The Shadow of Great Britain

Not merely a general outline, but refined to a level that was almost terrifying.

Every possible route between Westminster and Buckingham Palace that might be used for the procession, and more than ten distinct security plans assembled from different combinations of those routes. From the maximum capacity of the crowds attending the ceremony, to the evacuation speed in the worst conceivable scenario. From the spacing of mounted police, to the precise positions of plain‑clothes officers embedded among the spectators.

He had even marked every vantage point along each section of the route: rooftops, clock towers, scaffolding, temporary stands, unfinished exterior walls. Which must be cleared in advance, which could be assigned guards, and which had to be completely sealed off on the day of the coronation itself...

Had Arthur not gone through the plans for her point by point, Victoria would never have realized that managing public order was such a fiendishly complex task.

What worried Victoria even more was that policing was not the entirety of Arthur’s responsibilities, for he was also overseeing the implementation of the New Poor Law.

Earlier, Victoria had already heard from Dickens how deeply the populace rejected and resented the New Poor Law, and how in some rural districts it had even sparked riots against the English Poor Laws. Although Victoria did not truly understand how the Poor Laws functioned, she knew at least that there was nothing simple about them.

As matters stood, it was bad enough that she could offer no help; how could she possibly swallow her pride and ask Arthur, in the midst of all this, to find time to compose a coronation anthem that even Kneivit and Kramer had not dared accept?

”If it really cannot be done...” Victoria made up her mind and said, ”then for this coronation, let us commission only a single new piece.”

Leisen had clearly not expected Victoria to relinquish the idea so directly. She started slightly, too surprised to respond at once.

But Victoria, as if she had finally found a solution that seemed reasonable to her, went on, ”The rest can be filled out with Handel’s works—’Priest Sadoc,’ ’Messiah,’ ’Priest Zadok.’ Have not these always been regarded as part of the coronation rite? My forebear George II was crowned to those very anthems; is that not, in itself, a way of honoring tradition?”

Leisen fell silent for a moment, as though weighing whether such an approach would truly be worthwhile.

”Strictly speaking, it is entirely defensible,” she answered cautiously. ”Handel is already closely bound to the coronation ceremonies of Britain; one could even say that he himself has become part of the tradition. However, if only a single new work is unveiled at the coronation... might the public not feel it to be perfunctory? And whether the House of Lords would consent is also uncertain...”

At this point, Leisen seemed to realize that her tone had grown too severe, and so she shifted tack: ”However, this can perfectly well serve as a fallback plan. If both gentlemen conclude that the time frame is impossibly tight, and Sir Arthur himself... also makes it plain that he is unwilling to take on this work, then we shall have no choice but to settle for the second best. At that point, under the banner of respecting tradition, we can fill out the ceremonial music with Handel’s pieces. Even if the House of Lords is displeased, it will be difficult for them to point to any genuine breach of protocol.”

Hearing this, Victoria allowed herself to relax a little. ”Then we should simply inform the Coronation Committee of this later.”

”Your Majesty, we cannot inform them yet. At the very least you must first ascertain that Sir Arthur is unwilling to undertake the task,” Leisen said earnestly. ”If you do not even ask him, and the House of Lords learns of it afterward, it will only arouse their displeasure. In their eyes, for an affair whose symbolic significance is so great, to bypass the most renowned—and most talked‑about—composer of the moment would inevitably be read as a kind of slight. Have you forgotten? His Majesty William’s own coronation ceremony was so meagerly arranged that it kept the Lords in an uproar for quite some time.”

Victoria knew that Leisen was not trying to frighten her. Those old Nobility who cared most about tradition and decorum had all been so incensed that they cried out they would have to boycott this country that possessed only ”half a Crown.”

Fortunately, the King at that time had been King William IV, the Sailor King—an elderly man. The Upper House Noble could make their fuss and leave it at that. But she was a mere girl; if her own coronation ceremony were poorly managed and caused the House of Lords to boil over, it would be an ominous beginning indeed.

Turning the matter over and over in her mind, Victoria at last shook her head. ”That is precisely the problem, Leisen. I know that if I do not ask him, the Lords may well take offense. But if I do ask, Sir Arthur will certainly accept. Not because he covets the honor, nor because he cares about the opinion of the Lords, nor even because he wishes his name to appear on the program. He will accept because he believes that whatever benefits the country and aids the people must be done—even if it leaves him overburdened.”

Leisen did not argue; she too agreed with Victoria’s assessment.

Yet she herself had no duty to spare Arthur.

”But, Your Majesty...”

Victoria raised her hand and cut her off before she could finish. ”If Sir Arthur volunteers, that is his choice. But if I am the one to approach him, then it ceases to be a request and becomes instead a duty he cannot refuse.”

She let out a soft sigh. ”And the burdens on his shoulders are already heavy enough.”

The room grew quiet.

The fire in the grate crackled faintly. Outside the windows the rain went on, unhurried as before. London seemed utterly unaware of their conversation, moving to its own steady rhythm.

Only after a long interval did Leisen speak again.

”I understand your concern now, Your Majesty,” she said gently. ”In that case, we might proceed thus: formally, we still follow the proper procedure and inform the Coronation Committee that the matter of new compositions is under review. But in...”

Just as Leisen was about to finish, a knock sounded abruptly at the door.

An Attendant announced softly, ”Your Majesty, Sir Arthur Hastings is waiting in the drawing room.”

Victoria almost instinctively raised her head; a flash of unguarded astonishment passed through her eyes.

Leisen too was taken aback, but quickly recovered.

Of course—by custom, Sir Arthur came for audience on Fridays.

After a brief silence, Victoria spoke first. ”Did he... say on what business?”

”Your Majesty,” the Attendant replied, ”the same as always—to report to you on the progress of the security arrangements, and to keep you company for a little conversation.”