When the cavalcade of the two “shabby vehicles” drove away, on the next morning, it was evident that “the murder was out,” and that the inmates of the inn had discovered the quality of their guests, and communicated it to the scanty population of the village; for “all the people were in the street, and the landlady waved a pocket-handkerchief, and the ringletted maid a flag, from the window.”
CHAPTER XXII.
THE WIDOWED QUEEN.
Unbroken Happiness of the Queen’s Life up to 1861—Death of the Duchess of Kent—The Prince Consort slightly Ailing—Catches Cold at Cambridge and Eton—The Malady becomes Serious—Public Alarm—Rapid Sinking, and Death—Sorrow of the People—The Queen’s Fortitude—Avoidance of Court Display—Good Deeds—Sympathy with all Benevolent Actions—Letter of Condolence to the Widow of President Lincoln—The Albert Medal—Conclusion.
Until 1861 the Queen had never known bereavement in the circle of her own immediate family. Nine children had been born to her, and, although it is understood that certain of her younger offspring do not possess that robustness of health which their elder brothers and sisters enjoy, yet not one had been snatched from their loving parents by the hand of the Great Destroyer. Early in 1861 came the first pang of bereavement. The Duchess of Kent, ripe in years, one of the best of mothers and one of the best of grandmothers, a lady to whose memory all Britons now and hereafter owe an incalculable debt of gratitude, passed peacefully away with her descendants gathered around her bedside.
LAST DAYS OF PRINCE ALBERT.
When the Royal Family returned from Balmoral in October, it was observed that the Prince Consort was not in his usual health and vigour, but he had no pronounced ailment, and nothing approaching to serious alarm was for many weeks apprehended. In the course of the succeeding month he went to Cambridge, to visit the Prince of Wales, who was a student at that University, as he had previously been for a short time at Oxford. He went out shooting while there, got wet, and, as the Duke of Kent had done, was so imprudent as to sit down without removing his wet clothes. Nevertheless, on his return to Windsor, he pursued his usual daily avocations. About the beginning of December he appeared in public with the Queen, and reviewed the volunteer corps raised among the Eton boys. The rain fell fast, and the Prince was seized on the review ground with acute pains in the back. Feverish symptoms supervened, and the doctors ordered confinement to his room. Still no alarm was entertained, and it was believed that he suffered only from a passing malady. The general public knew nothing of the ailment until some solicitude was caused by a bulletin, which appeared in the Court Circular of the 8th December:—
His Royal Highness the Prince Consort has been confined to his apartments for the past week, suffering from a feverish cold, with pains in his limbs. Within the last few days the feverish symptoms have rather increased, and are likely to continue for some time longer, but there are no unfavourable symptoms. The party which had been invited by Her Majesty’s command to assemble at Windsor Castle on Monday has been countermanded.