"It would be better to remain away and allow your speech to be read for you," said both her mother and her physician. "Remember how much you have been through within the past month, and avoid this unnecessary excitement."
The little Queen was wiser than her watchful advisers. She knew well that her subjects had thronged every road leading to Buckingham because they wanted to see her, and she meant to gratify them and appear in all the splendor that a prorogation demanded. As to being exhausted by these ceremonials, she laughed at the idea of such a thing. "I like it all," she said. "I have lived so quietly that it is new to me. It isn't tiresome, it is amusing."
Therefore "Victoria Regina" was written in letters of gold about a beautiful new throne in the House of Lords. Mr. Davys, her "good, kind master," as she called him, heard her practice her speech; then she was made ready for the ceremony. There were no more simple white muslin dresses for her. She wore a kirtle of white satin and over it a crimson velvet robe with border of ermine. The kirtle flashed with gold embroidery, and the velvet robe was confined by a heavy golden cord and tassels. Diamonds glittered and sparkled in her bracelets and coronet and on her stomacher. A few years before, the young girl had walked to the milliner's and home again, carrying her new bonnet in her hand; but now she seated herself in the royal carriage and was drawn by eight cream-colored horses. The Yeomen of the Guard rode before her; and so she went to the House of Parliament.
The band played "God Save the Queen," as she entered the House of Lords and was conducted to the throne on which "Victoria Regina" was written. It was fortunate that she had no farther to walk, for before she seated herself the lords-in-waiting laid upon her shoulders the heavy parliamentary mantle of purple velvet.
The brilliant company of peers and bishops remained standing. "My lords, be seated," said the Queen. The usual forms of business were followed, but all interest centered in the speech of the sovereign. Mr. Davys had tutored her well, and when she had finished, Fanny Kemble, the greatest actress of the day, declared, "I never heard any spoken words more musical in their gentle distinctness." Charles Sumner wrote, "I never heard anything better read in my life;" and the Queen's kind old uncle, the Duke of Sussex, could only wipe his eyes and murmur, "Beautiful!"
