Great Britain and Her Queen | Page 2

before them at
her palace window, composed but sad, the tears running unchecked
down her fair pale face.
That rare spectacle of simple human emotion, at a time when a selfish
or thoughtless spirit would have leaped in exultation, touched the heart
of England deeply, and was rightly held of happy omen. The nation's
feeling is aptly expressed in the glowing verse of Mrs. Browning,
praying Heaven's blessing on the "weeping Queen," and prophesying
for her the love, happiness, and honour which have been hers in no
stinted measure. "Thou shalt be well beloved," said the poetess; there
are very few sovereigns of whom it could be so truly said that they

have been well beloved, for not many have so well deserved it. The
faith of the singer has been amply justified, as time has made manifest
the rarer qualities joyfully divined in those early days in the royal child,
the single darling hope of the nation.
Once before in the recent annals of our land had expectations and
desires equally ardent centred themselves on one young head. Much of
the loyal devotion which had been alienated from the immediate family
of George III. had transferred itself to his grandchild, the Princess
Charlotte, sole offspring of the unhappy marriage between George,
Prince of Wales, and Caroline of Brunswick. The people had watched
with vivid interest the young romance of Princess Charlotte's happy
marriage, and had bitterly lamented her too early death--an event which
had overshadowed all English hearts with forebodings of disaster.
Since that dark day a little of the old attachment of England to its
sovereigns had revived for the frank-mannered sailor and "patriot
king," William IV; but the hopes crushed by the death of the
much-regretted Charlotte had renewed themselves with even better
warrant for Victoria. She was the child of no ill-omened, miserable
marriage, but of a fitting union; her parents had been sundered only by
death, not by wretched domestic dissensions. People heard that the
mortal malady which deprived her of a father had been brought about
by the Duke of Kent's simple delight in his baby princess, which kept
him playing with the child when he should have been changing his wet
outdoor garb; and they found something touching and tender in the
tragic little circumstance. And everything that could be noticed of the
manner in which the bereaved duchess was training up her precious
charge spoke well for the mother's wisdom and affection, and for the
future of the daughter.
It was indeed a happy day for England when Edward, Duke of Kent,
the fourth son of George III, was wedded to Victoria of Saxe-Coburg,
the widowed Princess of Leiningen--happy, not only because of the
admirable skill with which that lady conducted her illustrious child's
education, and because of the pure, upright principles, the frank, noble
character, which she transmitted to that child, but because the family
connection established through that marriage was to be yet further

serviceable to the interests of our realm. Prince Albert of Saxe-Coburg
was second son of the Duchess of Kent's eldest brother, and thus first
cousin of the Princess Victoria--"the Mayflower," as, in fond allusion
to the month of her birth, her mother's kinsfolk loved to call her: and it
has been made plain that dreams of a possible union between the two
young cousins, very nearly of an age, were early cherished by the
elders who loved and admired both.
[Illustration: Duchess of Kent. From an Engraving by Messrs. P. & D.
Colnaghi & Co., Pall Mall East.]
The Princess's life, however, was sedulously guarded from all
disturbing influences. She grew up in healthy simplicity and seclusion;
she was not apprised of her nearness to the throne till she was twelve
years old; she had been little at Court, little in sight, but had been made
familiar with her own land and its history, having received the higher
education so essential to her great position; while simple truth and rigid
honesty were the very atmosphere of her existence. From such a
training much might be hoped; but even those who knew most and
hoped most were not quite prepared for the strong individual character
and power of self-determination that revealed themselves in the girlish
being so suddenly transferred "from the nursery to the throne." It was
quickly noticed that the part of Queen and mistress seemed native to
her, and that she filled it with not more grace than propriety. "She
always strikes me as possessed of singular penetration, firmness, and
independence," wrote Dr. Norman Macleod in 1860; acute observers in
1837 took note of the same traits, rarer far in youth than in full maturity,
and closely connected with the "reasoning, searching" quality of her
mind, "anxious to get at the root and reality of things, and