. Landing next morning at Kingstown, they took up their residence in the Vice-regal Lodge in the Riding Park. On the 24th a grand review of about 10,000 troops in the Curragh Camp was held, but the spectacle was unfortunately spoilt by rain. Two days later they left Dublin, and spent some days in the enjoyment of the magnificent scenery at Killarney, where they stayed on a visit with Lord Kenmare at Kenmare House, and with Mr. Herbert at Muckross Abbey. On the 29th the journey was resumed by Dublin to Holyhead and on to Balmoral. In “Leaves from the Journal” details are given of the expeditions made by the Royal family through the Highlands in the same manner as those of the previous year. The description of that made on the 16th of October concludes with the words, “We returned at twenty minutes to seven o’clock, much pleased and interested with this delightful expedition. Alas! I fear our
last
great one!

(IT WAS OUR LAST ONE! - 1867.)”

The Court returned to Windsor on the 24th of October. For a short time the Prince seemed to be in fair health, and was able to attend as usual to the many matters of interest that claimed his attention. The deaths of the young King of Portugal and his brother, however, within a few days of each other, gave him a severe shock. Still he continued, though feeling very unwell, and suffering much from sleeplessness, to take an active part in public affairs. On the 22nd of November he went over to Sandhurst to inspect the buildings for the new Staff College and the Royal Military Academy, in which he had taken the keenest interest. The fatigue of this journey and the exposure to incessant rain had a most injurious effect. From this time he was in constant suffering from rheumatic pain, and to this were added the depression and weakness caused by continued want of sleep. On the 25th he paid, in cold and stormy weather, a visit to the Prince of Wales at Cambridge. On the 28th the alarming news arrived of the outrage by the Americans on the British flag, when the steamer
Trent
was boarded in mid-ocean by Captain Wilkes of the
San
Jacinto
, and Messrs. Mason and Slidell, the envoys accredited by the Confederated States to England and to France, were removed by force from its protection. The news was received in England with such indignation and excitement, that to ordinary observers it appeared as if war was inevitable. It was then that the drafts of the despatches which it was proposed by the Cabinet to send to Lord Lyons at Washington were carefully read over by the Prince, and early in the morning of the 1st of December he was able, though suffering much from weakness, to draft the last memorandum that he ever wrote. The document led to the removal from the despatch of everything which could irritate a proud and sensitive nation, and afforded the United States an opportunity for receding from the position in which they had been placed by the over-zealous action of their agent. The conciliatory tone of the amended despatch had its due effect; the news of the liberation of the prisoners reached London on the 9th of January, 1862, and was communicated to the Queen on the same day. Her Majesty, in the depth of her sorrow, replied: “Lord Palmerston cannot but look on this peaceful issue of the American quarrel as greatly owing to her beloved Prince, who wrote the observations on the draft to Lord Lyons, in which Lord Palmerston so entirely concurred. It was the last thing he ever wrote.” Lord Palmerston in his answer, on the 12th of January, wrote as follows: - “As Your Majesty observes, the alterations made in the despatch to Lord Lyons contributed essentially to the satisfactory settlement of the dispute. But these alterations were only one of innumerable instances of the tact and judgment, and the power of nice discrimination which excited Lord Palmerston’s constant and unbounded admiration.”

Meanwhile the Prince was slowly losing strength. He slept little, and could take no nourishment; but he rose and endeavoured to exert himself. He had, on the 29th of November, witnessed the march past of the Eton College Volunteers, though conscious that his strength was overtaxed by the exertion. “Unhappily, I must be present,” is the note in his Diary, and it is the last entry in it.

On the 7th of December typhoid fever was declared. All went well till the 12th, when the lungs became affected, and on the 14th the end came. By the bedside knelt the Queen, the Prince of Wales, the Princess Alice and Princess Helena. To quote the words of Sir Theodore Martin: “In the solemn hush of that mournful chamber there was such grief as has rarely hallowed any deathbed. A great light which had blessed the world, and which the mourners had but yesterday hoped might long bless it, was waning fast away. A husband, a father, a friend, a master, endeared by every quality by which man in such relations can win the love of his fellow-man, was passing into the Silent Land, and his loving glance, his wise counsels, his firm, manly thoughts should be known among them no more. The Castle clock chimed the third quarter after ten. Calm and peaceful grew the beloved form; the features settled into the beauty of a perfectly serene repose; two or three long, but gentle, breaths were drawn; and that great soul had fled, to seek a nobler scope for its aspirations in the world within the veil, for which it had often yearned, where there is rest for the weary, and where the spirits of the just are made perfect.”

At midnight of the 14th of December, 1861, the tolling of the great bell of St. Paul’s had announced to the citizens of London the mournful tidings of the Prince Consort’s death, but large numbers of the people first learnt, by the omission of his name from the Litany, what a blow had fallen on their Queen. On every side was heard the sympathetic outburst of grief for the Sovereign so early widowed.

The wreck of the Queen’s domestic happiness, and the loss of that support which had divided the burthens and lightened the cares of sovereignty, were felt by all classes of her subjects as a private as well as a public calamity. No such affliction had fallen upon the nation since the death of the Princess Charlotte, and the universal feeling of sorrow has never been surpassed in its depth and sincerity. In the general mourning for Princess Charlotte a note of sympathetic compassion was struck by the fate of a young and beautiful Princess suddenly removed at the most interesting crisis of a woman’s life. The tribute which the nation paid to Prince Albert was different in character though not less heartfelt. Gratitude for the great services which he had rendered to the country, for the example of moral purity he had displayed, and for the salutary influence he had exercised in his exalted station, admiration for his remarkable talents and accomplishments, respect for the wisdom with which he had kept himself clear from the conflicts of political parties, and appreciation of the self-effacing modesty with which he had so ably aided the Queen in all the affairs of State - these were the sentiments that inspired the addresses of condolence which were sent up from every part of the United Kingdom. To the addresses of the Houses of Parliament, meeting in February, the Queen replied: “I return you my most sincere thanks for your dutiful and affectionate address, especially for the manner in which you have assured me of your feelings on the irreparable loss sustained by myself and the country, in the afflicting dispensation of Providence which bows me to the earth.” But, prostrated as she was by the burthen of a sorrow which never could pass away, the Queen, strengthened by the cherished example of the loving counsellor she had lost, resolutely overcame her physical exhaustion and the depression of inconsolable grief, and fulfilled those arduous duties, the performance of which she regarded as a sacred trust for her family and her people. Speaking on this subject some years afterwards, a statesman of high rank remarked; “It is a circumstance worthy of observation, and which ought to be known to all the people of this country, that during all the years of the Queen’s affliction, during which she has lived necessarily in comparative retirement, she has omitted no part of that public duty which concerns her as Sovereign of this country; and I am sure that when the Queen reappears again on more public occasions, the people of this country will regard her only with increased affection, from the recollection that during all the time of her care and sorrow she has devoted herself, without one day’s intermission, to those cares of government which belong to her position.”