On the 14th Oct., the Queen informed Lord Melbourne of her intention to marry Prince Albert, which met with the Premier’s warm approbation. Next day she told the Prince that she wished to marry him. He had been out early, with his brother, hunting, but returned at twelve, and half-an-hour afterwards, the Queen sent for him, and he found her alone in her room. That it was a love match on both sides is well known, and, until the untimely death of the Prince Consort, they were models of conjugal love and felicity.
On 14 Nov. the Prince and his brother left Windsor—and departed for the Continent, via Dover; and, at a Privy Council held at Buckingham Palace on 23rd of that month, the Queen communicated her intention of marriage. The declaration was as follows:
“I have caused you to be summoned at the present time, in order that I may acquaint you with my resolution in a matter which deeply concerns the welfare of my people, and the happiness of my future life.
“It is my intention to ally myself in marriage with the Prince Albert of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha. Deeply impressed with the solemnity of the engagement which I am about to contract, I have not come to this decision without mature consideration, nor without feeling a strong assurance that, with the blessing of Almighty God, it will at once secure my domestic felicity, and serve the interests of my country.
“I have thought fit to make this resolution known to you, at the earliest period, in order that you may be fully apprised of a matter so highly important to me and to my Kingdom, and which, I persuade myself, will be most acceptable to all my loving subjects.”
Upon this announcement, all the Privy Councillors present made it their humble request that Her Majesty’s most gracious declaration to them might be made public; which Her Majesty was pleased to order accordingly.
The Queen suffered severely from lunatics. In June a man got into the gardens of Buckingham Palace, and, when arrested, declared he had come there for the sole purpose of killing Her Majesty, and was duly committed to Tothill Bridewell. Within a day or two of his release, in the middle of October, he went to Windsor and broke three or four panes of glass in the Castle. He was afterwards apprehended, but what became of him, I do not know; in all probability he was sent to a lunatic asylum.
In the paper which gives the account of the above, I read, “James Bryan, the Queen’s Scotch suitor, was in Windsor the whole of yesterday (Sunday, 13 Oct.). In the morning, he was waiting, for a considerable period, at the door of St. George’s Chapel, leading to the Cloisters, to have a view of the Queen, as Her Majesty and the two Princes of Saxe-Coburg, and the Duchess of Kent left the Chapel. In the afternoon, he walked on the Terrace, and conducted himself in his usual manner, very respectfully bowing to the Queen, as Her Majesty passed him on the New Terrace.”—By the above, he must have been well known.
On 29 Nov., a respectably-dressed man got over the high iron gates leading to the Castle, a place at which there were no sentries, and walked across the Park, to the grand entrance to the Castle. Upon seeing the porter in attendance at the lodge, he said: “I demand entrance into the Castle as King of England”; to which the porter replied: “Very well, your Majesty, but be pleased to wait until I get my hat,” and then taking him to the Castle, handed him over to the police. He turned out to be a man named Stockledge, who was partner in an extensive wholesale business in Manchester. He had been in two lunatic asylums, and when questioned by the Mayor of Windsor, as to the object of his visit, said that: “he was like all other men who wanted wives—he was looking after one,” evidently alluding to Her Majesty. On being further questioned, he said “he was the King of England, and was impelled by the Spirit.” He afterwards said that “an unknown power had done it,” and that “it was the Spirit which helped him over the gates.” Of course he was mad.
There was yet another fool this year, but, this time, he was not a maniac—only a Post Office Clerk, who wanted to have an interview with Her Majesty. On the afternoon of the 8th Dec., a carriage and four drove up to Windsor Castle, and, from it, alighted a personage wearing a foraging cap, a fur boa round his neck, and fur gloves, who announced himself as the bearer of important despatches which he must deliver into the Queen’s own hands. This, of course, was not complied with, and as he would not part with the documents, he was handed over to the police, and taken to the station, where he made a sturdy resistance when they were taken from him. He turned out to be a junior clerk in the Foreign Post Office, named William Saunders, who, being on duty when the Foreign Mails arrived, found some letters and papers addressed to the Queen, and put them into his pocket with the intention of delivering them himself. He was suspended from his duties, but I do not know his ultimate fate.
Gambling houses were still in existence, although the Police Act of this year (2 & 3 Vict., c. 47, s. 48) gave the police great and additional power towards suppressing them. Here is a sample raid as reported in the Observer of 15 Dec.:
“Superintendent Baker, C, succeeded on Saturday night week, in breaking his way into a gambling house, 60 Jermyn Street (commonly called the Cottage), and some persons, therein found, were fined, on Monday, at Marlborough Street Office. In all, seven persons were captured, of whom, two were connected with the management of the gambling house; the others were gentlemen players. They were taken to the Station house in Vine Street; and, as we know it to be the anxious desire of the police authorities to suppress the nuisance of gaming houses, we feel that we are but lending our humble aid towards effecting that object in now publishing the real names of those gentlemen who were captured, and who passed themselves off to the police and the magistrate as being ‘Jones,’ ‘Smith,’ and other conventional misnomers. (Here follow the names.) Our Correspondent has told us of a certain noble lord, who was running here and there, on the