Books: Life of Her Most Gracious Majesty the Queen V.1.

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The King's reply from Wiesbaden is like the man, and is pathetic in the
depth of its gratification. "My dearest Victoria, nothing could have given
me greater pleasure than your dear letter. I had, when I learnt your
decision, almost the feeling of Old Simeon: 'Now lettest thou thy servant
depart in peace.' Your choice has been for these last years my conviction
of what might and would be best for your happiness; and just because I was
convinced of it, and knew how strangely fate often changes what one tries
to bring about as being the best plan one could fix upon--the maximum of a
good arrangement--I feared that it would not happen."

In Prince Albert's letter to Baron Stockmar, written without delay, as he
says, "on one of the happiest days of my life to give you the most welcome
news possible," he goes on to declare that he is often at a loss to believe
that such affection should be shown to him. He quotes as applicable to
himself from Schiller's "Song of the Bell," of which the Prince was very
fond--

Das Auge sieht den Himmel offen,
Es schwimmt das Herz in seligkeit.

The passage from which these lines are taken is the very beautiful one thus
rendered in English by the late Lord Lytton:--

And, lo! as some sweet vision breaks
Out from its native morning skies,
With rosy shame on downcast cheeks,
The virgin stands before his eyes:
A nameless longing seizes him!
From all his wild companions flown;
Tears, strange till then, his eyes bedim,
He wanders all alone.
Blushing he glides where'er she moves,
Her greeting can transport him;
To every mead to deck his love,
The happy wild-flowers court him.
Sweet hope--and tender longing--ye
The growth of life's first age of gold,
When the heart, swelling, seems to see
The gates of heaven unfold.
Oh, were it ever green! oh, stay!
Linger, young Love, Life's blooming may.

In a later letter to Stockmar the Prince writes: "An individuality, a
character which shall win the respect, the love, and the confidence of the
Queen and of the nation, must be the groundwork of my position.... If
therefore I prove a 'noble' Prince in the true sense of the word, as you
call upon me to be, wise and prudent conduct will become easier to me, and
its results more rich in blessings;" and to his stepmother he makes the
thoughtful comment, "With the exception of my relation to her (the Queen),
my future position will have its dark sides, and the sky will not always be
blue and unclouded. But life has its thorns in every position, and the
consciousness of having used one's powers and endeavours for an object so
great as that of promoting the good of so many will surely be sufficient to
support me."

The brothers remained at Windsor for a happy month, [Footnote: Lady
Bloomfield describes a beautiful emerald serpent ring which the Prince gave
the Queen when they were engaged.] when the royal lovers saw much of each
other, and as a matter of course often discussed the future, particularly
with reference to the Prince's position in his new country, and what his
title was to be. One can easily fancy how interesting and engrossing such
talks would become, especially when they were enlivened by the bright
humour, and controlled by the singular unselfishness, of the object of so
many hopes and plans. It was already blustering wintry weather, but there
was little room to feel the depressing influence of the grey cloudy sky or
the chill of the shrilly whistling wind and driving rain. Prince Ernest had
the misfortune to suffer from an attack of jaundice, but it was a passing
evil, sure to be lightened by ample sympathy, and it did not prevent the
friend of the bridegroom from rejoicing greatly at the sound of the
bridegroom's voice.

Perhaps the fact that a form of secrecy had to be kept up till her Majesty
should announce her marriage to the Council only added an additional
piquant flavour to the general satisfaction. But this did not cause the
Queen to fail in confidence towards the members of her family, for she
wrote herself to the Queen-dowager and to the rest of her kindred
announcing her intended marriage, and receiving their congratulations.

On the 2nd of November there was a review of the battalion of the Rifle
Brigade quartered at Windsor under Colonel, afterwards Sir George Brown, of
Crimean fame, in the Home Park. The Queen was present, accompanied by
Prince Albert, in the green uniform of the Coburg troops. What a picture,
full of joyful content, independent of all accidents of weather, survives
of the scene! "At ten minutes to twelve I set off in my Windsor uniform and
cap (already described) on my old charger 'Leopold,' with my beloved Albert
looking so handsome in his uniform on my right, and Sir John Macdonald, the
Adjutant-General, on my left, Colonel Grey and Colonel Wemyss preceding me,
a guard of honour, my other gentlemen, my cousin's gentlemen, Lady Caroline
Barrington, &c., for the ground.

"A horrid day. Cold, dreadfully blowing, and, in addition, raining hard
when we had been out a few minutes. It, however, ceased when we: came to
the ground. I rode alone down the ranks, and then took my place as usual,
with dearest Albert on my right and Sir John Macdonald on my left, and saw
the troops march past. They afterwards manoeuvred. The Rifles looked
beautiful. It was piercingly cold, and I had my cape on, which dearest
Albert settled comfortably for me. He was so cold, being 'EN GRANDE TENUE,'
with high boots. We cantered home again, and went in to show ourselves to.
poor Ernest, who had seen all from a window."

The Princes left Windsor on the 14th of November, visiting the King of the
Belgians on their way home, so that King Leopold could write to his niece,
"I find them looking well, particularly Albert. It proves that happiness is
an excellent remedy to keep people in better health than any other. He is
much attached to you, and modest when speaking of you. He is besides in
great spirits, full of gaiety and fun."

The bridegroom also sent kind words to his aunt and future mother-in-law,
as well as tender words to his cousin and bride. "Dearest aunt, a thousand
thanks for your two kind letters just received. I see from them that you
are in close sympathy with your nephew--your son-in-law soon to be--which
gratifies me very, very much.... What you say about my poor little bride
sitting all alone in her room, silent and sad, has touched me to the heart.
Oh, that I might fly to her side to cheer her!"

"For 'the poor little bride' there was no lack of those sweet words,
touched with the grateful humility of a manly love, to receive which was a
precious foretaste to her of the happiness of the years to come." "That I
am the object of so much love and devotion often comes over me as something
I can hardly realise," wrote the Prince. "My prevailing feeling is, What am
I that such happiness should be mine? For excess of happiness it is to me
to know that I am so dear to you." Again, in referring to his grandmother's
regret at his departure he added, "Still she hopes, what I am convinced
will be the case, that I may find in you, my dear Victoria, all the
happiness I could possibly desire. And so I SHALL, I can truly tell her for
her comfort." And once more he wrote from "dear old Coburg," brimming over
with loyal joy, "How often are my thoughts with you! The hours I was
privileged to pass with you in your dear little room are the radiant points
of my life, and I cannot even yet clearly picture to myself that I am to be
indeed so happy as to be always near you, always your protector." Last and
most touching assurance of all, touching as it was solemn, when he
mentioned to the Queen that in an hour he was to take the sacrament in
church at Coburg, and went on, "God will not take it amiss, if in that
serious act, even at the altar, I think of you, for I will pray to Him for
you and for your soul's health, and He will not refuse us His blessing."

In the meantime there was much to do in England. On the 20th of November
the Queen, with the Duchess of Kent, left Windsor for Buckingham Palace. On
the 23rd, the Council assembled there in the Bow-room on the ground floor.
The ceremony of declaring her proposed marriage was a mere form, but a very
trying form to a young and modest woman called to face alone a gathering of
eighty-three elderly gentlemen, and to make to them the announcement which
concerned herself so nearly. Of the Privy Councillors some, like the Duke
of Wellington, had known the Queen all her life, some had only served her
since she came to the throne, but all were accustomed to discuss very
different matters with her. How difficult the task was to the Queen we may
judge from the significant note. The Queen always wore a bracelet with the
Prince's picture, "and it seemed," she wrote in her Journal, "to give me
courage at the Council." Her own further account of the scene is as
follows: "Precisely at two I went in. The room was full, but I hardly knew
who was there. Lord Melbourne I saw looking kindly at me with tears in his
eyes, but he was not near me. I then read my short declaration. I felt my
hands shook, but I did not make one mistake. I felt most happy and thankful
when it was over. Lord Lansdowne then rose, and in the name of the Privy
Council asked that this most gracious and most welcome communication might
be printed. I then left the room, the whole thing not lasting above two or
three minutes. The Duke of Cambridge came into the small library where I
was standing and wished me joy."

The Queen's declaration was to this effect: "I have caused you to be
summoned at the present time in order that I may acquaint you with my
resolution in a matter which deeply concerns the welfare of my people and
the happiness of my future life.

"It is my intention to ally myself in marriage with the Prince Albert of
Saxe-Coburg and Gotha. Deeply impressed with the solemnity of the
engagement which I am about to contract, I have not come to this decision
without mature consideration, nor without feeling a strong assurance that,
with the blessing of Almighty God, it will at once secure my domestic
felicity and serve the interests of my country.

"I have thought fit to make this resolution known to you at the earliest
period, in order that you may be apprised of a matter so highly important
to me and to my kingdom, and which, I persuade myself, will be most
acceptable to all my loving subjects."

The Queen returned to Windsor with the Duchess of Kent the same evening.

On the 16th of January, 1840, the Queen opened Parliament in person, and
made a similar statement. "Since you were last assembled I have declared my
intention of allying myself in marriage with the Prince Albert of
Saxe-Coburg and Gotha. I humbly implore that the Divine blessing may
prosper this union, and render it conducive to the interests of my people
as well as to my own domestic happiness, and it will be to me a source of
the most lively satisfaction to find the resolution I have taken approved
by my Parliament. The constant proofs which I have received of your
attachment to my person and family persuade me that you will enable me to
provide for such an establishment as may appear suitable to the rank of the
Prince and the dignity of the Crown."

To see and hear the young Queen, still only in her twenty-first year, when
she went to tell her people of her purpose, multitudes lined the streets
and cheered her on her way that wintry day, and every seat in the House
"was filled with the noblest and fairest of the land" ready to give her
quieter but not less heartfelt support. It is no mere courtly compliment to
say that Queen Victoria's marriage afforded the greatest satisfaction to
the nation at large. Not only was it a very desirable measure on political
grounds, but it appealed to the far deeper and wider feelings of humanity.
It had that touch of nature which makes the whole world kin. Sir Robert
Peel's words, when he claimed the right of the Opposition to join with the
Government in its felicitations to both sovereign and country, were not
required to convince the people that their Queen was not only making a
suitable alliance, but was marrying "for love," according to the oldest,
wisest, best plan. They knew the glad truth as if by instinct, and how
heartily high and low entered into her happiness and wished her joy! It is
said there is one spectacle which, whether the spectators own it or not,
hardly ever palls entirely even on the most hardened and worldly, the most
weary and wayworn, the poorest and most wretched--perhaps, least of all on
the last. It is a bridegroom rejoicing to leave his chamber, and a bride
blushing in her sweet bliss. There are after all only three great events in
human history which, projected forward or reflected backward, colour all
the rest--birth, marriage, and death. The most sordid or sullen population
will collect in knots, brighten a little, forget hard fate or mortal wrongs
for a moment, in the interest of seeing a wedding company go by. The
surliest, the most whining of the onlookers will spare a little relenting,
a happier thought, for "two lunatics," "a couple of young fools whose eyes
will soon be opened," "a pore delooded lad," "a soft silly of a gal;" who
are still so enviable in their brief bright day.

What was it then to know of a pair of royal lovers--a great Queen and her
chosen Prince--well mated! It softened all hearts, it made the old young
again, with a renewing breath of late romance and tenderness. And, oh! how
the young, who are old now, gloried in that ideal marriage! What tales they
told of it, what wonderful fancies they had about it! How it knit the
hearts of the Queen and her subjects together more strongly than anything
else save common sorrow could do! for when it comes to that, sorrow is more
universal than joy, sinks deeper, and in this world lasts longer.

Indeed, at this stage, as at every other, it was soon necessary to descend
from heaven to earth; and for the royal couple, as for the meanest of the
people, there were difficulties in connection with the arrangements,
troubles that proved both perplexing and vexatious. It may be said here
that the times were not very propitious for asking even the most just and
reasonable Parliamentary grants. The usual recurring sufferings from
insufficient harvests and from stagnation of trade were depressing the mind
of the country. Parliament was called on to act on the occasion of the
Queen's marriage, and the House was not only divided into two hostile
parties, the hostility had been envenomed by recent _contretemps_,
notably that which prevented Sir Robert Peel and the Tories from taking
office and kept in the Whig Government. The unpalatable fruits of the
embroilment had to be eaten and digested at the present crisis. Accordingly
there were carping faultfinding, and resistance--even defeat--on every
measure concerning the Prince brought before the Lords and Commons.

The accusation of disloyal retaliation was made against the Tories. On the
other hand the Whigs in power showed such a defiant attitude, in the
absence of any attempt to conciliate their antagonists, even when the
welfare of the Government's motions, and the interests and feelings of the
Queen and the Prince demanded the first consideration, that Lord
Melbourne's party were suspected of a crafty determination to let matters
take their course for the express purpose of prejudicing Prince Albert
against the Tories, and alienating him from them in the very beginning.

Lord Melbourne at least did not deserve this accusation. Whatever share he
had in the injudicious attitude of the Government, or in the blunders it
committed, must be attributed to the sort of high-handed carelessness which
distinguished the man. His singular fairness in the business is thus
recorded by Baron Stockmar. "As I was leaving the Palace, I met Melbourne
on the staircase. He took me aside and used the following remarkable and
true words, strongly characteristic of his great impartiality: 'The Prince
will doubtless be very much irritated against the Tories. But it is not the
Tories alone whom the Prince has to thank for the curtailment of his
appanage. It is the Tories, the Radicals, and _a good many of our own
people_.' I pressed his hand in approbation of his remarkable frankness.
I said, 'There's an honest man! I hope you will yourself say that to the
Prince.'" [Footnote: Lord Melbourne and Baron Stockmar were always on
excellent terms. At the same time the English Prime Minister was not
without a little jealousy of any suspicion of his Government being dictated
to by King Leopold.]

Umbrage was taken by the Duke of Wellington at no mention being made of
Prince Albert's Protestantism on the notification of the marriage. With
regard to the income and position to be secured to the Prince, the nearest
precedent which could be found to guide the discussion was that of Prince
George of Denmark, husband to Queen Anne. It was halting in many respects,
such as the fact that he had married the Princess long before she was
Queen, nay, while her succession to the throne was problematical. Besides,
his character and position in the country were only respectable for their
harmlessness, and did not recommend him by way of example of any kind,
either to Queen or people. Statesmen turned rather to the settlement and
dignity accorded to Prince Leopold, when he married Princess Charlotte; but
neither was that quite a case in point. The fittest reference, so far as
income was concerned, seemed to be to the private purses allowed to the
Queen Consorts of the reigning sovereigns of England. To the three last
Queens--Caroline, Charlotte, and Adelaide, the sum of fifty thousand
pounds a year had been granted. This also was the annuity settled on
Prince Leopold. Therefore fifty thousand was the amount confidently asked
by the Government.

After a good deal of wrangling and angry debate, in which, however, the
Queen's name was studiously respected, she and the Prince had the
mortification to learn that the country, by its representatives, had
refused the usual allowance, and voted only thirty thousand a year to the
Queen's husband.

The same ill-fortune attended an attempt to introduce into the bill for the
naturalisation of the Prince, before the House of Lords, a clause which
should secure his taking precedence of all save the Queen. The Duke of
Sussex opposed the clause, in the interest of the King of Hanover, and so
many jealous objections were urged that it was judged better to let the
provision drop than risk a defeat in the House of Lords similar to that in
the House of Commons. The awkward alternative remained that Prince Albert's
position, so far as it had to do with the Lord Chamberlain and the Heralds'
Office, was left undecided and ambiguous. It was only by the issue of
letters patent on the Queen's part, at a later date, that any certainty on
this point could be attained even in England.

The formation of the Prince's household, which one would think might have
been left to his own good feeling and discretion, or at least to the
Queen's judgment in acting for him, proved another bone of contention
calling forth many applications and implied claims.

Baron Stockmar came to England in January, to see to this important element
in the Prince's independence and comfort, as well as to the signing of the
marriage contract. But in spite of the able representative, the Prince's
written wishes, judicious and liberal-minded as might have been expected,
and the Queen's desire to carry them out, at least one of the offices was
filled up in a manner which caused Prince Albert anxiety and pain. The
gentleman who had been private secretary to Lord Melbourne was appointed
private secretary to the Prince, without regard to the circumstance that
the step would appear compromising in Tory eyes--the very result which
Prince Albert had striven to avoid, and that the official would be forced,
as it were, on the Prince's intimacy without such previous acquaintance as
might have justified confidence. It was only the sterling qualities of both
Prince and secretary which obviated the natural consequences of such an
ill-judged proceeding, and ended by producing the genuine liking and honest
friendship which ought to have preceded the connection. The grudging,
suspicions, selfish spirit thus manifested on all hands, was liable to
wound the Queen in the tenderest point, and the disappointment came upon
her with a shock, since she had been rashly assured by Lord Melbourne that
there would be no difficulty either as regarded income or precedence. The
indications were not encouraging to the stranger thus met on the threshold.
But his mission was to disarm adverse criticism, to shame want of
confidence and pettiness of jealousy, to confer benefits totally
irrespective of the spirit in which they might be taken. And even by the
irritated party-men as well as by the body of the people, the Prince was to
be well received for the Queen's sake, with his merits taken for granted,
so far as that went, since the heart of the country was all right, though
its Whig and Tory temper might be at fault.

On the 10th of January, 1840, a death instead of a marriage took place in
the royal family, but it was that of an aged member long expatriated.
Princess Elizabeth, Landgravine of Hesse Homburg, died at Frankfort. It was
twenty-two years since she had married and quitted England, shortly before
the old Queen's death, a year before the birth of Queen Victoria. The
Landgravine had returned once, a widow of sixty-four, and then had gone
back to her adopted country. She had survived her husband eleven years, and
her sister, resident like herself in Germany, the Princess Royal, Queen of
Wurtemberg, twelve years. The Landgravine as Princess Elizabeth showed
artistic talent. She was famous in her middle age for her great
_embonpoint_; as she was also tall she waxed enormous. Baroness
Bunsen, when Miss Waddington, saw Princess Elizabeth, while she was still
unmarried, dressed for a Drawing-room, with five or six yellow feathers
towering above her head, and refers to her huge dimensions then. It was
alleged afterwards that it required a chain of her husband's faithful
subjects in Homburg to encompass his consort. She accommodated herself
wonderfully, though she was an elderly woman before she had ever been out
of England, to the curious quaint mixture of State and homeliness in the
little German town in which she was held in much respect and regard. The
Landgravine was seventy years of age at the time of her death. After her
widowhood she resided in Hanover, where her brother, King William, gave her
a palace, and then at Frankfort, where she died. Out of her English income
of ten thousand a year, it was said she spared six thousand for the needs
of Hesse Homburg. Its castle and English garden still retain memories of
the English princess who made her quiet home there and loved the place.

The marriage of the Queen was fixed for the 10th of February, and many
eager, aspiring young couples throughout the country elected that it should
be their wedding-day, also. They wished that the gala of their lives should
fit in with hers, and that all future "happy returns of the day" might have
a well-known date to go by, and a State celebration to do them honour.

Lord Torrington and Colonel--afterwards General--Grey set out for Gotha to
escort the bridegroom to England. They carried with them the Order of the
Garter, with which Prince Albert was invested by his father, himself a
Knight of the Order, amidst much ceremony.

All the world knows that the Order of the Garter is the highest knightly
order of England, dating back to the time of Edward III., and associated
by a gay and gallant tradition with the beautiful Countess of Salisbury.
The first Chapter of the Order was held in 1340, when twenty-five knights,
headed by the King, walked in solemn procession to St. George's Chapel,
founded for their use, and for the maintenance of poor knightly brethren to
pray for the souls of the Knights-Companions--hence "the Poor Knights of
Windsor." The first Knights-Companions dedicated their arms to God and St.
George, and held a high festival and tournament in commemoration of the act
in presence of Queen Philippa and her ladies. The habit of the knights was
always distinguished by its colour, blue. Various details were added at
different times by different kings. Henry VIII. gave the collar and the
greater and lesser medallions of St. George slaying the dragon. Charles
II. introduced the blue riband. It is scarcely necessary to say that the
full dress of the knights is very magnificent. "There are the blue velvet
mantle, with its dignified sweep, the hood of crimson velvet, the heron and
ostrich-plumed cap, the gold medallion, the blazing star, the gold-lettered
garter, to all which may be added the accessories that rank and wealth have
it in their power to display; as, for example, the diamonds worn by the
Marquis of Westminster, at a recent installation, on his sword and badge
alone were Worth the price of a small kingdom; or richer still her present
Majesty's jewels, that seem to have been showered by some Eastern fairy
over her habit of the Order, among, which the most beautiful and striking
feature is, perhaps, the ruby cross in the centre of the dazzling star of
St. George." [Footnote: Knight's "Old England."]

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