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discharge of incessant and wearing public duty with the cultivation of the inner and domestic life. The attachment that binds together wife and husband was known to be in their case, and to have been from the first, of an unusual force. Through more than twenty years, which flowed past like one long unclouded summer day, that attachment was cherished, exercised, and strengthened by all the forms of family interest, by all the associated pursuits of highly cultivated minds, by all the cares and responsibilities which surround the throne, and which the prince was called, in his own sphere, both to alleviate and to share. On the one side, such love is rare, even in the annals of the love of woman; on the other, such service can hardly find a parallel, for it is hard to know how a husband could render it to a wife, unless that wife were also queen.

"So, then, she whom you have seen in your streets a source of joy to you all, and herself drinking in with cordial warmth the sights and the sounds of your enthusiastic loyalty, is now to be thought of as the first of English widows, lonely in proportion to her elevation and her cares.

"If the mourning of the nation for the Prince Consort's death was universal, yet within certain precincts it was also special.

"In his well-ordered life there seemed to be room for all things for every manly exercise, for the study and practice of art, for the exacting cares of a splendid court, for minute attention to every domestic and paternal duty, for advice and aid towards the discharge of public business in its innumerable forms, and for meeting the voluntary calls of an active philanthropy: one day in considering the best form for the dwellings of the people; another day in bringing his just and gentle influence to bear on the relations of master and domestic servant; another in suggesting and supplying the means of culture for the most numerous classes; another in some good work of almsgiving or religion. Nor was it a merely external activity which he displayed. His mind, it is evident, was too deeply earnest to be satisfied in anything, smaller or greater, with resting on the surface. With a strong

grasp on practical life in all its forms, he united a habit of thought eminently philosophic; ever referring facts to their causes, and pursuing action to its consequences.

"Gone though he be from among us, he, like other worthies of mankind who have preceded him, is not altogether gone; for, in the words of the poet

"Your heads must come

To the cold tomb;

Only the actions of the just,

Smell sweet and blossom in their dust.'

"So he has left for all men, in all classes, many a useful lesson to be learnt from the record of his life and character. For example, it would, I believe, be difficult to find anywhere a model of a life more highly organized, more thoroughly and compactly ordered. Here in Manchester, if anywhere in the world, you know what order is and what a power it holds. Here we see at work the vast systems of machinery, where ten thousand instruments are ever labouring, each in its own proper place, each with its own proper duty, but all obedient to one law, and all co-operating for one end. Scarcely in one of these your own great establishments are the principles of order and its power more vividly exemplified, than they were in the mind and life of the Prince Consort. Now this way of excelling is one that we all may follow. There is not one among us all, here gathered, who may not, if he will, especially if he be still young, by the simple specific of giving method to his life, greatly increase its power and efficacy for good.

"But he would be a sorry imitator of the prince who should suppose that this process could be satisfactorily performed as a mechanical process, in a presumptuous or in a servile spirit, and with a view to selfish or to worldly ends. A life that is to be like his, ought to find refreshment even in the midst of labours; nay, to draw refreshment from them. But this it cannot do, unless men can take up the varied employments of the world with something of a childlike freshness. Few are they who carry on with them that childlike freshness of the earliest years into after life. It is that especial light of Heaven, described

PUBLIC SORROW FOR THE DEATH OF PRINCE CONSORT.

by Wordsworth in his immortal Ode on the Recollections of Childhood; that light

'Which lies about us in our infancy,'

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Its radiance still plays about a favoured few: they are those few who, like the prince, strive earnestly to keep themselves unspotted from the world, and are victors in the strife.

"In beseeching, especially the young, to study the application to their daily life of that principle of order which engenders both diligence and strength of will, and likewise so greatly multiplies their power, I am well assured that they will find this to be not only an intellectual but a moral exercise. Every real and searching effort at self-improvement is of itself a lesson of profound humility. For we cannot move a step without learning and feeling the waywardness, the weakness, the vacillation of our movements, or without desiring to be set up upon the Rock that is higher than ourselves. Nor, again, is it likely that the self-denial and self-discipline which these efforts undoubtedly involve, will often be cordially undergone, except by those who elevate and extend their vision beyond the narrow scope of the years-be they what we admit to be few, or what we think to be many-that are prescribed for our career on earth. An untiring sense of duty, an active consciousness of the perpetual presence of Him who is its author and its law, and a lofty aim beyond the grave-these are the best and most efficient parts, in every sense, of that apparatus wherewith we should be armed, when with full purpose of heart we address ourselves to the life-long work of self-improvement. And I believe that the lesson which I have thus, perhaps at once too boldly and too feebly, presumed to convey to you in words, is the very lesson which was taught us for twenty years, and has been bequeathed to us for lasting memory by the Prince Consort, in the nobler form of action, in the silent witness of an earnest, manful and devoted life."

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These words of Mr. Gladstone may be said to have permanently recorded feelings which had been expressed not only by his colleagues in the government and by leading speakers in parliament, but by ministers of religion in places of worship and by means of addresses of condolence forwarded to her majesty from all parts of the kingdom. To the people of this country and to a large number of persons abroad the death of Prince Albert was little less than a personal bereavement and had an individual influence. The grief was intimate and sincere; the mourning was truly national. The sermon preached by Dean Milman at St. Paul's Cathedral on the first Sunday after the news of the Prince Consort's death contained a passage which well expressed the common sentiment of the country: "From the highest to the lowest it is felt that a great example has been removed from among us— an example of the highest and the humblest duties equally fulfilled-of the household and everyday virtues of the husband and father, practised in a quiet and unostentatious way, without effort or aid: as it were by the spontaneous workings of a true and generous nature. To be not only blameless but more than blameless in those relations is not too common in such high positions; but his duties to the queen's subjects as well as to the queen, his duties to the great English family dispersed throughout all the world as well as to the young family within the chambers of the palace, were discharged with calm thought and silent assiduity. No waste of time in frivolous amusement, in vain pomp and glory, but usefulness in its highest sense: schemes of benevolence promoted; plans for the education of the people suggested and fostered with prudent and far-seeing counsel, and with profound personal interest; great movements for the improvement of all branches of national industry, if not set on foot, maintained with a steady and persevering impulse; in short, notwithstanding foreign birth and education, a full and perfect identification of himself with English interests, English character, English social advancement. All these things have sunk gradually, if not slowly, into the national mind. He was ours, not merely by

adoption, but, as it were, by a second nature."

After the death of the Prince Consort the Queen, who had been during that sorrowful time aided by the calm devotion of the Princess Alice, called her children around her, and, though borne down with grief, exhorted them to assist her in doing her duty by them and by the country. The funeral of the prince took place at St. George's Chapel, Windsor, on the 23d of December, and, though attended by some of the highest dignitaries of the realm and the royal household, the ceremony was almost private. The coffin was only placed in the entrance of the royal vault and not in the vault itself, as her majesty had determined to have a mausoleum constructed in the gardens at Frogmore, and had already selected the place which was to be occupied by the building. Within a year afterwards this mausoleum was completed, and on the 18th of December, 1862, the remains of the Prince Consort were removed thither from St. George's Chapel, a temporary stone sarcophagus having been provided to receive the coffin, which was not finally placed in the permanent sarcophagus afterwards prepared for it until the 28th of November, 1868.

Although the queen in her deep grief had felt unable to take any public part in affairs of state, and remained in seclusion for a longer period than some of her subjects thought was necessary or desirable, she continued to manifest her genuine interest in all that concerned the happiness and welfare of the people. At about the time when a year of mourning had expired a great calamity affecting a number of the humbler class of the population called forth her ready sympathy and aroused a feeling of pity throughout the country. The accident at the Hartley Colliery, near Newcastle-on-Tyne, probably excited more consternation than any tragical event since the wreck of the Royal Charter in October, 1859. The Royal Charter, a homeward bound steamer from Australia, carrying a large number of passengers and their possessions, including a considerable quantity of gold, was wrecked in Redwharf Bay, Anglesea,

during a fearful storm in which she kept near a lee shore in the hope of meeting with a pilot for Liverpool. The gale was so violent that, though the two anchors were let go and the engines were worked at full speed to lessen the strain, the chain cables parted and she was driven on shore and struck on the rocks astern. The passengers, among whom were a large number of women and children, had been unaware of any serious cause for alarm when the vessel began to beat upon the sharp pointed rocks. The masts and rigging were cut away without avail, and she was thrown broadside on and perfectly upright on the shelving stony beach, from which a rock projected not more than twenty yards from her head. One of the crew, a Portuguese named Joseph Rogers, bravely volunteered to carry a rope on shore, and succeeded in struggling with it through the heavy surf. A hawser was then hauled out and fastened on shore and a "boatswain's chair" rigged to it, but the fury of the wind and sea prevented much use being made of it. In the saloon the terror-stricken passengers had assembled and a clergyman, Mr. Hodge, attempted to hold a religious service; but the waves were already pouring through, and even while Captain Taylor and another officer were endeavouring to allay the fears of those around them a succession of tremendous shocks broke the vessel amidships and she soon began to break up. A few of the crew contrived to reach the shore by the hawser, some persons were flung bruised and almost senseless on the rocks by the force of the waves, but of those on board 459 perished, Captain Taylor having been the last seen alive on board, where he had lashed himself to a spar, but did not succeed in his attempt to escape. All the officers were lost. Few storms have left such strange evidences of their violence. The iron safe containing the ship's treasure was afterwards discovered to have been broken up into shapeless masses, and in the crushed fragments of smaller iron boxes, sovereigns and nuggets of gold were found imbedded as though they formed part of the substance of the metal.

The appalling circumstances of this wreck had made it historical. In the records of such

THE HARTLEY COLLIERY TRAGEDY.

The

calamities the wreck of the Royal Charter stood forth with terrible distinctness. story of the recovery of the bodies, of the awful solemn scene of the funeral in that remote Welsh burial-ground at Llanalgo near Moelfra on the coast, and of the anxious inquirers who journeyed thither to look upon the faces of the dead, was still remembered when, more than two years afterwards, on the 16th of January, 1862, tidings came of another dreadful accident, not upon the sea, but amidst all the busy life and activity of a coalpit, where a hundred and ninety-nine men and boys were working "underground."

The main features of the calamity at Hartley Colliery may be soon indicated. Closely adjoining the shaft of the mine on the east side, was a substantial stone structure containing the machinery employed for keeping the pit clear of water. The pumping-engine was one of the largest to be met with in the coal trade, with a power equal to 400 horses.

The accident occurred about half-past ten in the morning. The greater body of the miners in the pit had gone in at one o'clock in the morning, and were just about being relieved to come to bank by the back shift, which went in at nine o'clock. In fact, two sets of men of the first shift had got to bank, and the third shift was "riding" or coming up the shaft in the cage, and had got hauled halfway up when the beam of the pumpingengine overhanging the shaft at the bank suddenly and without any warning snapped in two, the projecting outer half, weighing upwards of twenty tons, falling with a tremendous crash right down the centre of the shaft. It struck the top of the brattice and carried the woodwork and timber, which extended from the top to the bottom of the shaft, with it down the shaft. It encountered the ascending cage, bringing up eight miners, halfway. The survivors of the party stated that they first observed something shoot past them with the velocity of a thunderbolt, and presently found themselves overwhelmed by a perfect hail of broken beams and planks. The iron cage in which they were ascending was shattered to pieces by the shock, and two

57

of the unfortunate men were killed on the spot, and carried far down among the ruins. Of the remaining six three survived for some time, and the others were ultimately rescued.

Of course as soon as the accident was known help arrived from the neighbouring collieries, and every effort was made to reach the number of men and boys imprisoned below; but only two men at a time could work at removing the obstruction, and they had to be slung by ropes in the narrow space. Meanwhile the scene around the pit's mouth and in the neighbourhood was sad and touching. The police had some difficulty in keeping the space about the bank top sufficiently clear for the work to be carried on. Crowds of people came from the adjoining mining villages, and even from distant places. Numbers of women remained all day in sad foreboding groups, after having stood near the mine in the chill air of the November night. The wives and families of the men who were imprisoned below passed hither and thither with sorrowstricken faces. There were plenty of experienced men, with brave hearts and strong hands, but the work could only be effected slowly; and though it was said that at one time on the Saturday (the third day of their imprisonment) the men for whom they were labouring were heard working and signalling in the shaft, the obstructions had been found to be more solid and closely wedged together as the explorers worked to the lower part of the shaft. Signals were made and not answered, and the sounds which had been heard ceased. It was supposed that the men had retired more into the workings. The managers of the pit felt confident that there was not the least cause for alarm, unless the men should suffer from the effects of foul air; and this apprehension, as the event proved, was unhappily too well founded. The work of clearing away the obstructions in the shaft was continued night and day with unremitting vigour; but the men engaged in this praiseworthy, but difficult and dangerous, task felt the effects of the gases which had been generated below, and were compelled to suspend operations till a ventilating apparatus, composed of cloth, and called a cloth bratticing,

could be arranged. This was completed on Wednesday afternoon; and the shaft being cleared, to some extent, of gas, the terrible tragedy was revealed in all its horrors. Three pitmen (volunteers) went down, penetrated the obstruction, got into the yard seam by the engine-drift, and found men lying dead at the furnace. They pushed their way through. The air was bad. Within the door they found a large body of men sleeping the sleep of death. They retreated and came to bank with the appalling intelligence.

Those who went all through the works found no living man, but a hecatomb of dead bodies. The bulk of the bodies were lying in the gallery near the shaft. Families were lying in groups; children in the arms of their fathers; brothers with brothers. Most of them looked placid as if asleep, but higher up, near the furnace, some tall stout men seemed to have died hard. The corn-bins were all cleared. Some few of the men had a little corn in their pockets. A pony was lying dead among the men, but untouched.

To the usual danger of foul air was added the inroad of water into the workings. The "yard seam," where most of the men had taken refuge, was not reached till the 22d, and those lying there bore the appearance of having been suffocated two or three days before.

Indications of piety and of courage were not wanting from the first. Two of the men who were knocked out of the cage were partly buried in the ruins which choked the shaft. The elder Sharp could be heard praying among the rubbish where he was buried. Thomas Watson, who was hanging by the broken cage, heard the moans and prayers of his unfortunate companion, and though much bruised by the wood that had struck him, he dropped himself down the pump on to the rubbish in which poor Sharp was buried, and prayed with him until he expired, though every moment Watson himself expected to be engulfed where he stood. After Sharp's death Watson scrambled back to the cage, where he hung for many hours, till he and his other two companions were rescued.

Amos, the "overman," and one of his

deputies named Tennant, a fine fellow who had been to the Australian gold mines but had returned, would, it was believed, lead the men out of the pit and to a place secure from the water. This they succeeded in doing, and, like true captains of industry, they died at their post. They had struggled up through the furnace drift after the accident, and had hacked and hewn at the obstruction in the shaft until the Sunday afternoon, when a fall of stone took place in the shaft which drove them away, and they were found lying at the post of danger, but the post of duty—the furnace-having died in mortal agony, the men and boys "in by" having subsequently slept quietly away.

The Hartley colliers had the character of being steady and thoughtful men. There was no public-house within a mile of the village; many of the miners were abstainers from intoxicating drinks, and several of them were local preachers and class leaders among the Methodist communities. A number of the dead were lying in rows on each side, all quiet and placid as if in a deep sleep after a heavy day's work. In a book taken from the pocket of the overman was a memorandum dated "Friday afternoon (17th), halfpast two o'clock. Edward Armstrong, Thomas Gledson, John Hardie, Thomas Bell, and others, took extremely ill. We had also a prayermeeting at a quarter to two, when Tibbs, H. Sharp, J. Campbell, H. Gibson, and William Palmer (here the sentence was incomplete). Tibbs exhorted to us again, and Sharp also."

Messages to families were found scratched on flasks and boxes; there appeared to have been no little calm and peace at meeting death.

The scene as the bodies were slowly rescued and brought to the bank was very painful. About 5000 people had assembled by that time, and the widows and orphans knew the worst. Occasionally a stifled groan or a hysteric cry would be heard from the crowd as some wellknown face slowly rose up out of the dark chasm, but for the most part a reverent silence was kept throughout. With the shaft in its present condition it was found impossible to lower a cage of the usual character, and the

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