The aim of Lord Derby’s Government had been to withdraw England entirely from foreign politics, but that did not prevent Englishmen from rejoicing at the creation of a strong progressive German Power in Central Europe capable of curbing the restless ambition of France, and at the defeat of Austria—one of the strongholds of decaying feudalism. During 1867 the work of consolidating North Germany went on rapidly, and Baron Beust, the Saxon Minister, was called to carry out the new policy of reconstruction in Austria. At last the independence of Hungary was recognised, and the Austrian Emperor having sworn to maintain the Hungarian Constitution, he was crowned in Pesth as King of this ancient Monarchy. When Hungary had been conciliated, Baron Beust next proceeded to frame a constitution for the other provinces of the Empire. One little cloud, however, arose on the untroubled horizon of the English Foreign Office. A pending dispute as to the occupation of Luxembourg tempted Lord Stanley to interfere in Continental affairs during the spring. The King of Holland was Grand Duke of Luxembourg, and he had entered into a secret agreement to sell it to France. But the capital of the province was held by a Prussian garrison, and the new North German Parliament objected strongly to permit a German province to pass under French dominion. France, on the other hand, demanded the evacuation of Luxembourg, and on the 23rd of April, 1867, Lord Stanley wrote to inform Lord Malmesbury that war was imminent. The Luxembourg Question arose simply because the French Emperor had been outwitted by Bismarck’s diplomacy. The claim of France for a cession of German frontier had been postponed till after the peace with Austria was signed. By giving the South German States easy and generous terms, Bismarck had induced them to sign secret Treaties with Prussia, putting their armies at her disposal should France make war on her. Hence, when M. Benedetti presented the French claim for compensation in 1866, Bismarck defied his threats, and as France had neither allies in Germany nor breechloaders in her arsenals, she had to submit. But in 1867 Napoleon imagined he had discovered in Luxembourg a door into Germany that could be forced by diplomacy, and hence the negotiations with the King of Holland, which had been rendered abortive by the resistance of Prussia. The French ambassador in London then appealed to Lord Stanley to use his good offices as mediator, his proposal being that France would cease to press for the purchase of Luxembourg if Prussia would evacuate the garrison, which barred one of the military routes from France into Germany. England advised Prussia to give way. Russia proposed a Conference of the Powers to settle the question, a proposal which Prussia accepted, and the more especially as she doubted whether the dissolution of the Bund which authorised her occupation of Luxembourg had not destroyed her claim to maintain her garrison there. She had also failed to induce Austria to enter into an alliance with her, and so she was open to consider a compromise. Prussia withdrew from the fortress on condition of its being dismantled and the territory “neutralised,” and the European guarantee for the neutralisation of Luxembourg was supposed to be a sufficient compensation for the loss of the fortress. This arrangement was formulated in the Treaty signed at London on the 11th of May, 1867, and at the time it enhanced the prestige of the Tory Government, to whose diplomacy it was greatly due. But, as a matter of fact, it simply served to embitter the relation of the disputing Powers. It left Prussia angry because France had ousted her from the fortress. It left France angry because Prussia had thwarted her attempt to take the territory. Altogether, the Foreign Policy of France in 1867 was strangely bungled. Napoleon, by forbidding the King of Italy to “protect” the Pope against Garibaldian bands, had humiliated a grateful ally. French troops crushed the Garibaldians at Mentana, and thereby deeply wounded the susceptibilities of the Italian people. Worst of all, the Mexican tragedy utterly discredited the French Government in the eyes of Europe. For when France withdrew her troops from Mexico, under pressure from the United States, the Emperor Maximilian elected to remain in the country. His cause soon became hopeless. The Empress Charlotte undertook a fruitless journey to Europe to beg for succour, which was denied her. Her husband was finally taken prisoner by the Mexican Republicans, and shot by order of a court-martial. “There is a very touching account,” writes Lord Malmesbury on the 10th of July, “in to-day’s papers of the Emperor Maximilian’s execution. He died like a Christian and a soldier. His poor wife has become quite insane. The French expedition to Mexico, and its tragical end are a sad blot on Louis Napoleon’s career.”[260]

Though the colony of Victoria was still vexed by the conflict between the two orders of its Legislature, and India was suffering from a famine in one of its Provinces, the dependencies of England in 1867 enjoyed profound tranquillity. One of them, indeed, took a new departure in colonial history. On the 26th of February Lord Carnarvon, carrying out the policy of his predecessor, passed a Bill through the House of Lords, incorporating the scattered provinces of Canada into a Federal Dominion. The financial history of the year, too, was uneventful. Mr. Disraeli introduced his Budget on the 4th of April, just before the Easter recess. In the previous year Mr. Gladstone had determined to use the balance of his surplus for the creation of terminable annuities in order to extinguish debt. The distracted state of affairs abroad, and the difficulties of the Government at home had, however, frustrated the scheme. But it was adopted by Mr. Disraeli in 1867. “He converted £6,000,000 of stock,” says Mr. A. J. Wilson, “costing £180,000 per annum in interest, into an annuity of £440,000, expiring in April, 1885. Of the gross estimated surplus of £1,200,000 he proposed to keep £250,000 against contingencies; and the resolution was wise, for, owing to the Abyssinian War, and to the increase in the general costliness of the public services, the year ended with a considerable deficit. Mr. Disraeli estimated his revenue at £69,340,000, and the actual income was £69,600,000. But the expenditure, instead of being only £68,134,000, as estimated, reached £71,759,000. Deducting £2,000,000 charged that year to the war, the ordinary expenditure still exceeded the estimate by fully a million and a half, about £700,000 of which was due to the increased cost of civil administration.”[261] Hence the

people said that the old ill-luck of the Tories in finance followed them still. The days of plump surpluses had vanished, and those of growing expenditure and dismal deficits had begun. The only remission of taxation which Mr. Disraeli proposed was the reduction of the Marine Insurance Duties. The Budget, in fact was a tribute to those who, like Mr. Mill and Mr. Stanley Jevons, had impressed the public mind that the time had come when sacrifices must be made not to reduce taxes, but to pay off National Debt.

The Session of 1867 was not prolific in Irish legislation. Ministers and private members once more made futile attempts to unravel the tangled web of the Land Tenure question. One measure, indeed, of a vigorous and decided character, was rapidly passed, namely, the Act for continuing for three months the suspension of the Habeas Corpus in Ireland. But as to land tenure, Lord Naas, on behalf of the Government, introduced a Bill very early in the Session to promote the improvement of land by tenants. The Bill was founded on the principle of the Lands Improvement Act. There were several kinds of improvements, for the making of which money was advanced under the Lands Improvement Act. These were, thorough draining, the reclamation of waste lands, the removal of old and useless fences, the making of farm roads, and the erection of farmhouses, dwellings, and other buildings. On the Second Reading of Lord Naas’ Bill being moved, a considerable diversity of opinion was exhibited with respect to the tendency and operation of the measure. Several amendments were proposed and discussed at length, and the debate was adjourned. Owing, partly to the pressure occasioned by the Reform debates, and other questions, and partly to a general impression of the futility of attempting to carry a measure of this description, the Bill was dropped.

Another effort was made, with similar results, by the Marquis of Clanricarde, who laid on the table of the House of Lords a Bill for giving facilities for voluntary contracts between landlords and tenants in Ireland. The Bill did not obtain a second reading. A third attempt to deal with the difficulty was made by Sir Colman O’Loghlan, who obtained leave to bring in a Bill, its main object being to encourage the granting of leases, and to discourage tenancies at will. After much controversy this measure was also dropped, and the Irish people read the old moral from these debates, that they must look elsewhere than to Parliament for the redress of their grievances. An effort was now made to raise the Irish Church Question. Sir John Gray, on the 7th of May, moved that the House of Commons on a future day resolve itself into committee to consider the temporalities and privileges of the Established Church in Ireland. This was a motion that was not unattractive to the Whigs, and so Colonel Greville seconded it as a Protestant who, living in Ireland, felt it his duty to protest in the strongest manner against the continuance of an unjust establishment. Sir Frederick Heygate moved the previous question, and then Mr. Gladstone intervened, giving a hint of his coming Irish policy. He found a difficulty in supporting the Resolution, not because he questioned the soundness of it, but because it was an abstract Resolution, and the House ought not to pass it without having a plan for giving effect to it. We might, he contended, support a religious establishment to maintain truth, but we did not support the Irish Protestant establishment for that purpose only, seeing that we also supported the Catholic College of Maynooth. We might maintain an established church because its doctrines were those of the bulk of the people. But that was notoriously not the case in Ireland. We might keep up an established church to supply the poorest class of the community with free and cheap religious teaching. But the Protestant Church in Ireland was the church of the rich. He trusted the time was not far distant when Parliament would take the question of the Irish Church up; and when it did he hoped that “a result would be arrived at which would be a blessing to all.” This speech, coming from the author of the celebrated work in defence of established churches, was listened to with consternation by the Tories. They began to regret that they had “unmuzzled” Mr. Gladstone, to use Palmerston’s phrase, by turning him out of Oxford. The matter was, however, shelved for a time, the “previous question” being carried by a majority of 195 to 183.

That the attack was preconcerted by the Liberal leaders was indicated by the fact that in the House of Lords Earl Russell, on the 24th of June, moved an address to the Queen, praying her to order, by Royal Commission, or otherwise, full information to be procured as to the revenues of the Established Church in Ireland, with a view to their more equitable application for the benefit of the Irish people. Lord Russell hinted that he favoured the application to Ireland of the voluntary principle, and if that were done he would appropriate the property of the Church to educational purposes. Lord Cairns, however, declared that the destruction of the Established Church, whose function it was to teach Christian truth, would be fatal to the landed interest, and to the commerce of Ireland with England. But a motion for an address praying simply for a Royal Commission was agreed to, and the Commission was issued by the Crown in the ensuing autumn. Meantime, as the Times wrote in 1865, Ireland was “being cleared quietly for the interests and luxury of humanity.” And yet not too quietly. The progress of Fenianism, especially in the British Army, was wonderfully rapid. Hundreds of agitators were carrying on their secret propaganda. Scores of Irish-American officers were pouring into Ireland, telling the people that General Sheridan and other hot-headed soldiers of their race in the United States were eager to interfere on their behalf. Early in 1867 sporadic risings of small, half-armed mobs were put down with ease, and in the trials which followed the capital sentence passed on those found guilty was commuted to one of penal servitude, the abstinence of the rebels from wanton outrage giving the Queen a reasonable ground for exercising her prerogative of mercy. But the Fenian organisation had grown to unexpected strength in England, and within a few days after Ministers announced the Bill suspending Habeas Corpus in Ireland (11th of February) a band of men, headed by Irish-American officers, would have surprised and seized the arsenal of Chester Castle, with its 20,000 stand of arms, had not their design been divulged by treachery. In autumn an event occurred which has to this day been the matter of hot controversy between Irishmen and Englishmen. The leadership of the Fenian conspiracy had now passed into the hands of a Colonel Kelly, who succeeded Mr. Stephens. He was returning from a meeting at Manchester with his friend Captain Deasy, and they were both arrested by the police on suspicion of loitering for purposes of burglary. They gave false names, but it was soon discovered who they were. The Fenians of Manchester resolved to rescue them, and on the 18th of September the prison van in which Kelly and Deasy were being conveyed to Salford was attacked by a body of thirty armed men. The horses were shot. The escort ran away, and the Fenians then ordered Police Sergeant Brett, who was on duty inside the van to unlock the door. He refused, and a pistol was fired at the lock, in order to break it. Unfortunately, the bullet struck Brett, who died from the wound. Kelly and Deasy made their escape, and were heard of no more. But in the meantime a crowd had gathered, and had nearly stoned to death William Philip Allen, one of the rescuing party, several of whom, including men called Larkin, Maguire, O’Brien (alias Gould), and Condon (alias Shore), were captured and tried for the murder of Sergeant Brett. They were all sentenced to be hanged, though the evidence against them was somewhat faulty. One of the prisoners (Maguire) was undoubtedly arrested by mistake, and the newspaper reporters who were present at his trial petitioned for his release. On further investigation it was found that the reporters were right, and the man was set free. But three of the prisoners were executed on the 23rd of November, although they protested they had not the remotest idea of hurting Sergeant Brett. “Condon,” writes Mr. T. P. O’Connor, M.P., “in speaking, used a phrase that has become historic: ‘I have nothing,’ he said, in concluding his speech, ‘to regret or to take back. I can only say, ‘God save Ireland.’ His companions advanced to the front of the dock, and, raising their hands, repeated the cry, ‘God save Ireland’”[262]—a phrase that became the shibboleth or watchword of the Irish Nationalist Party. Condon was reprieved because he was an American citizen. Numbers of eminent Englishmen—headed by Mr. John Bright, Mr. Mill, and Mr. Swinburne—endeavoured to get the others reprieved also, but in vain. Allen, Larkin, and O’Brien were hanged on the 23rd of November, and their execution produced a profound impression on the Irish race all over the world. In the towns in Ireland great and solemn funeral processions marched through the streets. Mr. T. D. Sullivan wrote the poem “God save Ireland,” which displaced the National Anthem at Irish political gatherings. “To an Irishman,” writes Mr. O’Connor, “then a youth, living in the country house of his fathers, and deeply immersed in the small concerns of a squire’s daily life, the execution of the Manchester martyrs was a new birth of political convictions. To him, brooding from his early days over the history of his country, this catastrophe came to crystallise impressions into conviction, and to pave the way from dreams to action. It was the execution of Allen, Larkin, and O’Brien that gave Mr. Parnell to the service of Ireland.”[263] But another event happened which made it clear that the Fenian conspiracy was still formidable. One of its leaders, an Irish-American officer named Burke, had been captured and cast into Clerkenwell gaol, and his friends resolved to rescue him. Their agents, on the 13th of December, placed a barrel of gunpowder opposite the exercising ground of the gaol, where General Burke was supposed to be walking at the time. They then blew down the wall. Fortunately for himself, the Government had learned that a rescue was to be attempted, and the General had accordingly been removed to another part of the prison, otherwise he would have been killed. The victims were poor people who lived in the houses opposite the gaol, of whom twelve were killed and one hundred and twenty shockingly injured. An ignorant Fenian named Barrett was convicted of having been implicated in this clumsy plot, and was tried and executed in front of Newgate. This outrage ruined the Fenian organisation, not only in England but in Ireland. Many honest Irishmen, who in a fit of patriotic enthusiasm had joined its ranks, withdrew from a body whose deep and dark designs they saw were apt to be carried out with the stupid brutality that marked the Clerkenwell outrage.

But the Fenians were not the only outragemongers who frightened the comfortable classes out of their senses in 1867. The skilled artisans in many cases had employed their trade organisations to coerce by violence masters who refused to yield to the demands of their workmen, and workmen who refused to obey the orders of their Unions. Early in the year a Commission had been appointed to consider the legal position of the Unions, which was most unsatisfactory, and a separate Commission, appointed to investigate outrages which had been perpetrated at Sheffield, made some astounding revelations. They reported that the officials of the Sawgrinders’ Union had hired assassins to maim, murder, or torture people who thwarted the policy of the Union.[264] They reported that similar barbarities were practised by the officials of the Brickmakers’ and Bricklayers’ Unions in Manchester. The country rang with denunciations of the working classes, and “strikes,” such as that of the London tailors, were carried on with unparalleled acrimony. War between “the two nations,” to use Mr. Disraeli’s phrase in “Sybil,” was imminent. It is curious to observe how seldom public writers and speakers on the conflict between Labour and Capital which then raged, took the trouble to ascertain the precise position of the artisans in the struggle. The truth, however, had been told with uncompromising honesty by the Committee of the House of Commons, who in 1821 had reported that outlawry made Trades Unionists lawless. In that year it was true an Act had been passed to legalise workmen’s combinations for improving wages and reducing the hours of labour. But then this Act gave the preference to the word of the master in any dispute between him and his servant, and pedantic judges had made it a dead letter, by ruling that “all combinations in restraint of trade” were criminal. Nor had they stopped here. They roused the wrath of the working classes to white heat in 1867, by ruling in the case of Hornby v. Close that Trades Unions could not even hold property or funds for benevolent purposes. In fact, at that period, the position of the English working man was one of almost servile degradation, and under an extended franchise such a state of things could not last long. On the 5th of March a Conference of Trades Unionists was held in St. Martin’s Hall, London, to protest against the decision in Hornby v. Close, a meeting which was the germ of the great Trades Union Congress, that ultimately became a mighty power in the industrial world.[265]

Early in the year the Queen received with pleasure the intimation that Prince Arthur had passed his military examination in a manner that did him great credit. “I am delighted,” writes the Princess Louis to the Queen on the 13th of January,[266] “to hear of dear Arthur having passed so good an examination. How proud you must be of him! And the good Major,[267] who has spared no pains, I know—how pleased he must be! Arthur has a uniform now, I suppose.” From another passage in a letter of the Princess’s, one gathers that the cloud of melancholy which overhung the Queen’s widowed life was beginning to disappear. “I think,” says the Princess, replying to one of the Queen’s letters on the subject, “I can understand what you must feel. I know well what those first three years were—what fearful sufferings, tearing and uprooting those feelings which had been centred on beloved papa’s existence! It is indeed as you say ‘a mercy’ that after the long storm a lull and calm ensues, though the violent pain which is but the reverse of the violent love seems only to die out with it, and that is likewise better. Yet, beloved mamma, could it be otherwise? There would be no justice or mercy, were the first stage of sorrow to be the perpetual one.” Still, the advancing year brought its own cares to the Royal Family. A Princess was born to the Prince and Princess of Wales on the 20th of February, and though the official announcements stated that both mother and child were doing well, this was by no means the case. The recovery of the Princess was not satisfactory, and the physicians at last had to admit that she was suffering from a peculiarly obstinate rheumatic attack, that sadly undermined her health and strength. The Queen had, as usual, confided her anxieties to her daughter at Darmstadt, who in reply wrote as follows:—“The knowledge of dear sweet Alix’s[268] state makes me too sad. It is hard for them both, and the nursing must be very fatiguing for Mrs. Clarke. I am so distressed about darling Alix that I really have no peace. It may and probably will last long, which is so dreadful.” On the 14th of April the accouchement of the Princess Christian took place, when she was safely delivered of a little Prince, the Queen being in close attendance by her bedside all day.

On the 20th of May the Queen laid the first stone of the Hall of Arts and Sciences at Kensington, now known as the Royal Albert Hall. It was intended, and has since been used, for scientific and artistic congresses, both national and international; performances of music, distribution of prizes by public bodies, agricultural, horticultural, and industrial exhibitions, and displays of pictures and sculpture. At the inaugural function 7,000 visitors were arranged in an oval amphitheatre richly draped, and gay with the bright summer costumes of the ladies, and with gorgeous official uniforms. Among the guests were the Foreign Ministers wearing their decorations, the Lord Mayor and Aldermen in their robes, Lord Derby, Mr. Disraeli, and other Ministers and Ex-Ministers. The foundation stone bore in gold letters the inscription, “This stone was laid by her Most Gracious Majesty Queen Victoria, May 20, 1867.” Accompanied by Princesses Louise and Beatrice the Queen arrived at the entrance of the building at Kensington Gore at half-past eleven, where the Prince of Wales and the Duke of Edinburgh met the party. After receiving an address read by the Prince of Wales, her Majesty made the following reply, but, contrary to her usual habit, in a scarcely audible tone of voice:—

Amid a flourish of trumpets and the distant booming of twenty-one guns that had been stationed in Hyde Park, the polished block of granite was lowered into its place, the Queen declaring it well and truly fixed. The Archbishop of Canterbury offered up a short prayer, and the band and chorus delivered the vocal and instrumental music of a composition by the Prince Consort, entitled “L’lnvocazione all’ Armonia.” The solo tenor parts were given by Signor Mario with great effect, and the Queen, while passing through the building, stopped where he stood, and personally thanked this sweetest of sweet singers.

On the 22nd the Queen and Court left town for Balmoral. Before her departure she had decided not to invite formally any of the European Sovereigns who were in Paris visiting the French International Exhibition, but as the Sultan had intimated his intention of visiting England, orders were given to make preparations for his reception. The Court did not remain long in Aberdeenshire. From June to July the Princess Louis and her husband were in England, and the Queen had to return to Windsor to receive the Queen of Prussia, who paid her a visit on the 25th of June.

On the 13th of July the Sultan Abdul Aziz arrived in London. On the following day he visited Windsor. The Queen with the younger members of the Royal Family received his Majesty in the Grand Hall, and on his alighting she advanced to meet him. He stepped forward with an Eastern salutation, and kissed her hand, and in the interchange of courtesies which ensued, the Queen affectionately kissed his Highness, the young Izzedin Effendi, the Sultan’s son, as did also the Princess Mary of Teck. The Grand Turk was indeed the lion of the London season of 1867, for Society was en fête in his honour. On the evening of the 19th, after being entertained at a splendid banquet given by the Duke of Cambridge, he attended a grand ball given by the Secretary of State for India. The members of the Indian Council led the procession in a body by themselves, and Sir Stafford Northcote then preceded the august party, at the head of which walked the Sultan, with the Princess Louis of Hesse on his arm. In the brilliant train that followed Moslem and Christian Princes were strangely intermixed. The ball was opened by Sir Stafford Northcote and the Princess Louis, who led off the first quadrille, the Sultan looking on the scene with melancholy gravity, as if it were a show got up for his diversion. He, however, did full justice to the sumptuous supper, after which refreshment he returned to the ball-room, and about two o’clock took his departure, followed by the more distinguished guests. The scene at the India Office had been brilliant as one in Fairyland. But it was marred by one sad incident. Madame Musurus, the wife of the Turkish Ambassador, when taking some friends into supper suddenly dropped down dead. On the 20th the Sultan visited the Volunteer Camp at Wimbledon, and on the 22nd he was entertained by the Duke of Sutherland, and day after day the town was kept in a state of giddy excitement by the uninterrupted succession of spectacles and entertainments provided in honour of the Queen’s Oriental guests. On the 23rd his Majesty left Buckingham Palace, where he had resided twelve days, and amidst the cheering of the populace took his departure for Dover. His visit rather obscured that of the Viceroy of Egypt, who was the guest of the nation at the same time, and was entertained by the Queen at Windsor on the 8th of July.

Besides the melancholy and tragic death of Madame Musurus there was only one other disagreeable incident attached to the Sultan’s visit. A grand naval review at Portsmouth was arranged for his delectation and instruction on the 17th of July. It was known that the Queen intended to confer a mark of distinction on her Imperial visitor, but it was whispered that he was dissatisfied with what her Majesty proposed to do for him. The whole story has since been told by Lord Malmesbury, who says that at first the Queen, at Lord Derby’s suggestion, offered to confer on Abdul Aziz the Star of India. But Fuad Pasha, who was in attendance on Abdul Aziz, hearing of this went to the Lord Steward and warned him that the Sultan would consider himself slighted if he were offered anything but the Garter. Already he had the Bath, and he seemed to consider the Star of India as an inferior distinction to the Bath. Lord Derby was remonstrated with, and finally it was settled that when the Queen received the Sultan on her yacht at the Naval Review she should give him the Order of the Garter. This was done with great pomp and ceremony, as Lord Malmesbury says, “in the midst of the howling of the storm and the roaring of the cannon.” But here another hitch occurred. No ribbon was ready, so the Queen took the ribbon of Prince Louis of Hesse and presented it to the Sultan, intending that he should return it, when a new one could be got for him. “But,” writes Lord Malmesbury, “the Sultan refused to give it (the ribbon) up, saying

that the one he had was given to him by the Queen, and that he would wear no other.”[269]

In July the Empress of the French spent a few days quietly with the Queen at Osborne, and on the 9th of August the Queen paid a long visit to the Royal Victoria Hospital at Netley, where she went through the wards, speaking after her homely fashion to the sick and wounded soldiers. She took a special interest in one case—that of a man who had been shot through the lungs at Lucknow, in 1858, but who had continued to do duty almost down to 1867.

In the end of the month the Queen resolved to pay a visit to the Scottish Border, an enchanted land of romance and minstrelsy, of fairy lore, and feudal chivalry. On the 28th of August, accompanied by Princess Louise, Princess Beatrice, Prince Leopold, Prince and Princess Christian, and Prince Christian Victor of Sleswig-Holstein, the Queen left Windsor Castle in the evening for Balmoral. She broke the direct route by having her special train stopped at Kelso, in order to visit a valued friend of the Royal Family—the Duchess of Roxburghe. On arriving at the station, the Queen affectionately kissed the Duchess; and her procession to Floors Castle was really a triumphal one. In fact, nothing could have exceeded the heartiness of the greeting which she everywhere got from the people. A vast crowd filled the Marketplace, where her Majesty received an address from the magistrates of Kelso. In replying to it, she said, “I thank you, Mr. Craig, and the town of Kelso; an answer will be sent to your address.” A little girl, the daughter of the Baron Bailie of Kelso, was then lifted up to the royal carriage, and presented to the Queen a large bouquet, which her Majesty received with an expression of delight. Her arrival at Floors, the seat of the Duke of Roxburghe, was announced to the town by a royal salute, fired from Roxburgh Castle. Great illuminations took place in Kelso at night, to the delight of thousands of country people. On the 22nd the Queen paid a visit to Melrose Abbey and Abbotsford. On reaching the Priory, she was received by the Duke of Buccleuch, the proprietor of the ruins and Lord-Lieutenant of the county. The Queen went to Jedburgh on the 23rd, and afterwards visited Hartrigge, a place associated with Lord Chancellor Campbell’s memory. When the royal progress through the land of Scott and Thomas the Rhymer ended the Court proceeded to Balmoral.

This tour brightened the Queen’s spirits, which seemed to have been slightly depressed before she left town. She had half hinted in one of her letters to the Princess Louis that her home was losing its attractions for some members of her family, and these suspicions the Princess promptly dispelled in a letter written from St. Moritz. “You say,” she observes to the Queen, “that our home is dull now for those who like to amuse themselves. It is never dull, darling mamma, when we can be with you, for I have indeed never met a

more agreeable, charming companion. Time always flies by when one is with you. I hope it is not impertinent my saying so.” In September the household at Balmoral was saddened by the death of Sir Frederick Bruce, whose sister, Lady Francis Baillie, was then staying at the Castle. Dr. Norman Macleod was also a welcome and valued guest at this time, and, writing in his Diary on the 18th of September, he says, “I had a long and pleasant interview with the Queen. With my last breath I will uphold the excellence and nobleness of her character.”[270] Macleod was now avowedly the Queen’s favourite pastor in Scotland, and there can be little doubt that his influence over her Majesty’s mind was most salutary. His visits always brightened the somewhat dull life of the Castle, and in a letter to his wife (15th October, 1866) he has given a vivid little autumnal sketch of a Balmoral “interior” in those days. He says “the Queen is pleased to command me to remain here (Balmoral) till Tuesday. I found Mr. Cardwell had been in the Barony, and, to the great amusement of the Queen, he repeated my scold about the singing.[271] After dinner the Queen invited me to her room, where I found the Princess Helena and Marchioness of Ely. The Queen sat down to spin at a wee Scotch wheel, while I read Robert Burns to her—‘Tam O’Shanter,’ and ‘A Man’s a Man for a’ That,’ her favourite. The Prince and Princess of Hesse sent for me to see their children. The eldest (Victoria), whom I saw at Darmstadt, is a most sweet child; the youngest (Elizabeth) is a round, fat ball of loving good-nature. I gave her a real hobble,[272] such as I give Polly. I suppose the little thing never got anything like it, for she screamed and kicked with a perfect furore of delight, would go from me to neither father nor mother, or nurse, to their great merriment, but buried her chubby face in my cheek, until I gave her another right good hobble. They are such dear children. The Prince of Wales sent me a message asking me to go and see him.... When I was there the young Prince of Wales fell on the wax cloth after lunch, with such a thump as left a swollen blue mark on his forehead. He cried for a minute, and then laughed most bravely. There was no fuss whatever made about him by mother, father, or any one.... He is a dear sweet child. All seem to be very happy. We had a great deal of pleasant talk in the garden.”[273]

In October fresh domestic cares were added to the overladen life of the Sovereign. To one of these, in a letter from Darmstadt, dated 10th October, 1867, the Princess Louis alludes as follows:—“I can’t find words to say how sorry I am that dear, sweet Arthur[274] should have the small-pox! and that you should have this great anxiety and worry. God grant that the dear boy may get well over it, and that his dear handsome face be not marked. The Major (Elphinstone) kindly telegraphs daily, and you can fancy far away how anxious one is. I shall be very anxious to get a letter with accounts, for I think constantly of him and of you.” And again, on the 14th, she writes: “How glad I am to see by your letter that darling Arthur is going on so very well. One can’t be too thankful; and it is a good thing over, and will spare one’s being anxious about him on other occasions.” In the same letter there is a reference to another matter which had caused the Queen some trouble. There had been, ever since the Danish war, a coolness between the families of her eldest son and eldest daughter, which her Majesty had strenuously endeavoured to remove. Her conciliatory efforts were this year crowned with success. The Prince and Princess of Wales visited the Continent, and met the King of Prussia. “Bertie and Alix,” writes the Princess Louis, on the 14th October, “have been here (Darmstadt) since Saturday afternoon, and leave to-morrow. They go straight to Antwerp, and Bertie is going back to Brussels to see the cousins. The visit of the King went off very well, and Alix was pleased with the kindness and civility of the King (of Prussia). I hear that the meeting was satisfactory to both parties, which I am heartily glad of. Bearing ill-will is always a mistake, besides its not being right.”[275] The embarrassments of the Darmstadt household, however, still continued to grieve the Queen, to whom her daughter the Princess Louis, confided all her troubles. The Princess had broken down in health during the autumn of 1867, and, in one of her letters she tells the Queen that as she does not consider it prudent, “for financial reasons,”[276] to engage a governess for her daughter, the Princess Victoria, she has asked Mr. Geyer, who taught her little black servant Willem, “to give her a lesson every other day.”[277] On the 18th of October the statue to the Prince Consort, at Balmoral, was unveiled, with reference to which the Princess Louis, in one of her letters (26th of October) expresses a hope which was fairly well realised—to the effect that the ceremony “went off as well as the weather would permit.”

The Scottish festival of Hallowe’en (31st of October) was kept this year by the Queen with unusual formality. “We had been driving,” she writes, “but we turned back to be in time for the celebration. Close to Donald Stewart’s house we were met by two gillies, bearing torches. Louise got out and took one, walking by the side of the carriage like one of the witches in Macbeth. As we approached Balmoral, the keepers, with their wives and children, the gillies, and other people, met us, all with torches, Brown also carrying one. We got out at the house, where Leopold joined us, and a torch was also given to him. We walked round the house with Ross playing the pipes, going down the steps of the terrace. Louise and Leopold went first, then came Jane Ely, and I followed by every one carrying torches, which had a very pretty effect. After this, a bonfire was made of all the torches, close to the house, and they danced reels while Ross played the pipes.”

In December, after returning from Balmoral, the Queen paid a visit to Claremont and to Lady Palmerston. “The visit to Claremont,” writes the Princess Louis, “must have been quite peculiar for you; and I can fancy it bringing back to your mind the recollections of your childhood. In spring it must be a lovely place, and with gayer papers on the walls, and a little modern comfort, the house must likewise be very pleasant.... The account of your visit to Lady Palmerston and to her daughter is most touching. It is so inexpressibly sad for grandmother and mother, for it is unnatural for parents to survive their children, and that makes the grief a so peculiar one, and very hard to bear.”

CHAPTER XIII.

THE NEW ERA OF REFORM.

The New Year (1868) found Parties and politicians preparing for the great electoral struggle for power. But there could be no General Election till the new register of voters became operative. Hence the country passed