Part 2 (2/2)
”It is a subject which makes the Queen so furious that she cannot contain herself. G.o.d created men and women different--then let them remain each in their own position. Tennyson has some beautiful lines on the difference of men and women in _The Princess_.[13] Woman would become the most hateful, heartless, and disgusting of human beings were she allowed to uns.e.x herself; and where would be the protection which man was intended to give the weaker s.e.x? The Queen is sure that Mrs Martin agrees with her.”
In regard to the prevailing extravagance and want of individuality in dress, also, the Queen held strong opinions. Thus she writes to me (January 14, 1875):--
”The Prince had the greatest possible dislike for extravagance in dress, and, above all, for always _following_ in fas.h.i.+on. He liked people to be _well_ and elegantly and neatly dressed, but abhorred in men as well as in women anything loud, or fast, or startling. He would not have allowed me or any of our daughters to appear in any dress or coiffure or bonnet not becoming or proper, and he would have made us take it off. I never bought a dress or bonnet without consulting him, and his taste was always good. I remember so well, when my French coiffeur came from Paris every year, and brought over things which were tried on, the Prince has come in and said, '_Das tragst Du nicht!_' [That you shall not wear!]
The Queen and Princesses, he said, ought never to _follow_ foolish and ugly fas.h.i.+ons, only because they were new. This was entirely out of place.
”What would he say now, when every one dresses so overmuch, and thinks so much more about dress than they ever did before! He thought, and I think the same, that people ought to adopt what is really becoming, but not because it is the fas.h.i.+on, and especially what does not suit their face and figure.”
Wise words, no doubt; but how few are they, in all ranks of life, who have the courage to be in what Falstaff calls ”the rereward of the fas.h.i.+on,” however fantastic the fas.h.i.+on may be, and out of harmony with their face and figure?
The Queen's pa.s.sionate love for Scotland, with which her little books have made the world familiar, her delight in the prospect of going to Balmoral, her dejection at the thought of leaving it, constantly broke out in her letters to me. Thus (28th June 1867) she writes from Balmoral:--
”The Queen hopes Mr Martin will find a good place in the _Life_ for the Prince's love and admiration for our beloved Scotland. Mr Martin remembers his memorable words spoken not three weeks before his fatal illness: 'England does not know what she owes to Scotland.' Beloved country! The Queen's whole heart yearns to it more and more, and the 14th will be a sad day when she leaves it again.”
Notwithstanding my love for my own native land, I found so much of graver matter to deal with in the Prince's life that I fear I did not gratify this phase of the Queen's feelings so fully as she desired.
Greatly as the Prince enjoyed his Scottish holidays, Scotland was not to him what it was to the Queen, especially after his death. She was never so well in health as there, and with health came fresh vigour of mind and cheerfulness of spirits. She rejoiced, too, in the contrast of her comparatively simple and genial life there with the life of state and courtly convention which awaited her at Windsor, where, as she has told me, even the measured tread of the sentinels under her windows was irksome to her. The very splendour of Windsor Castle, that stateliest and most richly endowed of palaces, weighed upon a spirit that yearned for the freedom of life and movement, for which monarchs have ever yearned, but must, perforce, school themselves to forego. Her Majesty's feeling on this subject finds striking expression in the following pa.s.sage of a letter to me from Windsor Castle (November 8, 1869):--
”The departure from Scotland, that beloved and blessed land, 'the birthplace of valour, the country of worth,' is very painful, and the _Sehnsucht_ [yearning] for it, and proportionate chagrin on returning to this gloomiest, saddest of places, very great.[14] It is not alone the pure air, the quiet and beautiful scenery, which makes it so delightful--it is the atmosphere of loving affection, and the hearty attachment of the people around Balmoral, which warms the heart, and does one good, and the absence of which, replaced by a cathedral church, with all its bells and clergy, a garrison town, and a very gossiping one, a Court with all its chilling formality, and the impossibility of going among the poor here, who are in villages of a very bad description, makes the change a dreadful one.”
While, for the reason I have stated, Scotland took no prominent place in my _Life_ of the Prince, I made the Queen such amends as I might by my a.s.sistance in the preparation and pa.s.sing through the press of the profusely ill.u.s.trated edition of the _Leaves from a Journal_,[15] in the details of which Her Majesty took great interest. With her accustomed courtesy the Queen acknowledged a service which was a pleasure to me from the frequency with which it brought me into communication with her, by presentation of a fine copy of the book, inscribed (January 11, 1869) by her own hand, ”To Theodore Martin, Esq., with the expression of sincere grat.i.tude for the pains he has taken with this ill.u.s.trated volume.” And here I may say that I have not met in life a nature more grateful than the Queen's for service done, however slight, or more courteous in the acknowledgment of it. This perfect courtesy showed itself in many ways. Thus, for example, if a letter remained without answer for a day or two, the reply was sure to open with an apology for the delay. If the delay extended to several days, then ”the Queen is shocked” at her own tardiness, although it was due to the urgent demand of business of State, or to some other important claim on her attention.
Again, when she has been sitting at work, surrounded by despatch-boxes, in the open air at Osborne, and I have come to make my adieu, taking off my hat as I approached, she would desire me to replace it; and when I deprecated doing so, ”Put on your hat,” she said with a peremptory playfulness--”put on your hat, or I will not speak to you! I know you suffer from neuralgia,”--though how she came to know it I could not imagine.
The marriage of H.R.H. the Princess Louise, for whom my wife as well as myself had a warm regard, was sure, as the Queen knew, to be a matter of deep interest to us. No sooner was it arranged than Her Majesty wrote to inform us. The announcement was followed by another letter (12th March 1871), in which she wrote, in antic.i.p.ation of the official invitation to the ceremony at St George's Chapel, Windsor, on the 21st: ”The Queen is anxious that Mr Martin should know that he is specially invited to Princess Louise's marriage as _the Queen's personal friend_.” The signal honour thus done me was continued at all the subsequent marriages of the Royal children.
The period between the short Administration of Mr Disraeli in 1868 and his return to office in 1874 was one of great political agitation and unrest, both at home and abroad. Problems that had not hitherto got beyond academical discussion took a practical form under the impulse given to reform by Mr Gladstone on his accession to power. Bills, among others, were launched for the Abolition of the Irish Church, for Compulsory Education, for the Establishment of the Ballot, for the Abolition of University tests, and for Army Reform. These were all measures novel and of a wide-reaching scope, upon which public opinion was greatly divided, and on which the Queen, according to her method, had to form an independent judgment. The state of affairs abroad, also, demanded close attention. The plots and counterplots, not always favourable to England, which came to a climax in the outbreak of the Franco-German war, the att.i.tude of America in regard to the Alabama Claims, and of Russia in denouncing the clauses of the Treaty of Paris which provided for the neutralisation of the Black Sea, all fell within the same period, and in the policy to be maintained in regard to them Her Majesty's Ministers looked for her advice and a.s.sistance.
Early in 1870 an extra pressure of work was thrown upon the Queen by the death of General Grey, formerly secretary to Prince Albert, and afterwards her own Private Secretary, on whose vigorous judgment and political sagacity she had long been accustomed to rely. A pa.s.sage in a letter to me (29th March), the day before he died, shows how deeply she felt his loss: ”Alas! poor General Grey will hardly live through the day! This is very, very sad, for in many, many ways he was most valuable to the Queen, and a very devoted, zealous, and very able adviser and friend.... It is too dreadful to think of his poor wife and children, whom he quite doted on, and who are remarkably fine children. The poor dear d.u.c.h.ess of St Albans, too, who was confined in the same house, and very near the father she adored, was struck down. It is too, too sad!”
The double tragedy was indeed sad, and these words express what was felt by all who knew General Grey and his beautiful daughter, and the great love by which they were united.
Apart from all considerations of personal feeling, the loss of a friend so long and intimately a.s.sociated with the daily work of the Queen as Sovereign must have been serious indeed.[16] The strain upon her mind, great enough before, became inevitably greater, and it is not surprising that in the course of 1871 her health, as she says in the letter of 17th September of that year, above cited (p. 40), broke down.
I saw much of her, in connection with my work, at this time, and on one occasion she said: ”I wonder what my ladies think of my want of courtesy. Sometimes I drive out with them for a couple of hours, and all the time do not exchange a word with them. I am so taken up with thinking what answers to make to the despatches and letters of the day.”
The position of a sovereign in regard to foreign policy must often be rendered embarra.s.sing by the ties of relations.h.i.+p or personal friends.h.i.+p. The Queen must have felt this on the outbreak of the Franco-German war. With Germany she had the closest family ties, and she saw with satisfaction that, with the progress of the war, German unity, which she knew had been the cherished dream of the Prince Consort, and which she herself felt would tend in the long-run to the peace of Europe, became a fact. On the other hand, she had formed a warm personal regard for Napoleon III., and also for his Empress, remembering how much they both loved our country, and how loyally he had, on several occasions, behaved to England when his support was of importance. While, therefore, maintaining politically an att.i.tude of perfect neutrality, the Queen's kind heart gave to the fallen sovereigns a sympathetic welcome when they came to England. On the 3rd of December 1870 she wrote to me from Windsor Castle:--
”The Queen has seen the poor Empress, who shows great dignity and great gentleness.... The Queen is pleased to say she was cheered at the station on arriving. There is a great and kind feeling here for those who are in misfortune and sorrow, especially among the working people, and that is not the case in many other countries.”
Again, when the Emperor came to Windsor Castle in the following March, the Queen wrote (31st March):--
”The visit of the Emperor Napoleon--his _first_ return to Windsor since his triumphal visit here in 1855--was very trying. He was very much moved, but he behaved beautifully and with all the peculiar charm of simple, unaffected graciousness which he possesses in a wonderful degree. He spoke readily of the present and the past....”
The Queen's interest in the Emperor did not diminish during the brief span of life which was left to him. On the 8th of January 1873 she writes: ”We are all so grieved for the poor Emperor Napoleon, whose state, the Queen fears, is very critical. She is sure the country is full of sympathy.” Again, on the 15th, she writes: ”The Queen is much pleased with Mr Martin's observations on the poor Emperor Napoleon, whose sudden death she truly grieves at, and she is proud to see the sympathy and feeling shown by the nation.... Did Mr Martin go to the lying-in-state at Chiselhurst yesterday?”
This I was unable to do, and I expressed my regret to the Queen, and mentioned that I should go down for the funeral. This was Her Majesty's answer:--
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