Queen Victoria (12 page)

On the 25th of January, 1842, the Prince of Wales was christened in St. George’s Chapel at Windsor. The choice of sponsors was not easy. The difficulty was met by inviting the King of Prussia to undertake the office. Though not connected with the parents by the tie of blood, his position as sovereign of the most important Protestant kingdom on the Continent justified the selection. King Frederic William, who had long been anxious to visit England, accepted the invitation. Arriving at Greenwich on the 22nd, he proceeded at once to Windsor. Royal baptisms had been hitherto, as a rule, celebrated within the Palace; but in the special circumstances, it was considered expedient that the heir to the throne should be christened in a consecrated and historical building. No fitter shrine for the purpose could have been chosen than the regal chapel which was raised in honour of, and dedicated to, the Patron Saint of the land. The rite was performed at ten A.M., with great state and splendour. Besides the King of Prussia, the other sponsors were the Duchess of Saxe-Coburg, represented by the Duchess of Kent, the Duke of Cambridge, the Duchess of Saxe-Gotha, represented by the Duchess of Cambridge, the Princess Sophia, represented by the Princess Augusta of Cambridge, and Prince Ferdinand of Saxe-Coburg. The principal group around the font, which is that mentioned previously as made for the christening of the Princess Royal, is represented on the opposite page, in the reproduction taken from the large picture painted in commemoration of the event by Sir George Hayter. The Queen, in her Journal, says: “It is impossible to describe how beautiful and imposing the effect of the whole scene was in the fine old chapel, with the banners, the music, and the light shining on the altar.”

The King of Prussia remained in this country for a fortnight, and on the 3rd of February, the day before his departure, he was present at the opening of Parliament by the Queen in person. Of this brilliant scene the Baroness Bunsen gives a graphic account in a letter quoted in her husband’s
Memoirs
: - “On Thursday was the opening of Parliament - the great scene from which I had expected most, and was not disappointed. The throngs in the streets, in the windows, on every spot where foot could stand - all looking so pleased - the splendid Horse Guards, the Grenadier Guards - of whom it might be said, as the King did on another occasion, ‘an appearance so fine you know not how to believe it true’ - the Yeomen of the Body Guard; then in the House of Lords, the Peers in their robes, the beautifully dressed ladies, with many, many beautiful faces; last the procession of the Queen’s entry, and herself, looking worthy and fit to be the converging point of so many rays of grandeur…

The composure with which she filled the throne, while awaiting the Commons, was a test of character - no fidget and no apathy. Then her voice and her enunciation could not be more perfect. In short, it could not be said that
she
did
well
, but she
was
the Queen; she was, and felt herself to be, the acknowledged chief among grand national realities. Placed in a narrow space behind Her Majesty’s mace-bearers, and peeping over their shoulders, I was enabled to hide and subdue the emotion I felt, in consciousness of the mighty pages of the world’s history condensed in the words, so impressively uttered in the silver tones of that feminine voice - Peace and War, the fate of millions, relations of countries, exertions of power felt to the extremities of the globe, alterations of corn laws, the birth of a future sovereign - mentioned in solemn thankfulness to Him in whose hands are nations and rulers! With what should one respond, but with the heartfelt aspiration, ‘God bless and guide her! for her sake, and the sake of all!’”

At the time of this opening of Parliament, the condition of home and foreign affairs was very serious. Scarcity of work inflicted widespread suffering on the manufacturing districts; riots among the workers in the iron and coal industries, and the risings threatened by Chartist agitators, caused deep anxiety to the ministry, whose powers of dealing with disturbances at home were enfeebled by the drain of troops required for operations abroad. The country was at war with China; in the West Indies and at the Cape the authorities needed all the help that could be spared; in Afghanistan a life and death struggle was raging, in which the British army had already met with the terrible disaster of the Cabul Pass; and in every quarter the outlook was full of menace and danger. A falling revenue demanded bold measures of finance, and the Queen cordially concurred in the proposal of Sir Robert Peel to impose an Income Tax, a step never before taken except under the pressure of a war expenditure, and always to the last degree unpopular. The Queen authorised her Ministers to announce that it was her wish not to be exempt from the operation of the tax, and this announcement was not without effect in reconciling her subjects to an impost previously unknown to that generation.

In order to revive the trade in London, every effort was made by the Court to stimulate its depressed condition. Dinners, concerts, and balls were frequently given, and on the 7th of May, with the same object, a grand costume ball was held in Buckingham Palace. At this the Queen appeared as Queen Philippa and the Prince as Edward III. Most of the guests wore costumes of the same date. The dress of the Queen was of Spitalfields manufacture. On the 26th, the Queen and Prince went in state to a ball given at Covent Garden Theatre on behalf of the distressed Spitalfields weavers. Fancy balls were also held at Apsley House and at Stafford House with the same charitable object.

On the 29th of May, 1842, an attempt on the Queen’s life, repeated by him next day, was made by a man named John Francis. An account of this outrage, confirmed by the Prince as authentic, has been given by Colonel Arbuthnot, one of the equerries. “On Sunday, the 29th of May, at about two P.M., as Her Majesty alighted from her carriage at Buckingham Palace on her return from church, she spoke to Prince Albert, and on His Royal Highness entering the Palace he called me aside, and stated to me that a man in the crowd had presented a pistol towards the carriage, and he distinctly heard the noise, the same as the shutting of a pocket-knife. His Royal Highness suggested to me the importance of keeping this a profound secret, but at once to consult the Inspector of Police… In the evening Sir James Graham arrived, and he, Sir R. Peel, Colonel Rowan and I went into a lower drawing-room, where Sir Robert wrote down His Royal Highness’s deposition to him. It was then fully agreed on the vital importance of our keeping the matter a profound secret… Her Majesty determined on the afternoon of Monday to drive out. I took every possible precaution, and His Royal Highness directed me to ride close to Her Majesty, and to request Colonel Wylde to do the same, but His Royal Highness
was
so
alive
to the
importance
that the attempt on Sunday afternoon should be perfectly secret, that he desired me not to mention it even to him. Her Majesty appeared to be as fully alive as I was to the danger she was incurring, but was, notwithstanding, most calm, cheerful and composed, at the same time, I am sure, fully alive to the probability that from behind every tree she might be shot at. His Royal Highness, I know, was fully conscious this might be the case.

“I had a strong feeling that, as the man had failed, and could not be aware that he was seen, he would take the earliest opportunity of renewing the attempt; so strong was my feeling, that I went myself to the stables to desire that
on
no
account
might
Kangaroo
be sent for me to ride, as he was a sluggish horse, and difficult to keep near the carriage, but notwithstanding, to my horror,
Kangaroo
was sent for me to ride and too late for me to change. The Queen drove through Hyde Park, the Regent’s Park, and to Hampstead. I got, as soon as we were out of observation, on my groom’s horse, and then I experienced a relief I cannot express, as I was able then to keep close to Her Majesty. We went fast home, but on passing through the gate at Constitution Hill, I desired the wheel postillion to drive even faster, which he did. Before arriving at the pump, I observed a man seemingly eager to see the Queen; on approaching him he snatched a pistol out of his breast and levelling quickly, aimed at the Queen, but owing to the rapid pace at which we were going, my horse being very near him, he was disconcerted, and by the mercy of Providence, aimed too low. Her Majesty heard the report, and her extraordinary calmness was wonderful. She was naturally affected, but did not betray the slightest appearance of alarm, but was as calm and as collected as when looking at the view at Hampstead… His Royal Highness struck me as being very much affected at Her Majesty’s providential escape. On seeing the man after he had fired, His Royal Highness exclaimed, “It is the same man.”

Prince Albert in his letter to his father, describing the occurrence, says, “The shot must have passed under the carriage, for he lowered his hand. We felt as if a load had been taken off our hearts, and we thanked the Almighty for having preserved us a second time from so great a danger. John Francis (that is the man’s name) was standing near a policeman, who immediately seized him, but could not prevent the shot. It was at the same spot where Oxford had fired at us, two years ago, with this difference only, that Oxford was standing on our left, with his back to the garden wall.”

Mr. Anson, the Prince’s Secretary, in his memoranda of the same day, says, “Her Majesty seemed none the worse. She told me she had fully expected it, and it was a relief to her to have it over. She had for some time been under the impression that one of these mad attempts would be made… Her Majesty said she never could have existed under the uncertainty of a concealed attack. She would rather run the immediate risk at any time, than have the presentiment of danger constantly hovering over her. She had been much gratified by the kind feeling people had shown.” Contrary to her usual custom, she had on this day dispensed with the attendance of her ladies. To Miss Liddell, afterwards Lady Bloomfield, the Queen said on her return to the Palace, “I daresay, Georgy, you were surprised at not driving with me this afternoon, but the fact was, that as we returned from church yesterday, a man presented a pistol at the carriage window, which flashed in the pan; we were so taken by surprise that he had time to escape; so I knew what was hanging over me, and I was determined to expose no life but my own.”

Francis was examined before the Privy Council and committed to Newgate for trial at the next session of the Central Criminal Court. On the day following the attempt, an immense concourse of people assembled at the Palace in expectation that the Queen would take her accustomed drive. Nor were they disappointed. The royal carriage contained the Queen and Prince with the Duke of Saxe-Meiningen. Following on horseback were the Count Mensdorff with his four sons, and the two equerries. The royal party was loudly cheered, and the drive was quite a triumphal progress; Her Majesty’s subjects appreciating with delight not only the presence of mind displayed by their youthful sovereign at the moment of danger, but the nerve with which she could go to meet it. The Queen, writing to King Leopold, says, “I was not really at all frightened, and feel very proud at dear uncle Mensdorff calling me ‘very courageous,’ which I shall ever remember with delight, coming from so distinguished an officer as he is.” In the evening the Queen with Prince Albert went to the Italian Opera, where the audience, with tumultuous gratulations, called for the National Anthem, bursting into cheers at almost every line. On the day following addresses of congratulations were voted by both Houses of Parliament, followed by others from all parts of the kingdom.

Francis was tried for high treason on the 17th of June, found guilty, and sentenced to death. The Queen was most anxious that the sentence should not be carried out, and the Government, after consultation with the judges, commuted the sentence to transportation for life. The very next day after this exercise of clemency, another outrage was attempted, as the Queen, with the King of the Belgians, was driving to the Chapel Royal, St. James’s. A deformed youth, named Bean, pointed a pistol at the Queen, but it fortunately missed fire, nor did the Queen know anything of the matter till her return to Buckingham Palace. On being told of it, she merely said that, so long as the law remained that these attempts could only be dealt with as acts of high treason, a recurrence of them must be expected. The Ministry, therefore, with as much haste as possible, brought in a bill, making these attempts high misdemeanours, to be punished by transportation for seven years, or imprisonment, with, or without, hard labour, for a term not exceeding three years, the culprit “to be publicly, or privately, whipped, as often, and in such manner and form, as the Court shall direct, not exceeding thrice.” The bill became law on the 16th of July, and under it Bean was, on August 25th, sentenced to eighteen months’ imprisonment.

At Buckingham Palace, in the summer of 1842, the Queen and Prince Albert had received Mendelssohn. The celebrated musician has given graphic details of his visit. He says in his letter to his mother: “I must tell you all the details of my last visit to Buckingham Palace. It is, as G. says, the one really pleasant and comfortable English house where one feels
a
son
aise
. Of course, I do know a few others, but yet, on the whole,

I agree with him. Prince Albert had asked me to go to him on Saturday at two o’clock, so that I might try his organ before I left England. I found him alone, and, as we were walking away, the Queen came in, also alone, in a simple morning-dress… I begged that the Prince would first play me something, so that, as I said, 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… 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 both joined in the chorus; and all the time Prince Albert managed the stops for me so cleverly - first a flute, at the
forte
the great organ, at the D major part of the whole; then he made a lovely
diminuendo
with the stops, and so on to the end of the piece, and all by heart, that I was really quite enchanted… 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
Friihlingslied
in B flat, ‘if it is still here,’ she added, ‘for all my music is packed up for Claremont.’ Prince Albert went to look for it, but came back saying it was already packed… The servants were sent after it without success; at last the Queen went herself, and, while she was gone, Prince Albert said to me: ‘She begs you will accept this present as a remembrance,’ and gave me a little case with a beautiful ring, on which is engraved - ‘V.R., 1842.’