THE MAIDEN QUEEN.

Greatly to the regret of the inhabitants of Kensington, the Queen, with her mother, took her final departure from the abode where she was born, and in which she had spent so many happy days, and proceeded to Buckingham Palace, on July 13th. The Queen, on this occasion, looked pale, and her countenance had a very natural, and easily accounted for, aspect of deep regret. Immediately afterwards she held a Court LevÉe. It was, of course, thronged by her loyal subjects who had the privilege of entrÉe; but there was no appearance of fatigue in her face, voice, or manner, and the day passed off with spirit and brilliancy. She seemed to have acquired (so say the court chroniclers of the period), if possible, increased grace and dignity. She wore a rich lama dress, her head glittered with diamonds, and her breast was covered with the insignia of the Garter and other orders. A pair of embroidered velvet slippers covered feet which, resting on the cushion, were observed and admired by all as “exquisitely small.”On the 17th of July she went in state to the House of Lords to dissolve the Parliament, in accordance with constitutional usage and enactment on the demise of the Crown. After thanking both Houses for their expressions of condolence on the death of her uncle, and for the zeal and assiduity with which they had discharged their duties, especially for their efforts to mitigate the severity of the penal code, she concluded by saying:—

The admirable manner in which the speech was read—her singularly musical voice being heard, without the slightest appearance of effort, in every corner of the House of Lords—was the subject of the admiration of all who heard it. It was, indeed, known that she was a fine singer, and frequently entertained her mother’s guests by singing to them, her mother accompanying her on the piano; nevertheless, the lucidity of her tones, and the entire absence of any discomposure to disturb them, surprised every one, and no one more so than her mother.

The Queen went in great state to the City on Lord Mayor’s Day, November 9. This royal entry was one of the greatest sights which had ever been beheld in the City. The Queen, looking remarkably well, magnificently attired in pink satin shot with silver, was greeted with deafening cheers from a crowd far denser than any she had ever seen, along her whole route from Marlborough House (her temporary residence until Buckingham Palace was completed for her occupation) to the Guildhall. The houses along the thoroughfares by which the cavalcade passed were hung with bright-coloured cloths, with green boughs, and with what flowers the earth could afford at the late season of the year. Flags and heraldic banners darkened the dim November light across the Strand, Fleet Street, and Cheapside; and every pedestal that could be improvised supported a bust of Queen Victoria. At Temple Bar the Lord Mayor and Aldermen, mounted on artillery horses from Woolwich, each of the steeds being held by the head by the soldier who was accustomed to bestride him, awaited their distinguished guest. The Lord Mayor, dismounting and taking the City Sword in his hand, delivered the keys, which were graciously returned, while more vociferous cheers than ever rent the air. On which, the Lord Mayor, re-mounting and holding the City Sword aloft, rode before Her Majesty through the City, the cortÉge of mounted Aldermen following her carriage. The open space before St. Paul’s was occupied by hustings, crowded by the Liverymen of the City Companies and the Christ’s Hospital boys. One of these, in conformity with an old usage, having presented an address to the Queen, and the whole of the boys having sung “God save the Queen,” the procession went on its way. At the Guildhall, which, with all its adjacent chambers, was sumptuously fitted up, a loyal address was read by the Recorder, and suitably acknowledged. After this came a sumptuous banquet, from which Her Majesty retired, to see on her way back the whole line of the route brilliantly illuminated.

The first message which the Queen sent to Parliament when it re-assembled, was a truly characteristic one: it asked for a suitable provision for her royal mother. This provision was loyally made, and in the same short winter session her own civil list was settled. William IV. had enjoyed a civil list amounting to £510,000, while, from the accession of George III. to the death of his eldest son, it had been fixed at £1,030,000. Her Majesty’s civil list was fixed at £385,000 per annum, and her privy purse, being the only sum over which she had complete personal control, and from which her private charities had to be disbursed, was fixed at £60,000. Out of the £385,000 the calculation, based by order of Parliament upon the accounts of the late reign, was that £131,260 would go for salaries of the Household, from the Master of the Horse and Mistress of the Robes, down to the humblest scullion and stable-helper; and £172,500 in tradesmen’s bills.

During the early days of her maiden reign, the Queen rose at eight, occupied a remarkably short time in dressing, and then discharged such routine business as signing despatches until the breakfast hour, which was invariably a quarter before ten. At that hour, she without fail sent one of her attendants to invite the Duchess of Kent to breakfast. From the day of her ascending the throne, to remove the slightest ground for suspicion as to any undue influence, the strictest etiquette was preserved between mother and daughter; the former never approaching the latter unless specially summoned, and carefully abstaining from conversing about the business of the State. Twelve o’clock was the time appointed for conferences with her Ministers. After the usual complimentary salutation, she at once proceeded to the business of the day. If a document were handed to her, she read it without comment, and no remark passed her own lips or those of the Ministers present, until its perusal was concluded. After retiring from the Council-room, the interval was passed until dinner in riding or walking. At dinner, the first Lord-in-waiting took the head of the table; opposite to him, the chief Equerry-in-waiting. Her Majesty’s chair was half way down on the right, the various guests being seated according to their ranks. Next to Her Majesty, on the right hand, was the nobleman of highest degree; next to him, the Duchess of Kent, and so on. On Her Majesty’s left, the same rule was observed, the Baroness Lehzen, who acted as Secretary to the Queen, being always near her. The Queen left the table early for the drawing-room, where her musical tastes were regaled almost invariably, and her own proficiency very frequently displayed.

The following incident, which was made public during the first year of the Queen’s reign, made a very pleasing impression upon the well-conditioned portion of the public. A certain noble Minister arrived at Windsor at a late hour on Saturday night. On being introduced, he said, “I have brought down for your Majesty’s inspection some documents of great importance; but, as I shall be obliged to trouble you to examine them in detail, I will not encroach on the time of your Majesty to-night, but will request your attention to-morrow morning.” “To-morrow morning?” repeated the Queen; “to-morrow is Sunday, my lord.” “True, your Majesty, but business of the State will not admit of delay.” “I am aware of that,” replied the Queen, “and, as your lordship could not have arrived earlier at the Palace to-night, I will, if those papers are of such pressing importance, attend to their contents after church to-morrow morning.” So to church went the Queen and the Court, and to church went the noble lord; when, much to his surprise, the discourse was on the duties and obligations of the Christian Sabbath. “How did your lordship like the sermon?” asked the Queen. “Very much indeed, your Majesty,” replied the nobleman. “Well, then,” retorted Her Majesty, “I will not conceal from you that, last night, I sent the clergyman the text from which he preached. I hope we shall all be improved by the sermon.” The Sunday passed without a single word being said relative to the State papers, and at night, when Her Majesty was about to withdraw—“To-morrow morning, my lord, at any hour you please,” said the Queen, turning to the nobleman—“as early as seven, my lord, if you like, we will look into the papers.” The nobleman said that he could not think of intruding on Her Majesty at so early an hour; he thought nine o’clock would be quite soon enough. “No, no, my lord,” said the Queen; “as the papers are of importance, I wish them to be attended to very early. However, if you wish it to be nine, be it so.” And accordingly, the next morning at nine, Her Majesty was seated ready to receive the nobleman and his papers.