The Girls' Book of Famous Queens

“Lord John Thynne, who officiated for the Dean of Westminster, told me that nobody knew what was to be done, except the archbishop and himself (who had rehearsed), Lord Willoughby (who is experienced in these matters), and the Duke of Wellington; and consequently there was a continual difficulty and embarrassment, and the queen never knew what she was to do next. They made her leave her chair and enter into St. Edward’s chapel before the prayers were concluded, much to the discomfiture of the archbishop. She said to John Thynne, ‘Pray tell me what I am to do, for they don’t know.’ And at the end, when the orb was put in her hand, she said, ‘What am I to do with it?’ ‘Your Majesty is to carry it, if you please, in your hand.’ ‘Am I?’ she said; ‘it is very heavy.’ The ruby ring was made for her little finger instead of the fourth, on which the Rubric prescribes that it should be put. When the archbishop was to put it on, she extended the former, but he said it must be put on the latter. She said it was too small, and she could not get it on. He said it was right to put it there, and as he insisted, she yielded, but had first to take off her other rings, and then this was forced on; but it hurt her very much, and as soon as the ceremony was over she was obliged to bathe her finger in iced water in order to get it off.”

Most royal marriages have little to do with love and sentiment, but that of Queen Victoria was a delightful exception.

It is a pretty scene, and one full of fascinating charm, which presents the young queen making her offer of marriage to the handsome young Prince Albert, son of the Duke of Saxe-Coburg-Saalfeld.

As she was a sovereign, the prince could not with propriety make the offer to her, and so the blushing girl, now the woman rather than the queen, in the presence of the youth who had already gained her love, forgot the sovereign, as she timidly took this momentous step.

Their married life was beautiful and happy, and within the sacred circle of such a love-life none have right to enter, even though royal lives are considered public property. No shadow seems to have come between their perfect confidence; and the sweetest tribute to the character of Queen Victoria fell from the lips of her dying husband, when twenty years after, she bent over his death-bed, and he lifted his trembling hand and stroked her cheek, murmuring, “Liebes Frauchen” (dear little wife), “Gutes Weibchen” (good little wife), and resting his aching head upon her shoulder, saying, “It is very comfortable so, dear child,” and having kissed her, fell asleep in her arms, to waken no more on this side the river of death.

We can only enumerate the most important political events of Queen Victoria’s reign, without detailed description. The Victorian Era will only rightly take its place in the annals of history when the entire epoch shall have become the past. While the present is weaving the history for the future upon the loom of time, it is impossible clearly to discern the intricacies of the pattern, or rightly to estimate the importance of the various-colored threads which are being employed to work out the finished design. Only when the epoch has become past history, can we truly measure its importance in the annals of the world.

Although during the past fifty years there has been no change in the sovereign of England, there have been vast and momentous changes in the parties which control the government of that nation. Prominent men in the ministry have arisen and declined, and the position of the English people to-day, as regards their influence in political affairs, is much changed from the comparatively insignificant part they played in past epochs. No longer does a despotic Elizabeth hold the lives of her people subject to the caprices of her individual will; and more and more clearly is the voice of that people, not only heard, but heeded, even in the House of Lords.

At the time of Victoria’s coronation, a Whig ministry was in power, led by Viscount Melbourne.

Queen Victoria was much attached to her first premier, Lord Melbourne. But soon changes took place in the ministry. The Conservatives, led by Sir Robert Peel, came into power. Sir Robert Peel, remembering the pernicious influence of women-intriguers in the time of Queen Anne, insisted that the ladies of Victoria’s household should be changed with the change of the ministry. But Victoria was a very different woman and sovereign from the weak-minded Anne. With indignation, she wrote: —

“They wanted to deprive me of my ladies, and I suppose they would deprive me next of my dressers and my housemaids; but I will show them that I am queen of England.” And show them she did, and the Conservatives were obliged to yield and retire, and Lord Melbourne was recalled to office.

But in 1841, the Whigs were again succeeded by the Conservatives; and Sir Robert Peel became prime minister. He was succeeded in 1846 by Lord John Russell, who was placed in power by the combined efforts of the Protectionists and Whigs.

The Revolution in France, which resulted in the overthrow of Louis Philippe and the ascension to the French throne of Prince Louis Napoleon, as Napoleon III., occasioned outbursts of the people in various parts of Europe. There were wild threats of an insurrection in London, but the scare passed over, and the preservation of order was secured without bloodshed.

The renowned Duke of Wellington was the chief military authority in England, and the leader in the House of Lords up to the time of his death, in 1852, in his eighty-fourth year. The queen greatly mourned his loss. She had given him the distinguished honor of standing godfather to one of her own children, Prince Arthur, and when she heard the news of his death she wrote: —

“What a loss! One cannot think of this country without the duke, our immortal hero. In him centred almost every earthly honor a subject could possess. Above party, looked up to by all, revered by the whole nation, the friend of the sovereign.”

In this same year the Conservatives again came into power, with the Earl of Derby as premier. We cannot give the various changes in the English ministry during Victoria’s reign. Suffice it to say, the Derby ministry retired in 1858, and were succeeded by the Palmerston ministry. Again, Lord Palmerston was obliged by circumstances to resign, and Lord Derby again came into office. But he was soon deposed, and Lord Palmerston returned to office as prime minister. On the death of Viscount Palmerston in 1865, Lord John Russell again became premier, but was soon defeated by the Conservatives, who came into power with the Earl of Derby, and Mr. Benjamin Disraeli. Lord Derby afterwards resigned, and Disraeli became prime minister, and subsequently received the title of Lord Beaconsfield. In 1880 Lord Beaconsfield’s party was defeated, and a Liberal ministry came in with Mr. Gladstone. Later changes it is not necessary to note here.

The English wars during the last fifty years have been wars in Afghanistan, the quelling of various revolts in India, England’s alliance with France in the Crimean War, the Abyssinian War in 1867, and the recent war with Egypt, which resulted in the loss of several Englishmen of note, especially the renowned and brave Chinese Gordon, whose imprisonment and inhuman murder by the savage followers of Mahdi, at Khartoum, called forth loud denunciations against the military measures of the English government.

The Franco-German War in 1870, resulting in the downfall of Napoleon III., although not entered into by England, was watched with intense anxiety by Queen Victoria. Two of her daughters, the Princesses Victoria and Alice, were obliged to see their husbands depart for the seat of war, and the beloved Princess Alice devoted herself with untiring energy to the care of the sick and wounded soldiers. For the second time Queen Victoria welcomed the fallen French monarchs to her realm. She had received the family of Louis Philippe with kindness; and the Empress Eugénie, together with the dethroned emperor and the young Prince Imperial, were equally the recipients of her pity and sympathy. Strange vicissitudes of fortune! During the Crimean War, the emperor and empress of the French had visited Queen Victoria, their royal ally.

“How strange,” says the queen’s journal, “that I, the granddaughter of George III., should dance with Emperor Napoleon, nephew of England’s greatest enemy, now my most intimate and nearest ally, only six years ago, living in this country an exile, poor and unthought of!”

This visit was afterwards returned by Queen Victoria and the Prince Consort, when they were received by Napoleon III. with great magnificence in Paris, and attended there the Grande Exposition; as the French were the first to follow the example of the English in the great World’s Exhibition, which had been originally conceived of by Prince Albert, when he devised the famous Crystal Palace.

This great International Exhibition, inaugurated and carried out by Prince Albert, this first Crystal Palace of the world, of which the Paris Exposition, and others of the kind, have been copies, some on a larger scale, but none of equal beauty, is best described in Queen Victoria’s own words: —

“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 I can never forget, and I felt much moved. We went for a moment to a little side-room, where we left our shawls, and where we found mamma and Mary, and outside which were standing the other princes. In a few seconds we proceeded, Albert leading me, having Vicky at his hand and Bertie holding mine. 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 mixture of palms, flowers, trees, statues, fountains; 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 forever. God bless my dearest Albert! God bless my dearest country, which has shown itself so great to-day! One felt grateful to the great God, who seemed to pervade all and to bless all! The only event it in the slightest degree reminded me 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 peculiar beauty and combination of such striking and different objects. I mean the slight resemblance only as to its solemnity; the enthusiasm and cheering, too, were much more touching, for in a church naturally all is silent… That we felt happy, thankful, I need not say; proud of all that had passed, of my darling husband’s success, and of the behavior of my good people.”

Thus did the queen gracefully acknowledge her indebtedness to the devoted husband, who, refusing all titles but that of Prince Consort, spent his life in ministering to her greatness, and consecrated his superior talents of mind in unostentatiously smoothing the difficulties in her royal path. Prince Albert would, without doubt, have made one of the best and most beneficent rulers that England ever had, if he had been the sovereign; it was to his wise head and clear judgment that Victoria was indebted for many of the popular measures of her government during his life; and his loss was indeed irreparable. And her constant devotion to his memory is a more noble tribute to him than the magnificent memorial erected by her in his honor, even though the inscription reads: —

To The Beloved Memory

OF

ALBERT, THE GREAT AND GOOD PRINCE CONSORT

Raised by his Broken-Hearted Widow

VICTORIA R

Charlotte M. Yonge, in her recent “Jubilee Book,” “The Victorian Half-Century,” gives the following incident: —

“We have a charming picture of domestic life in the letters of the great musical composer Mendelssohn, who was in England in the summer of 1842. ‘Prince Albert had asked me to go to him on Saturday, at two o’clock, that I might try his organ before I left England. I found him alone, and as we were talking away, the queen came in, also alone, in a simple morning dress. She said she was obliged to leave for Claremont in an hour, and then suddenly interrupting herself, exclaimed, “But, goodness! what a confusion!” For the wind had littered the whole room, and even the pedals of the organ (which, by the way, made a very pretty feature of the room), with leaves of music from a large portfolio that lay open. As she spoke she knelt down and began picking up the music; Prince Albert helped, and I, too, was not idle. Then Prince Albert proceeded to explain the stops to me, and she said that she would meanwhile put things straight. I begged that the prince would first play me something, that I might boast about it in Germany, and he played a chorale, by heart, with the pedals, so charmingly and clearly and correctly that it would have done credit to any professional; and the queen, having finished her work, came and sat by him and listened, and looked pleased. Then it was my turn, and I began my chorus from “St. Paul,” “How lovely are the messengers.” Before I got to the end of the first verse they had both joined in the chorus, and all the time Prince Albert managed the stops so cleverly for me… and all by heart, that I was really quite enchanted. Then the young Prince of Gotha came in, and there was more chatting, and the queen asked if I had written any new songs, and said she was very fond of singing my published ones. “You should sing one to him,” said Prince Albert, and after a little begging, she said she would try the “Frühlingslied” in B flat, “if it is still here,” she added, “for all my music is packed for Claremont.” Prince Albert went to look for it, but came back, saying it was already packed. “But one might, perhaps, unpack it,” said I. “We must send for Lady – ,” she said (I did not catch the name). So the bell was rung, and the servants were sent after it; but without success, and at last the queen went herself, and whilst she was gone, Prince Albert said to me, “She begs you will accept this present as a remembrance,” and gave me a case with a beautiful ring, on which is engraved “V. R., 1842.” Then the queen came back, and said, “Lady – is gone, and has taken all my things with her. It is really most annoying.”’

“However, Mendelssohn begged that he might not be the sufferer, and after some consultation, Prince Albert said, ‘She will sing you something of Gluck’s.’ Then they proceeded to the queen’s sitting-room, where there stood by the piano a mighty rocking-horse and two great bird-cages. The walls were decorated with pictures; beautifully bound books lay on the tables, and music on the piano. Mendelssohn found among the music a set of songs of his own, and, first sending away the parrot, ‘for he will scream louder than I can sing,’ the queen sang ‘Schöner und Schöner schmückt sie’ quite charmingly, in strict time and tune, but with one slight error. Mendelssohn confessed that the song was not his, but his sister Fanny’s, and she then, with some doubt, undertook to try to sing his ‘Pilger Spruch, Lass dich nur,’ which she did quite faultlessly, and with charming feeling and expression.

“Mendelssohn says: ‘I thought to myself, one must not pay too many compliments on such an occasion, so I merely thanked her a great many times; on which she said, “Oh! if only I had not been so frightened; generally I have such a long breath.” Then I praised her heartily and with the best conscience in the world, for just that part, with the long C at the close, she had done so well, and taking the three notes next to it all in the same breath, as one seldom hears it done, and therefore it amused me doubly that she herself should have begun about it.’ Afterwards the prince sang ‘Es ist ein Schnitter,’ and Mendelssohn improvised till it was time for her Majesty to start for Claremont.”

Madame de Bunsen, the English wife of the Prussian ambassador, thus described Queen Victoria: —

“She is the only piece of female royalty I ever saw who was also a creature such as God Almighty has created. Her smile is a real smile, her grace is natural; although it has received a high polish from cultivation, there is nothing artificial about her.”

Her present appearance is thus given: “Queen Victoria possesses a short, stout figure; a face with the long upper lip, and cold, blue eyes of the Georges; straight bandeaus of gray hair; a rather flushed complexion; a most graceful walk; and a sort of sweet, venerable, natural dignity and power about her.”

On the first of January, 1876, Queen Victoria was proclaimed Empress of India.

The first wedding among her children was the marriage of her eldest daughter, the Princess Victoria, to Frederick William, now the Crown Prince of Germany. The queen herself thus writes in her diary: “Went to look at the rooms prepared for Vicky’s honeymoon. Very pretty! It quite agitated me to look at them.” And again, regarding the ceremony, she writes: “My last fear of being overcome vanished on seeing Vicky’s quiet, calm, and composed manner. It was beautiful to see her kneeling with Fritz, their hands joined, and the train borne by the eight young ladies, who looked like a cloud of maidens hovering round her.”

So royal mothers are akin to other mothers when they witness the wedding ceremonies of their children. The Princess Alice was the next to marry; but as her marriage occurred soon after her father’s death, the wedding was very quiet. This lovely princess was the favorite of the family. She seemed to inherit a large portion of her lamented father’s tastes and traits; and as the wife of Prince Louis of Hesse, won all hearts. Her sad death, from malignant diphtheria, which dread disease had just snatched away a darling little daughter, is remembered by all. Since her death, the queen has lost another child, her youngest son, Leopold, Duke of Albany.

The heir to the throne, the Prince of Wales, married the beautiful and charming Princess Alexandra of Denmark. Many have seen her fascinating face, and English people love to greet her and receive her gracious smiles. Of the sweet Princess of Wales, all speak in lavish terms of praise. The other children of Queen Victoria are: the Princess Helena, married to Prince Christian of Schleswig-Holstein; Princess Louise, now Marquise of Lorne; Princess Beatrice, lately married to Prince Henry of Battenberg; Prince Alfred, Duke of Edinburgh, married to the daughter of the Czar Alexander II. of Russia, she being sister to the present czar; and Prince Arthur, Duke of Connaught, who married the Princess Marguerite of Prussia, daughter of Prince Frederick Charles of Prussia, called the Red Prince.

The 21st of June, 1887, was the fiftieth anniversary of Queen Victoria’s ascension to the throne of England. The occasion was celebrated by an imposing Jubilee. But this gorgeous celebration was surpassed ten years later by her Diamond Jubilee, when the whole nation seemed given up to rejoicing and pageantry.

Only one event was more impressive than that great occasion; it was the funeral of the good Queen, on February 3, 1901. She passed away on January 22, after a reign of sixty-three years, the longest of any English sovereign. At her own request, the funeral was a military one. The royal catafalque was placed on board the Alberta, which passed between long lines of warships whose flags were half-masted, and whose crews lined the decks with their arms at “attention.” Upon land, the coffin was placed on a khaki-colored gun carriage, and was followed through the streets of London by a solemn procession headed by the Queen’s son, the new monarch, Edward VII, and her grandson, Emperor William of Germany. Minute guns and the tolling of bells announced the progress of the funeral train.

Within the grounds of Frogmore House, adjoining Windsor Castle, the Queen had erected a mausoleum for the Prince Consort; and there by his side she was laid to rest. The epitaph written by the Queen herself reads: —

“Victoria – Albert.
Here at last I shall
Rest with thee:
With thee in Christ
Shall rise again.”