CHAPTER XXII.

THE IRON DUKE'S FUNERAL.

On the 11th of November the Parliament met and voted the Duke a public funeral in the City cathedral of St. Paul's, by the side of Nelson, the great soldier and the great sailor bearing each other company in their resting-place, in the middle of the people whom they had saved from foreign dominion.

The hea.r.s.e with the body had left Walmer at seven o'clock on the morning of the 10th, minute guns being fired in succession from the castles of Walmer, Deal, and Sandown, startling the sea-mews hovering over the Goodwin Sands, causing the sailors in the foreign vessels in the Downs to ask if England had gone to war. From the railway station in London, the coffin was escorted by Life Guards to Chelsea, where it was received by the Lord Chamberlain and conducted to the great hall for the lying-in-state, which occupied four days.

The fine old hospital, where so many of the Duke's soldiers had found refuge, which Wilkie had painted for him at the moment when the pensioners were listening to the reading of the Gazette that announced the victory of Waterloo, was carefully prepared for the last scene but one of a hero's life. Corridors, vestibule, and hall were hung with black cloth and velvet, and lit with tall candles in silver candelabra. Trophies of tattered banners, the spoils of the many victories of him who had just yielded to the last conqueror, were surmounted by the royal standard; Grenadiers lined hall and vestibule, their heads bent over their reversed arms. A plumed canopy of black velvet and silver was raised over a dais, with a carpet of cloth of gold, on which rested the gilt and crimson coffin. At the foot of the bier hung the mace and insignia of the late Duke's numerous orders of knighthood; and on ten pedestals, with golden lions in front, were the eight field-marshals' batons of eight different kingdoms, which had been bestowed on him. On the ninth and tenth pedestals were placed the Great Banner and the banner of Wellesley.

The Queen and Prince Albert came privately with their children, early on the first day, a windy, rainy Sat.u.r.day in November, to view the lying-in-state.

On the night before the funeral the coffin was removed to the Horse Guards, over which Wellington had so long presided, where it is said that in the early days of his career he met Nelson. Early next morning the coffin was conveyed to a pavilion on the parade, whence it was lifted to the car which was to convey it to St. Paul's.

Not later than six o'clock on the morning of the 18th, the troops in large numbers began to muster in Hyde Park, under the direction of the Duke of Cambridge. The streets and windows were lined with seats covered with black cloth. Barriers were raised at the mouths of the side streets in the line of route, to prevent the danger of any side rush. In the dread of missing the sight, hundreds of people took up their position the night before, and kept it during the dark hours, in spite of wind and rain. All the richer cla.s.ses were in mourning; indeed, whoever could bring out a sc.r.a.p of black did so. There was a peculiar hush and touch of solemnity, which had its effect on the roughest in the million and a half of spectators.

At a quarter before eight, nineteen minute guns were fired in the park, the walls of the pavilion were suddenly drawn up, revealing the funeral car and its sacred burden. Instantly the troops presented arms for the last time to their late commander, and the drums beat "a long and heavy roll, increasing like the roll of thunder." The words "to reverse arms" were then given, and the funeral procession began to move. First came battalion after battalion of infantry, commencing with the rifles, the bands playing "The Dead March in Saul," the trumpets of the cavalry taking up "the wailing notes." "As the dark ma.s.s of the rifles appeared, and the solemn dead march was heard, the people were deeply affected, very many of both s.e.xes to tears....

Great interest was felt as the Duke's regiment, the 33rd, pa.s.sed."

Squadrons of cavalry were succeeded by seventeen guns; the Chelsea Pensioners, old men, like him whose remains they followed, to the number of eighty three--his years on earth; one soldier from every regiment in her Majesty's service, to say that none had been left out, when their leader was borne to his grave; standards and pennons; deputations from public bodies--Merchant Taylors' Company, East India Company, and the deputation from the Common Council of London, joining the procession at Temple Bar; more standards, high officials, Sheriffs, and Knights of the Bath; the Judges, members of the Ministry, and Houses of Parliament; the Archbishop of Canterbury; the Lord Mayor of London carrying the City Sword; His Royal Highness Prince Albert, attended by the Marquesses of Exeter and Abercorn-- Lord Chamberlain and Groom of the Stole; the Great Banner, borne by an officer, and supported by two officers on horseback; the Field- marshals' batons--each carried by a foreign officer of high rank-- which every country in Europe, except France and Austria, had entrusted to the care of the Great Duke. To the imposing scene to-day France, like an honorable enemy, sent a representative; but Austria, still smarting under the affront to Haynau, was conspicuous by absence. The English Field-marshal's baton was borne on its cushion by the Duke's old comrade in arms, the Marquis of Anglesey. The Duke's coronet followed. Then the pall-bearers--eight generals in mourning coaches. At length the huge funeral car, heavily wrought and emblazoned and inscribed with the names of the Duke's battles, drawn by twelve horses, with five officers on horseback, bearing the banneroles of the lineage of the deceased, riding on either side. On the car was placed the coffin, and on the coffin rested the hat and sword of the dead commander.... Every emotion, save that of solemn awe, was hushed. The ma.s.sive structure moved on its course with a steady pressure, and produced a heavy dull sound, as it ground its path over the road.... But the car, apart from its vast size, pa.s.sed unnoticed, for on its highest stage rested a red velvet coffin, which contained all that was mortal of England's greatest son. It seemed that a thousand memories of his great and long career were awakened at the sight of that narrow tenement of so great a man.... The voice which had cried "Up, Guards, and at them!" at the critical moment on the afternoon of that rainy Sunday at Waterloo, thirty-seven years before, was silent for ever. The sagacious and skilled brain which had planned so well the defence of London from the threatened outbreak of the Chartists, would plan no more for Queen and country. No longer would the shouting crowd press round him on every gala, and strangers watch patiently near the Horse Guards for one of the sights of London-- the eagle face of the conqueror of him who conquered Europe.

"No more in soldier fashion would he greet, With lifted hand, the gazer in the street."

Wellington was making his way from the Horse Guards for the last time, attended by such a mighty mult.i.tude as seldom waits on the steps of Kings, hardly ever with such mute reverence as they gave him that day.

The "good grey head" of "the last Great Englishman" was about to be laid in the dust, and his best epitaph was Tennyson's line--

"One that sought but duty's iron crown."

Behind the car came the chief mourner, accompanied by his younger brother, with cousins and relatives to the last degree of kindred, and friends filling a long train of mourning coaches. Then followed what moved the people more than all the splendour, because it came like a touch of homely nature appealing to all, in a familiar part of the life that was gone, the late Duke's horse, led by John Mears, his aged groom. The horse might have been "Copenhagen," which had borne the Duke in the thick of his greatest battle, and died long since at Strathfieldsaye, so eagerly did the crowds gaze on it. More carriages and troops closed the march.

And she was not absent who had held the dead man in such high esteem, whom he had so loved and honoured. From two different points--as if she were reluctant to see the last of her old friend--from the balcony of Buckingham Palace, where the Royal Standard floated half-mast high, as the funeral pa.s.sed up Const.i.tution Hill, and again from the windows of St. James's Palace, as the melancholy train went down St. James's Street, the Queen, surrounded by her children and her young cousins from Belgium, looked down on the solemn pageant.

Nearly twenty thousand privileged persons--many of them of high rank, filled St. Paul's, black-draped and gas-lit on the dark November day.

After the funeral company were seated, the body, which had been received at the west entrance by the Bishop of London and the other clergy of the Cathedral, was carried up the nave to the chanting of "I am the Resurrection and the Life." The spurs were borne by one herald, the helmet and crest by another, the sword and target by a third, the surcoat by a fourth, the foreign batons by their foreign bearers, the English baton by Lord Anglesey.

Among the psalms and anthems, a dirge accompanied by trumpets was sung, "And the King said to all the people that were with him, rend your clothes and gird you with sackcloth and mourn. And the King himself followed the bier. And they buried him; and the King lifted up his voice and wept at the grave, and all the people wept. And the King said unto his servants, Know ye not that there is a prince and a great man fallen this day in Israel."

An affecting incident occurred, when, at the conclusion of this dirge, the body was lowered into the crypt to the "intensely mournful" sound of "The Dead March in Saul." As the coffin with the coronet and baton slowly descended, and thus the great warrior departed from the sight of men, a sense of heavy depression came on the whole a.s.sembly. Prince Albert was deeply moved, and the aged Marquess of Anglesey, the octogenarian companion in arms of the deceased, by an irresistible impulse stepped forward, placed his hand on the sinking coffin that contained the remains of his chief in many battles, and burst into tears.

"In the vast Cathedral leave him; G.o.d accept him, Christ receive him."

CHAPTER XXIII.

THE EMPEROR NAPOLEON III. AND THE EMPRESS EUGeNIE--FIRE AT WINDSOR-- THE BIRTH OF PRINCE LEOPOLD.

At the close of 1852 Mr. Disraeli announced his Budget in one famous speech, to which Mr. Gladstone replied in another, the first of those memorable speeches--at once a fine oration and a convincing argument-- so often heard since then. The Derby Ministry, already tottering to its fall on the ground of its opposition to Free-trade principles, was defeated, and the same night Lord Derby resigned office, and Lord Aberdeen, who was able to unite the Whigs and the followers of the late Sir Robert Peel, took his place.

On the 2nd of December, the anniversary of the _coup d'etat_, the Empire was declared in France, and Louis Napoleon entered Paris as Emperor on the following day.

On the 22nd of January, 1853, the Emperor of the French made public his approaching marriage to the beautiful Eugenie de Montigo, Comtesse de Theba.

A serious fire broke out at Windsor Castle on the night of the 19th of March, the very day that the Court had come down for Easter. It was the result of an accident from the over-heating of a flue, which might have been doubly disastrous.

The scene of the fire was the upper stories of the Prince of Wales's Tower, above the Gothic dining-room, which is in the same suite with the Crimson, Green, and White drawing-rooms, in the last of which the Queen and Prince Albert were sitting, at ten o'clock in the evening, when the smell of smoke and burning aroused an alarm.

Besides the suite of drawing-rooms, with their costly furniture, the plate-rooms were beneath the Gothic dining-room; and on the other side--beyond a room known as the Octagon-room--was the Jewelled Armoury. The fire had taken such hold that the utmost exertions were needed to keep it under, and prevent it from spreading, and it remained for hours doubtful whether the rest of the Castle would escape. Prince Albert, the gentlemen of the household, and the servants, with seven hundred Guards brought from the barracks and stationed in the avenues to prevent further disorder, strove to supplement the work of the fire-engines. The Gothic dining-room was stripped of its furniture, including the gold vase or bath for wine, valued at ten thousand pounds. The Crimson drawing-room and the Octagon-room were dismantled. The plate-rooms were considered fireproof, but the Jewelled Armoury was emptied of its treasures, among them the famous peac.o.c.k of Tippoo Sahib.

More than five hours pa.s.sed before the danger was over. The Queen, in writing to rea.s.sure the King of the Belgians, said, "Though I was not alarmed, it was a serious affair, and an acquaintance with what a fire is, and with its necessary accompaniments, does not pa.s.s from one's mind without leaving a deep impression. For some time it was very obstinate, and no one could tell whether it would spread or not. Thank G.o.d, no lives were lost."

Less than three weeks after the fire, the Queen's fourth son, and eighth child, was born at Buckingham Palace on the 7th of April.

Within a fortnight her Majesty was sufficiently recovered to write to the King of the Belgians, and here the wound which had been felt so keenly bled afresh. "My first letter is this time, as last time, addressed to you. Last time it was because dearest Louise--to whom the first announcement had heretofore always been addressed, was with me, alas! Now," she goes on to remind him affectionately, "Stockmar will have told you that Leopold is to be the name of our fourth young gentleman. It is a mark of love and affection which I hope you will not disapprove. It is a name which is the dearest to me after Albert, one which recalls the almost only happy days of my sad childhood. To hear "Prince Leopold" [Footnote: When Prince Leopold's t.i.tle was merged into that of Duke of Albany, our readers may remember that some reluctance was expressed at the change, and that there was an attempt to preserve the earlier name, by arranging that his Royal Highness should be styled "Prince Leopold, Duke of Albany."] again will make me think of all those days. His other names will be George, Duncan, Albert, and the sponsors will be the King of Hanover, Ernest Hohenlohe (the Queen's brother-in-law), the Princess of Prussia, and Mary of Cambridge. George is after the King of Hanover, and Duncan is a compliment to dear Scotland."

In the Royal Academy this year one of the pre-Raphaelites, who had been at first treated with vehement opposition and ridicule, came so unmistakably to the front as to stagger his former critics, and render his future success certain. Even the previous year Millais's "Huguenot" had made a deep impression, and his "Order of Release" this year carried everything before it. In the same Academy exhibition were Sir Edwin Landseer's highly poetic "Night" and "Morning."

On the Court's return from Osborne to London, the Queen and Prince Albert were present with their guests, the King and Queen of Hanover, and the Duke and d.u.c.h.ess of Coburg, on the 21st of June, in the camp at Chobham, when a sham-fight and a series of military manoeuvres over broken ground were carried out with great spirit and exactness, to the admiration of a hundred thousand spectators. Her Majesty, as in the early years of her reign, wore a half-military riding-habit, and was mounted on a splendid black horse, on which she rode down the lines before witnessing the mock battle from an adjoining height.

Four days afterwards Prince Albert returned to the camp to serve for a couple of days with his brigade, the Guards. The Prince experienced something of the hardships of bivouacing in stormy weather, and suffered in consequence. He came back labouring under a bad cold, to be present at the baptism of his infant son on the 28th. All the sponsors were there in person. The Lord Chamberlain conducted the baby-prince to the font; the Archbishop of Canterbury performed the sacred rite. The usual State banquet and evening party followed. But illness, not very deadly, yet sufficiently prostrating, was hovering over the royal pair and their guests. The Prince of Wales was already sick of measles. Prince Albert, pre-disposed by the cold he had caught, got the infection from his son, had a sharp attack of the same disease, and we are told "at the climax of the illness showed great nervous excitement," symptomatic of a susceptible, highly-strung, rather fragile temperament.

Though the country was unaware of the extent of the Prince's illness, we can remember the public speculation it excited, and the contradictory a.s.sertions that the Queen would claim her wife's prerogative of watching by her husband's sick-bed, and that she would be forbidden to do so, for State reasons, her health or sickness, not to say the danger to her life, being of the utmost importance to the body politic. It is easy to see that if such a question had arisen, it would have been peculiarly trying to one who had been brought up to regard her duty to the country as a primary obligation, while at the same time every act of her life showed how precious and binding were her conjugal relations. But the matter settled itself. After the Princess Royal and Princess Alice had also been attacked by the epidemic, the Queen was seized with it, happily in the mildest form, which was of short duration. But the mischief did not confine itself to the English royal family. The juvenile malady of measles became for a time the scourge of princes, a little to the diversion of the world, since no great harm was antic.i.p.ated, or came to pa.s.s, while the ailment invaded a succession of Courts. The guests at Prince Leopold's baptism carried the seeds of the disease to Hanover, in the person of the little Hanoverian cousin, King George's son, who had been a visitor in the English royal nurseries; to Brussels, in the case of the Duke and d.u.c.h.ess of Coburg, who unconsciously handed on the unwelcome gift to King Leopold's sons, the Due de Brabant and the Comte de Flandres, the former on the eve of his marriage, before the illness was taken across Germany to Coburg.

By the 6th of August, the birthday of Prince Alfred, the Queen and the Prince were sufficiently recovered to pay a second visit with their children to Chobham, when a fresh series of manoeuvres were performed prior to the breaking up of the camp.

A great cl.u.s.ter of royal visitors had arrived in England, making the season brilliant. It was, perhaps, significant that these visitors included three Russian archd.u.c.h.esses, in spite of the fact that a war with Russia was in the air, being only held back by the strenuous efforts of statesmen, against the wishes of the people. Other visitors were the Crown Prince and Princess of Wurtemberg, near akin to Russia, and the Prince of Prussia--the later came from Ostend, on an invitation to witness a sight well calculated to recommend itself to his martial proclivities--a review, on the grandest scale, of the fleet at Spithead, on the 11th of August. The weather was fine, and the spectacle, perfect of its kind, was seen by all the royal company, by what was in effect "the House of Commons with the Speaker at its head," and by mult.i.tudes in more than a hundred steamers, besides, the crowds viewing the scene from the sh.o.r.es of the Isle of Wight and Hampshire. On the 21st of August, a French sailor whose name has become a household word in England, died far away amidst the horrors of the north seas, in a gallant effort to rescue Sir John Franklin and his crew. Among the brave men who sailed on this perilous quest, none earned greater honour and love than young Bellot.

On the 22nd of August, a marriage of some interest to the Queen was celebrated at Brussels. King Leopold's eldest son, the Due de Brabant, was married in St. Gudule's to the Archd.u.c.h.ess Marie Henriette of Austria. The bridegroom was only eighteen years of age, the bride as young; but it was considered desirable that the heir-apparent should marry, and Queen Louise's place had remained vacant while her daughter, Princess Charlotte, was still unfit to preside over the Court in her mother's room.

On the 29th of August, Sir Charles Napier, the dauntless, eccentric conqueror of Scinde, follows his old commander to the grave. Though more than ten year's younger, Sir Charles's last public appearance was at the Duke's funeral. He was the grandson of Lord Napier, and the son of the beautiful Lady Sarah Lennox.

A great art and industrial exhibition at Dublin--the first of the numerous progeny of the Great Exhibition of two years before--was held this year. Naturally, the Queen and the Prince were much interested in its fortunes, and had promised to be present at the opening, but were prevented by the outbreak of measles in June. It was possible, however, to visit the Irish Exhibition before its close, and this her Majesty and Prince Albert did on their way to Balmoral. Proceeding by train to Holyhead, where they were detained a day and a night by a violent storm, the travellers sailed on the 29th of August for Kingstown, which was reached next morning. On landing they were received by the Lord-Lieutenant, Lord St. Germains and Lady St.

Germains, the Archbishop of Dublin, the Duke of Leinster, &c., &c., together with an immense number of people, lining the dock walls and hailing her Majesty's arrival with vociferous cheers, as on her last visit to Ireland. Enthusiasm, equal to what had been shown before, was displayed on the railway route and the drive through the thronged streets to the Viceregal Lodge. Not long after her arrival, the Queen, as energetic as ever, was seen walking in the Phoenix Park, and in the evening she took a drive in the outskirts of the city. At night Dublin was illuminated. The next day the Queen and the Prince, with their two elder sons, paid a State visit to the exhibition, full to overflowing with eager gazers. The royal party were conducted to a dais, where the Queen, seated on the throne prepared for her, received the address of the commissioners thanking her for the support she had lent to the undertaking by her presence, and by her contributions to the articles exhibited.

The Queen replied, expressing her satisfaction that the worthy enterprise had been carried out in a spirit of energy and self- reliance, "with no pecuniary aid but that derived from the patriotic munificence of one of her subjects." That subject, Mr. Dargan, who had erected the exhibition building at his own expense, was present, and kissed hands amidst the cheers of the a.s.sembly. The Queen and the Prince afterwards made the circuit of the whole place, specially commending the Irish manufactures of lace, poplin, and pottery.

In, the afternoon her Majesty and Prince Albert, to the high gratification of the citizens of Dublin, drove out through pouring rain to Mount Annville, the house of Mr. Dargan, saw its beautiful grounds, and conversed with the host and hostess. His manner struck the Queen as "touchingly modest and simple," and she wrote in her journal, "I would have made him a baronet, but he was anxious it should not be done."

Every morning during their week's stay the royal pair returned unweariedly to the exhibition, and by their interest in its productions, stimulated the interest of others. The old engagements--a review, visits to the castle, and the national schools--occupied what time was left.

On Sat.u.r.day, the 3rd of September, a beautiful day succeeding miserable weather, the Queen drove slowly through the Dublin streets, "unlined with soldiers," feeling quite sorry that it was the last day after what she called "such a pleasant, gay, and interesting tune in Ireland." Loyal mult.i.tudes waited at the station and at Kingstown, cheering the travellers. Lord and. Lady St. Germains went on board the yacht, and dined with hen Majesty and Prince Albert.

On the following morning, the _Victoria and Albert_ crossed to Holyhead.

A glad event at Balmoral that year was the laying of the foundation- stone of the new house. The rite was done with all the usual ceremonies, Mr. Anderson, then the minister of Crathie, praying for a blessing on the work.