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

S >> Sarah Tytler >> Life of Her Most Gracious Majesty the Queen V.1.

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The whole court of Gotha was assembled to see Prince Albert get the Garter;
a hundred and one guns were fired to commemorate the auspicious occasion.
The younger Perthes, under whom the Prince had studied at Bonn, wrote of
the event, "The Grand-ducal papa bound the Garter round his boy's knee
amidst the roar of a hundred and one cannon" (the attaching of the Garter,
however, was done, not by Prince Albert's father, but by the Queen's
brother, the Prince of Leiningen, another Knight of the Order). "The
earnestness and gravity with which the Prince has obeyed this early call to
take a European position, give him dignity and standing in spite of his
youth, and increase the charm of his whole aspect."

The investiture was followed by a grand dinner, when the Duke proposed the
Queen's health, which was drunk by all the company standing, accompanied by
several distinct flourishes of trumpets, the band playing "God save the
Queen," and the artillery outside firing a royal salute. Already the Prince
had written to the Queen, when the marriage was officially declared at
Coburg, that the day had affected him very much, so many emotions had
filled his heart. Her health had been drunk at dinner "with a tempest of
huzzas." The joy of the people had been so great that they had gone on
firing in the streets, with guns and pistols, during the whole night, so
that one might have imagined a battle was going on. This was a repetition
of that earlier festival, only rendered more emphatic and with a touch of
pathos added to it by the impending departure of Prince Albert, to lay hold
of his high destiny. The leave-takings were earnest and prolonged, with
many pretty slightly fantastic German ceremonies, and must have been hard
upon a man whose affections were so tender and tenacious. Especially
painful was the farewell to his mother's mother, the Dowager Duchess of
Gotha, who had partly reared the princely lad. She was much attached to
him, and naturally saw him go with little hope of their meeting again in
this world.

The Prince was accompanied by his father and brother, with various friends
in their train, who, after the celebration of the marriage, were to return
to Germany. But Prince Albert carried with him--to remain in his near
neighbourhood--two old allies, whose familiar faces would be doubly welcome
in a foreign country. The one was his Swiss valet, Cart, a faithful,
devoted servant, "the best of nurses," who, had waited on his master since
the latter was a boy of seven years of age. The other was the beautiful
greyhound, Eos, jet black with the exception of a narrow white streak on
the nose and a white foot. Her master had got her as a puppy of six weeks
old, when he was a boy in his fourteenth year, and had trained the loving,
graceful creature in all imaginable canine, sagacity and cleverness. She
had been the constant companion of his youth. She had already come to
England with him, on the decisive visit of the previous autumn, and was
known and dear to his royal mistress.

It was severe wintry weather when the great cavalcade, in eight travelling
carriages, set out for England, and took its way across Germany, Belgium,
and the north of France, to the coast The whole journey assumed much of the
character of a festive procession. At each halting-place crowds turned out
to do the princes honour. Every court and governing body welcomed them
with demonstrations of respect and rejoicing. But at Aix-la-Chapelle, in a
newspaper which he came across, Prince Albert read the debates and votes in
the Houses of Parliament that cut down the ordinary annuity of the English
sovereign's consort, and left unsettled the question of his position in the
country. The first disappointment told in two ways. Young and
sensitive--though he was also resolute and cheerful-minded--he had been a
little nervous beforehand about the reception which might be accorded to
him in England; he now received a painful impression that the marriage was
not popular with the people. He had indulged in generous dreams of the
assistance and encouragement which he would be able to bestow on men of
letters and artists, when he suddenly found his resources curtailed to
nearly half the amount he had been warranted in counting upon. However, at
Brussels, the next halting-place, in writing to the Queen, and frankly
admitting his mortification at the words and acts of the majority of the
members of both English Houses of Parliament, he could add with perfect
sincerity, "All I have time to say is, that while I possess your love they
cannot make me unhappy."

And King Leopold was there with his sensible, calming counsel, while Baron
Stockmar had been careful to have a letter awaiting the Prince, which
explained the undercurrent of political, not personal, motives that had
influenced the debates.

In fact, so far from being unpopular, the Prince, who was the Queen's
choice, was really the most acceptable of all her suitors in the eyes of
her people. The sole serious objection urged against him in those days was
that of his youth, a fault which was not only daily lessening, but was
speedily forgotten in the conviction of the manly and serious attention to
duty on his part which he quickly inspired.

On the 5th of February the party arrived at Calais. Lord Clarence Paget had
been sent over with the _Firebrand_ to await their arrival, but the
usual difficulties of an adverse tide and an insufficient French harbour
presented themselves, and the company had to sail on the morning of the 6th
in one of the ordinary Dover packet-boats, under a strong gale from the
south-east, with a heavy sea, which rendered the horrors of the Channel
crossing, at the worst, what only those who have experienced them can
realise.

The Prince, like most natives of inland Germany, had been little inured to
sailing, and his constitution rendered him specially liable to
sea-sickness. As a lad of seventeen, facing the insidious and repulsive foe
for the first time, he had expressed his own and his brother's dread of the
unequal encounter. Now he was doomed to feel its ignoble clutch to the last
moment. "The Duke had gone below, and on either side of the cabin staircase
lay the two princes in an almost helpless state."

It was in such unpropitious circumstances that Prince Albert had to rise,
pull himself together, and bow his acknowledgements to the crowds on the
pier ready to greet him. Who that has rebelled against the calm
superiority of the comfortable; amused onlookers at the haggard, giddy
sufferers reeling on shore from the disastrous crossing of a stormy ferry,
cannot comprehend the ordeal!

The Prince surmounted it gallantly, anticipating the time when, at the call
of work or duty, he was known to rise to any effort, to shake off fatigue
and indisposition as if he had been the most muscular of giants, and to
make a brave fight to the last against deadly illness. He had his reward.
The raw inclement day, the disabling, discomfiting malady--which had
appeared in themselves a bad beginning, an inhospitable introduction to his
future life--the recent misgivings he had entertained, were all forgotten
in the enthusiastic reception he received before he put foot on land. A
kind heart responds readily to kindness, and the Prince felt, in spite of
parliamentary votes, the people were glad to see him, with an overflowing
gladness.

It had been fixed that the Prince should not arrive at Buckingham Palace
till the 8th. Accordingly there was time for the much-needed rest and
refreshment, and for a leisurely conclusion of the long journey. The
travellers stayed that night at Dover, the next at Canterbury, the Prince
beginning the long list of fatiguing ceremonials which he was to undergo in
the days to come, by receiving addresses, holding a reception, and showing
himself on the balcony, as well as by the quieter, more congenial interlude
of attending afternoon service in Canterbury Cathedral with his brother.
The weather was still bad; pouring rain had set in, but it could not damp
the spirit of the holiday-makers. As for the hero of the holiday, he was
chafing, lover-like, at the formal delay which was all that interposed
between him and a blissful reunion. He wrote to the Queen before starting
for Canterbury, "Now I am once more in the same country with you. What a
delightful thought for me. It will be hard for me to have to wait till
to-morrow evening. Still, our long parting has flown by so quickly, and
to-morrow's dawn will soon be here.... Our reception has been most
satisfactory. There were thousands of people on the quays, and they saluted
pus with loud and uninterrupted cheers.".

From Canterbury Prince Albert sent on his valet, Cart, with the greyhound
Eos. "Little Dash," if Dash still lived, was to have a formidable rival,
and the Queen speaks in her Journal of the pleasure which the sight of
"dear Eos," the evening before the arrival of the Prince, gave her."
[Footnote: Early Years of the Prince Consort.] Words are not wanted to
picture the bright little scene, the light interruption to "affairs of the
State," always weighty, often harassing, the gay reaction, the hearty
unceremonious recognition on both sides, the warm welcome to the gentle
_avant courier._ This was not a great queen, but a gleeful girl at the
height of her happiness, who stroked with white taper hand the sleek black
head, looked eagerly into the fond eyes, perhaps went so far as to hug the
humble friend, stretching up fleet shapely paws, wildly wagging a slender
tail, uttering sharp little yelps of delight to greet her. What wealth of
cherished associations, of thrice happy realisation, the mere presence
there, once more of "only a dog," brought to the mistress of the palace,
the lady of the land!

On Saturday, the 8th of the month, Prince Albert proceeded to London, being
cordially greeted along the whole road by multitudes flocking from every
town and village to see him and shout their approval. At half-past four, in
the pale light of a February afternoon, the travellers arrived at
Buckingham Palace, "and were received at the hall door by the Queen and the
Duchess of Kent, attended by the whole household," to whom a worthy master
had come. The fullness of satisfaction and perfect joy of the meeting to
two in the company are sacred.

An hour after his arrival the oath of naturalisation was administered to
the Prince, "and the day ended with a great State dinner. Sunday was a rest
day. Divine service was performed by the Bishop of London in the Bow-room
on the ground floor--the same room in which the Queen had met her assembled
Council in the course of the previous November, and announced to them her
intended marriage. Afterwards the Prince drove out and paid the visits
required of him to the different members of the royal family. In spite of
the season and weather, throngs of Londoners surrounded the Palace, and
watched and cheered him as he went and came. That day the Queen and Prince
exchanged their wedding gifts. She gave him the star and badge of the
Garter and the Garter set in diamonds, and he gave her a sapphire and
diamond brooch.

CHAPTER VIII.
THE MARRIAGE.

The 10th of February rose dark and foggy, with a lowering sky discharging
at frequent intervals heavy showers. But to many a loyal heart far beyond
the sound of Bow bells the date brought a thrill of glad consciousness
which was quite independent of the weather. What mattered dreary skies or
stinging sleet! This was the day on which the young Queen was to wed the
lover of her youth, the man of her choice.

The marriage was to take place at noon, not in the evening, like former
royal weddings, and the change was a great boon to the London public.
During the busy morning, Prince Albert found time for a small act, which
was nevertheless full of manly reverence for age and weakness, of mindful,
affectionate gratitude for old and tender cares which had often made his
childhood and youth happy. He wrote a few lines to the loving, venerable
kinswoman who had performed the part of second mother to him, who had
grieved so sorely over their parting.

"In less than three hours I shall stand before the altar with my dear
bride. In these solemn moments I must once more ask your blessing, which I
am well assured I shall receive, and which will be my safeguard and my
future joy. I must end. God help me (or, rather, God be my stay!), your
faithful Grandson." The Prince wrote a similar letter, showing how
faithfully he recollected her on the crowning day of his life, to his good
stepmother, the Duchess of Coburg.

Among the innumerable discussions on the merits or demerits of the Prince
when he was first proposed as the husband for the Queen of England, there
had not been wanting in a country where religion is generally granted to be
a vital question, and where religious feuds, like other feuds, rage high,
sundry probings as to the Prince's Christianity--what form he held, whether
he might not be a Roman Catholic, whether he were a Christian at all, and
might not rather be an infidel? Seeing that the Prince belonged to a
Christian and to one of the most Protestant royal families in Europe, that
he had been regularly trained in Christian and Lutheran doctrines, and had
made a public profession of his belief in the same--a profession which his
practice had in no way contradicted--these suppositions were, to say the
least, uncalled for, and not remarkable for liberality or charity. It is
easy to answer them substantially. The Prince, reserving his Protestant
right of private judgment on all points of his belief, was a deeply
religious man, as indicated throughout his career, at every stage, in every
event of his life. It is hardly possible even for an irreligious man to
conceive that Prince Albert could have been what he was without faith and
discipline. His biographer has with reason quoted the "God be my stay!" in
the light of the sincerity of the man, in a letter written in the flush of
his joy and the very fruition of his desires, as one of the innumerable
proofs that the Prince lived consciously and constantly under the
all-seeing eye of an Almighty Father.

There were two main points from which out-of-door London could gaze its
fill on the gala. The one was St. James's Park, from which the people could
see the bride and bridegroom drive from Buckingham Palace to St. James's,
where the marriage was to take place, according to old usage, and back
again to Buckingham Palace for the wedding breakfast; the other was the
Green Park, Constitution Hill, Hyde Park, and Piccadilly, by which most of
the guests were to arrive to the wedding. The last point also commanded the
route which the young couple would take to Windsor.

It was said that, never since the allied sovereigns visited London in 1814
had such a concourse of human beings made the parks alive, as on this wet
February morning, when a dismal solitude was changed to an animated scene,
full of life and motion. _The Times_ described the mass of spectators
wedged in at the back of Carlton Terrace and the foot of Constitution Hill,
and the multitude of chairs, tables, benches, even casks, pressed info. The
service, and affording vantage-ground to those who could pay for the
accommodation. The dripping trees were also rendered available, and had
their branches so laden with human fruit, that brittle boughs gave way,
while single specimens and small clusters of men and boys came rattling
down on the heads and shoulders of confiding fellow-creatures; but such
misadventures were without serious accident, and simply afforded additional
entertainment to the self-invited, light-hearted wedding guests.

Parties of cavalry and infantry taking their places, with "orderlies
dashing to and fro," lent colour and livelier action to the panorama. At
the same time the military were not a very prominent feature in the
picture, and the State element was also to some extent wanting. Some state
was inevitable, but after all the marriage of the sovereign was not so much
a public ceremonial as a private event in her life. As early as eight
o'clock in the morning the comparatively limited number of invited guests
began to contribute to the satisfaction of the great uninvited by driving
up beneath the triumphal arch, and presenting their pink or white cards for
inspection. A body of Foot Guards marched forwards, followed by a
detachment of the Horse Guards Blue, with their band discoursing wedding
music appropriate to the occasion, cheering the hearts of the cold, soaked
crowd, and awaking an enthusiastic response from it. Then appeared various
members of the nobility, including the Duke of Norfolk, coming always to
the front as Grand Marshal, wearing his robe and carrying his staff of
office, when the rest of the world were in comparative undress, as more or
less private individuals. But this gentleman summed up in his own person
"all the blood of all the Howards," and recalled his ancestors great and
small--the poet Earl of Surrey, those Norfolks to whom Mary Tudor and Mary
Stuart were alike fatal, and that Dicky or Dickon of Norfolk who lent a
humorous strain to the tragic tendency of the race.

The Ministers and Foreign Ambassadors came singly or in groups. The
Ministers, with one or two exceptions, wore the Windsor uniform, blue
turned up with an oak-leaf edging in gold. Viscount Morpeth, Lord John
Russell, the Marquis of Normanby, Lord Palmerston, Lord Holland, Lord
Melbourne, were well-known figures. The good-natured Duke of Cambridge
arrived with his family and suite in three royal carriages. He wore the
Orders of the Garter, and the Bath, and carried his baton as Field-Marshal.
The Duke of Sussex was in the uniform of Captain-General of the Artillery
Company, and wore the Orders of the Garter, the Bath, and St. Andrew. He
had on his black skull-cap as usual, and drove up in a single carriage. He
had opposed the clause relating to Prince Albert's taking precedence of
all, save the Queen, in the Naturalisation Bill. He was to make further
objection to the husband's occupying his natural place by the side of his
wife when the Queen opened and prorogued Parliament, and to the Prince's
rights in the Regency Bill. All the same, by right of birth and years, the
Duke of Sussex was to give away his royal niece.

Before eleven o'clock, the Gentlemen and Ladies of the Household were in
readiness at Buckingham Palace. The Ladies started first for St. James's.
The Gentlemen of the foreign suites--Prince Albert's, and his father's, and
brother's--in their dark-blue and dark-green uniforms, mustered in the
hall, and dispatched a detachment to receive the Prince on his arrival at
the other palace. At a quarter to twelve notice was sent to Prince Albert
in his private apartments, and he came forth "like a bridegroom," between
his royal supporters, traversed the State-rooms, and descended the grand
staircase, preceded by the Chamberlain and Vice-Chamberlain, Comptroller of
the Household, equerries and ushers. He was received with eager clappings
of hands and wavings of handkerchiefs. The Prince was dressed in the
uniform of a British Field-Marshal, and wore only one decoration, that of
the Garter, with the collar surmounted by two white rosettes, and his
bride's gifts of the previous day, the George and Star set in diamonds, on
his breast, and the diamond-embroidered Garter round his knee. His pale,
handsome face, with its slight brown moustache, his slender yet manly
figure would have become any dress. Indeed, his general appearance, full of
"thoughtful grace and quiet dignity," impressed every honest observer most
favourably. We can imagine Baron Stockmar watching keenly in the background
to catch every furtive glance and remark, permitting himself to rub his
hands and exclaim, with sober exultation, "He is liked!"

Prince Albert's father and brother, his dearest friends hitherto, walked
beside him. The Duke of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha, with his fatherly heart
swelling high, must have looked like one of the quaint stately figures out
of old German prints in his long, military boots, the same as those of the
Life Guards, and his dark-green uniform turned up with red. He, too, wore
the collar and star of the Garter, and the star of his own Order of Coburg
Gotha. On the other side of the bridegroom walked Prince Ernest. The
wedding was next in importance to him to what it was to his brother, while
to the elder playing the secondary part of the couple so long united in
every act of their young lives, the marriage ceremony of his other self,
which was to deal the decisive blow in the cleaving asunder of the old
double existence, must have been full of very mingled feelings of joy and
sorrow, pleasure and pain. Prince Ernest was a fine young man, in whose
face, possibly a little stern in its repressed emotion, _The Times_
reporter imagined he saw more determination than could be found in the
milder aspect of Prince Albert, not guessing how much strength of will and
patient steadfastness might be bound up with gentle courtesy. Prince Ernest
was in a gay light-blue and silver uniform, and carried his helmet in his
hand.

When the group came down the stairs, some privileged company, including a
few ladies, stationed behind the Yeoman Guard and about the entrance,
clapped their hands and waved their congratulations, and as Prince Albert
entered the carriage which was to take him and his father and brother to
St. James's, he received for the first time all the honours paid to the
Queen. Trumpets sounded, colours were lowered, and arms presented. A
squadron of Life Guards attended the party, but as the carriage was closed
its occupants were not generally recognised.

As soon as the Lord Chamberlain had returned from escorting the Prince, six
royal carriages, each with two horses, were drawn up before the entrance to
Buckingham Palace, and his Lordship informed the Queen that all was ready
for her. Accordingly, her Majesty left her room leaning on the arm of Lord
Uxbridge, the Lord Chamberlain. She was supported by her mother, the
Duchess of Kent, and followed by a page of honour. The various officers of
the Household--the Earl of Belfast, Vice-Chamberlain; the Earl of
Albemarle, Master of the Horse; Lord Torrington, Comptroller and Treasurer,
&c., walked in advance.

The Queen wore a bride's white satin and orange blossoms, a simple wreath
of orange blossoms on her fair hair. Her magnificent veil of Honiton lace
did not cover the pale face, but fell on each side of the bent head. Her
ornaments were the diamond brooch which had been the gift of the
bridegroom, diamond earrings and necklace, and the collar and insignia of
the Garter. She looked well in her natural agitation, for, indeed, she was
a true woman at such a moment. She was shy and a little shrinking as became
a bride, and her eyes were swollen with recent tears--an illustration of
the wise old Scotch proverb, "A greetin' (weeping) bride's a happy bride."
Here were no haughty indifference, no bold assurance, no thoughtless,
heartless gaiety,

A creature breathing thoughtful breath,
A traveller 'twixt life and death.

A maiden leaving one stage of her life, with all its past treasures of
affection and happiness, for ever behind her, and going forward, in loving
hope and trust, no doubt, yet still in uncertainty of what the hidden
future held in store for her of weal and woe, to meet her wifely destiny.
As she came down into her great hall she was welcomed with fervent
acclamations, but for once she was absorbed in herself, and the usual
frank, gracious response was not accorded to the tribute. Her eyes were
fixed on the ground; "a hurried glance round, and a slight inclination of
the head," were all the signs she gave.

The Duchess of Kent, the good mother who had opened her heart to her nephew
as to a son, from the May-day when he came to Kensington, who had every
reason to rejoice in the marriage, still shared faithfully in her
daughter's perturbation. However glad the Duchess might be, it was still a
troubled gladness, for she had long experience. She knew that this day
closed the morning glory of a life, brought change, a greater fullness of
being, but with the fullness increased duties and obligations, more to
dread, as well as more to hope, a heavier burden, though there was a true
friend to share it. Illusions would vanish, and though reality is better
than illusion to all honest hearts, who would not spare a sigh to the
bright dreams of youth--too bright with a rainbow-hued radiance and a
golden mist of grand expectations, dim in their grandeur, ever to be
fulfilled in this work-a-day world? And the Duchess was conscious that the
mother who gives a daughter away, even to the best of sons, resigns the
first place in that daughter's heart, the first right to her time,
thoughts, and confidence. Queen Victoria belonged to her people, but after
that great solemn claim she had till now belonged chiefly to her mother.
Little wonder that the kind Duchess looked "disconsolate" in the middle of
her content!

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