So the years of the Queen passed on with their joys and sorrows. Her visit to Ireland took place in 1900. For four or five years previous to this date she had suffered so much from rheumatism that it was hard for her to walk, and in the house she was generally moved about in a wheeled chair. The door of her special car was widened so that the chair could be taken in easily. Two years before going to Ireland, her eyes began to trouble her. "Use black ink and a broad pen" were the instructions she gave to her Ministers; but even though her sight grew faint, she would not lay down the task that she felt was her own.
Toward the end of 1900 she seemed less strong than usual. "You must save yourself in every possible way," ordered the physicians, "and you must not write more than is absolutely necessary." Christmas was near, but this year her greetings to each member of her family were written for her. Letters and telegrams were read to her, but her interest in all matters was as strong as ever, and her judgments were as rapid and sagacious. She met Lord Roberts on his return from South Africa and questioned him closely about all the details of the war. Two or three days later, when she awoke in the morning, she seemed very weak, and her speech was less clear than usual. Telegrams were sent to the members of her family. Germany was in the midst of an enthusiastic celebration of the two hundredth anniversary of the establishment of the Prussian monarchy; but Emperor William said: "It is my sorrow and my nation's sorrow. Let the festivities cease." He left his kingdom and hastened to England. On the day after his arrival, January 22, 1901, Queen Victoria, with her children and grandchildren about her, passed quietly away.
The Queen had never liked the gloomy trappings of funerals, and long before this she had bidden that about her own there should be no touch of the somber and sorrowful. The room in which she lay was hung with deep red. There were palms and flowers around it, and about the bier were many tall white candles. The ermine-lined robe of the Garter was laid upon her coffin together with the flag of the country that she had loved. Grenadiers stood motionless, two at the head and two at the foot, keeping guard about her with bowed heads and arms reversed.
So she lay in her own home at Osborne until the day of the funeral was come. No hearse was driven to her door, for the soldier's gun-carriage was to bear the soldier's daughter to her resting place. The bier was covered with ruby velvet. Over it was thrown a pall of white satin with heavy edge of gold and the royal arms in each corner. On this was laid the royal standard, the crown, the insignia of the Garter, and the golden orb of empire which she had carried in her hand at her coronation. In white and gold, the emblems of purity and royalty, she went forth from her home for the last time. Her children and grandchildren, princes and princesses, walked slowly behind her down the long avenue of trees, whose branches shown out clear and distinct against the bright blue of the sky. At the water's edge, the gun-carriage was drawn on board the yacht Alberta. Followed by the Victoria and Albert, the Osborne, and the massive Hohenzollern of the Emperor William, the little yacht moved through the mighty lines of warships, English, German, and French, whose cannon thundered out their last salute.
This was the farewell of the navy. That night the yacht with its precious burden lay quietly in harbor; and in the morning the body of the Queen was placed on the train to be carried to London. There houses that so lately had been all aglow with the colors of gladness were now draped with purple and white. Throngs were in the streets, but they stood in perfect silence, the men bareheaded, and every woman with some badge of mourning. Slowly the gun-carriage was drawn through the city, followed first by the two sons of the Queen with the German Emperor, then by her other relatives, by members of the royal family in Europe, and troops representing every branch of the army. The navy was also present in a guard of honor of sailors, and it was they who were called upon to perform a last service for their Queen. At Windsor the horses of the gun-carriage had become uneasy, and in a moment, with hardly a word of command, they were unharnessed, and the sailors themselves drew the gun-carriage to the castle. That afternoon the funeral rites were observed in St. George's Chapel with words of prayer and the strains of music that the Queen herself had chosen. The herald made solemn proclamation that Queen Victoria was dead and that her oldest son, Edward VII., was King of Great Britain and Ireland and Emperor of India.
On the following morning the body of the Queen was borne to the beautiful mausoleum at Frogmore which she had erected for Prince Albert nearly forty years before. Muffled drums were beaten; sad, sweet funeral marches were played by the martial bands; and so, through the long avenues lined with soldiers, the procession moved onward. At Frogmore, the bands were hushed, and the Highland pipers, walking before the coffin, played the weird, mournful strains of the "Lament of the Black Watch." Prayer was said, earth from the Mount of Olives was dropped softly upon the coffin, and the Queen was laid to rest beside her beloved Prince.
Next morning the flowers were faded, the flags were no longer at half-mast, the stores and offices were opened, and life went on as before; but in the homes of England those who had known and loved the Queen were talking of her tenderly and thoughtfully. "She always did what she believed was right," said some. "She was always sorry for those who suffered," said others; and some repeated reverently the words of the Scottish pastor who had known her so well:
"I admire her as a woman, love her as a friend, and reverence her as a Queen."
THE END