On the occasion which has attracted your Majesty's attention, of setting apart a portion of my property to ameliorate the condition and augment the comforts of the poor of London, I have been actuated by a deep sense of gratitude to God, who has blessed me with prosperity, and of attachment to this great country, where, under your Majesty's benign rule, I have received so much personal kindness, and enjoyed so many years of happiness. Next to the approval of my own conscience, I shall always prize the assurance which your Majesty's letter conveys to me of the approbation of the Queen of England, whose whole life has attested that her exalted station has in no degree diminished her sympathy with the humblest of her subjects. The portrait which your Majesty is graciously pleased to bestow on me I shall value as the most gracious heirloom that I can leave in the land of my birth; where, together with the letter which your Majesty has addressed to me, it will ever be regarded as an evidence of the kindly feeling of the Queen of the United Kingdom toward a citizen of the United States.
I have the honour to be
Your Majesty's most obedient servant,
GEORGE PEABODY.
This miniature of the Queen is mounted in an elaborate and massive chased gold frame, surmounted by the royal crown; is a half-length, fourteen inches long and ten wide, done in enamel, by Tilb, a London artist, and is the largest miniature of the kind ever attempted in England. It has been deposited, along with the gold box containing the freedom of the city of London, in a vault in the Institute at Peabody; also the gold box from the Fishmongers' Association, London; a book of autographs; a presentation copy of the Queen's first published book, with her autograph; and a cane which belonged to Benjamin Franklin.
We have only tried to draw within a small canvas a portrait of her as 'mother, wife, and queen.' She has herself told the story of her happy days in her Highland home, to which we have already alluded; nor has she shrunk from letting her people see her when she went there after all was changed, when the view was so fine, the day so bright—and the heather so beautifully pink—but no pleasure, no joy! all dead!' But she found help and sympathy among her beloved Scottish peasantry, with whom she could form human friendships, unchilled by politics and unchecked by court jealousies. They could win her into the sunshine even on the sacred anniversaries. One of them said to her, 'I thought you would like to be here (a bright and favoured spot) on his birthday.' The good Christian man 'being of opinion,' writes the Queen, 'that this beloved day, and even the 14th of December, must not be looked upon as a day of mourning.' 'That's not the light to look at it,' said he. The Queen found 'true and strong faith in these good simple people.' It is pleasant, to note that by-and-by she kept the prince's birthday by giving souvenirs to her children, servants, and friends.
She who years before, during a short separation from her dear husband, had written, 'All the numerous children are as nothing to me when he is away—it seems as if the whole life of the house and home were gone,' could enter into the spirit of Dr Norman Macleod's pathetic story of the old woman who, having lost husband and children, was asked how she had been able to bear her sorrows, and replied, 'Ah, when he went awa', it made a great hole, and all the others went through it.'
As we have already said, the Queen was a genuine ruler, and while at Windsor she had not only a regular array of papers and despatches to go through, but many court ceremonies. In the morning there was a drive before breakfast, and after that meal she read her private letters and newspapers. One of the ladies-in-waiting had previously gone over the newspapers and marked the paragraphs which seemed of most interest to the Queen. Afterwards came the examination of the boxes of papers and despatches, of which there might be twenty or thirty, which sometimes occupied about three hours. The contents were then sorted, and sent to be dealt with by her secretary, Sir Henry Ponsonby.
When the Queen was robed for a state occasion, such as a Drawing-room, she was sometimes adorned with jewellery worth. £150,000. At other times she wore scarcely any. Drawing-rooms, when ladies were presented and had the honour of kissing the Queen's hand, were held about two o'clock. At a royal dinner-party the Queen arrived last. Having walked round and spoken to her guests, she then preceded them into the royal dining-room, and seated herself with one of her children on either side. She was always punctual. It was polite to allow her to start the conversation; after that, she liked to hear her guests talking. Her own talk was always agreeable, and she was fond of humour and a hearty laugh.
The Queen showed herself a model mistress, and also showed an example of industry. At the Chicago Exhibition in 1893 were napkins made from flax spun by Her Majesty, and a straw hat plaited by her. There was, too, a noble human grace about her acts of beneficence. For instance, in erecting an almshouse for poor old women in the Isle of Wight, she retained one tiny room, exactly like the rest, for her own use. It is, we believe, untrue that she ever read in cottages. Her diary is full of references to those who served her, even in the humblest capacities. She attended the funeral service for the father of her faithful servant, John Brown; and when the latter died, she wrote that her loss was irreparable, as he deservedly possessed her entire confidence. Interested in the country people around Balmoral, Her Majesty paid visits to old women, and gave them petticoats. On August 26, 1869, she called on old Mrs Grant, gave her a shawl and pair of socks, 'and found the poor old soul in bed, looking very weak and very ill, but bowing her head and thanking me in her usual way. I took her hand and held it.' She abounded in practical sympathy with all their joys and sorrows. One of the lodge-keepers in Windsor Forest remarked that 'a wonderful good woman to her servants is the Queen.' Her Majesty had come several times to see her husband when down with rheumatic fever, and the princesses often brought her oranges and jellies with their own hands. She trained her children to live in the same spirit: nearly all of the Princess Alice's letters home contained references to domestic friends and messages to be conveyed to them. She wrote in 1865 to the Queen: 'From you I have inherited an ardent and sympathising spirit, and feel the pain of those I love, as though it were my own.'