Comments upon the young Queen by a contemporaneous
writer in Blackwood—A new Throne
erected for her in Buckingham Palace—A
touching Anecdote related by the Duke of Wellington—The
Queen insists on paying her Father’s Debts—The
romantic and passionate interest she evoked—Her
mad lover—Attempts upon her life—She
takes possession of Windsor Castle.
A writer in Blackwood, speaking of the Queen
about this time, said: “She is ‘winning
golden opinions from all sorts of people’ by
her affability, the grace of her manners, and her
prettiness. She is excessively like the Brunswicks
and not like the Coburgs. So much the more in
her favor. The memory of George III. is not yet
passed away, and the people are glad to see his calm,
honest, and English physiognomy renewed in his granddaughter.”
Her Majesty’s likeness to the obstinate but
conscientious old king, whose honest face is fast
fading quite away from old English half-crowns and
golden guineas, has grown with her years.
The same writer, speaking of her personal appearance,
says: “She is low of stature, but well
formed; her hair the darkest shade of flaxen, and
her eyes large and light-blue.” A friend
who saw her frequently at the time of her accession,
said to me the other day: “It is a great
mistake to suppose that the Queen owed all the charming
portraits which were drawn of her at this time, to
the fortunate accident of her birth and destiny.
She was really a very lovely girl, with a fine, delicate,
rose-bloom complexion, large blue eyes, a fair, broad
brow, and an expression of peculiar candor and innocence.”
A few days later there was a sensation in Buckingham
Palace, at the setting up in the Throne-room of a
very magnificent new piece of furniture—a
throne of the latest English fashion, but gorgeous
enough to have served for the Queen of Sheba, Zenobia,
Cleopatra, or Semiramis. It was all crimson velvet
and silk, with any amount of gold embroideries, gold
lace, gold fringe, ropes, and tassels. The gay
young Queen tried it, and said it would do; that she
had never sat on a more comfortable throne in all
her life.
Two stories of the young Queen have touched me especially—one
was related by the Duke of Wellington. A court-martial
death sentence was presented by him to her, to be
signed. She shrank from the dreadful task, and
with tears in her eyes, asked: “Have you
nothing to say in behalf of this man?”
“Nothing; he has deserted three times,”
replied the Iron Duke.
“O, your Grace, think again!”
“Well, your Majesty, he certainly is a bad soldier,
but there was somebody who spoke as to his good character.
He may be a good fellow in civil life.”
“O, thank you!” exclaimed the Queen, as
she dashed off the word, “Pardoned,” on
the awful parchment, and wrote beneath it her beautiful
signature.
