Christopher Hibbert: QUEEN VICTORIA A Personal History

Evidently she did not read Disraeli's penultimate novel, Lothair, with great care. Having 'with happy promptitude', answered a question from the Duchess of Edinburgh as to whether or not she had read the book, by claiming that she had been the first person to do so, she was then asked if she did not think that Theodora, the enthusiastic supporter of Italian liberty, was 'a divine character'. 'The Queen looked a little perplexed and grave. It wd. have been embarrassing had the Dss. not gone on rattling away' (quoted in Stanley Weintraub, Victoria, 412).

Dickens did not care to follow the example of Thomas Carlyle who, the year before, without being invited to do so, had taken a chair with the observation that he was a feeble old man. Carlyle described the Queen as a 'comely little lady, with a pair of kind, clear, and intelligent grey eyes ... still looks almost young ... still plump; has a fine, low voice, soft ... It is impossible to imagine a politer little woman; nothing the least imperious; all gentle, all sincere, looking unembarrassing - rather attractive even; makes you feel, too (if you have any sense in you) that she is Queen.' She 'sailed out towards [him] as if moving on skates and bending her head towards |him] with a smile'.

She described Carlyle as 'a strange looking, eccentric old Scotchman, who holds forth, in a drawling, melancholy voice, with a broad Scotch accent, upon Scotland and the utter degeneration of everything' (Queen Victoria's Journal, 4 March 1869).

On the day of the death of Princess Alice - whose dying words were 'dear Papa' - the Queen recorded in her journal: 'This terrible day come round again. Slept tolerably, but awoke very often, constantly seeing darling Alice before me. When I woke in the morning, was not for a moment aware of all our terrible anxiety. And then it all burst upon me. I asked for news, but nothing had come. Then got up and went, as I always do on this day, to the Blue Room |where the Prince Consort had died], and prayed there. When dressed, I went into my sitting room for breakfast. Directly after, came another [telegram] with the dreadful tidings that darling Alice sank gradually and passed away at half past 7 this morning! It was too awful! That this dear, talented, distinguished, tender-hearted, noble-minded, sweet child, who behaved so admirably during her father's illness, and afterwards, in supporting me in every possible way, should be called back to her father on this very anniversary, seems almost incredible, and most mysterious! To me (here seems something touching in the union which this brings, their names being forever united on this day of their birth into another better world!' (Queen Victoria's Journal, 14 December 1878).

'We could have spared any of the Princes better than him,' Lady Monkswell commented, 'for he and Princess Beatrice and their four children always lived quietly with the Queen and made it pleasant and homely for her' (E. C. F. Collier, ed., A Victorian Diarist Later Extracts, 6).

Prince George was created Duke of York in 1892. His father had wanted this title bestowed upon Prince Eddy. But the Queen had strongly objected since it was associated with her Hanoverian uncle who, however successful an administrator as Commander-in-Chief of the British Army, had led a far from blameless private life. She also objected to the title being conferred upon Prince Eddy's brother, Prince George, giving way with an ill grace. 'I am glad you like the title of Duke of York,' she told her grandson. 'I am afraid, I do not and wish you had remained as you are. A Prince no one else can be, whereas a Duke any nobleman can be, and many are! I am not very fond of that of York which has not very agreeable associations' (RA GV A A 10/39).

In earlier years, so she had told the Princess Royal, 'I always have standing on my night table near my bed wherever I go ... a bottle of camphor lozenges ... I am sure if I went anywhere without them I should fancy I could not get to sleep.' (Roger Fulford, ed., Dearest Child, 152).

Like so many of her contemporaries, the Queen treasured a collection of strands of hair cut from the heads of 'the dear departed'. Some she was given: for example his executor gave her some of Dean Stanley's, part of which she sent on to her eldest daughter with the comment that 'it had to be disinfected' (Dearest Mama: Private Correspondence of Queen Victoria and the German Crown Princess, ed. Roger Fulford, 105). Some she asked for, as she did for a lock from the head of King Victor Emmanuel who, she discovered on its arrival, had dyed his once red hair black; and she sent for a tuft from the head of the Duke of Wellington whose manservant had to apologize for the small amount he was able to send, the demands from the family and friends being 'so great' (Spicer MSS, 4 October 1852 quoted in Elizabeth Longford, Wellington: Pillar of State, 400). The Duke's daughter-in-law, the former Lady Douro, acquired the Duke's walrus ivory false teeth.