THE WOUNDED SOLDIER’S TOAST—“THE QUEEN!”

In other respects, however, the relations of the Court to the war were less open to criticism. It has already been stated how her Majesty toiled with her own hands to aid those who were striving to mitigate the sufferings of the army during the Crimean winter. She wrote a letter to the Commander-in-Chief on the subject that touched the heart of every soldier in camp or hospital. Mr. Augustus Stafford, in the debate on Mr. Roebuck’s motion in the House of Commons (26th of January), thrilled his audience by telling them how he saw a wounded man, after hearing the letter read, propose the Queen’s health in a draught of bark and quinine. Mr. Stafford said to him it was a bitter cup for a loyal toast; to which the man replied, with a smile, “Yes, and but for these words of the Queen I could not have got it down.” Nor was her Majesty less assiduous in her attention to the wounded, when their haggard and mournful contingents began to return. On the 3rd of March she went down to Chatham with her husband and her two eldest sons to inspect the Military Hospital at Fort Pitt and Brompton. The wounded men who could crawl from their beds were drawn up on the lawn, each bearing a card with a description of his name, services, and wounds. Along this gaunt array the Queen passed, sad-eyed and thoughtful, speaking a few kind and cheering words to the sufferers whose wounds or services especially attracted her notice. Contemporary reports of course stated that the Sovereign was well pleased with the manner in which those poor men were treated. But two days afterwards she sent a sharp letter to Lord Panmure, which showed that she had been using her eyes to good purpose during her inspection. He must, she says, have some really serviceable military hospitals built for the sick without delay. The poor men at Fort Pitt were well treated; but, she complains, “the buildings are bad—the wards more like prisons than hospitals, with the windows so high that no one can look out of them—and the most of the wards are small, with hardly space to walk between the beds.” Her criticisms on the dining arrangements are trenchant; and then she goes on to argue that though Lord Panmure’s plan of building hulks may do very well at first, it will not do for any length of time. “A hulk,” she contends, “is a very gloomy place, and these poor men require their spirits to be cheered, as much as to have their physical sufferings attended to. The Queen is particularly anxious on this subject, which is, she may truly say, constantly in her thoughts, as, indeed, is everything connected with her beloved troops, who have fought so bravely and borne so heroically all their sufferings and privations.”[222]

“I myself,” said Queen Elizabeth to her troops at Tilbury, “will be your general and your judge, and the rewarder of every one of your virtues in the field.” If Queen Victoria has never either in statecraft or power attained the position held by that leonine woman, she did not fail to emulate her in her devotion to the gallant men who bled and died for England in the desolate Chersonese. The Queen’s visit to the hospital at Chatham, and her reception there by the soldiers, prompted her to take the unusual course of suggesting to Lord Clarendon, on the 22nd of March, that she should with her own hands present war medals to the officers and men who were at home disabled or on leave. On the 18th of May a Royal daïs was accordingly put up in the centre of the Horse Guards parade ground, with barriers enclosing from the crowd of spectators, a space for the heroes of the ceremony. At eleven o’clock the Queen, Prince Albert, and their family appeared, and at a signal the soldiers who were to be decorated stood before her. They passed along in single file, each handing a card recording his name and services to an officer, who delivered it to the Queen. She then presented each hero with his medal, saying a kindly word to every man as he went by. It was a strange and impressive spectacle. Gaunt, pallid forms, maimed and

THE QUEEN DISTRIBUTING THE CRIMEAN MEDAL AT THE HORSEGUARDS PARADE GROUND.

mutilated, hobbled along on crutches—or staggered forward, aided by walking-sticks—and for officers and men alike the Queen had words of sympathy that drew tears from many an eye. From the highest Prince of the blood—the Duke of Cambridge was the first to step forward for his medal—to the humblest private, writes the Queen to King Leopold, “all received the same distinction for the bravest conduct in the severest actions, and the rough hands of the brave and honest private soldier came for the first time in contact with that of their Sovereign and their Queen. Noble fellows! I feel as if they were my own children; my heart beats for them as for my nearest and dearest.”[223] Captain Currie, of the 14th, was so feeble that he almost failed to reach the daïs on his crutches, and his condition profoundly touched the heart of the Queen. Captain Sayer, of the 23rd Fusiliers, could not be lifted out of his chair, so the Queen bent over him gracefully and pinned his medal to his breast, with a few words of comfort and hope. Colonel Sir T. Troubridge, of the 7th Fusiliers, who, when he had both his feet shot away at Inkermann, refused to leave his command till the battle was won, was also unable to leave his chair. When the Queen gave him his medal she whispered in his ear that she would reward his courage by making him one of her own aides-de-camp, whereupon he answered, “I am now amply repaid for everything.” It was a scene which moved the hearts of all who took part in it, with the exception, perhaps, of the brusque and churlish Secretary of State for War. Lord Malmesbury says, “After the ceremony, Lady Seymour, whom I met, told me that Mrs. Norton, talking about it to Lord Panmure, asked, ‘Was the Queen touched?’ ‘Bless my soul, no!’ was the reply. ‘She had a brass railing in front of her, and no one could touch her.’ Mrs. Norton then said, ‘I mean was she moved?’ ‘Moved!’ answered Lord Panmure, ‘she had no occasion to move.’ Mrs. Norton then gave it up in despair.”[224]