Queen Victoria as I Knew Her

by Sir Theodore Martin

To add to the Queen's depression, a lameness due to a sprain of the knee robbed her of the freedom of movement in which she had always delighted. Of this she speaks in a letter (May 29, 1883):—

"Many things unite in rendering the Queen's remaining years terribly hard and desolate. Her lameness does not improve much. She can walk very little indeed (and that is great labour) out of doors, and never without two sticks indoors, and is carried, which the newspaper reporters with singular ignorance consider a proof of her great 'delicacy of health,' complaining also of the public not being admitted everywhere, as if it would be pleasant for any lady to be carried in and out of a carriage before crowds of people! But the people are very kind and anxious, though very unreasoning in thinking a sprain can be cured in a few days, especially when she is no longer young."

In the autumn of 1881 the Queen held a review in the Queen's Park, Edinburgh, of the Scottish Volunteers, considerably over 40,000 of whom passed before her. The march past occupied more than three hours, during which the rain descended in torrents. The Queen was in an open carriage, and however much they might have been disappointed, none of her volunteers would have murmured had Her Majesty withdrawn at an early stage of the review. But, true soldier's daughter as she was, she paid no heed to the weather, thinking only of her duty to let herself be seen by those who had come from all parts of the country in the hope of seeing and being seen by their Queen. She did not leave the Park until the last man had passed. By this time the carriage was full of water, and pools of it, I have been told, dropped from the dresses of herself and ladies when they returned to Holyrood.

In a like determination never, if she could, to cause disappointment to her people, when she visited Liverpool about four years later, the Queen drove slowly through more than three miles of streets under a drenching rain which lasted throughout the whole route. The open-air drives in the Highlands had, no doubt, accustomed Her Majesty to bear exposure so trying without injury to her health. The stimulus, too, given by the heartiness of the greeting, which her courage and gracious courtesy evoked, may have helped to keep all evil consequences at bay. In writing to me, May 17, 1886, the drenching rain was not mentioned. "The Liverpool visit," she only said, "was a perfectly triumphal ovation, so warm and hearty ... from a million and a half of people. The feeling against Home Rule is on the increase."

It was well that the Queen, in all her sorrows, could find solace in the sympathetic and ever-increasing loyalty of her people. Another heavy blow was soon to fall upon her in the death of Prince Leopold (March 28, 1884). Only two years before, his marriage had been solemnised in St George's Chapel at Windsor under circumstances of unusual splendour, in which Her Majesty had taken a prominent part. Who that witnessed it could ever forget the figure of the Queen as she passed up the aisle to the altar. In the bridal train and the general assemblage many of the most beautiful women in England, arrayed in the costliest robes and adorned with an infinite wealth of jewels, preceded Her Majesty. Whatever high blood and bearing, whatever wealth and beauty could give to delight the eye, was there. But all was eclipsed by the unpretending figure in black, moving onwards with the simple unstudied grace, unconscious of its own charm, but insensibly by its perfect composure filling you with the impression that in her the Majesty of England was represented. Vera incessu patuit Regina. No doubt the memory of that moment came back to many as it did to me, when the body of Prince Leopold was borne by the Seaforth Highlanders up the same aisle for the funeral benediction only two short years after, and the Queen was seen looking down from the Royal pew upon the group of mourners gathered round the bier. I had known the Prince well for years, and I believe was a favourite with him. My letter of condolence to Her Majesty after the funeral brought me the following reply:—

"Windsor Castle, Apl. 10, 1884.

"The Queen thanks Sir Theodore Martin for his kind letter, as well as for the previous ones, and for all the kind sympathy, but that is indeed universal. It has always been thus for her, and each loss intensifies it.... The accounts of the sad and impressive ceremony of last Friday and Saturday are excellent, and all in such a reverent tone—and the Times articles (3) so good. The Standard[27] is admirable, and the Queen thanks Sir Theodore for it.... The Queen is not ill, but greatly shaken, and this new shock has been overwhelming....

"The Queen feels the loss of that dear clever child of so many cares and anxieties more and more, and knows that again a great help and support has been taken from her in her declining years. She never felt easy when he was away, and his foreign trips never did him any good. Now he is safe.

"The Queen has been urged to have some complete rest and change of air, and is therefore going for a fortnight to Darmstadt on the 15th."[28]

In 1886 the idea became general of a great celebration of the Queen's Jubilee in the following year. The subject gave rise to a great display of loyal feeling, and much eloquent writing in praise of Her Majesty in the journals. I seem to have sent Her Majesty some of these which I thought would give her pleasure, for on June 28 she writes to me thus:—