In the Days of Queen Victoria

by Eva March Tappan

Peel felt as Stockmar did, that it was not wise to propose such a title. The subject arose again some years later, and the shrewd Baron wrote to the Prince in his usual straightforward fashion: "Never abandon your firm, powerful position to run after butterflies. You have the substance; stick by it." The title was never given him, but it was true that he had "the substance." The Queen no longer met her Ministers alone; the Prince was always with her to help and suggest. Whenever either she or the Prince spoke to the Council the word "I" was not used; it was always "We think so-and-so should be done."

Not only the Council but the whole country were gaining in knowledge of the Prince's wisdom and devotion to the good of the kingdom, and in 1847 a valued mark of appreciation was given him in his election as Chancellor of the University of Cambridge, one of the greatest honors that could have been bestowed upon him. The Queen was delighted, because she knew that the position was not given out of compliment to her, but was something that he himself had earned. Soon after the election, came the installation. The magistrates and Yeomanry went to the station to meet the Queen, and then marched before her into the town. She was escorted into the Great Hall of Trinity College and led to an armchair which stood on a platform under a canopy. Soon after she had seated herself, the new Chancellor entered at the farther end of the hall, followed by the long line of university dignitaries. He wore a robe of black and gold, so long that it had to be held up by two gentlemen. When he stood in front of the armchair that represented the throne, he made a low bow and delivered his address. "The situation was almost absurd for us," said the Queen afterwards, but the Prince read his address with perfect command of his countenance and the Queen was quite serious until she caught his eye for a moment at the end of the speech. She half smiled, but in an instant she was again the dignified sovereign, and she declared with a little emphasis that brought forth shouts of applause, "The choice which the university has made of a Chancellor has my most entire approbation."

Not long afterwards the new Chancellor and his royal wife paid another visit to Cambridge. It was a little muddy, and the Queen hesitated a moment before getting out of the carriage. Instantly one of the students threw his gown upon the ground for her to step on, and others followed his example.

When Victoria thought of her husband and her children, she was supremely happy, but when she thought of the different kingdoms of Europe, and even of her own realm, there was much in 1847 and 1848 to make her unhappy. All Europe was restless and uneasy. Revolt had broken out in Italy, France, Germany, and other countries. The reigning sovereigns in most of these kingdoms were related to her either by blood or by marriage, and she could but feel grief for their trials, and, in some instances, fear for their safety. Indeed, the King and Queen of France had to flee to England and they spent the remainder of their lives at Claremont. In Victoria's own realm, there was trouble. Ireland was suffering from a terrible famine. Thousands of Irish were dying of either starvation or fever. In England there was no starvation, but everyone felt the hard times more or less. Those who had money did not dare to invest it, because business was so unsettled that they were afraid of loss. As capital was not invested, there was little work to be had, and the poor suffered severely. The rich as well as the poor felt the general stagnation. Greville said that his income was only half the usual amount, and even in royal palaces strict economy was practiced.

There was a special reason for great uneasiness in London. According to the laws at that time, no one could become a member of the House of Commons who did not own land enough to receive from it an annual income of $1500. This law had been made in the belief that a man who owned land would be more interested in the welfare of his country than a man who had none. Thousands of workingmen were not allowed even to vote. When work was plenty, and they were comfortable and busy, they did not think so much about their rights; but when work failed, they began to say to one another: "This is all the fault of the laws. If everyone could vote, and if poor men as well as rich men could become members of Parliament, laws would be made for the good of the whole nation and not merely for the landowners."

These men held meetings to discuss such matters, and they concluded to send in a petition to Parliament, setting forth their wrongs and demanding that changes should be made. The plan was explained in what was called the People's Charter, and therefore its supporters were spoken of as Chartists.

No one would have objected to having as many petitions sent to Parliament as the house would hold, but among the people were many hot-headed persons who had much to say about "oppression" and "revolution." The crowds sometimes became noisy and turbulent, and one evening some of them rushed wildly toward Buckingham Palace. The only harm that they did was to break some street lamps; and when their leader was arrested by the police, he made no resistance, but began to cry. Nevertheless, people felt very uneasy, and when it was reported that on the 10th of April the petition would be presented by 1,000,000 men, there was much alarm in the city. Shops were barricaded, weapons were put where they could be caught up in a moment, and old muskets that had not been used for half a century were brought down from the garrets and put in order for the riots that were feared. The Duke of Wellington, as commander-in-chief of the army, made very wise preparations. There was no display of soldiers or cannon, but Buckingham Palace and the public buildings were quietly filled with armed men, and gunboats were brought up the river. The Queen had shown again and again that she was no coward, and she would have stayed in London, but her Ministers persuaded her to take her three-weeks'-old baby to Osborne House. All London trembled when the 10th of April arrived; but when night came, those who had feared most laughed heartiest. The whole affair had ended in a few thousand men starting for Parliament with the petition. "You cannot cross the bridge in mass," said the police, and the Chartists went home meekly, sending their petition in cabs.

The Queen had long wished to go to Ireland, and in 1849 she and the Prince and the four older children went to that country in the yacht Victoria and Albert. Now, however indignant the Irish might be at England's rule of their country they would not give the Queen any but the most cordial greeting; and when the yacht sailed into the mouth of the River Lee, the people of the place called Cove of Cork asked that she would step ashore, if only for a moment. "We wish to change the name of our town," they said, "so that it may mark the place where the Queen first set her foot on Irish soil." The flag was run up on which was written the word "Cove," but as soon as the Queen had gone back to the yacht, the flag was dropped, and another was run up marked "Queenstown."

The Victoria and Albert went on to Cork, and the party also visited several other places in Ireland. Wherever they went, the crowds pressed to the water's edge with cheering and shouts of welcome. Cannon were fired and bells were set to ringing. Every little cottage had its flag, or at least a wreath of flowers and evergreens. All were interested in the royal children, and at Kingstown an old lady cried out: "Oh! Queen dear, make one of them Prince Patrick, and all Ireland will die for you."

When the Irish visit had come to its end, and the Queen was about to leave for England, the crowds on the shore cheered her more wildly than ever, and both the Queen and the Prince climbed the paddlebox and waved their handkerchiefs again and again. "Go slowly," ordered the Queen, and the boat moved very slowly along, keeping close to the pier. The crowds cheered with more enthusiasm than before, and three times a return was given to their salute by lowering the royal standard. One of the Queen's party said: "There is not an individual in the town who does not take the Queen's going on the paddlebox and lowering the royal standard as a personal compliment to himself."