AUTUMN YACHTING EXCURSIONS—THE SPANISH MARRIAGES—WINTER VISITS.
In the beginning of August the Queen and the Prince, accompanied by the King and Queen of the Belgians, went again to Osborne. This autumn the Queen, the Prince and their two elder children, made pleasant yachting excursions, of about a week's duration each, to old admired scenes and new places. In one of these Baron Stockmar was with them, since he had come to England for a year's visit. He expressed himself as much gratified by the Prince's interest and judgment in politics, and his opinion of the Queen was more favourable than ever. "The Queen improves greatly," he noted down as the fruits of his keen observation, "and she makes daily advances in discernment and experience. The candour, the tone of truth, the fairness, the considerateness with which she judges men and things, are truly delightful; and the ingenuous self-knowledge with which she speaks of herself is simply charming." The yachting excursions included Babbicombe, with the red rocks and wooded hills, which gave the Queen an idea of Italy, where she had never been, "or rather of a ballet or play where nymphs are to appear;" and Torbay, where William of Orange landed. It was perhaps in reference to that event that her Majesty made her little daughter "read in her English history." It seems to have been the Queen's habit, in these yachting excursions, to take upon herself a part, at least, of the Princess Royal's education. "Beautiful Dartmouth" recalled—it might be all the more, because of the rain that fell there—the Rhine with its ruined castles and its Lurlei. Plymouth Harbour and the shore where the pines grew down to the sea, led again to Mount Edgcumbe, always lovely. But first the Queen and the Prince steamed up the St. Germans and the Tamar rivers, passing Trematon Castle, which belonged to the little Duke of Cornwall, and penetrated by many windings of the stream into lake-like regions surrounded by woods and abounding in mines, which made the Prince think of some parts of the Danube. The visitors landed at Cothele, and drove up to a fine old house unchanged since Henry VII.'s time. When they returned in the Fairy to the yacht proper, they found it in the centre of a shoal of boats, as it had been the last time it sailed in these waters.
Prince Albert made an excursion to Dartmoor, and could have believed he was in Scotland, while her Majesty contented herself with another visit to Mount Edgcumbe, the master of which, a great invalid, yet contrived to meet her near the landing-place at which his wife and sons, with other members of the family, had received the royal visitor. The drowsy heat and the golden haze were in keeping with the romantically luxuriant glories of the drive, which the Queen took with her children and her hostess. The little people went in to luncheon while the Queen sketched.
After Prince Albert's return in the afternoon, the visit was repeated. "The finest and tallest chestnut-trees in existence," and the particularly tall and straight birch-trees, were inspected, and Sir Joshua Reynolds's portraits examined. Well might they flourish at Mount Edgcumbe, since Plymouth was Sir Joshua's native town, and some of the Edgcumbe family were among his first patrons, when English art stood greatly in need of such patronage.
The next excursion was an impromptu run in lovely weather to Guernsey, which had not been visited by an English sovereign since the days of King John. The rocky bays, the neighbouring islands, the half-foreign town of St. Pierre, with "very high, bright-coloured houses," illuminated at night, pleased her Majesty greatly. On the visitors landing they were met by ladies dressed in white singing "God save the Queen," and strewing the path with flowers. General Napier, a white- haired soldier, received the Queen and presented her with the keys of the fort. The narrow streets through which she drove were "decorated with flowers and flags, and lined with the Guernsey militia." The country beyond, of which she had a glimpse, was crowned with fine vegetation.
Whether or not it was to prevent Jersey, with St. Helier's, from feeling jealous, ten days later the Queen and the Prince, the Prince of Wales, and the Princess Royal, the usual suite, Lord Spencer, and Lord Palmerston, set out on a companion trip to the sister island. The weather was colder and the sea not so calm. Indeed, the rolling of the vessel in Alderney Race was more than the voyagers had bargained for. After it became smoother the little Prince of Wales put on a sailor's dress made by a tailor on board, and great was the jubilation of the Jack Tars of every degree.
The whole picturesque coast of Jersey was circumnavigated in order to reach St. Helier's, which was gained when the red rocks were gilded with the setting sun. A little later the yacht was hauled up under the glow of bonfires and an illumination. On a splendid September day, which lent to the very colouring a resemblance to Naples, the Queen passed between the twin towers of Noirmont Point and St. Aubin, and approached Elizabeth Castle, with the town of St. Helier's behind it. The Queen landed amidst the firing of guns, the playing of military bands, and the roar of cheers, the ladies of the place, as before, strewing her path with flowers, and marshalling her to a canopy, under which her Majesty received the address of the States and the militia. The demonstrations were on a larger and more finished scale than in Guernsey, greater time having been given for preparation.
The French tongue around her arrested the Queen's attention. So did a seat in one of the streets filled with French women from Granville, "curiously dressed, with white handkerchiefs on their heads." The Queen drove through the green island, admiring its orchards without end, though the season of russet and rosy apples was past for Jersey. The old tower of La Hogue Bie was seen, and the castle of Mont Orgueil was still more closely inspected, the Queen walking up to it and visiting one of its batteries, with a view across the bay to the neighbouring coast of France. Mont Orgueil is said to have been occupied by Robert of Normandy, the unfortunate son of William the Conqueror. Her Majesty heard that it had not yet been taken, but found this was an error, though it was true the island of Guernsey had never been conquered.
The close of the pleasant day was a little spoilt by the heat and glare, which sent the Queen ill to her cabin. The next day saw the party bound for Falmouth, where they arrived under a beautiful moon, with the sea smooth as glass—not an unacceptable change from the rolling swell of the first part of the little voyage.
Something unexpected and unwelcome had happened before the close of the excursion, while the French coast which the Queen had hailed with so much pleasure was still full in sight. Whether the news which arrived with the other dispatches had anything to do with the fit of indisposition that rendered the heat and glare unbearable, it certainly marred the enjoyment of the last part of her trip. Before quitting Jersey the Queen was made acquainted with the fact that Louis Philippe's voluntary protestations with regard to the marriage of his son, the Duc de Montpensier, had been so many idle words. He had stolen a march both upon England and Europe generally. The marriage of the Due de Montpensier with the Infanta Luisa of Spain was announced simultaneously with the marriage of her sister, the Queen of Spain, to her cousin the Due de Cadiz.
Everybody knows at this date how futile were Louis Philippe's schemes for the aggrandisement of his family, and how he learnt by bitter experience, as Louis XIV. had done before him, that a coveted Spanish alliance, in the very fact of its attainment, meant disaster and humiliation for France.
Louis Philippe had the grace, as we sometimes say, to shrink from writing to announce the double marriage against which he had so often solemnly pledged himself to the Queen. He delegated the difficult task to Queen Amélie, who discharged it with as much tact as might have been expected from so devoted a wife and kind a woman.
The Queen of England's reply to this begging of the question is full of spirit and dignity:—
"OSBORNE, September 10, 1846.
"MADAME,—I have just received your Majesty's letter of the 8th, and I hasten to thank you for it. You will, perhaps remember what passed at Eu between the King and myself. You are aware of the importance which I have always attached to the maintenance of our cordial understanding, and the zeal with which I have laboured towards this end. You have no doubt been informed that we refused to arrange the marriage between the Queen of Spain and our cousin Leopold (which the two Queens [Footnote: The reference is to the young Queen of Spain and her mother the Queen-dowager Christina.] had eagerly desired) solely with the object of not departing from a course which would be more agreeable to the King, although we could not regard the course as the best. [Footnote: The confining of the Queen of Spain's selection of a husband to a Bourbon prince, a descendant of Philip V.] You will therefore easily understand that the sudden announcement of this double marriage could not fail to cause us surprise and very keen regret.
"I crave your pardon, Madame, for speaking to you of politics at a time like this, but I am glad that I can say for myself that I have always been sincere with you. Begging you to present my respectful regards to the King, I am, Madame, your Majesty's most devoted friend,
"VICTORIA."
The last yachting excursion of the season was to Cornwall. The usual party accompanied the Queen and the Prince, the elder children, and the ladies and gentlemen in waiting, her Majesty managing, as before, to hear her little daughter repeat her lessons. Lizard Point and Land's End were reached. At Penzance Prince Albert landed to inspect the copper and serpentine-stone works, while the Queen sketched from the deck of the Fairy. As the Cornish boats clustered round the yacht, and the Prince of Wales looked down with surprise on the half- outlandish boatmen, a loyal shout arose, "Three cheers for the Duke of Cornwall."
The romantic: region of St. Michael's Mount, dear to the lovers of Arthurian legends, was visited, the Queen climbing the circuitous path up the hill to enter the castle, the Prince mounting to the tower where "St Michael's chair," the rocky seat for betrothed couples, still tests their courage and endurance. Each man and woman races up the difficult path, and the winner of the race who first sits down in the chair claims the right to rule the future home.
The illustration from a painting by Stanfield represents the imposing pile of the "old religious house" crowning the noble rock, the royal yacht lying off the shore commanding St. Michael's Mount, the numerous spectators on shore and in boats haunting the royal footsteps—in short, the whole scene in the freshness and stir which broke in upon its sombre romance.
On Sunday service was held under the awning with its curtains of flags, Lord Spencer—a captain in the navy—reading prayers "extremely well." On Monday there was an excursion to the serpentine rocks, where caves and creeks, cormorants and gulls, lent their attractions to the spot. At Penryn the corporation came on board, "very anxious to see the Duke of Cornwall." The Queen makes a picture in writing of the quaint interview. "I stepped out of the pavilion on deck with Bertie. Lord Palmerston told them that that was the Duke of Cornwall, and the old mayor of Penryn said he hoped 'he would grow up a blessing to his parents and his country.'"
The party were rowed up the beautiful rivers Truro and Tregony, between banks covered with stunted oaks or woods of a more varied kind down to the water's edge, past charming pools, creeks, and ferries, with long strings of boats on the water and carts on the shore, and a great gathering of people cheering the visitors, especially when the little Duke of Cornwall was held up for them to see. The Queen took delight in the rustic demonstration, so much in keeping with the place, and the simple loyalty of the people.
Her Majesty went to Fowey, and had the opportunity of driving through some of the narrowest, steepest streets in England, till she reached the hilly ground of Cornwall, "covered with fields, and intersected with hedges," and at last arrived at her little son's possession, the ivy-covered ruin of the old castle of Restormel, an appanage of the Duchy of Cornwall, in which the last Earl of Cornwall had resided five hundred years before.
The Queen also visited the Restormel iron-mines. She was one of the comparatively few ladies who have ventured into the nether darkness of a pit. She saw her underground subjects as well as those above ground, and to the former no less than to the latter she bore the kindly testimony that she found them "intelligent good people." We can vouch for this that these hewers and drawers of ore, in their dark-blue woollen suits, the arms bare, and caps with the candles or lamps stuck in the front, lighting up the pallid grimy faces, would be fully conscious of the honour done them, and would yield to no ruddy, fustian-clad ploughman or picturesque shepherd, with his maud and crook in loyalty to their Queen.
The Queen and the Prince got into a truck and were drawn by the miners, the mineral agent for Cornwall bringing up the rear, into the narrow workings, where none could pass between the truck and the rock, and "there was just room to hold up one's head, and not always that." As it is with other strangers in Pluto's domains, her Majesty felt there was something unearthly about this lit-up cavern-like place, where many a man spent the greater part of his life. But she was not deterred from getting out of the truck with me Prince, and scrambling along to see the veins of ore, from which Prince Albert was able to knock off some specimens. Daylight was dazzling to the couple when they returned to its cheerful presence.
The last visit paid in Cornwall was by very narrow stony lanes to "Place," a curious house restored from old plans and drawings to a fac-simile of a Cornwall house of the past as it had been defended by one of the ancestresses of the present family, the Treffrys, against an attack made upon her, by the French during her husband's absence. The hall was lined with Cornwall marble and porphyry.
On the 15th of September the new part of Osborne House was occupied for the first time by its owners. Lady Lyttelton chronicled the pleasant event and some ceremonies which accompanied it. "After dinner we were to drink the Queen and Prince's health as a 'house-warming.' And after it the Prince said very naturally and simply, but seriously, 'We have a hymn' (he called it a psalm) 'in Germany for such occasions. It begins'—and then he repeated two lines in German, which I could not quote right, meaning a prayer to 'bless our going out and coming in.' It was long and quaint, being Luther's. We all perceived that he was feeling it. And truly entering a new house, a new palace, is a solemn thing to do, to those whose probable span of life in it is long, and spite of rank, and health, and youth, down- hill now."
Sir Theodore Martin, who quotes Lady Lyttelton's letters in the "Life of the Prince Consort," gives such a hymn, which is a paraphrase of the 121st Psalm, as it appears in the Coburg Gesang-Buch, and supplies a translation of the verse in question.
Unsern ausgang segne Gott,
Unsern erngang gleicher massen,
Segne unser taglich brod,
Segne unser thun und lassen.
Segne uns mit sel'gem sterben,
Und mach uns zu Himmel's Erben
* * * * *
By Tre, Con and Pen,
You may know the Cornish men
God bless our going out, nor less
Our coming in, and make them sure,
God bless our daily bread, and bless
Whate'er we do, whate'er endure,
In death unto his peace awake us,
And heirs of his salvation make us
"I forgot," writes Lady Lyttelton again, "much the best part of our breaking in, which was that Lucy Kerr (one of the maids of honour) insisted on throwing an old shoe into the house after the Queen, as she entered for the first night, being a Scotch superstition. It looked too strange and amusing. She wanted some melted lead and sundry other charms, but they were not forthcoming. I told her I would call her Luckie, and not Lucy."
During the autumn the Princess of Prussia, who was on a visit to her aunt, Queen Adelaide, went to Windsor Castle, where Madame Bunsen met her. "I arrived here at six," writes Madame Bunsen "and at eight went to dinner in the great hall, hung round with Waterloo pictures, the band playing exquisitely, so placed as to be invisible, so that what with the large proportions of the hall and the well-subdued lights, and the splendours of plate and decorations, the scene was such as fairy tales present; and Lady Canning, Miss Stanley, and Miss Dawson were beautiful enough to represent an ideal queen's ideal attendants.
"The Queen looked well and rayonnante, with the expression of countenance that she has when pleased with what surrounds her, and which you know I like to see. The old Duke of Cambridge failed not to ask after you.
"This morning at nine we were all assembled at prayers in the private chapel, then went to breakfast, headed by Lady Canning, after which Miss Stanley took the Countess Haach and me to see the collection of gold plate. Three works of Benvenuto Cellini, and a trophy from the Armada, an immense flagon or wine-fountain, like a gigantic old- fashioned smelling-bottle, and a modern Indian work—a box given to the Queen by an Indian potentate—were what interested me the most. Then I looked at many interesting pictures in the long corridor.
"I am lodged in what is called the Devil's Tower, and have a view of the Round Tower, of which I made a sketch as soon as I was out of bed this morning."
In October the Queen and the Prince spent several days on a private visit to the Queen-dowager at her country house of Cashiobury. From Cashiobury the royal couple went on, in bad weather, to Hatfield House, which had once been a palace, but had long been the seat of the Cecils, Marquises of Salisbury. Here more than anywhere else Queen Victoria was on the track of her great predecessor, Queen Elizabeth, while the virgin queen was still the maiden princess, considerably oppressed by her stern sister Queen Mary. Queen Victoria inspected all the relics of the interesting old place, "the vineyard," the banqueting-room fallen down into a stable, and the oak still linked with the name of Queen Bess.
At Hatfield there was a laudable innovation on the usual round of festivities. From four to five hundred labourers were regaled on the lawn with a roasted ox and hogsheads of ale.
On the 1st of December, the Queen and Prince, who had been staying at Osborne, paid the Duke of Norfolk a visit at Arundel. Not only was the Duke the premier duke and Earl-Marshal of England, but he held at this time the high office in the Household of Master of the Horse. The old keep and tower at Arundel were brilliantly illuminated in honour of the Queen's presence, and bonfires lit up the surrounding country. The Duke of Wellington was here also, walking about with the Queen, while the younger men shot with Prince Albert. On the second day of her stay her Majesty received guests in the state drawing-room. The third day included the usual commemorative planting of trees in the Little Park. In the evening there was dancing, in which the Queen joined.
There were great changes, ominous of still further transitions, in the theatrical and literary world. Liston, the famous comedian who had delighted a former generation, was dead, and amateur actors, led by authors in the persons of Charles Dickens, Douglas Jerrold, &c. &c., had come to the front, and were winning much applause, as well as solid benefits for individuals and institutions connected with literature requiring public patronage. A man and a woman unlike in everything save their cordial admiration for each other, bore down all opposition in the reading world: William Makepeace Thackeray, in 1846, in spite of the discouragement of publishers, started his "Vanity Fair," and Charlotte Brontë, from the primitive seclusion of an old- fashioned Yorkshire parsonage, took England by storm with her impassioned, unconventional "Jane Eyre." The fame of these two books, while the authors were still in a great measure unknown, rang through the country.
Art in England was still following the lines laid down for the last twenty or thirty years, unless in the case of Turner, who had entered some time before on the third period of his work, the period marked by defiance and recklessness as well as by noble power.