The Life and Times of Queen Victoria; vol. 4 of 4

The Government were now compelled to abandon the bulk of their legislative programme. They, therefore, made no attempt to proceed with any measures unless they were so democratic that the Liberals could not with decency oppose them. Hence they passed a Coal Mines Regulation Bill, an Allotments Bill—disfigured, however, by the obstacles in procedure which it put in the way of labourers who applied for allotments—and a Bill to prevent substitutes for butter known as “Margarine,” from being sold as butter. The success of this measure led to a demand for a similar Bill to prevent publicans from selling poisonous Hamburg spirit as “Fine Old” Cognac, or Scotch or Irish whisky. Baron de Worms, as representative of the Board of Trade, however, though eager to prohibit shopkeepers from selling a wholesome animal fat as butter, was shy of prohibiting the publicans—whose votes were of some value to the Tory Party—from selling poisonous Hamburg alcohol as old brandy. Mr. Goschen’s Budget was introduced on the 21st of April. He described it himself as a “humdrum” Budget—though as a matter of fact, as Lord Randolph Churchill said, if he had proposed it the country would have denounced it as a scheme full of financial depravity. The Estimates had been taken to show a revenue of £89,689,000, and an expenditure of £89,610,000. The actual receipts, however, for the past year had been £90,772,000, and the actual expenditure £88,738,000. In spite of supplementary estimates, amounting to £1,129,000, there was a surplus on the year’s accounts of £776,000. Mr. Goschen’s general statement showed that not only were the taxes yielding less than they ever did, but that, though the rich and the poor had suffered much from commercial and agricultural depression, the profits of the middleman had not been reduced. For the coming year he took the revenue to amount, on the existing lines of taxation, to £91,155,000, and the expenditure he set down at £90,180,000, leaving a surplus of £975,000. To this he added £100,000 by increasing the duty on the transfer of Debenture Stocks, and by minor changes in the Stamp Duty. He then added to it a further sum of £1,704,000, by reducing the charges for the public debt. His surplus was thus inflated to £2,779,000, of which he spent £600,000 in reducing the Tobacco Duty, £1,560,000 in taking a penny off the Income Tax, £280,000 in relieving Local Taxation, £50,000 in aid of Arterial Drainage in Ireland, leaving him a probable surplus of £289,000. To manufacture a surplus by the simple process of ceasing to pay off debt, would certainly not have secured for any other Chancellor of the Exchequer, except Mr. Goschen, the reputation of a financial puritan. Mr. Gladstone and Lord Randolph Churchill demonstrated by unanswerable arguments the unwholesomeness of the financial policy which reduced the payments for the National Debt by cutting down the Income Tax instead of by cutting down departmental expenditure. But Mr. Goschen’s Budget gave everybody a little relief all round, and was accepted quite irrespective of the unsound principles on which it was based. It was, in fact, the first illustration afforded by a Household Suffrage Parliament of the deteriorating influence of democracy on the financial policy of the nation. Parliament was prorogued on the 16th of September.

But public interest in politics faded as the Session grew old. Indeed, from the beginning of the year, the attention of the country was more and more concentrated on the movements of the Queen. It was known that she had nerved herself to emerge from her seclusion, and, in some degree, discard the mourning weeds she had worn so long. The first note of the Jubilee was struck in India, where the great Imperial festival was celebrated on the 16th of February. In presidency towns, inland cities, the capitals of Protected States—even in Mandalay, the capital of the newly-conquered State of Upper Burmah, natives and Europeans vied with each other in acclaiming the event. Announcements of clemency, banquets, plays, the distribution of honours, reviews, illuminations, were not the only methods adopted for celebrating the Jubilee. At Gwalior all arrears of land-tax—amounting to £1,000,000—were remitted. Libraries, colleges, schools, waterworks, hospitals, and dispensaries were opened in honour of the Empress.

might well be the comment of the chronicler on such celebrations. All over England preparations were now being made for the great anniversary. In every town meetings were held to decide as to the mode of its observance, and it was curious to notice that everywhere the people desired to localise their rejoicings. Public parks, libraries, town-halls, museums, hospitals—in a word, the foundation of works and institutions of public usefulness in each locality was universally regarded as the best means of honouring the occasion. There was only one Jubilee institution of national grandeur that won public favour—the Imperial Institute. It was originated, as has been noted, by the Prince of Wales, and it was to his energy and skill in appealing for public support that the enormous funds needed for its endowment were now collected. In March the congratulatory addresses began to come in—the Convocation of Canterbury, whose deputation headed by the Primate was received by the Queen at Windsor on the 8th of March, leading the way.

On the 23rd of March Birmingham, in spite of the boisterous weather, was en fête to receive her Majesty who arrived to open the new Law Courts in that town, and few who were present will ever forget the mighty shout of enthusiasm that rose up from the swarming throng, when the Queen’s procession turned into New Street. Never was Royalty more loyally received than in the Radical capital of the Midlands. The Democratic demonstration at Birmingham gave point to the passage in the Laureate’s Jubilee Ode, in which he wrote:—

On the 29th of March her Majesty, accompanied by the Princess Beatrice and Prince Henry of Battenberg, left Windsor for Portsmouth, where they embarked in the Royal yacht for Cannes. On the 5th the Royal party went to Aix-les-Bains, where the Queen occupied her old rooms at the Villa Mottet. Aix was wonderfully free from visitors, and she, therefore, enjoyed almost complete privacy during her stay. By the special sanction of the Pope her Majesty, on the 23rd of April, was allowed to visit the Monastery of the Grande Chartreuse, within whose precincts no woman’s foot is permitted to tread. She returned to Windsor on the 29th of April. On the 4th of May she received at the Castle the representatives of the Colonial Governments, who presented her with addresses congratulating her on having witnessed during her reign her Colonial subjects increase from fewer than 2,000,000 to upwards of 9,000,000 souls, her Indian subjects from 96,000,000 to 254,000,000, and her subjects in minor dependencies from 2,000,000 to 7,000,000. On the 9th her Majesty held a court at Buckingham Palace, at which the Maharajah and Maharanee of Kutch Behar and the Maharajah Sir Pertab Sing were presented to her. On the 10th she held a Drawing Room, and afterwards visited a private performance of the feats of the American cowboys, and Indians, and prairie-hunters at the “Wild West Show” at Earl’s Court. On the 14th she opened the People’s Palace at Whitechapel, an institution which had grown out of a suggestion in Mr. Walter Besant’s romance of “All Sorts and Conditions of Men.” The route of procession from Paddington was seven miles long, and it was thronged with people, who gave the Queen as warm a welcome as she had received in Birmingham. On her return her Majesty visited the Lord Mayor at the Mansion House. This was a remarkable event, for her Majesty had not entered the Municipal Palace since she had visited it with her mother two years before her accession. Her Majesty partook of tea and strawberries with her Civic hosts, with whom she spent fully half-an-hour, charming the company with her affability. On the 20th the Court removed to Balmoral, where the Queen found her mountain retreat covered with snow. On the 17th of June the Court returned to Windsor, and on the 18th her Majesty received at the Castle the Maharajah Holkar of Indore, and several Indian princes and deputations from Native States.

The Jubilee itself was celebrated on the 21st of June. The chief streets of London were given over to carpenters and upholsterers, gasmen, and floral decorators, who transformed them beyond all possibility of recognition. On the night of the 20th the town was swarming with people, who had come out in the hope of seeing some of the illuminations tried. As the day dawned crowds began to stream into the metropolis, and in the forenoon every face wore a festal aspect. Fabulous prices had been paid for seats along the line of procession, and those who had secured places were in possession of them early in the morning. Everybody was in good humour, and the police were exceptionally amiable. At the point of departure—Buckingham Palace—there were no decorations, but the presence of the Guards and of the seamen of the Fleet, who were on duty within the gates, gave animation to the scene. As eleven o’clock—the hour of starting—approached, a strange silence seemed to fall over the noisy, gossiping crowd, as if men and women felt awed and touched at the sight of their aged Sovereign proceeding in State from her Palace to the old Abbey to thank God for permitting her to see the fiftieth year of her reign. Only thrice in the history of England had a Jubilee been celebrated, and in none of these cases was there, as now, ground for unalloyed joy. But for the founding of our Parliamentary System, none would care to recall the distracted reign of Henry III. That of Edward III., glorious as it was at its beginning, was clouded with disaster at its end. That of George III. cost the dynasty, not a Crown, but a continent. On the Jubilee Day of Queen Victoria there was, however, no room for any feeling save that of gratitude and pride that, under her gentle sway, the English people had gained and not lost dominion upon earth. It was not till the head of the procession moved along, and the Royal carriages came in sight, that the pent-up feeling of the dense masses of spectators found utterance in volley after volley of cheers. The Queen’s face was tremulous with emotion, and yet there was triumph as well as grateful courtesy in her bearing as she bowed her acknowledgments to her subjects. Beside her were the Princess of Wales and the German Crown Princess, the latter beaming with happiness and delight to find that her countrymen still held her dear. The loyal tumult all along the line literally drowned the blare of bands and trumpets.

The first part of the procession consisted of carriages in which were seated the sumptuously apparelled Indian Princes, in robes of cloth of gold, and with turbans blazing with diamonds and precious gems, who had come from the far East to celebrate the Jubilee of their Empress. Following them came carriages with the Duchess of Teck, the Persian and Siamese guests of the Queen, the Queen of Hawaii, the Kings of Saxony, Belgium, and Greece, and the Austrian Crown Prince. Life Guards followed, and behind them came two mounted lacqueys of the Court. To them succeeded escorts of Hussars and Life Guards, followed by outriders in scarlet. In the first part of the procession were eleven carriages. Of these, five conveyed the Ladies-in-Waiting and the Great Officers of the Household. The sixth conveyed the Princess Victoria of Sleswig-Holstein, Princess Margaret of Prussia, and Prince Alfred of Edinburgh. In the seventh were seated the Princesses Victoria and Sophie of Prussia, Princess Louis of Battenberg, and Princess Irene of Hesse. The eighth conveyed the Princesses Maud, Victoria, and Louise of Wales. In the ninth were the Duchess of Connaught and the Duchess of Albany. In the tenth were the Duchess of Edinburgh, Princess Beatrice, Princess Louise, and Princess Christian. Between the eleventh carriage and the Queen’s rode the brilliant procession of Princes, whose appearance all along the route gave the signal for an outbreak of cheering. In the first rank rode the Queen’s grandsons—Prince Albert Victor and Prince William of Prussia being among the most conspicuous. Following them came the Queen’s sons-in-law, the German Crown Prince, Prince Christian, the Grand Duke of Hesse, and Prince Henry of Battenberg. The Marquis of Lorne had started with the procession, but his horse took fright and threw him, about 300 yards from the Palace, whereupon he returned on foot, and, borrowing a charger from an Artillery officer, rode by himself to the Abbey by Birdcage Walk. Of this group, the central figure was that of the German Crown Prince, whose white uniform and plumed silver helmet attracted general admiration. Covered with medals and decorations, most of which he had won by his prowess in battle, he sat his charger as proudly as a mediæval knight, in whom the spirit of old-world German chivalry lived again. His fair, frank face became radiant with delight, when he found that peal after peal of applause greeted him whenever he appeared. Partly owing to his picturesque figure, partly to his manly and heroic character, and partly, no doubt, to honest sympathy with his sufferings under the disease that had suddenly smitten him in the very prime of life, the German Crown Prince received an ovation more effusive even than that bestowed on the ever-popular Prince of Wales, and almost equal to that which greeted the Queen herself. After her sons-in-law came her sons, the Duke of Connaught, the Prince of Wales, and the Duke of Edinburgh. They, too, were hailed with cheering that was prolonged, and that deepened in volume till her Majesty’s carriage passed. A gorgeous cavalcade of Indians brought the splendid procession to a close. Along the route, from the Palace up Constitution Hill, round Hyde Park Corner, on through Piccadilly, down Waterloo Place, past Trafalgar Square, along Whitehall to Westminster Abbey, every house was glowing with many-tinted draperies, with bunting, and with floral decorations, and every balcony and window were crowded with bright and happy faces framed in festoons of roses and laurel.

The scene in the Abbey was impressive. Municipal dignitaries, representatives of the Universities, civic functionaries of the higher order, representatives of the Church and the Law, Lords-Lieutenant and their deputies, High Sheriffs, Officers of the Auxiliary Forces, Diplomatists, Ministers of State in Windsor uniforms, Officers of the Household, Foreign Princes and Potentates, and their suites—in fact every invited guest privileged to wear robe or uniform, contributed to the mass of varied colour that, after a time, almost tired the eye. Among the earliest arrivals were the Princess Feodore of Saxe-Meiningen, the Prince Albert, and the Princess Louise of Sleswig-Holstein, the Princess Alice of Hesse, the Princesses Mary, Victoria, and Alexandra of Edinburgh, the Princess Frederica, Baroness Pawel von Rammingen, Baron Pawel von Rammingen, Prince and Princess Edward of Saxe-Weimar, the Prince and Princess of Leiningen, Prince and Princess Victor of Hohenlohe, with the Countesses Feodora and Victoria Gleichen, and Count Edward Gleichen. Then entered the swarthy Chiefs and Princes of India, among whom the stately and resplendent Holkar was very prominent. The Queen of Hawaii followed, and after her came the Princess Victoria of Teck, and the Princes Adolphus, Francis, and Alexander of Teck, Prince Frederick of Anhalt, Prince Ernest of Saxe-Meiningen, the Duke and Duchess of Teck, the Prince of Hohenlohe-Langenberg, Prince Ludwig of Baden, Prince Philip of Saxe-Coburg, the Grand Duke of Saxe-Weimar, the Hereditary Grand Duke of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, G.C.B., Prince Ludwig of Bavaria, the Duke of Saxe Coburg-Gotha, the Infante Don Antonio of Spain, the Infanta Donna Eulalia of Spain, the Duc d’Aosta, the Crown Prince of Sweden, the Crown Prince and Princess of Portugal, the Austrian Crown Prince, the Grand Duke and Duchess of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, the King of Saxony, the King and Queen of the Belgians, Prince George of Greece, the Crown Prince of Greece, the King of Greece, and the King of Denmark.

Half-an-hour after the appointed time the silver trumpets announced the coming of the Queen’s procession, headed by the six minor and the six residentiary canons of Westminster, the Bishop of London, Archbishop of York, the Dean of Westminster,[237] the Primate, all attired in sumptuous canonicals. They were followed by heralds and other functionaries, who were followed by the members of the Royal procession walking in ranks of three, in the inverse order of precedence always enforced at Royal ceremonials. These were—

The Queen, clad in black, but with a bonnet of white Spanish lace glittering with diamonds, and wearing the Orders of the Garter and Star of India, entered, escorted by the Lord Chamberlain, as the organ pealed forth the strains of the march from Handel’s “Occasional Oratorio.” The solemnity of the spectacle, and the reflection that the Queen-Empress is about to give thanks to God for the crowning triumph of her life, surrounded by the ashes of her predecessors, repress all manifestations of feeling. Reverently does her Majesty take her place on the Royal daïs, and, when the Princes and Princesses in her train arrange themselves, the picture is one of imposing magnificence. Surrounding this shining group of Princes a vast throng, representing the genius, the rank, the wealth, and the chivalry of Britain, filled every nook of the sacred fane in which the Queen celebrated her golden wedding with her people. Towering high above all his peers the Imperial form of the German Crown Prince, clad in the white uniform of the Cuirassiers, stood forth as the most majestic figure in that magnificent pageant.

The Thanksgiving Service was brief and simple. The Primate and the Dean of Westminster officiated, and the music was largely selected from the compositions of the Prince Consort. Prayers and responses invoking a blessing on the Queen were intoned. The Prince Consort’s Te Deum was given. Three special prayers were offered up by the Archbishop of Canterbury,

after which the people’s prayer—Exaudiat te Dominus—was intoned. The lesson (1 Pet. ii. 6-18) was next read by the Dean, and Dr. Bridge’s Jubilee anthem, “Blessed be the Lord thy God, which delighted in thee to set thee on the throne to be king for the Lord thy God,” a piece in which the theme of the National Anthem is suggested, was sung. Two simple prayers were then offered up, and the ceremony, impressive from the grandeur of the surroundings, and yet thrilling and pathetic by reason of its devotional earnestness and simplicity, ended with the Benediction. Here the Queen, who was several times overcome with emotion, is seen by the spectators to make a movement as if she would rise from her seat on the sacred Coronation Stone of Scone and kneel on the prie-dieu in front of her. But she cannot reach so far, and she sinks back into her place, veiling her bowed face with her hands. She then glances round, and her eyes fill with tears when they rest on her sons and her daughters, and her sons-in-law and their children. The pent-up feeling of that dazzling group of Princes and Princesses can no longer be restrained, and the solemn pageant of State suddenly assumes the aspect of a family festival. The Prince of Wales bends forward and kisses the Queen’s hand, but her Majesty raises his face and salutes him affectionately on the cheek. The German Crown Prince pays his homage with chivalrous grace and stately courtesy, and the Grand Duke of Hesse follows him. But the emotion of the moment is too strong for Court ceremonial. The Queen with an impulsive gesture discards the Lord Chamberlain’s etiquette, and embraces the Princes and Princesses of her house with honest and unreserved motherly affection. Then she turns to the German Crown Prince with a loving smile, and as he comes forward she kisses him warmly on the cheek. The Grand Duke of Hesse is also saluted, and her Majesty, making a profound bow to her Foreign guests, which they return, quits the scene as the “March of the Priests” in Athalie peals forth from the organ. The procession was now formed again, and as the Sovereign returned to Buckingham Palace, it was noticed that the reception which was given to her was even more enthusiastic than that which greeted her on her way to the Abbey. It is, perhaps, only once in a generation that it falls to the lot of a monarch to be hailed in the streets of her capital with such passionate demonstrations of loyalty, and the Queen seemed to be filled with the emotion of the hour.

The rest of the day was kept as a public holiday by the people, and when the shades of night fell on the metropolis its streets were ablaze with light. The art of the illuminator was indeed exhausted in providing novel and varied designs, and gas jets and electric lamps, arranged so as to display every conceivable device expressive of loyalty, turned night into day. Nor were gas and electricity the only agents employed to give splendour to the festivity of the evening. In many places festoons of Chinese lanterns shed their soft and mellow radiance over a scene not unworthy of fairyland. The Queen, who had borne the fatigue and excitement of the Thanksgiving pageant wonderfully well, rested a little while after her return to Buckingham Palace, and there, as a special compliment to the “Senior Service,” she came out and held a review of the 500 seamen of the Fleet who had formed her guard of honour at the Palace doors. In the evening she gave a grand banquet, at which sixty-four royal personages were present.

All over England and in the North of Ireland the Jubilee was also celebrated as enthusiastically as in London. The illumination of the city of Edinburgh was said to be even more effective as a brilliant spectacle than that presented by the metropolis. It was only in Cork and Dublin that riotous demonstrations of disloyalty took place. Eight peerages, thirteen baronetcies, and thirty-three knighthoods were conferred in honour of the event. A Royal amnesty to deserters from the army was also proclaimed. In the Colonies the day was celebrated even more joyously than in England. In foreign lands the British residents also held Jubilee festivals. But in the United States the citizens of the Republic freely joined the British residents, honouring the occasion as if it were one of as much interest to them as to their kith and kin in the old home of their race. The most glowing of all the Jubilee orations was in fact spoken by Mr. Hewitt, Mayor of New York, at the grand Thanksgiving Festival in the Opera House of that city, in the course of which he elicited the passionate enthusiasm of his countrymen by recalling the events of the Civil War. “In the hour of our trial,” he exclaimed, “when the flag under whose broad folds I was born was trailing in the dust, it was my fortune to journey to another land on matters of great moment. There I learnt—and I know whereof I speak—that we owed to the Queen of England the non-intervention policy which characterised the Great Powers of the world during our struggle for life and death. I had no purpose to open my lips here, but when you call on me for a testimony to her who was our friend, as she is your Queen, my lips ought to be palsied if I were such a coward as not to give it.” A speech so simple and unexpected, received as it was by a spontaneous outburst of enthusiasm from the American citizens in the audience, it need hardly be said produced a profound sensation.

But of all the Jubilee celebrations perhaps the most charming and novel was one which was held in Hyde Park. A few weeks before Jubilee Day it occurred to a kindly and generous gentleman, Mr. Edward Lawson, well known in society as the editor of the Daily Telegraph, that there was a fatal omission in the Jubilee programme. Elaborate arrangements had been made to interest all classes in the festival save one—the school-children of London—the boys and girls who must form the men and women of the next generation. Mr. Lawson contended that this defect should be remedied, and the whole town was immediately taken with his idea. Everybody wondered that nobody had put forward the suggestion before, and Mr. Lawson soon found himself honorary treasurer of the Children’s Jubilee Fund, to which he himself was one of the most prominent subscribers. Foolish efforts were made to check the movement, and people were warned that it was impossible to entertain 30,000 children in Hyde Park, as Mr. Lawson proposed, without accidents to life and limb. It was, however, in vain that he was denounced as the organiser of a juvenile Juggernaut. The fund was raised with ease, and Mr. Lawson, by skilful organisation, not only got 27,000 children into Hyde Park from all parts of London on the 22nd of June, but sent them back unhurt and happy to their homes. Great ladies of fashion helped him to carry out his arrangements. The little ones were entertained with the sports and shows dear to boys and girls of their age, and the Queen not only came out and greeted them in person, but she was received with a delight that touched her profoundly. The Princes and Princesses and many of the foreign visitors also witnessed this strange but interesting incident in the Jubilee celebrations.[238]

On the 24th of June, an evening party was given at Buckingham Palace, which was attended by nearly all the members of the Queen’s family, by the foreign sovereigns and Princes then in London, and by a gay throng of distinguished persons. On the 25th of June, a singularly beautiful and touching letter, evidently straight from the Queen’s own pen, to the Home Secretary, thanking the nation for their display of loyalty and love, appeared in the London Gazette. In this communication it almost seems as if the Queen laid her heart open to the people with a frank and simple confidence rare in the relations that subsist between sovereigns and their subjects. On the 27th her Majesty received at Windsor Castle congratulatory deputations from municipalities, friendly societies, professional associations, and public bodies, representing almost every phase of English life, and thought, and enterprise. Her Garden Party at Buckingham Palace on the following Wednesday was a brilliant reunion at which were present several thousands of guests. On the 2nd of July the Queen from Buckingham Palace reviewed 28,000 Metropolitan Volunteers, and military men were amazed at the skill with which the troops were handled by their officers in the narrow and confined space. It was, however, unfortunate that at this review a slight was cast on the Royal Navy. As is natural in a seafaring nation, the naval forces of the Crown always take precedence of the land forces. Hence, the phrase “Senior Service” used to distinguish the Navy from the Army. But at this review the claim of the Royal Naval Volunteers for precedence over the grotesque and motley body known as the Honourable Artillery Company of London, a force which belongs neither to the Army, the Militia, nor the Volunteers, and which has been permitted even to repudiate the authority of the War Office, was disallowed.

On the 4th of July the crowning event of the Jubilee Festival occurred. On that day the Queen laid the foundation stone of the Imperial Institute in the Albert Hall. Noting the growing Imperialism which the Jubilee evoked, the Prince of Wales determined to fix it by embodying it in some permanent institution. In spite of distracted counsels, inter-Colonial jealousy, and much anti-monarchical opposition, the necessary funds for the purpose were raised, but it was universally admitted that had not the Prince toiled without ceasing the scheme must have collapsed. The Institute was and is meant to stand as an outward and visible sign of the essential unity of the British

Empire. It was to be a rallying-point for all Colonial movements, a centre of instruction for those who desire information as to Colonial trade and Colonial resources. In a word, what the Queen “inaugurated” on the 4th of July, at Kensington, as the culminating function of her Jubilee, was a vast and ubiquitous Intelligence Department for her far-stretching dominions. The decoration of the building in which the ceremony took place was chiefly floral, and, indeed, the scene suggested sylvan freshness and beauty. Eleven thousand people were seated in the chief pavilion.

When the Queen entered, preceded by the officers of her household and escorted by her family, she took her seat on the draped daïs, and found herself again surrounded by a majestic throng of Kings and Princes. The Prince of Wales read aloud to her Majesty the Address of the organising Committee of the Institute, describing its aims and its prospects. The ode, written for the occasion by Mr. Lewis Morris,[239] and set to music by Sir Arthur Sullivan, was performed by the Albert Hall Choral Society, aided by a full orchestra. After it was finished, the Queen, assisted by the Prince of Wales and the architect, Mr. Colcutt, laid the first solid block of the building—a piece of granite three tons in weight. Prayers, read by the Primate, followed, after which the Commissioners of the Exhibition of 1851 presented an Address, congratulating the Queen on the celebration of her Jubilee. Her Majesty then, leaning on the arm of the Prince of Wales, left the hall, while the band struck up “Rule Britannia.” The ceremonial differed from that which took place in the Abbey in one respect. The Thanksgiving Service threw the minds of Sovereign and subject back on the past, with all its trials and all its triumphs. But the function in the Royal Albert Hall invited speculation as to the future, and as to the part which the Monarchy must inevitably play in the evolution of the English-speaking race, and the development of their spreading dominion over strange lands and under strange stars. The Institute typified the inheritance of Empire which Englishmen had won during the reign by their toil and their enterprise. As Mr. Morris sang,

With this great function of State the record of the Queen’s career through half a century, and of the public affairs which her life influenced and which influenced it, may close for the present. A retrospective glance over that record suggests curious reflections.

Only seventeen years elapsed between the death of George III. and the accession of the Queen to the sovereignty of a people who had let a virgin continent slip from their grasp, and who were not only exhausted by wars, but whose wars had also exhausted the nations that trafficked with them. England had then but one hope of recovery. It was to bind the forces of Nature to the tarrying chariot-wheels of her Industry. To this end she bent the energies of her highest intellect and genius. For this reason, perhaps, the Victorian period, in which the Queen, stands out as the central figure, represents the triumph of the applied Sciences, rather than the apotheosis of the Arts and the Humanities. “The true founders of modern England,” says Mr. Spencer Walpole, “are its inventors and engineers.”[240] The mighty power which the British Empire now represents has therefore been built up under the Queen’s sceptre, not on the red fields of war, but in the laboratory, the workshop, and the mine. Three facts alone will serve to give the distinctive character of the Victorian age. When the Queen was crowned railway travelling was almost unknown; steam navigation had hardly emerged from the region of experiment; the telegraph was but a toy of the physicists. As we reflect on what the railway, the steamship, and the telegraph have done for England, we can measure the extent and discern the nature of the peaceful revolution in affairs over which the Queen has presided. The national resolve arrived at after the death of George IV. to recover the power and wealth which seemed to have vanished during the last years of his reign, and to recover it by gaining fresh dominion over the forces of Nature, naturally shaped the whole course of public policy. If England was to be resuscitated in the laboratory, the workshop, and the mine, the Sciences, rather than the Arts and Humanities, must be fostered. Capital must be set free. The dignity of Labour must be recognised. Commerce must be unshackled, and perfect freedom, combined with unbroken order, established in the land. The swift decay of privilege that marks the course of political reform during the last half century, the spread of popular education, the wide distribution of political power, the wise revision of the penal laws, the humane legislation designed to better and brighten the lot of Toil, the subjection of authority to opinion, the subjugation of Art to Industry, the absorption of literature by the Press, are but natural results of a struggle on the part of a masculine race to build up its power on the achievements of the inventor, the experimentalist, and the pioneer.

Nor can the harvest of its toil be deemed altogether unsatisfactory. The poor we have still with us, but their condition has been vastly improved since the reign of William IV. Save in one respect, that of house rent in large towns, the necessaries of life have been cheapened, while the purchasing capacity of the people has been increased. As for the upper and middle classes, their wealth in comparison with their numbers has been multiplied twofold since the Queen ascended the throne.

So far as the public life of the Queen has affected her House, these pages prove that it has done so in one way. At her Accession the Crown had almost entirely lost its authority as a governing order in the State. At her Jubilee the Crown held a position of authority higher than any to which it has attained since the time of William of Orange. According to Mr. Gladstone, the success of the Queen’s dynastic policy has been due to her determination to acquire influence rather than power for the Monarchy. Imperium facile iis artibus retinetur, quibus initio partum est. But if the Roman historian be right in holding that power can be most surely kept by the means whereby it has been acquired, he who runs may read the lesson of the Queen’s life. Its record, showing how her influence has been won, must also show those who will some day take her place, how alone it can be retained and strengthened.

INDEX.

A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, J, K, L, M, N, O, P, Q, R, S, T, U, V, W, Y, Z