QUEEN VICTORIA A Personal History

by Christopher Hibbert

  Certainly after Edward Oxford's attempt on her life she was greeted with the utmost enthusiasm, with people cheering and waving handkerchiefs when she appeared at the opera a few nights later; and, after Robert Pate's assault with his walking stick, she was loudly cheered in the streets on her way to the Royal Opera House, the 'lowest of the low being most indignant'. She was cheered also inside the theatre, although her late appearance with a black eye and a bruised face interrupted an exciting skating scene. The entire audience rose to their feet to applaud her and, when the hubbub had subsided, the cast gathered on the stage to sing 'God save the Queen'. Shaken as she was by Pate's attack, she had been advised not to go to the theatre that night. But if she did not go, she had protested, it would be thought she had been seriously hurt.

  'But you are hurt, Ma'am.'

  'Very well, then everyone shall see how little I mind it. '12

  Gladstone expressed the dismissive opinion that all those who had shot at or threatened the Queen were crazy. But he could not suppose that all those Irish revolutionaries committed to the establishment of an independent republic in Ireland who were known as Fenians were lunatics; and these were considered to present a threat to her life as great as, if not greater than, that of the odd maniac. In the last months of 1867, for example, after receiving an alarming report from Manchester, where three Fenians had been condemned to death after the murder of a policeman, General Grey had thought it as well to surround Balmoral with soldiers. The Queen had thought Grey's proposal 'too foolish': the Fenians would never be 'so silly' as to take her hostage; and if they did they would find her a 'very inconvenient charge'. But she had consented reluctantly to some companies of the 93rd Highlanders being sent to protect her.13

  After all it was not to be denied that the Irish had never 'become reconciled to English rule, which they hate! So different from the Scotch who are so loyal.' She told her eldest daughter that, although it was dreadful to have to press for such a thing, 'We shall have to hang some, & it ought to have been done before.' When the 'poor men' in Manchester were hanged, however, she prayed for them.

  These hangings in Manchester led to threats of further violence:14 there came a warning that eighty desperate Fenians were making for Osborne where they planned to kidnap or murder the Queen. General Grey had begged her to leave the island which was so dangerously exposed to an attack from the sea. Lord Derby also pressed her to do so. But she firmly stood her ground, suspecting that they were using the Fenians' threat to persuade her to return to Windsor or London from that restful retirement she needed. She was sorry to see General Grey 'so very much alarmed'; she would not, even so, leave Osborne. Although it made her feel 'like a state prisoner', she did agree, however, to have more soldiers and police to guard the house to which no one was to be admitted without a pass. She was pressed to have an armed bodyguard. This she refused to consider; but she was provided with one all the same.

  When it transpired that reports of an attack on the island were entirely fanciful, the Queen berated her Ministers for giving credit to such 'an absurd and mad story', for allowing such 'extraordinary measures' to be taken against what now proved to be a 'disgraceful hoax'. The Fenians did pose a threat, though: one of their society shot and wounded Prince Alfred in March 1868 in Australia where he was then serving in the Royal Navy, a crime for which the assailant was executed soon afterwards. It was later suggested that when driving about London the Queen should be accompanied by the enormous, reassuring figure of the robust and aggressive Home Secretary, Sir William Harcourt. When he learned of this proposal Henry Ponsonby voiced the opinion that the sight of these two such contrasting figures riding along together would be 'most interesting. The Queen's amused response to the suggestion was 'Good gracious, no!'

  Towards the end of February 1872 she was threatened once again when a youth of seventeen, named Arthur O'Connor, a great nephew of the Chartist leader, Feargus O'Connor, waved a pistol at her, demanding the release of some Fenian prisoners, as her carriage was about to pass through the Golden Gate of Buckingham Palace. 'I was trembling v. much,' she confessed, 'and a sort of shiver ran through me.'15 She grabbed hold of Lady Churchill's arm, crying, 'Save me!'

  I soon recovered myself sufficiently to stand up and turn round ... All turned and asked if I was hurt, and I said, Not at all. Then ... Arthur came up [and said] they thought the man had dropped something. We looked, but could find nothing when the postillion called out, 'There it is', and looking down I then did see shining on the ground a small pistol! This filled us with horror. All were as white as sheets, Jane C. almost crying, and Leopold looking as if he were going to faint. It is to good Brown and his wonderful presence of mind that I greatly owe my safety, for he alone saw the boy rush round and followed him!16

  Brown was rewarded by the Queen with a gold medal, an annuity of £25 and an expression of public thanks. At the same time Prince Arthur merely received a gold pin, much to the annoyance of the Prince of Wales who maintained that his brother had behaved just as bravely as the importunate ghillie.17 Again it was proposed that the would-be assassin, who was sentenced by a lenient judge to a year's imprisonment, was insane; and again the Queen felt sure that her assailant knew perfectly well what he was doing. She asked Gladstone to have him transported at least, so that he should not return to assault her again. In the end O'Connor himself agreed to transportation, provided he could go to a country with a climate that suited him.

  His threat to the Queen occurred just two days after the service which had been held in St Paul's to give thanks for the recovery of the Prince of Wales from typhoid fever; and the nation's sympathy for Her Majesty deepened the surge of loyalty to the Crown. Long queues of people formed outside Buckingham Palace to sign their names as a mark of sympathy for the Queen's ordeal; and when Charles Dilke attempted to make a speech in Bolton critical of the monarchy his words could not be heard above voices singing 'Rule Britannia' and 'God Save the Queen'. A proposal that a Select Committee should be appointed to examine the Civil List was lost in the House of Commons by 278 votes to 2. Anything like the enthusiasm, loyalty, sympathy and affection shown her after Roderick Maclean's attempt on her life was, the Queen said, 'not to be described'. In addition to numerous letters, she received within two days well over two hundred telegrams.18

  It was worth being shot at, she observed, not for the first time, 'to see how much she was loved'. Certainly the threats and rumours of threats to her life, which continued well into the 1880s, helped for a time to quieten demands that she should show herself more in public.

  Chapter 56

  HOLIDAYS ABROAD

  'La Regina d'Inghilterra!'

  While she considered that the Prince of Wales spent too much time on his foreign trips, his visits to Paris and Biarritz, the French Riviera and German and Austrian Spas, the Queen herself travelled abroad frequently and in far grander style than her son, on occasions booking an entire hotel which she filled with as many as a hundred and rarely less than sixty of her entourage of servants, Indians, Highlanders, doctors, a dentist, a nurse, a French chef, M. Ferry, and his assistants, secretaries, detectives, equerries, grooms, ladies, dressers and a Director of Continental Journeys, J. J. Kanne, as well as innumerable trunks, cases and several evidently indispensable pieces of furniture, in addition to her bed and desk, various favourite pictures and photographs, and those mementoes and trinkets, bronzes, medals, miniatures, paperweights, inkstands and penknives which normally covered the walls and tables of her crowded rooms at Windsor, Balmoral and Osborne. Also taken abroad were her horses, her ponies, 'Sultan' and 'Flora', two or three of her carriages and, in later years, her donkey. When it was diffidently suggested to her that some of her suite might possibly be dispensed with, she replied certainly not, though some of them had little if anything to do.1 Even when travelling in England she was accompanied by an enormous suite. In 1866, when, for once, she did not pay her usual May visit to Balmoral so as to be within easy reach of her Ministers during
a political crisis and went instead to stay at Cliveden, she took with her three doctors, eighty-eight other persons, twelve ponies and eight carriages. The entire assembly, together with supplies of English provisions, travelled on the Continent by her royal train at a speed of thirty-five miles an hour by day and twenty-five by night, stopping for an hour at eight o'clock in the morning so that the Queen could dress in comfort. Halts were also made at meal times and at times and places set out on a most detailed printed timetable. The timetables of Continental railways were in consequence frequently disrupted.

  At the beginning of 1863, just over a year after the Prince Consort's death, the Queen had decided to visit Coburg, making as an excuse for her holiday there the state of her health. She had written to General Grey to say that she felt it 'almost a duty to do something for her wretched health & nerves, to prevent further increase of depression & exhaustion'.

  God knows her own inclination would be to do nothing for her health [she had told him], as HER only wish is to see her life end SOON, but she feels that IF she is to go on, she must change the scene completely sometimes - (if it does not affect, & she hopes it does NOT, her duties) - consequently - going to Balmoral for a fortnight or 3 weeks in the Spring & to Coburg (Coburg only) in the Summer for 3 weeks - (beside visiting her dear Uncle at Brussels; which is a duty) & quite necessary.

  Her Beloved Angel wld not - if he were asked & saw how weak & bowed to earth with anguish & desolation she is - ever, ever increasing - object to her making these additional moves.2

  The visit, however, had not altogether been a success: she had, on that occasion, and during a subsequent holiday at Coburg, been 'overwhelmed by the number of visitors and relations' who had called to see her; and in August 1865 she had proposed going to 'some completely quiet spot in Switzerland where she [could] refuse all visitors and have complete quiet.' She preferred Switzerland to Austria 'because the Prince knew it and she would rather see nothing he had not seen'.3

  'Seriously, [she had written in a memorandum to General Grey] she thinks that if she is alive (and alas! she must live on) next year she must try and do something to get a little complete rest for she feels that her nerves and her strength are getting more and more exhausted and worn... She does not wish to travel about in Switzerland or to go and see anything very fatiguing for her strength and nerves would not stand that [but] to live as simply and in as retired a way as possible ... The Queen has a real longing to try it.4

  She had not been able to satisfy this longing in 1866 because of the war between Austria and Prussia; but in 1867 she wrote in her diary, 'Had a long talk with Maj. Elphinstone about a projected visit to Switzerland D. V. next year, which Dr Jenner is most anxious I should undertake for my health though it is terrible to do or see anything without my beloved Albert. Still I do long to see fine scenery, & Maj. Elphinstone is kindly going to try & find a nice place for me to go to.'5

  She later told Elphinstone that unless she could 'find bracing air she wld not think of going to Switzerland at all'. 'Of course, hot sun and hot days she is prepared to put up with, but there must nevertheless be fresh & cold air besides.'6

  The oppressive weather in London that summer and the next was intolerable and was made all the more so for her, since, as she explained to her eldest daughter, 'I don't perspire & am always in a dreadful, dry burning heat.' She could, she said, hardly hold her pen she was so stifled by the closeness of the atmosphere. She steeled herself to attend a garden party at Buckingham Palace where there were 'quantities of people on the lawn whom [she] had to recognize as [she] went along ... It was vy puzzling & bewildering... Felt quite exhausted & faint & I had seemed to be in a dream, so totally unsuited to the scene'.7

  Five weeks later she was preparing to set out for what she hoped would be the cooler climate of Switzerland where Major Elphinstone had found a large pension as well as a nearby chalet just outside Lucerne, both of which had been taken over in their entirety for the Queen's stay. As the day fixed for her departure approached, however, she began to worry that Lucerne might not be cooler than Osborne which was 'really like Africa, quite intolerable': it made her wish she could 'flee to some iceberg to breathe'. Indeed, she wished she was not going abroad after all, since it was 'misery to move':8 she dreaded 'the whole thing a good deal'. Besides, she got 'tired very easily' and would be 'quite unequal' to see any sights. 'All Picture Galleries & Exhibitions' she felt 'obliged to give up'.9 In her anxiety and apprehension about 'travelling alone without dearest Papa,' so she said, she became 'very unwell' with 'diarrhoea, most violent sick headaches and violent retching'. By 5 August, the day of departure, she had recovered, however. It was, as she recorded in her journal:

  A very fine morning. - Breakfast out as usual & sitting a little while with Alice. Then took leave of her and Louis & [their] 4 dear little children with regret. - At 1/4 p 12 left our dear peaceful Osborne with our 3 children [Princesses Louise and Beatrice and Prince Leopold] feeling sad at the parting with dear Alice ... Janie E [the Marchioness of Ely, Lady of the Bedchamber], the Biddulphs [Sir Thomas Biddulph and the Hon Lady Biddulph, Honorary Bedchamber Woman], Colonel Ponsonby, Sir William Jenner, Fräulein Bauer [Ottilie Bauer, Princess Beatrice's Governess] & Mr Duckworth are with us. We rowed out to the Victoria Albert and were off by 1...

  As soon as we had passed the Needles, there was a groundswell & I had to go below, remaining there till we reached Cherbourg at 1/4 p. 6. How it reminded me of the past, all seemed unaltered, & yet all is so changed for me'! What used formerly to be a delight makes me low & sad now.10

  Travelling across France in the Imperial Train lent to her by Napoleon III, the Queen arrived in Paris feeling uncomfortable in the 'blazing heat' and very tired since she had been unable to sleep throughout the night because the railway carriage rocked 'so dreadfully' and was so hot, despite the footbath full of ice customarily placed in the Queen's carriage at such times. She was driven from the station to the British Embassy where the Empress Eugenie called to see her. She had some 'light dinner' at six o'clock, then went on a drive through Paris, regretting the destruction of the 'picturesque old streets' and the appearance in their place of the 'endless new formal building' planned by the Emperor's protege, Baron Haussmann. She left Paris the next day without returning the Empress's call, a discourtesy which 'greatly vexed' the Imperial Court. 'It was no doubt a mere form,' commented Lord Stanley, the Foreign Secretary, after a conversation with the British Ambassador, 'and there was the excuse of want of time, but it is just on these points that the Imperial Court, as being parvenu, is touchy'.11

  Upon her arrival in Lucerne the local newspaper described the distinguished visitor as 'a woman of about fifty [she had celebrated her forty-ninth birthday three months before], not tall, fairly corpulent [Lord Stanley had described her the previous month as 'growing enormously fat'], with a red face and clad in mourning for her departed husband'.

  Flustered as she had been in the heat of the train, she was relieved to find her 'own dear Scotch sociable' waiting for her at the station, 'driven from the box with 4 horses by a local coachman. I entered into it with the Children. Kanne sat on the box & Brown behind. '12

  She was equally pleased to discover the Pension Wallis 'very comfortable and very cool';[lxiii] and for the next month she greatly enjoyed her holiday, sketching, going for rides and by steamer on the lake, nervously riding 'poor dear "Flora"' up mountain tracks and being carried down in chairs by porters, filling her journal with enthusiastic and rather trite descriptions of 'glorious scenery', 'feasts for the eyes', 'most splendid views', 'stupendous mountains ... beautiful beyond belief, 'stupendous rocks, so grand and wild', 'pictures of indescribable beauty'.

  So as not to be bothered by official recognition she was travelling under the pseudonym of the Countess of Kent, a title she later abandoned, since Prince Alfred was Earl of Kent as well as Duke of Edinburgh, choosing instead the Countess of Lancaster or the Countess of Balmoral (which sounded 'very pretty') though everyone
knew quite well that she was Queen of England, a fact which was made quite clear not only by her generous largesse to the local children who ran after her open landau shouting 'Madame la Reine!' but also by the sight of the royal standard flying over her hotel or villa and of John Brown sitting in the box-seat of her carriage, wearing his kilt and, on sunny days, incongruously, a topee, studiously ignoring the scenery which he affected to despise.13

  'He is surly beyond measure,' Ponsonby recorded in April 1879 when the Queen went to Baveno on Lake Maggiore, 'and today we could see him all the way - a beautiful drive - with his eyes fixed on the horses' tails refusing to look up.' When they reached their destination, 'a lovely place', the Queen did not alight from the carriage. 'We believe it was because Brown would not allow her to get out. '14 But Brown, who, as the Queen said, had an 'increasing hatred of being "abroad"', did have his uses on the Continent, as at home. 'J. B., of course, asks for everything for the Queen as if he were in Windsor Castle,' Ponsonby told his wife, 'and if anything cannot be got he says it must - and it is.'15 He was, in fact, quite as domineering in Switzerland, Italy and Germany as he was in Scotland. In Coburg one day, for example, as he was about to take the Queen out for a drive, a German band appeared and started tootling and drumming in the street. 'Oh! I wish they would turn in,' she said. Immediately, Brown strode across to them and silenced them with four words directed at their conductor, 'Nix, nix boom boom!'16

  The Director of Continental Journeys, J. J. Kanne, told Henry Ponsonby that Brown and Jenner between them would 'drive him mad ... Jenner, who has never seen foreign I [lavatories] before, runs about to each in a state of high disgust and says they must be entirely altered.'17

  While Brown was permitted to do more or less as he liked on these foreign holidays, the Queen's gentlemen did not find her so undemanding. While she was staying at the Villa Clara, Baveno, Henry Ponsonby described how difficult she was to please on occasions: