QUEEN VICTORIA A Personal History

by Christopher Hibbert

  lv

  The Queen had been equally put out at a garden party some years before when the Duke of Cambridge had noticed 'the brute Gladstone' standing in the forefront of the circle before her tent while she had her tea, 'bang opposite her, hat in hand'. She said to the Duke, 'Do you see Gladstone? ... There he has been standing this half-hour, determined to force me to speak to him! But I am as determined not to speak to him' (Giles St Aubyn, The Royal George: The Life of Prince George, Duke of Cambridge, 1963, 234).

  lvi

  He had never made any secret of his dislike of the English. As a twenty-year-old lieutenant in the Guards, he had declared after a heavy nosebleed that it was 'good to be rid of this damned English blood'. The antagonism was, no doubt, exacerbated by his mother who, yearning for her 'own beloved England', thanking God that she was a 'regular John Bull' and hating her 'odious' life in Berlin, had urged him to remember that her own country was 'the most progressive, advanced, & liberal & the most developed race in the world, also the richest', as well as the greatest The Queen concluded that, like Gladstone, her grandson was 'cracked'. His behaviour towards his mother made her 'blood boil'. It was, she told Lord Cranbrook, Lord President of the Council, 'abominable'. Her grandson 'seemed to think of himself as in some supernatural position'.30

  naval power with the 'largest & most powerful Empire in the world in which the sun never sets', obviously more 'suited than any other to civilize other countries'. As General Count Alfred von Waldersee observed, this constant praise of England and belittling of Germany was counterproductive. 'If his parents intended to bring up a constitutional monarch who would obediently bow before the sovereignty of a parliamentary majority, they have been disappointed,' Count Waldersee said. 'It looks as if precisely the opposite has come about ... It is quite amazing that the Prince bears such a prejudice against England; to a great extent this is a very natural reaction to his mother's endeavours to make anglomaniacs out of the children.' The Crown Princess was eventually forced to recognize this herself and decided to 'keep silent on such issues'. 'Willy', she concluded, 'is chauvinistic and ultra Prussian to a degree & with a violence wh|ich] is often very painful to me ... Prussian princes have a certain "genre" & it runs in the blood' (John C. G. Rohl, Young Wilhelm: The Kaiser's Early Life, 1859-1888, Cambridge, 1998, 115, 267, 395, 409, 441).

  lvii

  She caused much consternation in the household in 1895 - after her marriage had broken down - by her relationship with Sir Arthur Bigge who succeeded Sir Henry Ponsonby as the Queen's Private Secretary in May that year. Princess Beatrice sent for Dr Reid in November 'to speak about Princess Louise's relations with Bigge and said that it was a scandal and something must be done. The Princess of Wales had written to her about it. Also Princess Christian, she said, was much exercised about it. Lady Bigge was in despair; she had ruined the happiness of others and would his. Prince Henry had seen Bigge drinking Princess Louise's health at the Queen's dinner. She had him in her toils. If the Queen knew all she would not keep Bigge.' It was over two years before the scandal finally subsided and relations between Princess Beatrice and Princess Louise improved at last (Michaela Reid, Ask Sir James: The Life of Sir James Reid, 102-4).

  lviii

  The Queen, in contrast, so Mary Ponsonby observed, was often more at ease with servants than with her guests, as the Prince Consort had also been. She would, she herself said, just as soon clasp 'the poorest widow in the land to her heart as she would any lady in high position'. Differences in rank must, of course, be supported; but one could never be 'sufficiently loving, kind and considerate to those beneath one'.

  lix

  She almost never forgot an anniversary herself. Her granddaughter, Princess Marie Louise, recalled how she invariably wore lockets containing mementoes of various members of her family on their birthdays: 'Her bracelets were gold chains from which hung various lockets containing the hair of her children and grandchildren ... On birthdays and other family anniversaries, any special brooches or other pieces of jewellery given to her in commemoration of these events were always worn on the day itself (Princess Marie Louise, My Memories of Six Reigns, 141).

  Every year, from 1861 onwards, the anniversary of the Prince Consort's death was for her a day of mourning.

  'This sad day,' she was to write a few weeks before her own death, 'so full of terrible memories, returned again.' The anniversary of his birth was always remembered and commemorated, too. 'This ever dear day has returned again without my beloved Albert being with me, who on this day, eighty one years ago, came into the world as a blessing to so many, leaving an imperishable name behind him,' she was to record in her journal on the last anniversary she was to live to see. 'How I remember the happy day it used to be, and preparing presents for him, which he would like ... All, all is engraven on my mind and in my heart!' (Queen Victoria's Journal, 26 August 1900).

  lx

  Prince Arthur, who was created Duke of Connaught and Strathearn in 1874, was eventually promoted to field-marshal, but never achieved his ambition of becoming commander-in-chief, much to his mother's annoyance.

  She cannot [she protested] and will not submit to the shameful principle that Princes are to suffer for their birth in a monarchical country. Have a Republic at once, if that is the principle. She must have an assurance that such is not the case. Arthur was recommended solely on account of his peculiar fitness. It is very abominable that the Government, and a so-called Conservative one too, should wish to pander to the Radicals! (Quoted in Kenneth Rose, Kings, Queens and Courtiers, 53)

  lxi

  In his book Albert and Victoria (London, 1972, 225) David Duff, citing 'private information', wrote, 'It has been passed down that he [Sir James Clark] revealed, to members of his own profession, the Queen's reply to his advice that she should have no more children. The reply was "Oh, Sir James, can I have no more fun in bed?"'

  lxii

  The silence of the Windsor corridors was often commented upon. 'It is quite remarkable, in fact almost uncanny, how quiet this enormous building is,' the Queen's German dresser, Frieda Arnold, wrote home in the 1850s, 'and sometimes one could imagine that the Castle was quite empty. For everyone goes about their business in the most calm and orderly fashion, and because of the carpets one hears nothing at all. People speak very quietly' (Benita Stoney and Heinrich C. Weltzien, My Mistress the Queen, 41).

  lxiii

  The Pension Wallis, a handsome building on three floors, was specially equipped for the Queen's visit with numerous items bought locally and entered in the Lord Chamberlain's 'Statement of Her Majesty's Expenses on Tour in Switzerland' - 'furniture, carpets, baths and sundries, glass, china, looking-glasses, a telegraphic apparatus and, to put Jenner's mind at rest, a prodigious amount of cleanser for the patent WC (Peter Arengo-Jones, Queen Victoria in Switzerland, 74).

  lxiv

  At Grasse she was a frequent guest at the estate of the immensely rich and awesomely imperious Alice Rothschild. One day while walking in the gardens she inadvertently strayed into a newly planted flower bed.' "Come off at once!" Baroness Rothschild thundered at the Queen of England and Empress of India.

  'The Queen came off. After that she referred to Alice, perhaps only half in jest, as "The All-Powerful One". Their friendship endured. So did the epithet. "The Ail-Powerful One" became Alice's nickname to her kin' (Frederic Morton, The Rothschilds, 189).

  lxv

  The Queen had been far less impressed by Francesco Crispi, who had called upon her with the King and Queen of Italy when she had been staying at the Villa Palmieri in Florence in 1888. 'The King [Umberto I] is aged and grown grey [he was only forty-four], the Queen is as charming as ever. To my astonishment Signor Crispi, the present very Radical Prime Minister, came into the room, and remained there, which was very embarrassing ... They were most kind and amiable, making many excuses for Crispi's behaviour this morning — the King saying he was avery clever man, but had no manners' (Queen Victoria's Journal, 5 April 1888). />
  lxvi

  Ten years before, she had written a letter of sympathy to the Duke of Cambridge on the death of his steward, which expressed her understanding of the grief that could be caused by the death of a trusted and devoted servant: 'Let me tell you how grieved I am at the great loss you have sustained in the loss of your faithful and excellent steward and I may add friend. No one perhaps can more truly appreciate your feelings than I do, who know what it is to have an attached, devoted and faithful confidential servant. Indeed such a loss is often more than those of one's nearest and dearest, for a faithful servant is so identified with all your feelings, wants, wishes and habits as really to be part of your existence and cannot be replaced' (FitzGeorge papers, 17 April 1873, quoted in Giles St Aubyn, The Royal George: A Life of George, Duke of Cambridge, 1963, 165).

  lxvii

  This portrait hung in Windsor Castle until, six days after his mother's death, King Edward VII had it removed and sent to Brown's surviving brother, William. It was kept at Crathic until 1944 when it was sold at auction for £4 12s. 6d. It was subsequently sold by Christie's in Edinburgh on 28 May 1998 to a private collector for £300,000 ('The Court Historian: Newsletter of the Society for Court Studies', vol. in, 2 July 1998, 65).

  lxviii

  There arc two portraits of Abdul Karim in the Durbar Corridor at Osborne which also contains a large collection of portraits of Indian dignitaries, soldiers, servants and of craftsmen who worked on the Durbar Room. All these were commissioned by the Queen who also commissioned the full-length portrait of the fifteen-year-old Maharajah Duleep Singh from F. X. Winterhalter. Impressed by the striking good looks of this boy who had been taken into British protection when his father was deposed, the Queen herself painted a portrait of him in watercolour, depicting him kneeling down to dress up Prince Arthur in Indian costume (Marina Warner, Queen Victoria's Sketchbook, 197-8). Thereafter Duleep Singh led a dissipated life for which he came to beg the Queen's forgiveness when she was staying at Grasse in 1891. 'The Queen said he was quite calm at first then wept bitterly imploring forgiveness and finally when she stroked his hand recovered his equanimity.' 'No wonder,' the Queen's maid-of-honour, Marie Adeane, commented, 'I believe he is a monster of the deepest dye and is treated far better than he deserves' (Victor Mallet, Life with Queen Victoria: Marie Mallet's Letters from Court, 48).

  Duleep Singh's elder son, Prince Victor Albert, a godson of the Queen, married a daughter of the ninth Earl of Coventry. His father was told by the Governor-General of India at the time of his deposition in 1849 to present the famous Koh-i-Noor diamond to the Queen. When he died in 1893 the Queen sent a wreath with a message of sympathy from his 'affectionate friend & Godmother'.

  lxix

  After the Queen's death her Indian servants were sent back to India with pensions; and, in the presence of the Munshi himself, most of his papers were burned on a bonfire at Frogmore Cottage where he had lived when the Court was at Windsor. In 1905 while he was on a tour of India, the Prince of Wales, the later King George V, went to see him at Karim Lodge, Agra. 'He lias not grown more beautiful,' the Prince recorded, 'and is getting fat. I must say he was most civil and humble and really pleased to see us. He wore his C.V.O. which I had no idea he had got. I am told he lives quietly here and gives no trouble at all' (RA GV A A 27/10, quoted in Sheila Anand, Indian Sahib: Queen Victoria's Dear Abdul, 103-4).

  lxx

  The Queen greatly admired Sullivan's music. She asked him for a complete set of his works, a request made to no other composer, not even Mendelssohn; and she sent Prince Albert's compositions for him to correct, as high a token of her regard as she could possibly have bestowed. Having heard his oratorio, The Light of the World, she declared it was 'destined to uplift British music'. Although she thought the plot of The Mikado 'rather silly', she found the well-known airs irresistible and she commanded a performance of The Gondoliers at Windsor Castle. She took pride in having urged Sullivan to try his hand at grand opera. 'You would do it so well,' she told him. Accordingly he dedicated Ivanhoe to her; and after the first night of that opera she told him that its success was 'a particular satisfaction to her' as she believed it was 'partly owing to her own instigation' that he had 'undertaken this great work' (Hesketh Pearson, Gilbert and Sullivan 161, 171, 183).

  lxxi

  The Queen's handwriting was as much a source of complaint in her family as it was among the members of her staff. For instance Tsar Nicholas II, husband of her granddaughter, Alexandra, complained to his wife, 'Her letters are so awfully difficult to read, and she has got a way of shortening her sentences and words in such a manner that I could not make out for a long time' (Andrei Maylunas and Sergei Mironenko, A Lifelong Passion: Nicholas and Alexandra: Their Own Story, 67).

  lxxii

  Shortly after the introduction of an improved version of the typewriter into England, a machine was purchased for use at Windsor. But the Queen evidently did not like it (Emden, Behind the Throne, 127). She was equally opposed at first to the introduction of the telephone. She commanded a private demonstration of this invention at Osborne House in 1878. Alexander Graham Bell's public relations officer, Kate Field, arrived on the island and from the nearby Osborne Cottage sang 'Kathleen Mavourneen' down the line to the Queen who was 'not much impressed' (Victoria Glendinning, Trollope, 1992, 448). In 1896, however, telephones were installed at Windsor Castle. The Queen was equally dismissive of that other invention, the motor car. 'I'm told,' she commented, 'that they smell exceedingly nasty and are very shaky and disagreeable conveyances altogether' (quoted in Nevill, 13). The Prince of Wales did not agree with her. Provided he was not accompanied by his wife, 'whose one idea was not to run over a dog', he delighted in being driven very fast in a large car equipped with a raucous horn in the shape of a four-key bugle (C. W. Stamper, What I Know, 191).

  lxxiii

  The sculptor, Alfred Gilbert, who was summoned to Osborne in 1896 to execute a memorial to Prince Henry of Battenberg for Whippingham Church, arrived with evening clothes but without the regulation court dress. Fortunately his moulder, who had come to the Isle of Wight with him, had been a tailor in his youth and was able to convert Gilbert's evening trousers into knee-breeches for his appearance at dinner. A pair of lady's black silk stockings were borrowed and, after considerable difficulty, as it was a Sunday, shoes and buckles were procured from a local shoemaker. When Gilbert was thus equipped a message came from the Queen excusing him from wearing court dress; but by then he had no ordinary evening trousers to put on. When the Queen was informed what had happened, she commented complacently, 'How clever!' (Isabel McAlister, Alfred Gilbert, London, 1929, 279).

  lxxiv

  This was in 1872. The older the Queen grew, the more frequently drunk some of her servants became. Mary Adeane, who joined the Household as a maid-of-honour in 1887, said, 'the footmen smell of whisky and are never prompt to answer the bell [and] stare in such a supercilious way' (Victor Mallet, Life with Queen Victoria, 215).

  lxxv

  The Hon. Alexander Yorke, fifth son of the fourth Earl of Hardwicke, who had joined the household in 1884, was, however, much indulged by the Queen who was fond of him as a kind of court jester. To others, Yorke's precious manner, his heavy scent and outlandish buttonholes were the cause of some disapproval and concern. On his appeareance one day with 'an enormous Malmaison Carnation' in his buttonhole, Lady Lytton asked her husband's Private Secretary, Austin Lee, rather apprehensively, 'Are button-holes worn now?' 'Well,' Lee answered, 'not the peony size of Alick's' (Lady Lytton's Court Diary, 97).

  lxxvi

  A fortnight after Lady Ely's death the Queen drove in a closed carriage from Paddington to Kensal Green Cemetery to place a wreath on Lady Ely's grave. 'There were crowds out,' she recorded in her journal. 'We could not understand why, and thought something must be going [on], but it turned out it was only to see me ... There were such crowds that the privacy of my visit was quite spoilt; still, I felt glad so many bore witness to this act
of regard and love paid to my beloved friend' (Queen Victoria's Journal, 27 June 1890).

  lxxvii

  The Queen still retained the clarity of her expressive speech. In October 1898 the recently appointed Clerk of the Council, Sir Almeric Fitzroy, having attended his first Council meeting at Balmoral, recorded in his memoirs: 'It was an impressive spectacle, on entering this small and rather meanly appointed room, to find the solitary occupant in this lonely woman ... How little sensible was that shrivelled octogenarian figure to the emotions she excited, as, with the habitual dignity that belongs to her ... she motioned with her left hand to the position I was to occupy ... and with a clearness of articulation that is startling in its melodious resonance, she applied herself to the routine of a ceremonial at which she must have presided more than six hundred times' (Sir Almeric Fitzroy, Memoirs, i, 2).