Anthony Trollope - "He Knew He Was Right"

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H. C. Yarrow - "An introduction to the mortuary customs of the North American Indians"

New Philadelphia Book Publisher Highlights Local Talent
Book and Publishing News from Publishers Newswire(tm)

Looking for Child to be on Cover of a New Book, 'The Model Child'
PHILADELPHIA, Pa. -- The Philadelphia literary world will celebrate the launch of two new players today, April 10th: Kay Square Press, a new publishing company focused on Philadelphia-area artists, their stories, and their art; and Kay Square's first release, 'With the Rich and Mighty: Emlen Etting of Philadelphia' (ISBN: 978-0-9815129-0-7), a critical biography by Kenneth C. Kaleta.

FlatSigned Press Alleges Don Imus Remarks Damage Legacy of President Gerald R. Ford
NEW YORK, N.Y. -- Nathan Yungerberg, an accomplished model scout and professional child photographer is launching a nation-wide casting call to find the cover model for his highly anticipated book release, 'The Model Child: A Parents Guide to the Child Modeling Industry' (ISBN: 978-0-9817018-0-6).

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

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




Queen Victoria was educated, as far as possible, in the simple habits and
familiarity with nature which belongs to the best and happiest training of
any child, whatever her rank. There is a pleasant picture in Knight's
"Passages of a Working Life": "I delighted to walk in Kensington Gardens
in the early summer, on my way to town.... In such a season, when the sun
was scarcely high enough to have dried up the dews of Kensington's green
alleys, as I passed along the broad central walk I saw a group on the lawn
before the palace, which, to my mind, was a vision of exquisite
loveliness. The Duchess of Kent and her daughter, whose years then
numbered nine, are breakfasting in the open air, a single page attending
on them at a respectful distance, the mother looking on with eyes of love,
while the fair, soft, English face is bright with smiles. The world of
fashion is not yet astir. Clerks and mechanics passing onwards to their
occupations are few, and they exhibit nothing of vulgar curiosity."

We have another charming description, by Leigh Hunt, of a glimpse which he
had of Princess Victoria in these gardens: "We remember well the peculiar
kind of personal pleasure which it gave us to see the future Queen, the
first time we ever did see her, coming up a cross-path from the Bayswater
Gate, with a girl of her own age by her side, whose hand she was holding
as if she loved her. It brought to our minds the warmth of our own
juvenile friendships, and made us fancy that she loved everything else
that we had loved in like measure--books, trees, verses, Arabian tales,
and the good mother who had helped to make her so affectionate. A
magnificent footman in scarlet came behind her, with the splendidest pair
of calves, in white stockings, that we ever beheld. He looked somehow like
a gigantic fairy, personating for his little lady's sake the grandest kind
of footman he could think of; and his calves he seemed to have made out of
a couple of the biggest chaise-lamps in the possession of the godmother of
Cinderella. With or without her big footman, the little Princess could
have rambled safely in the grounds which her predecessors had made for
her, could have fed the ducks which swam in the round pond before her
palace windows, could have drunk from the curious little mineral well,
where, in Miss Thackeray's 'Old Kensington,' Frank Raban met Dolly
Vanburgh, or peeped out of the little side gate where the same Dolly came
face to face with the culprits George and Rhoda. The future owner of all
could have easily strayed down the alleys among the Dutch elms which King
William brought, perhaps saplings, from the Boomjees, as far as the oak
that tradition says King Charles set in the form of an acorn taken from
his leafy refuge at Boscobel."

The Duke of Kent had brought an old soldier-servant, called Stillman, and
established him, with his wife and family, in a cottage in one of the
Kensington lanes. It is said the Duke had recommended this former retainer
to the care of the Duchess, and that she and her daughter were in the
habit of visiting and caring for the family, in which there were a sickly
little boy and girl.

An event happened in 1828 to the household in Kensington Palace which was
of importance to all. It was a joyful event, and the preparations for the
royal wedding, with the gala in which the preliminaries culminated, must
have formed an era in the quiet young life into which a startling
announcement and its fulfilment had broken, filling the hours of the short
winter days with wonder, admiration, and interest.

Yet all the pleasant stir and excitement; the new member of the family
prominent for a brief space; the gifts, the trousseau, the wedding-cake,
the wedding guests, were but the deceptive herald of change and loss to
the family, whose members were so few that each became deeply precious.
The closely united circle was to be broken, and a dear face permanently
withdrawn from the group. The Duchess of Kent's elder daughter, Princess
Victoria's only sister, was about to marry. It was the most natural and
the happiest course, above all when the Princess Feodora wedded
worthily--how worthily let the subsequent testimony of the Queen and the
Prince Consort prove. It was given at the time of the Prince of
Hohenlohe's death, thirty-two years afterwards, in 1860.

The Queen wrote to her own and her sister's uncle, the King of the
Belgians, in reference to the Prince of Hohenlohe: "A better, more
thoroughly straightforward, upright, and excellent man, with a more
unblemished character, or a more really devoted and faithful husband,
never existed."

The Prince Consort's opinion of his brother-in-law is to be found in a
letter to the Princess William of Prussia: "Poor Ernest Hohenlohe is a
great loss. Though he was not a man of great powers of mind, capable of
taking comprehensive views of the world, still he was a great character
--that is to say, a thoroughly good, noble, spotless, and honourable man,
which in these days forms a better title to be recognised as great than do
craftiness, Machiavellism, and grasping ambition."

At the time of his marriage the Prince of Hohenlohe was in the prime of
manhood, thirty-two years of age.

But the marriage meant the Princess Feodora's return to Germany and her
separation from the other members of her family, with the exception of her
brother, brought up in his own country. The bride, whom we hear of
afterwards as a true and tender woman, was then a sweet maiden of twenty,
whose absence must have made a great blank to her mother and sister.
Happily for the latter, she was too young to realise in the agreeable
excitement of the moment what a deprivation remained in store for her.
There were eleven years between the sisters. This was enough difference to
mingle a motherly, protecting element with the elder sister's pride and
fondness, and to lead the younger, whose fortunes were so much higher, but
who was unaware of the fact, to look up with affectionate faith and trust
to the grown-up companion, in one sense on a level with the child, in
another with so much more knowledge and independence.

It was a German marriage, both bride and bridegroom being German, though
the bride had been nine years--the difference between a child and a
woman--in England, and though the event occurred in an English household.
Whether the myrtle was worn for the orange-blossoms, or any of the other
pretty German wedding customs imported, we cannot tell. Anyhow, the
ordinary peaceful simplicity of the palace was replaced by much bustle and
grandeur on that February morning, the modest forerunner of another
February morning in another palace, when a young Queen plighted her troth.

The royal family in England, with two exceptions, were at Kensington Palace
to do honour to the marriage. The absent members were the King and Princess
Augusta--the latter of whom was at Brighton. The company arrived soon after
two o'clock, and consisted of the Duke and Duchess of Clarence, the Duke of
Sussex, the Duke and Duchess of Gloucester, the Princess Sophia, the
Princess Sophia Matilda of Gloucester, and Prince Leopold.

At three o'clock the party walked in procession to the great saloon
adjoining the vestibule, in which a temporary altar had been fitted up. The
bride was given away by the Duke of Clarence. The ceremony was performed in
the simple Lutheran fashion by a simple Lutheran pastor, Dr. Kuper, "the
chaplain of the Royal German Chapel."

Then came the parting, and the quiet palace-home was stiller and shadier
than ever, when the gracious maidenly presence had gone, when the opening
rose was plucked from the parent stem, and only the bud left.

In 1830 George IV. died, and William, Duke of Clarence, succeeded to the
throne as King William IV. That summer was the last of the Princess's
ignorance of her prospects; until then not even the shadow of a throne had
been projected across the sunshiny path of the happy girl of eleven. She
was with her mother in one of the fairest scenes in England--Malvern. The
little town with its old Priory among the Worcester hills, looks down on
the plain of Worcester, the field of a great English battle.

A dim recollection of the Duchess and the Princess is still preserved at
Malvern--how pleasant and kind they were to all, how good to the poor; how
the future Queen rode on a donkey like any other young girl at
Malvern--like poor Marie Antoinette in the forest glades of Compiegne and
Fontainebleau half a century earlier, when she was only four years older,
although already Dauphiness of France. The shadowy records do not tell us
much more; we are left to form our own conclusions whether the Queen
anticipated her later ascents of Scotch and Swiss mountains by juvenile
scrambles amongst the Worcester hills; whether she stood on the top of the
Worcester or Hereford Beacon; or whether these were considered too
dangerous and masculine exploits for a princess of tender years, growing up
to inherit a throne? She could hardly fail to enter the Wytche, the strange
natural gap between Worcestershire and Herefordshire, by which, at one
step, the wayfarer leaves wooded England behind, and stands face to face
with a pastoral corner of Wales; or to drive along the mile-long common of
Barnard's Green, with the geese, and the hay-stacks, and the little
cottages on either side, and always in front the steep ridge of hills with
the grey Priory where Piers Plowman saw his vision, nestling at their feet;
or to pull the heather and the wild strawberries in Cowleigh Park, from
which every vestige of its great house has departed. She might have been a
privileged visitor at Madresfield, where some say Charles II. slept the
night before the battle of Worcester, and where there is a relic that would
better become Kensington, in a quilt which Queen Anne and Duchess Sarah
embroidered together in silks in the days of their fast friendship.

As it was part of the Princess's good education to be enlightened, as far
as possible, with regard to the how and why of arts and manufactures, we
make no question she was carried to Worcester, not only to see the
cathedral, but to have the potteries exhibited to her. There was a great
deal for the ingenuous mind of a royal pupil to see, learn, and enjoy in
Worcester and Warwickshire--for she was also at Guy's Cliff and Kenilworth.

It had become clear to the world without that the succession rested with
the Duke of Kent's daughter. Long before, the Duchess of Clarence had
written to her sister-in-law in a tender, generous struggle with her
sorrow: "My children are dead, but yours lives, and she is mine too." As
the direct heir to the crown, the Princess Victoria became a person of
great importance, a source of serious consideration alike to the Government
and to her future subjects. The result, in 1830, was a well-deserved if
somewhat long-delayed testimony to the merits of the Duchess of Kent, which
must have given honest satisfaction not only at Kensington, but at
Claremont--to whose master the Belgian Revolution was opening up the
prospect of a kingdom more stable than that of Greece, for which Prince
Leopold had been mentioned. Away in the Duchess's native Coburg, too, the
congratulations were sincere and hearty.

The English Parliament had not only formally recognised the Princess as the
next heir and increased the Duchess's income to ten thousand a year, so
relieving her from some of her difficulties; it had, with express and
flattering reference to the admirable manner in which she had until then
discharged the trust that her husband had confided to her, appointed her
Regent in the event of King William's death while the Princess was still a
minor. In this appointment the Duchess was preferred to the Duke of
Cumberland. He had become the next royal Duke in the order of descent, but
had failed to inspire confidence in his countrymen. In fact he was in
England the most uniformly and universally unpopular of all George III.'s
sons. There was even a wild rumour that he was seeking, against right and
reason, to form a party which should attempt to revive the Salic law and
aim at setting aside the Princess and placing Prince George of Cumberland
on the throne of England as well as on that of Hanover.

The Princess had reached the age of twelve, and it was judged advisable,
after her position had been thus acknowledged, that she herself should be
made acquainted with it. The story--the authenticity of which is
established beyond question--is preserved in a letter from the Queen's
former governess, Baroness Lehzen, which her Majesty has, given to the
world.

"I ask your Majesty's leave to cite some remarkable words of your Majesty
when only twelve years old, while the Regency Bill was in progress. I then
said to the Duchess of Kent, that now, for the first time, your Majesty
ought to know your place in the succession. Her Royal Highness agreed with
me, and I put the genealogical table into the historical book. When Mr.
Davys (the Queen's instructor, afterwards Bishop of Peterborough) was gone,
the Princess Victoria opened the book again, as usual, and seeing the
additional paper, said, 'I never saw that before.' 'It was not thought
necessary you should, Princess,' I answered. 'I see I am nearer the throne
than I thought.' 'So it is, madam,' I said. After some moments the Princess
answered, 'Now, many a child would boast, but they don't know the
difficulty. There is much splendour, but there is more responsibility.' The
Princess having lifted up the forefinger of her right hand while she spoke,
gave me that little hand, saying, 'I will be good. I understand now why you
urged me so much to learn even Latin. My aunts Augusta and Mary never did;
but you told me Latin is the foundation of English grammar and of all the
elegant expressions, and I learned it as you wished it, but I understand
all better now;' and the Princess gave me her hand, repeating, 'I will be
good.' I then said, 'But your aunt Adelaide is still young, and may have
children, and of course they would ascend the throne after their father,
William IV., and not you, Princess.' The Princess answered, 'And if it was
so, I should never feel disappointed, for I know by the love aunt Adelaide
bears me how fond she is of children.'"

No words can illustrate better what is striking and touching in this
episode than those with which Mrs. Oliphant refers to it in her sketch of
the Queen. "It is seldom that an early scene like this stands out so
distinctly in the early story even of a life destined to greatness. The
hush of awe upon the child; the childish application of this great secret
to the abstruse study of Latin, which was not required from the others; the
immediate resolution, so simple, yet containing all the wisest sage could
have counselled, or the greatest hero vowed,' I will be good,' makes a
perfect little picture. It is the clearest appearance of the future Queen
in her own person that we get through the soft obscurity of those childish
years." The Duchess of Kent remained far from a rich woman for her station,
and the young Princess had been sooner told of her mother's straitened
income than of the great inheritance in store for herself. She continued to
be brought up in unassuming, inexpensive habits.

In February, 1831, when Princess Victoria was twelve, she made her first
appearance in state at "the most magnificent Drawing-room which, had been
seen since that which had taken place on the presentation of Princess
Charlotte of Wales upon the occasion of her marriage." The Drawing-room was
held by Queen Adelaide, and it was to do honour to the new Queen no less
than to commemorate the approaching completion of the Princess's twelfth
year that the heiress to the throne was present in a prominent position, an
object of the greatest interest to the splendid company. She came along
with the Duchess her mother, attended by an appropriate suite, including
the Duchess of Northumberland, Lady Charlotte St. Maur, Lady Catherine
Parkinson, the Hon. Mrs. Cust, the Baroness Lehzen, and the Princess's
father's old friends, General Wetherall and Captain (now Sir John) Conroy,
with his wife, Lady Conroy. The Princess's dress was made, as the Queen's
often was afterwards, entirely of articles manufactured in the United
Kingdom. She wore a frock of English blonde, "simple, modest, and
becoming." She stood on the left of her Majesty on the throne, and
"contemplated all that passed with much dignity, but with evident
interest." We are further told, what we can well believe, that she excited
general admiration as well as interest. We can without difficulty call up
before us the girlish figure in its pure, white dress, the soft, open face,
the fair hair, the candid blue eyes, the frank lips slightly apart, showing
the white pearly teeth. The intelligent observation, the remarkable absence
of self-consciousness and consequent power of self-control and of
thought for others, which struck all who approached her in the great crisis
of her history six years afterwards, were already conspicuous in the young
girl. No doubt it was for her advantage, in consideration of what lay
before her, that while brought up in wholesome privacy, she was at the same
time inured, so far, to appear in public, to bear the brunt of many
eyes--some critical, though for the most part kind--touched by her youth
and innocence, by the circumstance that she was fatherless, and by the
crown she must one day wear. She had to learn to conduct herself with the
mingled self-respect and ease which became her station. Impulsiveness,
shyness, nervousness, are more serious defects in kings and queens than in
ordinary mortals. To use a homely phrase, "to have all their wits about
them" is very necessary in their case. If in addition they can have all
their hearts--hearts warm and considerate, nobly mindful of their own
obligations and of the claims of others--so much the better for the
sovereigns and for all who come under their influence. A certain amount of
familiarity with being the observed of all observers, with treading alone a
conspicuous path demanding great circumspection, was wanted beforehand, in
order that the young head might remain steady in the time of sudden,
tremendous elevation.

Nevertheless, the Princess was not present at the coronation of King
William and Queen Adelaide, and her absence, as the heir-presumptive to the
throne, caused much remark and speculation, and gave rise to not a few
newspaper paragraphs. Various causes were assigned for the singular
omission. _The Times_ openly accused the Duchess of Kent of proving
the obstacle. Other newspapers followed suit, asserting that the grounds
for the Duchess's refusal were to be found in the circumstance that in the
coronation procession, marshalled by Lord A. Fitzclarence, the place
appointed for the Princess Victoria, instead of being next to the King and
Queen, according to her right, was after the remaining members of the royal
family. Conflicting authorities declared that the Prime Minister, Earl
Grey, for some occult reason, opposed the Princess's receiving an
invitation to be present at a ceremony which had so much interest for her;
or that the Duchess of Northumberland, the governess of the Princess, took
the same extraordinary course from political motives. Finally, _The
Globe_ gave, on authority, an explanation that had been offered all
along in the midst of more sensational rumours. The Princess's health was
rather delicate, and the Duchess of Kent had, on that account, got the
King's sanction to her daughter's not being exposed to unusual excitement
and fatigue. The statement on authority was unanswerable, but while it
stilled one cause of apprehension it awakened another. After the untimely
death of Princess Charlotte, the nation was particularly sensitive with
regard to the health of the heir to the crown. Whispers began to spread
abroad, happily without much foundation, of pale cheeks, and a constitution
unfit for the burden which was to be laid upon it.



CHAPTER III.
YOUTH.


In the month of August, 1831, the Princess went with her mother to profit
by the soft, sweet breezes of the Isle of Wight. The Duchess and her
daughter occupied Norris Castle for three months, and the ladies of the
family were often on the shore watching the white sails and chatting with
the sailors. Carisbrooke and King Charles the Martyr were brought more
vividly home to his descendant, with the pathetic little tale of the
girl-Princess Elizabeth. We do not know whether the Queen then learnt to
feel a special love for the fair little island with which she has long been
familiar, but of this we are certain, that she could then have had little
idea that her chief home would be within its bounds. Even in 1831 transport
and communication by land and water continued a tedious and troublesome
business. However, the visit to the Isle of Wight was repeated in 1833.
Perhaps to dissipate the gossip and calm the little irritation which had
been created by the Princess's absence from the coronation, she made her
appearance twice in public, on the completion of her thirteenth year, in
1832. That was a year in which there was much call for oil to be cast on
the troubled waters: never since 1819, the date of the Queen's birth had
there been greater restlessness and turmoil throughout the country. For
some time public feeling had been kept at the boiling-point by the question
of the Reform Bill--groaned over by some as the first step to democracy and
destruction; eagerly hailed by others as a new dawn of freedom, peace, and
prosperity. The delay in passing the Bill had rendered the King unpopular,
and brought unmerited blame on Queen Adelaide, for having gone beyond her
prerogative in lending herself to overthrow the King's Whig principles. The
ferment had converted the old enthusiastic homage to the Iron Duke as a
soldier into fierce detestation of him as a statesman. The carrying of the
measure on which the people had set their hearts did not immediately allay
the tempest--a disappointing result, which was inevitable when the
universal panacea failed to work at once like a charm in relieving all the
woes in the kingdom. Men were not only rude, and spoke their minds, the
ringleaders broke out again into riots, the most formidable and alarming of
which were those in Bristol, that left a deep impression on more than one
chance spectator who witnessed them. But the girl Princess--praised for her
proficiency in Horace and Virgil, and her progress in mathematics--could
only hear far off the mutterings of the storm that was passing; and King
William and Queen Adelaide sought to put aside what was perplexing and
harassing them; and tried to forget that when they had shown themselves to
their people lately they had been met--here with indifference--and there
with hootings. The times were waxing more and more evil, as it seemed, to
uneasy, vexed wearers of crowns, unlike those in which old King George and
Queen Charlotte had been received with fervent acclamation wherever they
went, whatever wars were being waged or taxes imposed. The manners of the
Commons were not improving with the extension of their rights. But the King
and Queen would do their duty, which was far from disagreeable to them, in
paying proper respect to their niece and successor. Accordingly their
Majesties gave a ball on the Princess's thirteenth birthday, 24th May,
1832, at which the heroine of the day figured; and four days later, on the
28th of May, she was present for the second time at a Drawing-room.

All the same, it is an open secret that William, living, for the most part,
in that noblest palace of Windsor, considered the Princess led too retired
a life, so far as not appearing often enough at his Court was concerned,
and that he complained of her absence and resented it as a slight to
himself. It is an equally well-established fact that, in spite of the
King's kindness of heart and Queen Adelaide's goodness, King William's
Court was not in all respects a desirable place for a Princess to grow up
in, in addition to the objection that any Court in itself formed an
unsuitable schoolroom for a young girl.

It is doubtful, since even the most magnanimous men have jealous instincts,
whether the King's displeasure on one point would be appeased by what was
otherwise a very natural and judicious step taken by the Duchess of Kent
this year. She made an autumn tour with her daughter through several
counties of England and Wales, in the course of which the royal mother and
daughter paid a succession of visits to seats of different noblemen, taking
Oxford on the way. If there was a place in England which deserved the
notice of its future Queen, it was one of the two great universities--the
cradles of learning, and, in the case of "the most loyal city of Oxford,"
the bulwark of the throne. The party proceeded early in October through
the beautiful scenery of North Wales--the Princess's first experience of
mountains--to Eaton Hall, the home of the Grosvenor family. From Eaton the
travellers drove to the ancient city of Chester, with its quaint arcades
and double streets, its God's Providence House and its cathedral. At
Chester the Princess named the new bridge which was opened on the occasion.
By the wise moderation and self-repression of those around her, the name
bestowed was not the "Victoria," but simply the "Grosvenor Bridge."