The cruelty of the times is shown in the case of an unfortunate
sempstress who tried to earn a living by making shirts for
three-halfpence each. Once, when she had been robbed of her earnings,
she tried to drown herself. The inhuman magistrate before whom she
was brought told her that she had "no hope of mercy in this world."
It was after hearing of this from Charles Dickens that Thomas Hood
wrote the well-known "Song of the Shirt":
Work--work--work!
From weary chime to chime,
Work--work--work
As prisoners work for crime!
Band, and gusset, and seam,
Seam, and gusset, and band,
Till the heart is sick, and the brain benumbed,
As well as the weary hand.
The age might well take to heart the lesson taught by the great-souled
writer--that the two chief enemies of the times were Ignorance and
Want.
The lot of the unfortunate children in the Union Workhouses was no
better. They were treated rather worse than animals, with no sympathy
or kindness, owing to the ignorance of those who were set in authority
over them. Any one who reads _Oliver Twist_ may learn the nature of
the life led by the 'pauper' children in those 'good old days.'
"The members of this board were very sage, deep, philosophical men;
and when they came to turn their attention to the workhouse, they
found out at once, what ordinary folks would never have
discovered--the poor people liked it! It was a regular place of
public entertainment for the poorer classes; a tavern where there
was nothing to pay; a public breakfast, dinner, tea, and supper all
the year round; a brick and mortar elysium, where it was all play
and no work. 'Oho!' said the board, looking very knowing, 'we are
the fellows to set this to rights; we'll stop it all, in no time.'
So, they established the rule, that all poor people should have the
alternative (for they would compel nobody, not they) of being starved
by a gradual process in the house, or by a quick one out of it. With
this view, they contracted with the waterworks to lay on an unlimited
supply of water; and with a corn-factor to supply periodically small
quantities of oatmeal; and issued three meals of thin gruel a day,
with an onion twice a week, and half a roll on Sundays. . . . Relief
was inseparable from the workhouse and the gruel; and that frightened
people."
A movement which helped, possibly far more than any other, to better
the lot of the children of the Poor commenced with the foundation
of the Ragged School Union, of which the Queen became the patroness.
Out of this sprang a small army of agencies for well-doing.
Commencing only with evening schools, which soon proved insufficient,
the founders established day schools, with classes for exercise and
industrial training: children were sent to our colonies where they
would have a better chance of making a fair start in life; training
ships, cripples' homes, penny banks, holiday homes followed, and
from these again the numerous Homes and Orphanages which entitle us
to call the Victorian Age the Age of Kindness to Children.
Charles Dickens took the keenest interest in the work of the Ragged
Schools. A letter from Lord Shaftesbury quoted in his Life gives a
clear idea of the marvellous work they had accomplished up to the
year 1871:
"After a period of 27 years, from a single school of five small
infants, the work has grown into a cluster of some 300 schools, an
aggregate of nearly 30,000 children, and a body of 3000 voluntary
teachers, most of them the sons and daughters of toil. . . . Of more
than 300,000 children, which, on the most moderate calculation, we
have a right to conclude have passed through these schools since
their commencement, I venture to affirm that more than 100,000 of
both sexes have been placed out in various ways--in emigration, in
the marine, in trades and in domestic service. For many consecutive
years I have contributed prizes to thousands of the scholars; and
let no one omit to call to mind what these children were, whence they
came, and whither they were going without this merciful intervention.
They would have been added to the perilous swarm of the wild, the
lawless, the wretched, and the ignorant, instead of being, as by
God's blessing they are, decent and comfortable, earning an honest
livelihood, and adorning the community to which they belong."
Dickens believed, first of all, in teaching children cleanliness and
decency before attempting anything in the form of education. "Give
him, and his," he said, "a glimpse of heaven through a little of its
light and air; give them water; help them to be clean; lighten the
heavy atmosphere in which their spirits flag and which makes them
the callous things they are . . . and then, but not before, they will
be brought willingly to hear of Him whose thoughts were so much with
the wretched, and who had compassion for all human sorrow."
CHAPTER VIII: _Ministering Women_
Honour to those whose words or deeds
Thus help us in our daily needs;
And by their overflow
Raise us from what is low!
LONGFELLOW
No account of the reign of Queen Victoria would be complete without
some reference to the achievements of women, more especially when
their work has had for its chief end and aim the alleviation of
suffering. Woman has taken a leading part in the campaign which has
been and is now being ceaselessly carried on against the forces of
sin, ignorance, and want.
In the early years of Victoria's reign the art of sick-nursing was
scarcely known at all. The worst type of nurse is vividly pictured
for us by Charles Dickens in _Martin Chuzzlewit_:
"She was a fat old woman, this Mrs Gamp, with a husky voice and a
moist eye, which she had a remarkable power of turning up, and only
showing the white of it. Having very little neck, it cost her some
trouble to look over herself, if one may say so, at those to whom
she talked. She wore a very rusty black gown, rather the worse for
snuff, and a shawl and bonnet to correspond. In these dilapidated
articles of dress she had, on principle, arrayed herself, time out
of mind on such occasions as the present; . . . The face of Mrs
Gamp--the nose in particular--was somewhat red and swollen, and it
was difficult to enjoy her society without becoming conscious of a
smell of spirits."
For a long time, though it had been recognized that the care of the
sick was woman's work, no special training was required from those
undertaking it. Florence Nightingale did away with all such wrong
ideas. In a letter on the subject of training she wrote: "I would
say also to all young ladies who are called to any particular vocation,
qualify yourselves for it, as a man does for his work. Don't think
you can undertake it otherwise. . . . If you are called to man's work,
do not exact a woman's privileges--the privilege of inaccuracy,
of weakness, ye muddle-heads. Submit yourselves to the rules of
business, as men do, by which alone you can make God's business
succeed; for He has never said that He will give His success and His
blessing to inefficiency, to sketchy and unfinished work."
She prepared herself for her life's work by years of hard study and
ten years' training, visiting all the best institutions in Germany,
France, and Italy. She gave up a life of ease and comfort in order
to develop her natural gift to the utmost.
Her opportunity was not long in coming. In 1854 the Crimean War broke
out. Most of the generals in the English army were old men whose
experience of actual warfare dated back to the early days of the
century. Everything was hopelessly mismanaged from the beginning.
In August the English and French allied forces moved against the
fortress of Sebastopol, from which Russia was threatening an attack
on Constantinople. Troops were landed in a hostile country without
the means of moving them away again; there was little or no provision
made to transport food, baggage, or medical stores.
After the victory of Alma Lord Raglan marched on to Balaclava, and
here the transport utterly broke down. The soldiers, in addition to
undertaking hard fighting, were forced to turn themselves into
pack-mules and tramp fourteen miles through the mud in the depth of
winter in order to obtain food and warm blankets for their comrades
and themselves. Their condition rapidly became terrible. Their
clothing wore to rags, their boots--mostly of poor quality--gave out
entirely. Their food--such as it was--consisted of biscuit, salt
beef or pork, and rum.
No vegetables could be obtained, and for want of green food scurvy
broke out among the troops. Stores were left decaying in the holds
of transports, and the doctors were forced to see men dying before
their eyes without the means of helping them. The loss of life from
the actual fighting was considerable, but more particularly so from
the insanitary condition of the camp and the wretched hospital
arrangements.
The actual figures of our losses in the war speak for themselves.
Out of a total loss of 20,656, only 2598 fell in battle; 18,058 died
from other causes in hospital. Several regiments lost nearly all
their men, and during the first seven months of the siege men died
so fast that in a year and a half no army would have been left at
all.
William Russell, the special correspondent of _The Times_, first
brought this appalling state of affairs to the notice of the public,
and the nation at last woke up. A universal outburst of indignation
forced ministers to act, and to act quickly.
Stores were hurried to the front; fresh troops were sent out to
relieve the almost exhausted remnants of the army, and on the 21st
October Florence Nightingale, with a band of nurses, set sail; she
arrived on the very eve of the Battle of Inkerman.
Within a few months of her arrival it is estimated that she had no
fewer than ten thousand sick men in her charge, and the rows of beds
in one hospital alone measured two and one-third miles in length.
Her influence over the rough soldiers was extraordinary; one of them
said of her: "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."
Out of chaos she made order, and there were no more complaints of
waste and inefficiency. She never quitted her post until the war was
at an end, and on her return to England she received a national
welcome. She was received by the Queen and presented with a jewel
in commemoration of her work, and no less than fifty thousand pounds
was subscribed by the nation, a sum which was presented by Miss
Nightingale to the hospitals to defray the expenses of training
nurses.
[Illustration: Florence Nightingale]
Since this time no war between civilized peoples has taken place
without trained nurses being found in the ranks of both armies, and
at the Convention of Geneva, some years later, it was agreed that
in time of war all ambulances, military hospitals, etc., should be
regarded as neutral, and that doctors and nurses should be considered
as non-combatants. Nursing rapidly became a profession, and from the
military it spread to the civil hospitals, which were used as
training schools for all who took up the work.
Florence Nightingale's advice was sought by the Government and
freely given upon every matter which affected the health of the
people, and it is entirely owing to her influence and example that
speedy reforms were carried out, especially in the army.
Her noble work was celebrated by Longfellow, in his poem "Santa
Filomena," often better known as "The Lady with the Lamp":
Thus thought I, as by night I read
Of the great army of the dead,
The trenches cold and damp,
The starved and frozen camp,
The wounded from the battle-plain,
In dreary hospitals of pain,
The cheerless corridors,
The cold and stony floors.
Lo! in that house of misery
A lady with a lamp I see
Pass through the glimmering gloom,
And flit from room to room.
And slow, as in a dream of bliss,
The speechless sufferer turns to kiss
Her shadow, as it falls
Upon the darkening walls.
The Queen followed the course of the war with painful interest. "This
is a terrible season of mourning and sorrow," she wrote; "how many
mothers, wives, sisters, and children are bereaved at this moment.
Alas! It is that awful accompaniment of war, disease, which is
so much more to be dreaded than the fighting itself." And again, after
a visit to Chatham: "Four hundred and fifty of my dear, brave, noble
heroes I saw, and, thank God, upon the whole, all in a very
satisfactory state of recovery. Such patience and resignation,
courage, and anxiety to return to their service. Such fine men!"
Many acts had been passed in previous reigns to improve the
disgraceful state of the prisons in this country, but it was left
to a band of workers, mostly Quakers, led by Elizabeth Fry, to bring
about any real improvement. Any one who wishes to read what dens of
filth and hotbeds of infection prisons were at this time need only
read the account of the Fleet prison in the _Pickwick Papers_ and
of the Marshalsea in _Little Dorrit_.
Reform proved at first to be a very slow and difficult matter. New
laws passed in 1823 and 1824 insisted upon cleanliness and regular
labour for all prisoners; chaplains and matrons for female prisoners
were appointed. The public, however, got the idea--as in the case
of workhouses--that things were being made too comfortable for the
inmates, and the Society for the Improvement of Prison Discipline
was bitterly attacked.
Mrs Fry had started work in Newgate Prison, then justly considered
to be the worst of all the bad prisons in the country. The condition
of the women and children was too dreadful to describe, and she felt
that the only way to introduce law and decency into this 'hell upon
earth' was by influencing the children.
She founded a school in the prison, and it was not long before there
was a marked improvement in the appearance and behaviour of both the
children and the women.
The success of her work attracted public attention, and a Committee
of the House of Commons was appointed to inquire into the condition
of the London prisons. Mrs Fry was called upon to give evidence, and
she recommended several improvements, _e.g._ that prisoners should
be given some useful work to do, that rewards should be given for
good behaviour, and that female warders should be appointed.
She visited other countries in order to study foreign prison systems,
and her work in the prisons led her to consider what could be done
to improve the condition of the unfortunate women who were
transported as convicts. She succeeded in improving matters so much
that female warders were provided on board ship, and proper
accommodation and care on their arrival at their destination.
Even such a tender-hearted man and friend of the poor as Thomas Hood,
author of "Song of the Shirt," misunderstood Mrs Fry's aims, for in
a poem called "A Friendly Address to Mrs Fry," he wrote:
No--I will be your friend--and, like a friend,
Point out your very worst defect--Nay, never
Start at that word! But I _must_ ask you why
You keep your school _in_ Newgate, Mrs Fry?
Your classes may increase, but I must grieve
Over your pupils at their bread and waters!
Oh, though it cost you rent--(and rooms run high)--
Keep your school _out_ of Newgate, Mrs Fry!
In the face of domestic sorrows and misfortunes, Mrs Fry persevered
until the day of her death in 1845 in working for the good of others.
The work in this direction was continued by Mary Carpenter, whose
father was the headmaster of a Bristol school. She began her life's
work after a severe outbreak of cholera in Bristol in 1832. At this
time there were practically no reformatory or industrial schools in
the country, and Mary Carpenter set to work with some friends to found
an institution near Bristol. She worked to save children--especially
those whose lives were spent in the midst of sin and wickedness--from
becoming criminals, and in order to bring this about she aimed at
making their surroundings as homelike and cheerful as possible.
She even helped to teach the children herself, as she found great
difficulty in finding good assistants. She wished to convince the
Government that her methods were right, and so persuade them to set
up schools of a similar kind throughout the country.
The great Lord Shaftesbury was her chief supporter, but it was not
until the year 1854 that Mary Carpenter succeeded in her desire, when
a Bill was passed establishing reformatory schools. From this time
her influence rapidly increased, and it is mainly owing to her
efforts that at the present day such precautions are taken to reform
young criminals on the sound principle of "prevention is better than
cure."
Mary Carpenter also visited India no fewer than four times in order
to arouse public opinion there to the need for the better education
of women, and at a later date she went to America, where she had many
warm friends and admirers. She had, as was only natural, been keenly
interested in the abolition of negro slavery.
One of the most distinguished women in literature during the
Victorian Age was Harriet Martineau. At an early age it was evident
that she was gifted beyond the ordinary, and at seven years old she
had read Milton's "Paradise Lost" and learnt long portions of it by
heart.
Her health was extremely poor; she suffered as a child from imaginary
terrors which she describes in her Autobiography, and she gradually
became deaf. She bore this affliction with the greatest courage and
cheerfulness, but misfortunes followed one another in rapid
succession. Her elder brother died of consumption, her father lost
large sums of money in business, and the grief and anxiety so preyed
upon his mind that he died, leaving his family very badly off.
This, and the loss later on of the little money they had left, only
served to strengthen Miss Martineau's purpose. She studied and wrote
until late in the night, and after her first success in literature,
when she won all three prizes offered by the Unitarian body for an
essay, she set to work on a series of stories which were to illustrate
such subjects as the effect of machinery upon wages, free trade, etc.
After the manuscript had been refused by numerous publishers, she
succeeded in getting it accepted, and the book proved an
extraordinary success.
She moved to London, and her house soon became the centre where the
best of literature and politics could always be discussed. She was
consulted even by Cabinet Ministers, but in spite of all the praise
and adulation she remained quite unspoiled.
The idea of women taking part in public movements was still not
altogether pleasing to the majority of people, who were apt to look
upon 'learned' women as 'Blue-stockings,' a name first used in
England in the previous century in rather a contemptuous way.
Come, let us touch the string,
And try a song to sing,
Though this is somewhat difficult at starting, O!
And in our case more than ever,
When a desperate endeavour,
Is made to sing the praise of Harry Martineau!
Of bacon, eggs, and butter,
Rare philosophy she'll utter;
Not a thing about your house but she'll take part in, O!
As to mine, with all my soul,
She might take (and pay) the whole--
But that is all my eye and Harry Martineau!
Her political economy
Is as true as Deuteronomy;
And the monster of Distress she sticks a dart in, O!
Yet still he stalks about,
And makes a mighty rout,
But that we hope's my eye and Harry Martineau!
In 1835 she visited the United States, and here she was able to study
the question of slavery. She joined the body of the 'Abolitionists,'
and as a result was attacked from all sides with the utmost fury,
for the Northern States stood solid against abolition. But she
remained unmoved in her opinion, and when in 1862 the great Civil
War broke out, her writings were the means of educating public
opinion. It was largely due to her that this country did not foolishly
support the secession of the Southern States from the Union.
During a period of five years she was a complete invalid, and some
of her best books, including her well-known stories for children,
_Feats on the Fiord_ and _The Crofton Boys_, were written in that
time.
After her recovery her life was busier than ever. She wrote articles
for the daily papers, but her chief pleasure lay in devising schemes
for improving the lot of her poorer neighbours. She organized evening
lectures for the people, and founded a Mechanics' Institute and a
building society.
During her life-time she was the acknowledged leader on all moral
questions, especially those which affected the lives of women.
"It has always been esteemed our special function as women," she said,
"to mount guard over society and social life--the spring of national
existence."
CHAPTER IX: _Balmoral_
It was in Balmoral Castle that the husband and wife most loved to
be with their children. Here they could lead a simple life free from
all restraints, "small house, small rooms, small establishment. . . .
There are no soldiers, and the whole guard of the Sovereign consists
of a single policeman, who walks about the grounds to keep off
impertinent intruders and improper characters. . . . The Prince
shoots every morning, returns to luncheon, and then they walk or
drive. The Queen is running in and out of the house all day long,
and often goes about alone, walks into the cottages, and chats with
the old women."
The Queen loved her life here even more than the Prince, and every
year she yearned for it more and more. "It is not alone the pure air,
the quiet and beautiful scenery, which makes it so delightful," she
wrote; "it is the atmosphere of loving affection, and the hearty
attachment of the people around Balmoral which warms the heart and
does one good."
It was during the year 1848 that the royal couple paid their first
visit to Balmoral. The Queen had long wished to possess a home of
her own in the Highlands where her husband could indulge in some
outdoor sport, and where they both could enjoy a brief rest, from
time to time, from the anxiety and care of State affairs.
Their life there during the years 1848-61 is described by the Queen
in her diary, _Leaves from the Journal of our Life in the Highlands_.
It was first published after the Prince's death and was dedicated
to him in the words: "To the dear memory of him who made the life
of the writer bright and happy, these simple records are lovingly
and gratefully inscribed."
The first impressions were very favourable: "It is a pretty little
castle in the old Scottish style. There is a picturesque tower and
garden in front, with a high wooded hill; at the back there is wood
down to the Dee; and the hills rise all around."
Their household was, naturally, a small one, consisting of the
Queen's Maid of Honour, the Prince's valet, a cook, a footman, and
two maids. Among the outdoor attendants was John Brown, who in 1858
was attached to the Queen as one of her regular attendants everywhere
in the Highlands, and remained in her service until his death. "He
has all the independence and elevated feelings peculiar to the
Highland race, and is singularly straightforward, simple-minded,
kind-hearted and disinterested; always ready to oblige; and of a
discretion rarely to be met with."
The old castle soon proved to be too small for the family, and in
September 1853 the foundation-stone of a new house was laid. After
the ceremony the workmen were entertained at dinner, which was
followed by Highland games and dancing in the ballroom.
Two years later they entered the new castle, which the Queen
described as "charming; the rooms delightful; the furniture, papers,
everything perfection."
The Prince was untiring in planning improvements, and in 1856 the
Queen wrote: "Every year my heart becomes more fixed in this dear
Paradise, and so much more so now, that _all_ has become my dearest
Albert's _own_ creation, own work, own building, own laying out as
at Osborne; and his great taste, and the impress of his dear hand,
have been stamped everywhere. He was very busy today, settling and
arranging many things for next year."
Visits to the cottages of the old people on the estate and in the
neighbourhood were a constant source of delight and pleasure to the
Queen, and often when the Prince was away for the day shooting, she
would pay a round of calls, taking with her little presents. The old
ladies especially loved a talk with their Queen. "The affection of
these good people, who are so hearty and so happy to see you, taking
interest in everything, is very touching and gratifying," she
remarked upon them. "We were always in the habit of conversing with
the Highlanders--with whom one comes so much in contact in the
Highlands. The Prince highly appreciated the good breeding,
simplicity, and intelligence, which make it so pleasant, and even
instructive to talk to them."
In September 1855, soon after moving into the new castle, the news
arrived of the fall of Sebastopol, and this was taken as an omen of
good luck. The Prince and his suite sallied forth, followed by all
the population, to the cairn above Balmoral, and here, amid general
cheering, a large bonfire was lit. The pipes played wildly, the
people danced and shouted, guns and squibs were fired off, and it
was not until close upon midnight that the festivities came to an
end.
During the same month the Princess Royal became engaged to Prince
Frederick William of Prussia, who was then visiting Balmoral. Acting
on the Queen's advice, Prince Frederick did not postpone his good
fortune until a later date, as he had at first intended, but during
a ride up Craig-na-Ban, he picked a piece of white heather (the emblem
of 'good luck') and offered it to the young Princess, and this gave
him an opportunity of declaring his love.
These extracts, printed from the Queen's Journals, were intended at
first for presentation only to members of the Royal Family and Her
Majesty's intimate friends, especially to those who had accompanied
her during her tours. It was, however, suggested to the Queen that
her people would take even as keen an interest in these simple records
of family life, especially as they had already shown sincere and
ready sympathy with her personal joys and sorrows.
"The book," its editor says, "is mainly confined to the natural
expressions of a mind rejoicing in the beauties of nature, and
throwing itself, with a delight rendered keener by the rarity of its
opportunities, into the enjoyment of a life removed, for the moment,
from the pressure of public cares."
It is of particular interest because here the Queen records from day
to day her thoughts and her impressions in the simplest language;
here she can be seen less as a queen than as a wife and mother. Her
interest in her whole household and in all those immediately around
her is evident on almost every page. To quote again: "She is, indeed,
the Mother of her People, taking the deepest interest in all that
concerns them, without respect of persons, from the highest to the
lowest."
As a picture of the Royal Court in those days this is exceedingly
valuable, for it shows what an example the Queen and her husband were
setting to the whole nation in the simple life they led in their
Highland home.
That the old people especially loved her can be seen from the
greetings and blessings she received in the cottages she used to
visit. "May the Lord attend ye with mirth and with joy; may He ever
be with ye in this world, and when ye leave it."
[Illustration: Queen Victoria in the Highlands
G. Amato]
The Queen was never weary of the beauties of the Highlands, and quotes
the following lines from a poem by Arthur Hugh Clough to describe
'God's glorious works':
The gorgeous bright October,
Then when brackens are changed, and heather blooms are faded,
And amid russet of heather and fern, green trees are bonnie;
Alders are green, and oaks; the rowan scarlet and yellow;
One great glory of broad gold pieces appears the aspen,
And the jewels of gold that were hung in the hair of the birch tree;
Pendulous, here and there, her coronet, necklace, and earrings,
Cover her now, o'er and o'er; she is weary and scatters them from
her.
In the year 1883 the Queen published _More Leaves from the Journal_,
and dedicated it "To my loyal Highlanders, and especially to the
memory of my devoted personal attendant and faithful friend, John
Brown." They are records of her life in Scotland during the years
1862 to 1882.
In the August of 1862 a huge cairn, thirty-five feet high, was erected
to the memory of the Prince Consort. It was set on the summit of Craig
Lowrigan, where it could be seen all down the valley.
A short extract will serve as a specimen of the Queen's style of
writing:
"At a quarter to twelve I drove off with Louise and Leopold in the
waggonette up to near the 'Bush' (the residence of William Brown,
the farmer) to see them 'juice the sheep.' This is a practice pursued
all over the Highlands before the sheep are sent down to the low
country for the winter. It is done to preserve the wool. Not far from
the burnside, where there are a few hillocks, was a pen in which the
sheep were placed, and then, just outside it, a large sort of trough
filled with liquid tobacco and soap, and into this the sheep were
dipped one after the other; one man took the sheep one by one out
of the pen and turned them on their backs; and then William and he,
holding them by their legs, dipped them well in, after which they
were let into another pen into which this trough opened, and here
they had to remain to dry. To the left, a little lower down, was a
cauldron boiling over a fire and containing the tobacco with water
and soap; this was then emptied into a tub, from which it was
transferred into the trough. A very rosy-faced lassie, with a plaid
over her head, was superintending this part of the work, and helped
to fetch the water from the burn, while children and many collie dogs
were grouped about, and several men and shepherds were helping. It
was a very curious and picturesque sight."
CHAPTER X: _The Great Exhibition_
The idea of a "great exhibition of the Works and Industries of all
Nations" was Prince Albert's. The scheme when first proposed in 1849
was coldly received in this country. It was intended, to use the
Prince's own words, "To give us a true test and a living picture of
the point of development at which the whole of mankind has arrived
in this great task, and a new starting-point from which all nations
will be able to direct their further exertions."
_The Times_ led the attack against the proposed site in Hyde Park,
and the public was uneasy at the thought of large numbers of
foreigners congregating in London, and at the expected importation
of foreign goods.
As showing the absurd things which 'John Bull' could say at this time
in his jealousy and dislike of foreigners the Prince wrote: "The
strangers, they give out, are certain to commence a thorough
revolution here, to murder Victoria and myself, and to proclaim the
Red Republic in England; the Plague is certain to ensue from the
confluence of such vast multitudes, and to swallow up those whom
the increased price of everything has not already swept away. For
all this I am to be responsible, and against all this I have to make
efficient provision."
_Punch_ pictured the young Prince begging, cap in hand, for
subscriptions:
Pity the sorrows of a poor, young Prince
Whose costly schemes have borne him to your door;
Who's in a fix, the matter not to mince,
Oh! help him out, and Commerce swell your store!
Such constant worry and anxiety affected the Prince's health, but
the support of Sir Robert Peel and of many great firms gradually wore
down the opposition.
The building was designed by Paxton, who had risen from being a
gardener's boy in the Duke of Devonshire's service to the position
of the greatest designer of landscape-gardening in the kingdom.
He took his main ideas for the Crystal Palace from the great
conservatories at Kew and Chatsworth. It was like a huge greenhouse
in shape, nearly one thousand feet long and ninety feet high, with
fountains playing in the naves and a great elm-tree in full leaf under
the roof.
On May 1, 1851, the opening day, everything went well. The crowds
in the streets were immense, and there were some 34,000 visitors
present in the building during the opening ceremony.
Lord Macaulay was much impressed with the Exhibition, for he wrote
after the opening: "I was struck by the numbers of foreigners in the
streets. All, however, were respectable and decent people. I saw none
of the men of action with whom the Socialists were threatening
us. . . . I should think there must have been near three hundred
thousand people in Hyde Park at once. The sight among the green boughs
was delightful. The boats, and little frigates, darting across the
lake; the flags; the music; the guns;--everything was exhilarating,
and the temper of the multitude the best possible. . . .
"I made my way into the building; a most gorgeous sight; vast;
graceful; beyond the dreams of the Arabian romances. I cannot think
that the Caesars ever exhibited a more splendid spectacle. I was
quite dazzled, and I felt as I did on entering St Peter's. I wandered
about, and elbowed my way through the crowd which filled the nave,
admiring the general effect, but not attending much to details."
And again on the last day he wrote: "Alas! alas! it was a glorious
sight; and it is associated in my mind with all whom I love most.
I am glad that the building is to be removed. I have no wish to see
the corpse when the life has departed."
The Royal Party were received with acclamation all along the route.
"It was 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," wrote the Queen. Six million people visited the Great
Fair during the time it remained open.
In one respect, however, it could scarcely be considered a triumph
for this country. It was still an ugly, and in some respects a vulgar,
age. The invention of machinery had done little or nothing to raise
the level of the public taste for what was appropriate and beautiful
in design. That an article cost a large sum of money to manufacture
and to purchase seemed sufficient to satisfy the untrained mind.
Generally speaking, the taste of the producers was uneducated and
much inferior to that of the French. Most of the designs in carpets,
hangings, pottery, and silks were merely copies, and were often
extremely ugly. England, at this time the first among the Industrial
Nations, had utterly failed to hold her own in the Arts.
Machinery had taken the place of handwork, and with the death of the
latter art and industry had ceased to have any relation. Public taste
in architecture was equally bad. A 'revival' of the art of the Middle
Ages resulted only in a host of poor imitations. "Thirty or forty
years ago, if you entered a cathedral in France or England, you could
say at once, 'These arches were built in the age of the
Conqueror--that capital belonged to the earlier Henrys.' . . . Now
all this is changed. You enter a cathedral, and admire some iron work
so rude you are sure it must be old, but which your guide informs
you has just been put up by Smith of Coventry. You see . . . some
painted glass so badly drawn and so crudely coloured it must be
old--Jones of Newcastle."[9]
[Footnote 9: Fergusson, _History of Modern Styles of Architecture_.]
John Ruskin, who was in many ways the greatest art teacher of his
age, was the first to point out the value and the method of correct
observation of all that is beautiful in nature and in art.
In an address on "Modern Manufacture and Design," delivered to the
working men of Bradford, he declared: "Without observation and
experience, no design--without peace and pleasurableness in
occupation, no design--and all the lecturings, and teachings, and
prizes and principles of art, in the world are of no use, so long
as you don't surround your men with happy influences and beautiful
things. . . . Inform their minds, refine their habits, and you form
and refine their designs; but keep them illiterate, uncomfortable,
and in the midst of unbeautiful things, and whatever they do will
still be spurious, vulgar, and valueless."
At the time, however, the Exhibition proved a great success, and the
Duke of Coburg carried most favourable impressions away with him.
He says: "The Queen and her husband were at the zenith of their
fame. . . . Prince Albert was not satisfied to guide the whole affair
only from above; he was, in the fullest sense of the word, the soul
of everything. Even his bitterest enemies, with unusual unreserve,
acknowledged the completeness of the execution of the scheme."
So far from there being a loss upon the undertaking there was actually
half a million of profit. The proceeds were devoted to securing
ground at South Kensington upon which a great National Institute
might be built. This undertaking (the purchase of the ground) was
not carried through without great difficulty and anxiety. The
Queen's sympathy and encouragement were, as always, of the greatest
help to her husband, and he quoted a verse from a German song, to
illustrate how much he felt and appreciated it:
When man has well nigh lost his hope in life,
Upwards in trust and love still looks the wife,
Towards the starry world all bright with cheer,
Faint not nor fear, thus speaks her shining tear.
The Great Exhibition was sufficient proof--if any had been
needed--of how the Prince with his wife laboured incessantly for the
good of others. Without his courage, perseverance, and ability there
is no doubt that this great undertaking would never have been carried
through successfully. He recognized the fact that princes live for
the benefit of their people; his desire for the improvement in all
classes was never-ending, and from him his wife learnt many lessons
which proved of the greatest value to her in later life when she stood
alone and her husband was no longer there to aid her with his
unfailing wise advice.
A second Exhibition was held in 1862, and so far as decorative art
was concerned there were distinct signs of improvement. 'Art
manufacture' had now become a trade phrase, but manufacturers were
still far from understanding what 'Art' really meant. As an instance
of this, one carpet firm sent a carpet to be used as a hanging on
which Napoleon III is depicted presenting a treaty of Commerce
to the Queen. Particular attention had apparently been paid to the
'shine' on Napoleon's top boots and to the Queen's smile!
The Prince's great wish was to restore to the workman his pride in
the work of his hands, to relieve the daily toil of some of its
irksomeness by the interest thus created in it, and, where the work
was of a purely mechanical nature, and individual skill and judgment
were not called for, he wished the worker to understand the
principles upon which the machine was built and the ingenuity with
which it worked.
His schemes for the building and equipment of Museums of Science and
Art were arranged with the purpose in view that both rich and
poor should have equal opportunities of seeing what improvements had
been made throughout the ages, and how vast and far-reaching the
effects of such improvements were on the lives of the whole nation.
It was under his direction that the pictures in the National Gallery
were first arranged in such a manner as to show the history and
progress of art. In his own words: "Our business is not so much to
create, as to learn to appreciate and understand the works of others,
and we can never do this till we have realized the difficulties to
be overcome. Acting on this principle myself, I have always tried
to learn the rudiments of art as much as possible. For instance, I
learnt oil-painting, water-colours, etching, lithography, etc., and
in music I learnt thorough bass, the pianoforte, organ, and
singing--not, of course, with a view of doing anything worth looking
at or hearing, but simply to enable me to judge and appreciate the works of others." |
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