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Practical Aspects of Computational Chemistry I
Jerzy Leszczynski • Manoj K. Shukla
Editors
Practical Aspects
of Computational
Chemistry I
An Overview of the Last Two Decades
and Current Trends
123
Editors
Prof. Jerzy Leszczynski Prof. Manoj K. Shukla
Department of Chemistry Department of Chemistry
Jackson State University Jackson State University
P.O. Box 17910 P.O. Box 17910
1400 Lynch Street 1400 Lynch Street
Jackson, MS 39217 Jackson, MS 39217
USA USA
[email protected]
Present affiliation:
Environmental Laboratory
US Army Engineer Research
and Development Center
3909 Halls Ferry Road
Vicksburg, MS 39180
USA
[email protected]
It is a rare event that the impressive group of leading experts is willing to share their
views and reflections on development of their research areas in the last few decades.
The editors of this book have been very fortunate to attract such contributions, and as
an effect two volumes of “Practical Aspects of Computational Chemistry: Overview
of the Last Two Decades and Current Trends” are being published. Astonishingly,
we found that this task was not so difficult since the pool of authors was derived from
a large gathering of speakers who during the last 20 years have participated in the
series of meetings “Conferences on Current Trends in Computational Chemistry”
(CCTCC) organized by us in Jackson, Mississippi. We asked this group to prepare
for the 20th CCTCC that was hold in October 2011 the reviews of the last 20 years
of the progress in their research disciplines. Their response to our request was
overwhelming. This initiative was conveyed to Springer who in collaboration with
the European Academy of Sciences (EAS) invited as to edit such a book.
The current volume presents the compilation of splendid contributions dis-
tributed over 21 chapters. The very first chapter contributed by Istvan Hargittai
presents the historical account of development of structural chemistry. It also
depicts some historical memories of scientists presented in the form of their
pictures. This historical description covers a vast period of time. Intruder states pose
serious problem in the multireference formulation based on Rayleigh-Schrodinger
expansion. Ivan Hubac and Stephen Wilson discuss the current development and
future prospects of Many-Body Brillouin-Wigner theories to avoid the problem of
intruder states in the next chapter. The third chapter written by Vladimir Ivanov
and collaborators reveals the development of multireference state-specific coupled
cluster theory. The next chapter from Maria Barysz discusses the development
and application of relativistic effects in chemical problems while the fifth chapter
contributed by Manthos Papadopoulos and coworkers describes electronic, vibra-
tional and relativistic contributions to the linear and nonlinear optical properties of
molecules.
James Chelikowsky and collaborators discuss use of Chebyshen-filtered sub-
space iteration and windowing methods to solve the Kohn-Sham problem in the
sixth chapter. Next chapter contributed by Karlheinz Schwarz and Peter Blaha
v
vi Preface
vii
viii Contents
Index . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 673
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Contributors
xi
xii Contributors
A.V. Luzanov STC “Institute for Single Crystals” of National Academy of Sci-
ences of Ukraine, 60 Lenin ave, Kharkiv 61001, Ukraine,
[email protected]
Dmitry I. Lyakh V. N. Karazin Kharkiv National University, Kharkiv, Ukraine,
[email protected]
A. Subha Mahadevi Molecular Modeling Group, Indian Institute of Chemical
Technology, Tarnaka, Hyderabad, 500607, India
S.E. Malykhin Boreskov Institute of Catalysis, Siberian Branch of the Russian
Academy of Sciences, Pr. Akad. Lavrentieva 5, Novosibirsk 630090, Russia,
[email protected]
Martin McCullagh Department of Chemistry, Northwestern University, Evanston,
IL 60208-3113, United States
Andrea Michalkova Interdisciplinary Nanotoxicity Center, Jackson State Univer-
sity, Jackson, MS, 39217, USA
Seung Kyu Min Center for Superfunctional Materials, Department of Chemistry
and Department of Physics, Pohang University of Science and Technology, Hyo-
jadong, Namgu, Pohang 790-784, South Korea
Jane S. Murray CleveTheoComp, 1951 W. 26th Street, Cleveland, OH 44113,
USA
Takahito Nakajima Computational Molecular Science Research Team, Advanced
Institute for Computational Science, RIKEN, 7-1-26, Minatojima-minami, Cyuo,
Kobe, Hyogo 650-0047, Japan, [email protected]
Yutaka Nakatsuka Computational Molecular Science Research Team, Advanced
Institute for Computational Science, RIKEN, 7-1-26, Minatojima-minami, Cyuo,
Kobe, Hyogo 650-0047, Japan, [email protected]
Manthos G. Papadopoulos Institute of Organic and Pharmaceutical Chemistry,
National Hellenic Research Foundation, 48 Vas. Constantinou Ave, Athens 116 35,
Greece, [email protected]
Peter Politzer CleveTheoComp, 1951 W. 26th Street, Cleveland, OH 44113, USA,
[email protected]
Norma L. Rangel Department of Chemical Engineering, Texas A&M University,
College Station, TX, USA
Materials Science and Engineering, Texas A&M University, College Station, TX,
USA, [email protected]
Heribert Reis Institute of Organic and Pharmaceutical Chemistry, National
Hellenic Research Foundation, 48 Vas. Constantinou Ave, Athens 116 35, Greece,
[email protected]
xiv Contributors
Istvan Hargittai
Abstract Ideas about chemical structures have developed over hundreds of years,
but the pace has greatly accelerated during the twentieth century. The mechanical
interactions among building blocks of structures were taken into account in the
computational models by Frank Westheimer and by Terrel Hill, and Lou Allinger’s
programs made them especially popular. G. N. Lewis provided models of bonding
in molecules that served as starting points for later models, among them for
Ron Gillespie’s immensely popular VSEPR model. Accounting for non-bonded
interactions has conveniently augmented the considerations for bond configurations.
The emergence of X-ray crystallography almost 100 years ago, followed by
other diffraction techniques and a plethora of spectroscopic techniques provided
tremendous headway for experimental information of ever increasing precision.
The next step was attaining comparable accuracy that helped the meaningful
comparison and ultimately the combination of structural information from the most
diverse experimental and computational sources. Linus Pauling’s valence bond
theory and Friedrich Hund’s and Robert Mulliken’s molecular orbital approach had
their preeminence at different times, the latter finally prevailing due to its better
suitability for computation. Not only did John Pople build a whole systematics of
computations; he understood that if computation was to become a tool on a par
with experiment, error estimation had to be handled in a compatible way. Today,
qualitative models, experiments, and computations all have their own niches in the
realm of structure research, all contributing to our goal of uncovering “coherence
and regularities”—in the words of Michael Polanyi and Eugene Wigner—for our
understanding and utilization of the molecular world.
I. Hargittai ()
Materials Structure and Modeling of the Hungarian Academy of Sciences at Budapest,
University of Technology and Economics, POBox 91, 1521 Budapest, Hungary
e-mail: [email protected]
1.1 Introduction
Philosophically, Democritos’s maxim that “Nothing exists except atoms and empty
space; everything else is opinion” has been around for millennia [1]. Modern
atomistic approach dates only back a few hundred years. Johannes Kepler is credited
with being the first to build a model in which he packed equal spheres representing
in modern terms water molecules. He published his treatise in Latin in 1611,
De nive sexangula (The Six-cornered Snowflake) [2]. He tried to figure out why
the snowflakes have hexagonal shapes and in this connection discussed the structure
of the honeycomb. His drawings of closely packed spheres were forward-pointing
(Fig. 1.1a). It preceded another model of close packing of spheres which Dalton
produced almost two hundred years later, in 1805 with which he illustrated his
studies of the absorption of gases (Fig. 1.1b) [3].
There may be different considerations of what the beginning of modern
chemistry was. To me, it was the recognition that the building blocks—atoms—of
the same or different elements link up for different substances. Somehow—and
for a long time it was not clear how—in such a linkage the atoms must undergo
Fig. 1.1 (a) Packing of water “molecules” according to Johannes Kepler in 1611 (Ref. [2]);
(b) Packing of gaseous “molecules” in absorption according to John Dalton’s packing in 1805
(Ref. [3])
1 Models—Experiment—Computation: A History of Ideas in Structural Chemistry 3
some change which could only be consistent with throwing out the dogma of the
indivisibility of the atom. By advancing this concept chemistry anticipated—even if
only tacitly—the three major discoveries at the end of the nineteenth century. They
included the discoveries of radioactivity, the electron, and X-rays. This is also why
it is proper to say that the science of the twentieth century had begun at the end of
the previous century. These experimental discoveries created also the possibilities
of testing the various models that have been advanced to describe the structure of
matter.
Kepler used modeling not only in his studies of snowflakes but in his inves-
tigation of celestial conditions. Curiously though, his three-dimensional planetary
model appears to be closer to modern models in structural chemistry than to
astronomy. Albert Einstein referred to the significance of modeling in scientific
research on the occasion of the 300th anniversary of Kepler’s death in 1930 in
his article published in Frankfurter Zeitung: “It seems that the human mind has
first to construct forms independently before we can find them in things. Kepler’s
marvelous achievement is a particularly fine example of the truth that knowledge
cannot spring from experience alone but only from the comparison of the inventions
of the intellect with observed facts” [4]. In much of the success of structural
chemistry models have played a ubiquitous role.
Fig. 1.2 (a) Frank Westheimer in the laboratory (Photograph by MINOT, courtesy of the late
Frank Westheimer); (b) Norman (Lou) Allinger (Photograph and © by I. Hargittai)
The name of the model, VSEPR stands for Valence Shell Electron Pair Repulsion
and usually pronounced as “vesper,” almost like “whisper,” and I have used it
as a verb [12] to imply that its principal creator, Ron Gillespie often appeared
6 I. Hargittai
Fig. 1.3 (a) Young Gilbert N. Lewis (Courtesy of the Lawrence Berkeley National Laboratory);
(b) G. N. Lewis’s cubical atoms and some molecules built from such atoms, first proposed in 1916;
his original sketches are at the lower part of the Figure (Ref. [10])
1 Models—Experiment—Computation: A History of Ideas in Structural Chemistry 7
Fig. 1.4 Localized molecular orbitals represented by contour lines denoting electron densities of
0.02, 0.04, 0.06, etc. electron/bohr3 from theoretical calculations for the S–H, S–F, and SDO bonds
and the lone pair on sulfur; the pluses indicate the positions of the atomic nuclei (After Ref. [16])
A model usually singles out one or a few effects that it takes into consideration and
ignores the rest. Hence a reliable application of any model requires the delineation
of its applicability. Since the VSEPR model considers the interactions of the electron
pairs—even better to say, electron domains as the bonds may correspond to multiple
bonds—ligand–ligand interactions are ignored. Accordingly, the applicability of the
VSEPR model is enhanced with increasing central atom size with respect to ligand
sizes. Conversely, increasing ligand sizes with respect to the size of the central atom
diminishes the applicability of the VSEPR model.
In some molecular geometries of fairly large series of compounds, the distances
between atoms separated by another atom between them remain remarkably
constant, which points to the importance of non-bonded interactions. Thus, for
example, the O : : : O nonbonded distances in XSO2 Y sulfones have been found to
hardly deviate from 2.48 Å while the lengths of the SDO bonds vary up to 0.05 Å
and the bond angles ODSDO up to 5ı , depending on the nature of the ligands X
and Y. This is depicted in Fig. 1.5 [19].
These geometrical variations and constancies could be visualized as if the two
oxygen ligands were firmly attached to two of the four vertices of the tetrahedron
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have heard nothing; but it seems certain that the Turks have crossed
the Danube!’” Palmerston was at the Home Office during the
outbreak of cholera in 1854. His measures against it were said to
have been conceived in the spirit of treating Heaven as if it were a
Foreign Power.
Palmerston really directed the foreign policy of England from the
Home Office during the year which led up to the Crimean War. When
the Government refused to take his view, he resigned, ostensibly
because he did not like Lord John Russell’s Reform Bill; really
because when the Turks refused to accept the Vienna note, the
majority of the Cabinet wished to leave them to their fall. Palmerston
took an exactly opposite line, and urged the entry of the allied
French and English fleets into the Black Sea, which really amounted
to an act of war. As soon as he got his own way he rejoined the
Government. As some excuse was necessary to the outer world, he
had said he was not prepared to sit out debates on the Reform Bill in
the House of Commons at “his time of life.” Clarendon said that no
one had ever before heard him acknowledge that he had a time of
life.
The Queen went heartily with Palmerston in his war policy. She
was convinced of the justice of the Russian War, and that it could
not have been avoided. Her intense interest in its progress will be
described in the coming chapter. It is sufficient here to say that her
former feeling of hostility to Palmerston was very much softened by
seeing the whole-hearted devotion with which he threw himself into
the success of the British arms. As is well known, the events of the
war made Palmerston Prime Minister. She gave him her entire
confidence in that capacity. On the signing of the Treaty of Peace in
April, 1856, she bestowed upon him the Order of the Garter, as a
special and public token of her appreciation of his zealous and able
services to his country.
There was no love lost between Palmerston and Lord John Russell.
In 1857-58, there was great uneasiness in the ranks of the Whigs,
lest these two should never be able to overcome their mutual
hostility. Lady William Russell said of them at this time, “They have
shaken hands and embraced, and hate each other more than ever.”
However, by degrees the stronger nature dominated the weaker, and
from 1859 till 1865, when Palmerston died, Lord John may be said to
have danced to Palmerston’s piping.
[25] Letter from the Queen to Lord John Russell, Nov. 21st,
1851.
[26]
If the Devil has a son,
Sure his name is Palmerston.
[27] See letter from Lord Palmerston to Lord Clarendon, vol. ii.
p. 127, Ashley’s “Life of Palmerston.”
CHAPTER XIII.
PEACE AND WAR.
The year 1851 was memorable to the Queen, for it brought the
opening of the Great Exhibition, the crown of success to prolonged
efforts made by the Prince against all kinds of opposition and
misrepresentation. When first the project was mooted, hardly any
one had a good word to say for it. Members of Parliament in the
House of Commons prayed that hail and lightning might be sent
from heaven to destroy it; it was bound to be a financial failure; it
would ruin Hyde Park; it would bring into London every desperado
and bad character in Europe. Its actual success was beyond all
anticipation, and was only heightened by the croaking which had
preceded it. The Queen’s delight knew no bounds, for she felt not
only that the whole thing was a magnificent success, but that it was
owing to the Prince that it was so, and therefore was of the nature
of a personal triumph for him. The Queen wrote about the opening
ceremony as “the great and glorious first of May, the proudest and
happiest day ... of my happy life.” In her journal she wrote:—
“May 1. The great event has taken place; a complete
and beautiful triumph; a glorious and touching sight,—one
which I shall ever be proud of for my beloved Albert and
my country.... Yes; it is a day which makes my heart swell
with pride and glory and thankfulness.”
The only event with which she felt she could compare it was the
coronation; “but this day’s festival was a thousand times superior.”
The effect produced on her as the view of the interior burst upon
her, she speaks of as—
“Magical, so vast, so glorious, so touching. One felt—as
so many did whom I have since spoken to—filled with
devotion, more so than by any service I have ever heard.
The tremendous cheers, the joy expressed in every face,
the immensity of the building ... the organ (with 200
instruments and 600 voices, which sounded like nothing),
and my beloved husband the author of this ‘Peace
Festival’: ... all this was moving indeed, and it was and is a
day to live forever.”
It is interesting to compare this account by Her Majesty of her
own emotion at the opening of the exhibition with an account of
how she impressed a spectator. Dr. Stanley (afterwards Dean
Stanley) wrote in a private letter:—
“I never had so good a view of the Queen before, and
never saw her look so thoroughly regal. She stood in front
of the chair turning round, first to one side and then to
the other, with a look of power and pride, flushed with a
kind of excitement which I never witnessed in any other
human countenance.”
There were said to have been 34,000 people in the building on the
opening day, and nearly a million on the line of route. The Queen,
with her husband and eldest son and daughter, drove through this
huge multitude with no other guard than one of honor and some
policemen who were there, not so much to keep order as to aid the
crowd to keep it for themselves. The Home Secretary reported to the
Queen the next day that there had not been a single accident, nor
had there been a single case of misconduct of any kind calling for
the interference of the police. It was a magnificent object lesson on
the advantages of order springing out of liberty. Foreigners present
were deeply impressed by the good behavior of the crowd, and also
by its loyalty. Jacob Ominum described a dispute he overheard
between a German and a Frenchman as to whether in England
loyalty was a principle or a passion. His own comment was that it
was both,—a principle even when the Crown behaves badly; “but let
it treat the people well, and this quiet principle becomes a headlong
passion, swelling into such enthusiasm as the Frenchman saw when
he jotted down in his notebook, ‘In England loyalty is a passion.’”
The Duke of Wellington shared with the Royal Family the honors
of the day. He was accompanied, according to Lord Palmerston, by a
running fire of applause from the men, and of waving of
handkerchiefs and kissing of hands from the women. It used to be
said that people went to the exhibition as much to see the Duke of
Wellington,[28] who was a frequent visitor, as for any other purpose.
The total number of visitors to the exhibition during the time it
remained open was more than 6,000,000. An old Cornish woman,
Mary Keslynack, not wishing to trust herself on a railway, walked to
London to see the exhibition and the Queen. Her Majesty notes in
her diary the fact that the old lady’s wish was gratified. She “was at
the door to see me,—a most hale old woman, who was near crying
at my looking at her.”
But this “Peace Festival” could not avert the war-cloud that was
hanging over England. It is no part of the scheme of this little
volume to discuss the policy of the Crimean War, but only to relate
the Queen’s part in it, and her intense interest in it. Even this can
only be very briefly and inadequately sketched. Some idea of the
labor devolving upon a conscientious Sovereign in times of national
crisis may be gathered from the fact that the papers at Windsor
relating to the Eastern Question and the Crimean War, covering the
period between 1853 and 1857, amount to no fewer than fifty folio
volumes.
The Queen, it will be remembered, had entertained the Emperor
Nicholas at Windsor in 1844, and a very favorable personal
impression had been made on both sides. Nicholas had then had a
conversation with Peel and Aberdeen on the condition of the “Sick
Man,” as the Czar called Turkey, and the prospective disposition of
his effects. The Czar and the English Ministers signed a
memorandum favorable to the claims of Russia to protect Christians
in Turkish dominions. Nicholas left England with the impression that
he had considerably reduced the antagonism between England and
Russia on the Turkish question. Aberdeen was now Prime Minister,
and the Czar believed the moment to be favorable for translating
into action the scheme which he had laid before the English
Ministers in 1844. Moreover he was doubtless under the impression
that England’s fighting days were over, and that, therefore, whether
England liked the aggression of Russia in the East or not, she would
never resist it by force of arms. During the negotiations which
preceded the war, the Czar took the unusual course of addressing an
autograph letter to the Queen, expressing surprise that any
difference should have arisen between himself and the English
Government, and calling upon the Queen’s “wisdom” and “good
faith” to arbitrate between them. The Queen immediately sent the
Czar’s letter to Lord Aberdeen, as well as a draft of her reply for his
approval. Count Nesselrode was very desirous of learning from our
ambassador in St. Petersburg if he knew the tenor of the Queen’s
reply. He answered in the negative, but added, “These
correspondences between Sovereigns are not regular according to
our constitutional notions; but all I can say is, that if Her Majesty
were called upon to write upon the Eastern affair, she would not
require her Ministers’ assistance. The Queen understands these
questions as well as they do.”
The Cabinet were by no means united in their policy. Aberdeen
believed in Nicholas, and was for peace; Palmerston believed in the
Turks, and was for war.[29] Clarendon was the mediator between the
two. At first the Queen and her husband were decidedly sympathetic
with Aberdeen’s policy. They fully acknowledged that the “ignorant,
barbarian, and despotic yoke of the Mussulman” had been a curse to
Europe, and agreed with Lord Aberdeen that the Turkish system was
“radically vicious and inhuman.” Against this view Palmerston exerted
all his strength. Little by little the war fever, fanned by him and
favored by events, grew fiercer and fiercer. It spared neither the
palace nor the cottage, and presently there was hardly a voice raised
in England for peace except those of Bright and Cobden; and their
influence was weakened by the belief that they would be against all
war under all circumstances. There was a very general impression in
the country that if Palmerston had been at the Foreign Office no war
would have been necessary. Certainly experience forces the
conviction that the peace-at-any-price party, when in power, is
almost certain to land the country in war; but in this particular
instance it appears probable that Palmerston, having secured the
French alliance, thought the moment for fighting favorable, and
therefore forced on the war; and that he would have done so equally
from the Foreign Office as from the Home Office. His whole attention
and interest were centred on foreign affairs, and there was an
excellent understanding between him and Lord Clarendon, who was
Foreign Secretary.
It is needless to say that the Queen was thoroughly convinced
before war was declared that it could not have been avoided, that
our cause was just, and that the claim of Russia to protect the
Christian subjects of Turkey was a hypocritical cloak to her
aggression and ambition, and that her real object was to seize
Constantinople and the command of the entrance between the Black
Sea and Mediterranean, with an eye ultimately to India and the
possessions of England in Asia.
The Queen and Prince were exceedingly indignant with the King of
Prussia for withholding his support and sympathy from England. He
was a man of weak and excitable disposition, and very much
influenced by his brother-in-law, the Czar. The King’s brother,
however, then known as the Prince of Prussia (afterwards the
Emperor William), and his son, Prince Frederic William (afterwards
the husband of the Princess Royal), strongly sympathized with
England; and this circumstance naturally strengthened the warm
friendship already existing between them and the English Royal
Family. How distant at this time must have seemed the realization of
Prince Albert’s and Stockmar’s dream of a united Germany, and of a
political alliance between England and Germany. The Prince,
however, never lost sight of his goal. He wrote to his stepmother at
Coburg, who was strongly Russian in her sympathies, “If there were
a Germany and a German Sovereign in Berlin, this [the war] could
never have happened.”
When once war was declared (March, 1854), the Queen threw her
whole heart and soul into the cause. She wished she had sons old
enough to go, two with the army, two with the navy. Lord Aberdeen
had sanctioned the setting apart of a Day of Humiliation and Prayer
for the success of our arms by sea and land. The Queen very
strongly and quite properly deprecated the use of the expression a
Day of Humiliation. She condemned this as savoring of hypocrisy.
She believed her policy to have been directed by unselfishness and
honesty, and therefore felt the only appropriate prayer would be one
expressive of our deep thankfulness for all the benefits we had
enjoyed, and entreating the protection of the Almighty for our forces
on sea and land. She equally objected to imprecations against our
enemies, and suggested the use of a form already in the Prayer
Book, “To be used before a Fight at Sea.”
As the war went on, the Queen and the elder Princesses
stimulated the activity of other women throughout England in
helping to supply comforts for the wounded, and various articles of
warm clothing to be distributed among the troops. The Queen also
took a keen maternal interest in the establishment of a fund,
afterwards called the Patriotic Fund, to provide for the orphans of
those who were killed in the war. She neglected no opportunity of
showing her interest in her troops, giving them in person a hearty
“Godspeed” on their departure, and a cordial welcome on their
return, and decorating with her own hands the surviving heroes of
the various engagements. Our soldiers fought with all the old British
valor and tenacity, and were successful in every great engagement;
but there was a most frightful breakdown in the commissariat and
stores departments of the army, and in organization generally. No
Wellington or Marlborough was discovered among our generals, and
no Nelson or Duncan among our admirals. The only notable
personalities revealed to the nation by the Crimean War were those
of Florence Nightingale and Dr. W. H. Russell, and the only new
piece of military knowledge, the use of women and special
correspondents in war time. Miss Nightingale and a band of other
ladies, all trained nurses, were sent out at the instance of Mr. Sidney
Herbert to Constantinople, and at once proceeded to take charge of
the great hospital at Scutari; they arrived just in time to receive the
wounded from the battle of Balaklava. Before their arrival all had
been chaos and hugger-mugger, which Miss Nightingale’s “voice of
velvet and will of steel” soon changed to order, and as much comfort
and solace as were possible in such a place. Her gentle tenderness
and compassion aroused a passion of chivalrous worship in the
roughest soldiers. One of them said afterwards to Mr. Sidney
Herbert, “She would speak to one and another, and nod and smile to
many more, but she could not do it to all, you know,—we lay there
in hundreds,—but we could kiss her shadow as it fell, and lay our
heads on the pillow again, content.”
The regular red-tapists of the War Office of course opposed the
sending out of Miss Nightingale and the other ladies; there is no
record in the Prince Consort’s Life whether he and the Queen
favored her mission at the outset or not. But it is certain that they,
with the rest of the nation, very speedily recognized the value of the
work she was doing. Her letters from the seat of war were among
their sources of information, and were eagerly scanned by the
Queen and her husband. After the war was over, in the autumn of
1856, she visited the Queen at Balmoral. The entry in the Prince’s
diary is: “She put before us all the defects of our present military
hospital system. We are much pleased with her; she is extremely
modest.” Is it captious to wonder what they had expected her to be,
and if they were surprised to find that she was not a Madame Sans-
Gêne?
The letters of Dr. W. H. Russell in The Times first revealed to the
nation the frightful breakdown in our military organization. The
special correspondent became, from the date of the Crimean War, a
force to be reckoned with. Instead of the cut-and-dried official
despatches, concealing often more than revealing the truth, and
intended to lay before the public only just so much of the facts as
the military authorities thought it good for them to know, the special
correspondent publishes for all the world to read, a vivid daily
narrative of facts in which blunders and incompetence, when they
exist, are given quite as much prominence as good generalship and
victory. If England was disappointed at the evidence given of her
want of efficient military organization, Russia had much more cause
to be so. Russia had put her whole strength into her armaments;
she was nothing if not a great military power; but she was
everywhere unsuccessful. One of the most dramatic incidents during
the war was the death of the Czar, on March 2, 1855. It was said
that his disease was influenza, followed by congestion of the lungs;
but some people thought he might have been said to have died of a
broken heart. Punch’s cartoon, “General Février turned traitor,”
showing Death, in a general’s uniform, laying his icy hand on his
victim, will long be remembered.
The war fever which had fired the whole of England at the
beginning of the campaign perhaps led people to expect more than
was possible from the army. There was a bitter cry of anger and
disappointment that our military successes in the field were not
quickly followed up and taken advantage of by our generals, and
especially that the sufferings of our soldiers were needlessly
aggravated by the waste, incompetence, and utter muddle reigning
over the distribution of the food and stores. Lord Aberdeen, the
Prime Minister, was blamed; he had been dragged into the war, and
never really cordially approved it, it was said. Mr. Gladstone was
blamed; he was Chancellor of the Exchequer, and thought it his duty
to provide the war budget out of income; “penny wise and pound
foolish” was the comment on this. War is one of the things that
cannot be done cheap. These and other Ministers who were attacked
could defend themselves in Parliament; but the phials of public
wrath were more especially directed against the Prince, who for
months bore every kind of imputation and false accusation poured
out against him in the press, without having any opportunity of self-
defence. Even before the outbreak of the war, it had been said that
he was completely anti-English in his sympathies; that we, therefore,
had a traitor in our midst, able and willing to use his position on the
steps of the Throne to weaken and humiliate England. So diligently
were these false reports circulated in the press and by word of
mouth that they were the common topic of conversation all over
England. At one time a report was current, and was actually
believed, that the Prince had been impeached for high treason and
sent to the Tower. Thousands of people assembled outside to see his
entrance. If this had been the condition of the public mind before
the war began, it is not difficult to imagine that the disease of
suspicion and distrust broke out again after the beginning of
hostilities, when there was so much to criticise in the organization of
the War Department at home. The public wanted a victim, some one
to wreak their anger upon, and the Prince served them for this
purpose. Even so well informed a politician, and so able a man as
Mr. Roebuck, believed, and openly said to the Duke of Newcastle,
the War Minister, that of course every one knew that there was a
determination “in a high quarter” that the Crimean expedition should
not succeed. The Duke thought that the expression, “a high quarter,”
was directed against himself, and said so. “Oh, no,” answered Mr.
Roebuck, “I mean a much higher personage than you; I mean Prince
Albert.”
The Duke immediately endeavored to remove this entirely false
impression, and asked Mr. Roebuck if he were not aware that the
Queen had been ill with anxiety about her troops. The reply was that
no one doubted the Queen’s devotion to her country; that when
Lord Cardigan was at Windsor, one of the Royal children had said to
him, “You must hurry back to Sebastopol and take it, else it will kill
mamma.” Yet almost in the same breath Mr. Roebuck maintained
that the Prince was working behind the Queen’s back against the
efficient organization of the army, in order to prevent the success of
her troops.
An expression made use of by the Prince in a public speech,
towards the close of the Crimean War, June, 1855, has become
historical. He contrasted the autocratic power of the Czar of Russia,
characterized by unity of purpose and action, and when desirable by
secrecy, with the Parliamentary Government of the Queen, where
every movement of the army or navy, and every stage of every
diplomatic negotiation are publicly proclaimed, and have to be
explained and defended in Parliament; and he concluded by saying
that “Constitutional Government was on its trial,” and could only
come through it triumphantly if the country granted a patriotic and
indulgent confidence to the Ministry. This was twisted by the Prince’s
enemies into an attack on the principles of constitutionalism; but it
really was an appeal to the good sense and patriotism of the nation,
on which, at bottom, Parliamentary Government must rest.
The Tory and the Radical Press must share the blame of the
disgraceful attacks made upon the Prince. The Queen was bitterly
wounded by them. Greville, no courtier, as many former extracts
prove, said he never remembered anything more atrocious and
unjust than these savage libels. That they had been fostered by the
hostility between Palmerston and the Prince there can be no doubt.
One of the lies in circulation was that there was a pamphlet giving
authentic proofs of the Prince’s treachery to England, that the Prince
had bought up all the copies but six, which were in Palmerston’s
possession; whereupon the Prince had made his peace with
Palmerston, in order to secure the continued suppression of the
pamphlet. This called forth an authoritative denial in the columns of
The Morning Post from Lord Palmerston. It is probable that one
motive of the Queen in bestowing the title of Prince Consort upon
her husband in 1857, was to give a practical reply to these slanders.
It would have been well if this had been preceded by an action for
libel against the most conspicuous of the Prince’s traducers; this
would have given a chance of the real author of the libels being run
to earth.
The alliance with France during the Crimean War led to the
exchange of visits between the two Courts. The Queen and her
husband were quite captivated by the loveliness and charm of the
Empress Eugénie, and at first thought far better of the Emperor than
he deserved. He laid himself out with considerable adroitness to
please the Queen, and succeeded. The Emperor and Empress visited
the Queen at Windsor in April, 1855. During their visit to England a
grand fête was given in their honor at the Crystal Palace. The
Emperor lived in perpetual dread of assassination, and on this
occasion he appears to have communicated some of his nervous
apprehension to the Queen, who wrote in her diary:—
“Nothing could have succeeded better. Still I own I felt
anxious as we passed through the multitude of people
who, after all, were very close to us. I felt, as I walked on
the Emperor’s arm, that I was possibly a protection for
him. All thoughts of nervousness for myself were passed. I
only thought of him; and so it is, Albert says, when one
forgets one’s self, one loses this great and foolish
nervousness.”
Her Majesty’s courage and its source are well exemplified in this
passage.
The return visit of the Queen to Paris took place in the autumn of
the same year. She was accompanied by her husband and the Prince
of Wales and the Princess Royal. Some characteristic incidents
connected with the Queen’s visit to Paris ought to be mentioned,
especially that, although overflowing with friendliness and good
feeling to the Emperor, she thought it her duty to explain to him that
nothing could shake her kindly relations with the Orleans family. She
told him that she had been intimate with them when they were in
power, and she could not drop them when they were in adversity.
Possibly Louis Napoleon remembered this conversation in 1870,
when he himself was an exile in England, and experienced the
benefit of the Queen’s faithfulness to her friends when they were in
trouble. In this same conversation he opened the subject of his
confiscation of the property of the Orleans family, and the Queen
gave frank expression to her own views on the subject. The Queen
remarks in her diary:—
“I was very anxious to get out what I had to say on the
subject, and not to have this untouchable ground between
us. Stockmar, so far back as last winter, suggested and
advised that this course should be pursued.”
After these visits letters were frequently interchanged between the
two Sovereigns. In one of his, Louis Napoleon appears to have
plumed himself on the advantages of an absolute monarchy,
especially in conducting negotiations with other States, uncontrolled
power of decision vested in the Sovereign alone, and so on. To
which the Queen rejoined, “There is, however, another side to this
picture, in which I consider I have an advantage which your Majesty
has not. Your policy runs the risk of remaining unsupported by the
nation,” and you may be exposed “to the dangerous alternative of
either having to impose it upon them against their will, or of having
suddenly to alter your course abroad, or even, perhaps, to encounter
grave resistance. I, on the other hand, can allow my policy free
scope to work out its own consequences, certain of the steady and
consistent support of my people, who, having had a share in
determining my policy, feel themselves to be identified with it.” Here,
too, there was food for reflection on the Emperor’s part in after
years.
The Royal children greatly enjoyed their visit to Paris, and it is said
that when the time came for their departure the Prince of Wales
begged the Empress to get permission for him and the Princess
Royal to be left behind to prolong their visit. “The Empress said she
was afraid this would be impossible, as the Queen and the Prince
would not be able to do without them;” to which the boy replied,
“Not do without us! I don’t fancy that, for there are six more of us at
home, and they don’t want us.”
Very soon after the return of the Court to Balmoral (10th Sept.,
1855) the Queen and Prince had the intense satisfaction of hearing
of the fall of Sebastopol, an event which brought the end of the war
within measurable distance. Peace was concluded in the following
spring.
It was a source of great pride to the Queen to know that England
was stronger at the end of the Crimean War than at the beginning.
The country had learnt by its mistakes, and was not exhausted by its
sacrifices. The Indian Mutiny, which quickly succeeded the Crimean
War, found England more capable of dealing with it than if it had
taken place earlier. This was fully recognized by the Prince Consort.
If those who had accused him of an anti-English spirit could have
read his private letters they would have had their eyes opened. He
wrote to Stockmar August, 1857:—
“The events in India are a heavy domestic calamity for
England. Yet, just because of this, there is less reason to
despair, as the English people surpass all others in Europe
in energy and vigor of character: and for strong men
misfortune serves as a school for instruction and
improvement.”
The autumn of 1855 brought with it two interesting domestic
events for the Royal Family. The new house at Balmoral was
occupied for the first time; and, what was much more important, a
visit from Prince Frederick William of Prussia resulted in his
engagement to the Princess Royal. She was then under fifteen years
of age, and it was thought best that there should be no formal
betrothal, and no public announcement until after the Princess’s
confirmation in the following spring. The first break into the child-life
of a family, by the marriage of one of its members, is always an
event that awakens many emotions. The Queen and Prince were
thoroughly satisfied, and had cause to be, with their future son-in-
law; but the prospect of parting with their eldest child was a bitter
pill. The Prussian Prince was heartily in love, and went on year after
year, till his tragic death in 1888, becoming more and more a lover
and friend to his wife, whom he constantly spoke of as “the ablest
woman in Europe.” Lady Bloomfield, whose husband was, in 1855,
English Ambassador in Berlin, gives an account of the announcement
there by the King at a State dinner of the engagement between his
nephew and the English Princess. Lady Bloomfield says that the
Prince was in such high spirits, and looked so excessively happy, it
was a pleasure to see him. On their arrival in Germany, shortly after
their marriage, he telegraphed to the Queen at Windsor, “The whole
Royal Family is enchanted with my wife.—F. W.” On the occasion of
the Prince of Wales’s wedding, in 1863, the Prince of Prussia was
overflowing with praise of his wife. Bishop Wilberforce noted in his
diary on this occasion, “I was charmed with the Prince of Prussia,
and the warmth of his expressions as to his wife. ‘Bishop,’ he said,
‘with me it has been one long honeymoon.’”
The story of the betrothal, and how it was associated with the
giving and receiving of a piece of white heather, a proverbial emblem
of good luck, is very prettily told by Her Majesty in “Leaves from the
Journal in the Highlands.” The chief anxiety the parents had in the
matter was on account of the Princess’s extreme youth; but her
intellect and character were unusually developed, and she had, what
so often accompanies fine intellect, a child-like innocence and purity
of heart which specially endeared her to all in her home circle.
Prince Albert wrote at once to Stockmar to tell him the news:
“Victoria,” he wrote, “is greatly excited; still, all goes smoothly and
prudently. The Prince is really in love, and the little lady does her
best to please him.”
The engagement was not well received by an important section of
the English Press. So little could the writer of the articles read the
future, that Prussia was sneered at “as a paltry German dynasty,”
Prince Frederick William was described as being in “ignominious
attendance” on his “Imperial Master” the Czar, and it was predicted
that the Princess would become anti-English in feeling, and also,
with not much consistency, that she would be sent back to England
at no distant date, “an exile and a fugitive.” The ignorance of this
attack robbed it of its poignancy. Prince Frederick William and his
father were strongly in accord with the policy of England during the
Crimean War, and consequently very much out of favor at their own
Court and in St. Petersburg.
Prince Albert had always taken the keenest interest in directing
the education of his eldest daughter, and the fact that she was
probably destined to occupy in Prussia a position somewhat similar
to his own in England, strengthened the already strong bonds of
union between them. From the time of her engagement he worked
with her daily at historical subjects, and spared no pains to equip her
well for her future duties. She translated important political
pamphlets from German into English under his direction, and he took
undisguised fatherly pride in her capacity and in her widening
interests in life. An accident, which might have had very serious
consequences, happened to the Princess in 1856, which illustrated
her self-control and reliance on her father. As she was sealing a
letter she set fire to the muslin sleeve of her dress, and her right
arm was very badly burned; the wound was terrible to look at, as
the muslin was burnt into the flesh; it must have caused very severe
pain, but the Princess never lost her presence of mind or habitual
thoughtfulness for others. She did not utter a cry, and said: “Don’t
frighten mamma, send for papa first.” Her marriage took place on
January 25th, 1858. She was a very youthful bride, having only
lately completed her seventeenth year. Her first child, the present
Emperor William II., was born on January 27th, 1859. His birth
nearly cost the life of his young mother. The Queen’s daughter has
not had a bed of roses in her adopted country, any more than the
Queen’s husband had a bed of roses here. But in both cases cruel
misrepresentation on the part of a section of the public was more
than compensated by the loving appreciation and generous
confidence which marriage brought them. The Princess Royal and
the Prince Consort each had many a drop of bitterness in their cup;
but while he lived, Prince Frederick William was her faithful
worshipper, just as the Queen was and is of the Prince Consort.
On the day of the Princess Royal’s marriage the entry in the
Queen’s Diary runs:—
“The second most eventful day of my life as regards
feelings. I felt as if I were being married over again
myself, only much more nervous, for I had not that
blessed feeling which I had then, which raises and
supports one, of giving myself up for life to him whom I
loved and worshipped—then and ever!”
Speaking of the ceremony in the Chapel Royal, St. James’s, Her
Majesty adds:—
“The drums and trumpets played marches, and the
organ played others as the procession approached and
entered; ... the effect was thrilling and striking as you
heard the music gradually coming nearer and nearer. Fritz
looked pale and much agitated, but behaved with the
greatest self-possession, bowing to us, and then kneeling
down in a most devotional manner. Then came the bride’s
procession, and our darling Flower looked very touching
and lovely, with such an innocent, confident, and serious
expression. It was beautiful to see her kneeling with Fritz,
their hands joined.... My last fear of being overcome
vanished on seeing Vicky’s quiet, calm, and composed
manner.... Dearest Albert took her by the hand to give her
away, my beloved Albert (who, I saw, felt so strongly),
which reminded me vividly of having in the same way,
proudly, tenderly, confidently, most lovingly, knelt by him,
on this very same spot, and having our hands joined
there.”
The Queen and the Prince Consort both recalled the series of
important Royal marriages between German Princes and English
Princesses, beginning with the marriage of Princess Charlotte,
heiress to the throne, to Prince Leopold in 1816, then their own in
1840, and, lastly, of their child to the heir to the throne of Prussia, in
1858. The Prince Consort wrote on the wedding-day to the faithful
Stockmar:—
“My heart impels me to send you a line to-day, as I
cannot shake you by the hand. In a few hours our child
will be a wedded wife! a work in which you have had a
large share, and, I know, will take a cordial interest. It is
just eighteen years since you subscribed my marriage
contract, and were present in the same Chapel Royal at
my union with Victoria. Uncle Leopold, whom you, now
forty-two years ago, accompanied to London on the
occasion of his marriage, will, with myself, be one of the
bride’s supporters. These reminiscences must excite a
special feeling within you to-day, with which I hope is
coupled the conviction that we all gratefully revere in you
a dear friend and wise counsellor.”
On a bitter winter day, February 2nd, 1858, the Queen and Prince
bade farewell to their darling child on her departure for Germany.
The bride’s exclamation had been, “I think it will kill me to take leave
of dear papa.” Those who witnessed her departure through London
and at Gravesend spoke of her floods of tears, and many a
sympathizing thought went with the daughter of England to her new
home.
[28] The Duke of Wellington died in September, 1852, deeply
mourned by the Queen and her husband. The Queen wrote to her
uncle, “You will mourn with us over the loss we and the whole
nation have experienced in the death of the dear and great Duke
of Wellington.... He was the pride, and the good genius, as it
were, of this country, the most loyal and devoted subject, and the
stanchest supporter the Crown ever had. He was to us a true
friend and most valuable adviser.... We shall soon stand sadly
alone. Aberdeen is almost the only personal friend of that kind left
to us. Melbourne, Peel, Liverpool, now the Duke, all gone!”
[29] The only criticism ever made by Palmerston on the Turks
was that it was impossible to expect much energy from a people
who wore no heels to their shoes!
CHAPTER XIV.
A NATION OF SHOPKEEPERS.
England had hardly drawn breath from the Crimean War when she
was face to face with the Indian Mutiny. The first symptoms of the
outbreak were observed in February, 1857. By the summer of that
year it had attained appalling dimensions; but the gravity of the
calamity brought out the tenacity of the English character, and it was
gradually realized by the country that no effort and no sacrifice
would be too great in order to preserve intact our hold upon India.
The Queen realized this at a very early period, and urged upon the
Prime Minister the undesirability of reducing our military
establishments at a moment when India might require all our
strength. No protracted diplomatic labors, as in the case of the
Crimean War, were thrown upon the Sovereign by the Indian Mutiny.
The Queen’s duty was discharged by keeping a keen look-out upon
the development of the Mutiny, by encouraging the despatch of
ample military reinforcements for India, by cheering the civil and
military commanders there by her constant sympathy and
appreciation of their services, and, above all, when the Mutiny was
finally suppressed, by casting the weight of her influence and
authority in the scale of mercy, and of the policy which gained for
Lord Canning, the Governor-General, the nickname, intended in
contempt, but remembered now as a true title of honor, of
“Clemency Canning.”
Her Majesty wrote to Lord Canning fully approving of stern justice
being dealt out to all who had been guilty either of mutiny or of
complicity in the terrible outrages against women and children, but
strongly supporting him in his brave and determined opposition to
vindictive fury against the natives at large, in which too many of the
English in India were tempted to indulge.
When the worst of the Mutiny was over, August, 1858, and an Act
had been passed transferring the Government of India from the East
India Company to the Crown, the time had arrived for the issue of a
Royal Proclamation to the inhabitants of India. The draft of this
Proclamation reached the Queen when she was paying her first visit
to her newly married daughter in Prussia. It will throw a little light
on those who think that the function of a Sovereign in a
Constitutional monarchy is simply to indorse everything submitted by
the Ministers, to learn that the Queen on reading this draft felt that
neither in spirit nor in language was it appropriate to the occasion.
Her objections were set forth in detail to Lord Malmesbury, who was
the Minister-in-Attendance, and the following letter was written by
the Queen to the Prime Minister, Lord Derby:—
Babelsberg, 15th Aug., 1858.
The Queen has asked Lord Malmesbury to explain in
detail to Lord Derby her objections to the draft of the
Proclamation for India. The Queen would be glad if Lord
Derby would write it himself in his excellent language,
bearing in mind that it is a small Sovereign who speaks to
more than a hundred millions of Eastern people on
assuming the direct Government over them, and, after a
bloody civil war, giving them pledges which her future
reign is to redeem, and explaining the principles of her
Government. Such a document should breathe feelings of
generosity, benevolence, and religious toleration, and
point out the privileges which the Indians will receive in
being placed on an equality with the subjects of the British
Crown, and the prosperity following in the train of
civilization.
Lord Malmesbury’s memorandum which accompanied this letter
goes more into detail. Referring to the draft of which Her Majesty
had disapproved, Lord Malmesbury remarks that she had specially
objected to the expression that she had the “power of undermining”
the Indian religions. “Her Majesty would prefer that the subject
should be introduced by a declaration in the sense that the deep
attachment which Her Majesty feels to her own religion, and the
comfort and happiness which she derives from its consolations, will
preclude her from any attempt to interfere with the native religions,
and that her servants will be directed to act scrupulously in
accordance with her directions.”
It is impossible to imagine a better example than this gives of the
value of the influence of a truly womanly woman upon political
affairs. The amended Proclamation gave great satisfaction to Lord
Canning, and materially aided him in his difficult task of conciliation.
He wrote:—
“To the good effect of the words in which religion is
spoken of in the Proclamation, Lord Canning looks forward
with very sanguine hope. It is impossible that the justice,
charity, and kindliness, as well as the true wisdom which
mark these words, should not be appreciated.”
If a mere handful of Englishmen are to continue to hold the two
hundred millions of the various native populations of India, they
cannot do so by mere brute force, but only by convincing the leaders
of the people that the English Government is actuated by feelings of
“justice, charity, and kindliness” towards them. The Queen’s
Proclamation produced the best effect in India. The Times
correspondent, writing upon it, said: “Genuineness of Asiatic feeling
is always a problem, but I have little doubt it is in this instance
tolerably sincere. The people understand an ‘Empress,’ and did not
understand the Company;” he adds that the general opinion among
the masses was “that the Queen had hanged the Company!” We
have here an example of the informal use of the title “Empress,” the
formal adoption of which caused so much excitement and opposition
in 1876. It is possible, however, that from the time of the passing of
the Government of India Act, 1858, Mr. Disraeli bore it in mind as an
addition he would make to the Queen’s titles when a favorable
opportunity offered. In 1858, when he was Chancellor of the
Exchequer, he wrote to the Queen on the progress of the
Government of India Bill through the House of Commons, and said,
“But it is only the ante-chamber of an imperial palace, and your
Majesty would do well to deign to consider the steps which are now
necessary to influence the opinions and affect the imaginations of
the Indian populations. The name of your Majesty ought to be
impressed upon their native life.”
The immediate carrying out of the scheme here hinted at was
rendered impossible in consequence of the change of Ministry which
took place in the following year; but eighteen years later, when
Disraeli was Prime Minister, he gave effect to this project as part of a
large scheme for bringing home to the Sovereign and her people in
every part of the world that England had ceased to be a “little world,
a precious stone set in the silver sea,” and had expanded into a
gigantic empire.
But the time for this had not come in 1858 and 1859, when affairs
nearer home became again of engrossing interest.
The years which immediately succeeded the Crimean War are full
of evidence of the growing distrust of Louis Napoleon felt by the
Queen and her husband. He had succeeded at the beginning of their
intercourse in producing the impression on them of perfect
frankness; but by 1859 they had discovered that he was “born and
bred a conspirator,” and that through all the changes and vicissitudes
of life he would ever be scheming and suspicious. Their eyes must
have been opened to his real character by the quality of the people
by whom he was served and surrounded. Throughout France, with
very few exceptions, honest men and women held aloof from him.
Greville speaks of the crowd which formed his Court as being more
“encanaillées” than ever. The Prince Consort saw and lamented this,
and endeavored to convince him that no Sovereign could be great
without the aid of great Ministers. But great Ministers were not to be
had for the asking. Louis Napoleon had so little confidence in his
accredited representatives that in matters of first-class importance
they were set on one side, and the business was conducted by the
Emperor in person. This was not astonishing, as honest men mostly
declined to serve him; he had to do as best he could with inferior
material, and naturally could not rely on it in moments of
emergency.
Little by little the true character of Louis Napoleon was revealed to
the Queen, and under these circumstances it is easy to understand
that though the social intercourse between the two Sovereigns was
not abruptly cut short, yet it became very constrained and uneasy.
The Queen and Prince paid two visits to Cherbourg: the first was in
1857, and was entirely private and informal; the Royal couple were
accompanied by six of their children, and the main object of the visit
was holiday-making: but their diaries and letters contain significant
observations upon the great strength of the Cherbourg fortifications,
and the Queen, with her habitual openness, said it made her “very
unhappy” to see the enormous strength and size of the forts; while
the Prince, in more diplomatic language, says the gigantic strength
of the place had given him “grave cause for reflection.” They went
home very strongly impressed by the necessity of increasing our
strength both by sea and land, so that it might not compare so very
disadvantageously with that of our valued ally. Their second visit to
Cherbourg was in the following year, 1858, and was a grand
ceremonial; they were received by the Emperor and Empress in
state, nine line-of-battle ships were drawn up along the breakwater,
and all the ugly forts which dominate the harbor belched forth
volleys of gunpowder in their honor, and also perhaps to
demonstrate afresh the extent and strength of the fortifications. It
does not seem to have been a gay visit; the Emperor was
embarrassed, “boutonné and silent and not ready to talk” the Queen
wrote, while the Prince observed, “Empress looks ill: he is out of
humor.” When the inevitable time for speech-making came, and the
Prince Consort had to return thanks for the toast of the Queen’s and
his own health, Her Majesty writes that it was a dreadful moment,
which she hoped never to have to go through again. “He did it very
well, though he hesitated once. I sat shaking, with my eyes cloués
sur la table.” The Emperor and Empress were both very nervous, and
the Queen shook so she could not drink her coffee. The reception
given to the Queen was magnificent and uncomfortable in the
highest possible degree. One flight of rockets, a mere incident in a
grand display of fireworks, was said to have cost 25,000 francs.
From first to last, the fête was organized with regard to the highest
possible degree of expense. The Queen and Prince were more than
ever impressed that the strength of Cherbourg was a menace to
England, and called the attention of their own Ministers, who were in
attendance, to the obvious necessity for England to look more
sharply to her coast and naval defences. How thankful Her Majesty
must have been when the end of each day’s festivity was reached!
Even in the diary the mere words form a little oasis, “At twenty
minutes to ten we went below, and read and nearly finished that
most interesting book, ‘Jane Eyre.’”
The alarm felt by the Queen and Prince as to the hostile intentions
of Louis Napoleon towards England were fully shared by the nation.
After the attempt by Orsini, early in 1858, to assassinate the
Emperor by the explosion of bombs under his carriage as it was
approaching the Opera House, England was accused of having
harbored the conspirators, and with having thereby encouraged their
crime. It was true that Orsini had come direct from England, and
though this did not make England responsible for him, yet some
irritation on the part of France was quite excusable. This expression
of irritation, however, passed all reasonable bounds. The Emperor
received a large number of addresses from Colonels in the French
army congratulating him on his escape; and these addresses, which
were published at full in the official organ of the French Government,
were, in many instances, full of clamorous demands for war with
England. One of these effusions spoke of England as “the land of
impurity, which contains the haunts of monsters which are sheltered
by its laws;” another requested the Emperor to give the word, and
the “infamous haunt in which machinations so infernal are
planned”—that is, London—“should be destroyed forever.”
England’s answer was the Volunteer movement, and the dismissal
from office of Lord Palmerston’s Government, because it was
believed to have been too subservient to the demands of France.
The series of events of 1857 and 1858 were a very curious
episode in our political history. The general election of 1857 had
been in the nature of a personal triumph for Palmerston. The cry
had been “Palmerston, and nothing but Palmerston;” and he had
carried everything before him. Within the ranks of the Liberal party
all his leading opponents, Bright and Cobden representing the
Manchester School, lost their seats. But in less than a year the
seemingly all-powerful Minister was defeated because he had not
maintained with sufficient dignity the honor and independence of
England. “Old Civis Romanus,” as he had been nicknamed, was said
to have retreated ignominiously; the British Lion was depicted with
his tail between his legs. There was a strong outburst of
dissatisfaction; for once Palmerston had not been sufficiently
pugnacious: his Government was swept away, and was replaced by
that of Lord Derby.
The Queen and Prince from the first took an immense interest in
the Volunteers; they had always anxiously watched the relatively
small military strength of England, and had urged on successive
Governments the overwhelming importance of not allowing it to sink
to a level incompatible with national security. The spontaneous
growth of a great service for internal defence gave them, therefore,
peculiar satisfaction, as affording evidence that at heart the spirit of
the country was as sound as it had been in the days of the Armada.
The Queen reviewed the English Volunteers in Hyde Park in June,
1860. The cheering was so tremendous that Her Majesty was quite
overcome. She inaugurated the National Rifle Association in the
following month; and she reviewed the Scottish Volunteers on
Arthur’s Seat in August of the same year.
It was a splendid sight; 22,000 magnificent men, the flower of a
hardy and spirited race; the surrounding amphitheatre of the hillside
crowded with a cheering multitude: no wonder that the Queen was
thrilled with pride and thankfulness. The Duchess of Kent was with
her daughter; the Queen writes that she was so delighted, “dear
mamma could be present at this memorable and never-to-be-
forgotten occasion.” It was the last time they were together at any
public ceremonial.
Lord Tennyson interpreted the national feeling by his song,
“Riflemen, form!” and the lines—
“True, we have got such a faithful ally
That only the Devil can tell what he means”—
exactly describe the sentiments of most Englishmen towards Louis
Napoleon. It was said that a foreigner expressed surprise at the
military spirit displayed at one of these Volunteer reviews, and said
he had understood that the English were a nation of shopkeepers. A
jolly countryman replied, “So they are, Moosoo; and these are the
boys that keep the shop!”
The Volunteer movement has proved no mere flash in the pan,
caused by a sudden explosion of passing irritation. It has grown and
strengthened, and now, after twenty-six years of existence, it adds
more than 200,000 men to the internal defences of the country. The
annual meeting of the National Rifle Association has furnished proof
to the world that the Volunteer force contains a body of skilled
marksmen, who, under able generalship, might turn the scale in
many a battle.
CHAPTER XV.
THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH.
The year 1861 closed the book of the happy wedded life of the
Queen. The hand of death lay heavy upon her, and took from her
first her mother, and then her husband. The death of her mother
was her first very great sorrow. Her half-brother, Prince Charles of
Leiningen, had died in 1856; but his life and hers, during his latter
years, had lain very much apart, and though she mourned him
deeply and truly, he had not made part of her life, and his death
could not be to her what the death of her mother was, who had
watched over her from childhood, and with whom she passed part of
almost every day; still less could it bring the loneliness and
desolation in which the Queen was left by the death of her husband,
“her dearest life in life,” as she had called him.
The Duchess of Kent died in March, 1861. There is no consolation
in being told that such a loss is common. It is not common to the
heart that has to bear it. The Queen felt, as all must feel when death
takes from them a beloved parent, that part of her life was gone
which nothing could restore. She wrote in the diary so often quoted:
—
“How awful! How mysterious! But what a blessed end!
Her gentle spirit at rest, her sufferings over! But I—I,
wretched child—who had lost the mother I so tenderly
loved, from whom for these forty-one years I had never
been parted except for a few weeks, what was my case?
My childhood—everything seemed to crowd upon me at
once. I seemed to have lived through a life, to have
become old! What I had dreaded and fought off the idea
of for years, had come, and must be borne. The blessed
future meeting, and her peace and rest, must
henceforward be my comfort.”
In a letter to her uncle, the King of the Belgians, now the last
survivor of his generation, the Queen wrote that she felt “so truly
orphaned.” The Queen was sustained in her sorrow by the tender
sympathy of her husband and of her daughter, the Princess Alice,
whose strong and beautiful character, already well known in her
home circle, was to be revealed to the nation a few months later.
The Princess was now entering on womanhood, and had recently
been betrothed to Prince Louis of Hesse, nephew of the reigning
Grand Duke. After her lamented death in 1878, a volume, with
extracts from her letters to the Queen, was published as a memorial.
In these she repeatedly recurs to the fact that when the Duchess of
Kent died, the Prince Consort took his daughter by the hand and led
her to the Queen, and told her she “must comfort mamma.” A few
months later, when the place in the Palace of the husband and
father was vacant, the Princess recalled these words, and accepted
them as a sacred trust and bequest. She nobly justified the
confidence her father had reposed in her. In this earlier bereavement
it was her office to comfort and sustain the Queen, who wrote:
“Dear, good Alice was full of intense feeling, tenderness, and distress
for me; she, and all of them, loved ‘grandmamma’ so dearly.”
The Queen and Prince appreciated fully all that the former had
owed to her mother,—the watchful vigilance and wisdom with which,
from the date of her husband’s death, in 1820, the Duchess had
devoted herself to the one object of preparing her baby daughter for
the great future which awaited her. Stockmar had been her friend
from the hour of her bereavement; it was from him that she learned
that the illness of her husband could have no other than a fatal
termination; he had stood by her through the long years of her
loneliness, surrounded as she was by difficulties, jealousies, and
misrepresentations; he had always appreciated her warm heart and
innate truthfulness. He wrote of her that “she was by sheer natural
instinct truthful, affectionate, and friendly, unselfish, sympathetic,
and even magnanimous.” All these testimonies to her worth were
recalled now with gratitude and love by the sorrowing Queen. She
was deprived of one solace which she might have had, the presence
of her half-sister, Princess Feodore of Hohenlohe, the only other
surviving child of the Duchess. She had recently been left a widow
(April, 1860), and could not leave Germany.
Lady Augusta Bruce (afterwards Lady Augusta Stanley) had been
one of the Duchess’s ladies-in-waiting, and had been almost a
daughter to her in love, and more than her own daughter could be
in tender, watchful service. The Queen now transferred Lady
Augusta to her own household, nominally as Resident Bed-Chamber
Woman, really as assistant secretary; and from this time a very
strong bond of affection was established between them, which was
unbroken until Lady Augusta’s death. The Queen also received help
and consolation from the presence of her eldest daughter, the
Princess Royal, who hurried to her parents on hearing of their loss.
But notwithstanding all consolations, the Queen’s heart was very
sore, and her faithful, tender nature is one which clings with
tenacious gratitude to the memory of precious friends hid in death’s
dateless night. Eleven years after her mother’s death, Her Majesty’s
journal for the 17th August, 1872, has the following entry: “Beloved
mamma’s birthday. That dear mother, so loving and tender and full
of kindness! How often I long for that love!” The Queen did not
attend her mother’s funeral. “I and my girls,” she wrote, “prayed at
home.” A special trial belonging to the position of Royalty must be its
isolation. No subject can be on terms of equality with a Sovereign;
crowned heads are therefore thrown almost wholly on their own
immediate families for that life-giving sympathy and criticism which
can hardly exist in perfection except between equals. To the Queen
the loss of her mother, followed by the loss of her husband, brought
the silencing of the only voices in the world who could say to her, in
love, “You have been wrong, you have made a mistake.” Consider
what it must be never to hear any language except that of homage
and respect, never to listen to plain truths put plainly, never to be
laughed at, seldom to be laughed with; and then imagine what it
must be to lose the few who belong to that close inner circle for