Queen Victoria (20 page)

On Saturday the Royal party visited the Palace of St. Germains, where James II of England lived and died in exile. In the evening the Emperor gave a splendid fete at Versailles, which outdid even the magnificence of the H6tel de Ville. Of this ball the Queen remarks: “It was one of the finest and most magnificent sights we had ever witnessed; there had not been a ball at Versailles since the time of Louis XVI, and the present one had been arranged after a print of a fete given by Louis XV.” Sunday was again passed in quiet, and on Monday the homeward journey began. Boulogne was reached in the afternoon, and after a short rest, “We drove down,” writes the Queen, “at once to the sands, where were assembled all the troops of the camp, thirty-six thousand infantry, besides cavalry, lancers, and dragoons, and the gendarmerie. We drove down the lines, which were immensely deep - quite a forest of bayonets. The effect they produced, with the background of the calm blue sea, and the setting sun, which threw a glorious crimson light over all - for it was six o’clock - was most magnificent… Near the end of the march past our squadron saluted; and, indeed, it was one of the not least remarkable of the many striking events and contrasts with former times which took place during this visit, that at this very place, on these very sands, Napoleon I reviewed his army which was to invade England, Nelson’s fleet lying where our squadron lay, watching that very army. Now our squadron saluted Napoleon III while his army was filing past the Queen of England, several of the bands playing ‘Rule Britannia.’… We thanked the Emperor much for all his kindness and for this delightful visit… It was past twelve when the Emperor left… I shall always look on this visit to France, not only on account of the delightful and splendid things we saw and enjoyed, but on the time we passed with the Emperor, as one of the pleasantest and most interesting periods of my life. The Empress, too, has a great charm, and we are all very fond of her.”

On the following morning the Queen and Prince reached Osborne, and on the 7th of September, being, as the Prince wrote, “sorely in want of the moral rest and the bodily exercise,” arrived at Balmoral, where the principal part of the new house was ready for their reception. Here in close succession came telegrams conveying the welcome news from the seat of war, of the sinking of the Russian ships in the harbour, of the capture of the Malakoff by the French, and finally, that Sebastopol was in the hands of the Allies. On the receipt of this welcome news the Queen writes: “God be praised for it! Our delight was great; but we could hardly believe the good news, and from having so long, so anxiously expected it, one could not realise the actual fact. Albert said they should go at once and light the bonfire which had been prepared when the false report of the fall of the town arrived last year, and had remained ever since waiting to be lit. On the 5th of November, the day of the battle of
Inkermann
, the wind upset it, strange to say; and now again, most strangely, it only seemed to
wait
for our return to be lit. The new house seems to be lucky indeed, for from the first moment of our arrival we have had good news.”

Another piece of good news, though of a different character, came to the Queen and Prince a few days later - best described by an extract from the Queen’s “Leaves from the Journal”: “September 29, 1855. Our dear Victoria was this day engaged to Prince Frederick William of Prussia, who had been on a visit to us since the 14th. He had already spoken to us on the 20th of his wishes; but we were uncertain, on account of her extreme youth, whether he should speak to her himself, or wait till he came back again. However, we felt it was better he should do so; and during our ride up
Crag
-
na
-
Ban
this afternoon he picked a piece of white heather (the emblem of good luck), which he gave to her, and this enabled him to make an allusion to his hopes and wishes, as they rode down
Glen
Girnoch
, which led to this happy conclusion.”

On the 2nd of January, 1856, the Queen opened Parliament in person with the usual ceremonial. The Speech from the Throne, after mentioning the signal and important successes of the Allies, continued: “The naval and military preparations for the ensuing year have necessarily occupied my serious attention; but while determined to omit no effort which could give vigour to the operations of the war, I have deemed it my duty not to decline any overtures which might reasonably afford a prospect of a safe and honourable peace… Negotiations for such a treaty will shortly be opened at Paris.”

On the 30th of March, 1856, at ten o’clock at night, the metropolis was aroused by the sound of a royal salute from St. James’s Park, announcing the signature of the Treaty of Peace, which next day was officially proclaimed, to the joy and relief of the nation. The public celebration of the national rejoicing took place on the 29th of May, when the whole of London was brilliantly illuminated, and there were magnificent displays of fireworks from Hyde Park, the Green Park, Victoria Park, and Primrose Hill.

The news of the conclusion of an armistice had reached the Russian and the Allied Generals on the 28th of February, and the final evacuation of the Crimea took place on the 12th of July, when General Codrington formally gave up to the Russians Sebastopol and Balaclava.

On the 20th of March the Princess Royal was confirmed in the private chapel of Windsor Castle, her parents, her godfather the King of the Belgians, most of the members of the Royal Family, the great officers of State, and the members of the household being present. The Archbishop of Canterbury and the Bishop of Oxford took part in the ceremony.

On the 16th of April Her Majesty paid a second visit to the wounded soldiers at the Brompton Hospitals. About four hundred convalescent patients were drawn up in the barrack square and in the hospital: all who were able to leave their beds were assembled, and received from the Queen, whom they had so gallantly served, kind words and marks of interest more precious even than the liberal donations which were left for the alleviation of their sufferings. Two days afterwards the Queen and Prince made a formal visit to Aider-shot Camp, the arrangements of which were now considered as completed. Alighting at Farnborough Station, Her Majesty was received by General Knollys, the Commandant, with his Staff. On arriving at the camp the Queen exchanged her carriage for a chestnut charger, on which she rode to inspect the troops. These amounted in number to about 14,000 men, among them being several fine regiments of militia. The Queen with the Prince and the Royal Family remained in the camp the same night, and on the following morning witnessed a field-day, in which 18,000 troops took part. Her Majesty wore a Field Marshal’s uniform, with the star and riband of the Garter, a dark blue skirt and scarlet tunic.

On the 23rd of the same month Spithead was the scene of a review by the Queen of the greatest naval force which up to that time had ever been assembled. Twenty-two steamships-of-the-line, of from 60 to 131 guns, 53 frigates and corvettes, 140 gunboats, 4 floating batteries, and 50 mortar vessels and mortar boats, composed this magnificent fleet, the number of the guns being 3,002, and the engines working to an aggregate power of 30,671 horses. The Queen’s yacht, steaming through the fleet, which was anchored in a double line, was saluted by each ship. The gunboats then steamed down the line, passing in review before Her Majesty; after which the Royal yacht anchored off the Nab Light, and was followed by the ships of the fleet under steam, who, passing round two pivots, returned in the same order to their former stations. These manoeuvres were executed with splendid accuracy and precision in a sea crowded with every kind of craft, and thronged to the utmost limits of their capacity by enthusiastic spectators. After dark, on a calm, still night, the whole fleet was illuminated; the lines of the masts and yards were traced out with lamps, and blue lights burned at every port.

On the 19th of May, 1856, the Queen crossed from Osborne to Netley, to lay the foundation-stone of the great Military Hospital. Writing next day to her uncle, Her Majesty says: - “Last week, but particularly on Sunday, it blew a fearful gale, and, if it had not moderated, we could not have performed the interesting ceremony of laying the first stone of a large Military Hospital, near Netley, the first of the kind in this country, and which is to bear my name, and be one of the finest in Europe. Loving my dear brave Army as I do, and having seen so many of my poor sick and wounded soldiers, I shall watch over this work with maternal anxiety.”

By the beginning of July the greater part of the British troops had returned from the Crimea. A field-day and review of those who were in camp at Aldershot had been arranged for the 8th, but was greatly marred by inclement weather. At the close of the usual evolutions the Crimean regiments advanced and formed three sides of a square round the Royal carriage. The officers who had been under fire, together with four men of each company and troop, stepped forward. The Queen’s carriage was thrown open, and, rising from her seat, Her Majesty spoke to them as follows: - “Officers, noncommissioned officers, and soldiers! I wish personally to convey through you to the regiments assembled here this day my hearty welcome on their return to England in health and full efficiency. Say to them, that I have watched anxiously over the difficulties and hardships which they have so nobly borne, that I have mourned with deep sorrow for the brave men who have fallen in their country’s cause, and that I have felt proud of that valour which, with their gallant allies, they have displayed on every field. I thank God that your dangers are over, while the glory of your deeds remains; but I know that should your services be again required, you will be animated with the same devotion which in the Crimea has rendered you invincible.” The Queen’s words were received with an outburst of cheering, and waving of helmets, bearskins, and sabres. Next day London welcomed the Guards on their return home. The battalions marched from Vauxhall, by the Houses of Parliament, past Buckingham Palace, from the centre balcony of which they were seen by the Queen as they went by Constitution Hill to Hyde Park. Here they were met by the Prince, who was soon joined by Her Majesty, and in brilliant weather four battalions of household and three of Crimean troops passed before their Sovereign - the closing scene of a long and arduous war.

The Court remained at Osborne till the 27th of August, the Queen and Prince making occasional excursions by sea, among others one to Devonport, when the weather was so stormy that they were obliged to leave the yacht and return to Osborne by land. On the 30th Balmoral was reached, where the old house had now entirely disappeared. Here, as all over the kingdom, the weather continued cold, wet, and stormy. Among the visitors at Balmoral, not the least honoured was Miss Florence Nightingale. On the 21st of September she was introduced to the Queen and Prince by Sir James Clark, with whom she was then staying at Birkhall. “She put before us,” the Prince notes in his diary, “all the defects of our present military hospital system, and the reforms which are needed. We are much pleased with her; she is extremely modest.” A fortnight afterwards Miss Nightingale was invited to Balmoral, the time of her visit being fixed to coincide with that of Lord Panmure, the Minister for War, so that he might have the opportunity of hearing from her own lips the story of what she had seen, and the conclusions she had drawn from her great and remarkable experience in the East.

On the 16th of October the Court arrived at Windsor from Balmoral. At the beginning of the next month the Queen heard the sad news that her half-brother, Prince Leiningen, had had a second stroke of paralysis: from this he never recovered, and died at Wald-Leiningen on the 13th. The Queen felt her loss most keenly. Writing to her uncle on the 19th she says: “Oh, dearest uncle, this blow is a heavy one - my grief very bitter. I loved my dearest only brother most tenderly. You loved him, you knew how delightful a companion he was. Mamma is terribly distressed, but calm and resigned, and thinks that God has taken our poor dear Charles in love and mercy to save him from more suffering.” Again, a fortnight later, Her Majesty writes: - “I feel my loss very much. A sad, sad feeling comes over me just when I may seem happiest and most cheerful. We three were particularly fond of each other, and never felt or fancied that we were not real
gesckwister
[children of the same parents]. We knew but one parent, our mother, so we became very closely united, and so I grew up; the distance which difference of age placed between us entirely vanishedGod’s will be done! November has brought us another sad anniversary.”

The close of the year witnessed an event of no little interest. During the last English Arctic Expedition one of Her Majesty’s ships, the
Resolute
, had been abandoned in the ice. Sixteen months afterwards she was discovered by some American explorers and taken by them to America. There the derelict was refitted at the national expense, and was sent to England by Congress as a present to the Queen. On the arrival of the vessel Her Majesty at once arranged to accept this gracious gift in person, and on the 16th of December proceeded on board for the purpose. The prompt and cordial courtesy of the Sovereign produced a great effect upon the Americans, who, as Lord Clarendon reported, “are most grateful to your Majesty, and, as Mr. Dallas (the American Minister) says, are overwhelmed with the kindness of their reception here.” The formal surrender of the ship to the British Government took place on the 30th, when, after the last gun of the salute from the
Victory
had been fired, the American flag was lowered, and the Union Jack floated again at the peak.

The year 1857, which was to end in such anxiety, opened in what seemed to be a prosperous and tranquil state. Europe was peaceful, and only in Persia and China was the nation in a state of hostility. On the 14th of April the Queen’s youngest child was born, and two days after, the Queen heard with much grief of the sudden illness of her aunt, the Duchess of Gloucester, the last survivor of the family of George III. This most excellent and lovable Princess died, at the age of eighty-one, on the 30th of the month. Of her the Queen writes, in a letter to King Leopold: “Her age and her being a link with bygone times and generations, as well as her great kindness, amiability, and unselfishness, rendered her more and more dear and precious to us all, and we all looked upon her as a sort of grandmother. Her end was most peaceful.” To her memory the Queen has since erected an alabaster tomb in the south aisle of St. George’s Chapel in Windsor Castle, where she is buried.