Ah, what would that doughty champion of the Slave
Trade, William IV., have said, could he have seen
his niece’s husband giving royal countenance
to such a fanatical, radical gathering! It was
enough to make him stir irefully in his coffin at
Windsor.
But for that matter, could our ancestors generally,
men and women who devoutly believed in the past, and
died in the odor of antiquity, know of our modern
goings-on, in political and humanitarian reforms—know
of our “Science so called,” and social
ethics, there would be “a rattling among the
dry bones,” not only in royal vaults, but in
country churchyards, where “The rude forefathers
of the hamlet sleep.”
Death passes by—Life comes.
On the 10th of June, 1840, occurred the first mad
attempt to assassinate Queen Victoria—made
as she and Prince Albert were driving up Constitution
Hill, near Buckingham Palace, in a small open phaeton.
Prince Albert, in a letter to his grandmamma, gives
the clearest account of it. He says: “We
had hardly proceeded a hundred yards from the Palace,
when I noticed, on the foot-path on my side, a little,
mean-looking man, holding something toward us, and,
before I could distinguish what it was, a shot was
fired, which almost stunned us both, it was so loud—barely
six paces from us. ... The horses started, and
the carriage stopped. I seized Victoria’s
hands and asked if the fright, had not shaken her,
but she laughed.”
Almost immediately the fellow fired a second shot,
from which the Queen was saved probably by the presence
of mind of the Prince, who drew her down beside him.
He states that the ball must have passed just over
her head. The wretch was at once arrested and
taken away, and soon after committed for trial, on
the charge of high treason. The Queen was seen
to be very pale, but calm. She rose in the carriage
to show the excited people that she was not hurt,
and then ordered the postilions to drive at once to
Ingestrie House, that the Duchess of Kent might hear
of the startling incident first from her and not be
frightened by wild rumors. It was a thoughtful
and filial act, and brave, moreover, for there were
those about her who suspected that there might be a
revolutionary conspiracy, and that Oxford was only
one of many banded assassins. These alarmists
advised her and her husband to show themselves abroad
as little as possible. How they heeded this advice
is shown in another passage of Prince Albert’s
letter: “We arrived safely at Aunt Kent’s.
From thence we took a drive through the Park, to give
Victoria a little air,—also to show the
people that we had not, on account of what had happened,
lost confidence in them.”
The Prince does not mention a very pretty incident
which I find recorded elsewhere. As the Queen’s
carriage reached the Park, it was received with enthusiastic
cheers, smiles, and tears by crowds of people, equestrians
and pedestrians, and the gay world on wheels; and as
they neared the Marble Arch, the gentlemen and ladies
on horseback followed them as with one impulse—all
Rotton Row turned out, and escorted them to Buckingham
Palace. It is said, too, that for several days
this was repeated—that whenever the Queen
and Prince drove out they were escorted by this singular
volunteer body-guard.
