Osborne

I received an email to say that the podcast link on this site doesn’t work for some ipads/tablets. I am not sure how widespread that is but am grateful to the person who sent the email telling me of this. All the podcasts can be heard at:

http://hilliardandcroft.podbean.com/

 and, in response to a request from the kind ‘emailer’, I include the most recent podcast (about Osborne House) here:

 

Podcast Powered By Podbean

I am also delighted to announce that Shattered Crowns: The Betrayal, which is already available via Kindle, will be available in paperback within 48 hours.

 

 

"Hedges Full of Honeysuckle"

On a rather dull January day, when many people have the post-Christmas blues, it's lovely to think of somewhere beautiful. I think my favourite place in the entire world is probably Osborne House, and this wonderful description from Queen Marie of Roumania captures it so perfectly:

"Osborne! The very name is still a joy. It meant summer holidays, it meant the sea and the seashore, it meant wonderful shells to be found when the tide was low—shells of every color and shape. It meant glorious bathing when the tide was high, and drives in the big "wagonette," as we called our brake, through the sweet-smelling woods, past hedges full of honeysuckle.

And it meant dear old Grandmama Queen in the background. Grandmama Queen at breakfast under her ecru, green-fringed parasol, surrounded by dogs, Indians, Highlanders, and also an aunt or two in nervous attendance, or occasionally a curtsying lady in waiting in correct black, all smiles and with the mellowed voice usual to those who served or attended to the great little old lady.

It also meant the beautiful terraces in front of Osborne House where the big magnolias grew against the walls, those giant magnolias which had a lemonlike fragrance and in which you could bury your whole face, but which you never dared pick because they were far too precious and exotic for childish plunder. Even when faded and their petals turned to a sort of leathery brown, they still kept their delicious scent, and then their curious hard-pointed centers became very prominent; they really were mystery flowers, as also were the passion flowers with their cross in the center and the many stamens laid flat in a perfect circle like the wheels of a watch. There was also jasmine on those terraces, and jasmine has always filled me with a sort of ecstasy."

The Kaiser and his Grandmother

Some years ago, on August 4th (the anniversary of Britain’s entry into the the First World War), I stood on the corridor outside Queen Victoria’s bedroom at Osborne House on the same spot where Kaiser Wilhelm must have once stood, and tried to imagine how it felt to him, wanting to see his grandmother one last time as she lay on her death bed. The Kaiser’s behaviour after the death of his father was so obnoxious and, since I do not believe him to have been for one moment a callous man at heart, I suspect he regretted that impetuous arrogance for many years afterwards. His family, Queen Victoria’s family, were so reluctant to allow him to even visit his beloved grandmother that he arrived quietly and behaved more like a subservient beggar than a pompous Emperor. As a man to whom appearance seemed to matter so much; a man who hardly ever let down his guard and always had to wear a mask, adopt a powerful persona and play the part he had assigned to himself, his presence at Queen Victoria’s deathbed is very striking. It seems like one of the few times in his life when Willy was truly himself – not arrogant, not wanting to be the centre of attention (the very opposite in fact – he skulked in the corridor, wanting only to be allowed into the room) but acting sincerely and out of genuine love.

Fritz Ponsonby, in his wonderful “Recollections of Three Reigns” describes the scene:

“At about half past six we were told the end had come. The Duke of Argyll told me that the last moments were like a great three-decker ship sinking. She kept on rallying and sinking. The behaviour of the German Emperor was beyond all praise. He kept in the background until they were all summoned. The Prince of Wales, Princess Christian, Princess Louise and Princess Beatrice stood around the bed, while the German Emperor knelt down and supported the Queen with his arm....the Emperor never moved for two and a half hours. His devotion to the Queen quite disarmed all the Royal Family.”

Treasures of Queen Victoria

So many, many books have been written of Queen Victoria and so many websites speak of her, and happily, unlike books and sites about other members of her extended family, most are appreciative. While doing a New Year sorting out today, I was looking at several books that have become 'dear friends' and would just like to mention them.

The first is so seldom seen and difficult to find (I wanted to send it to a friend and couldn't find a copy anywhere). I bought it at Osborne House and it was first published by Hamish Hamilton in 1978 (reprinted later in paperback) and it has the most beautiful title: "Dear Osborne" by John Matson. Before the lovely book by the Duchess of York appeared, this was the loveliest link to Osborne. I hope other people find it easier to come by.

The second is also a slim volume, purchased in Northumberland at quite some expense but worth every penny. It is the letters written from Queen Victoria's granddaughter, Moretta of Prussia, to her mother, the Empress Frederick (Queen Victoria's daughter, Vicky) during her brief sojourn in Britain on the anniversary of her father's death: "Queen Victoria at Balmoral & Windsor" edited by James Pope Hennessey. It is such an intimate book; the thoughts of a young lady in mourning for her father and for her own lost love. Very, very beautiful.

The memoirs of Fritz Ponsonby in his autobiography, and the recollections of the Queen's doctor, Sir James Reid, written by his daughter are equally fascinating....as are the somewhat acerbic views of Marie Mallet, as seen in her letters compiled by her son. The letters compiled by Roger Fulford and later Agatha Ramm are continuously absorbing. Princess Marie Louise's "My Memories of Six Reigns" is beyond beautiful...how gently she describes people she knew!

There are so many more but if I were stranded on a desert island, these are the ones I would take in the 'Queen Victoria' section! What treasures these books are and how lovely that we can still read them!

The Greatest King We Never Had

Today is the 146th anniversary of the death of the greatest king we never had. Prince Albert, Consort of Queen Victoria, was not only a gifted artist, musician, composer, politician, diplomat and scientist, but also one of the most forward-thinking men of his generation. In an age where royalties had little direct contact with their children, he personally thought up so many brilliant schemes to educate his 9 children giving them both a social conscience and a well-rounded education. At Osborne House he allotted each child a garden, like an allotment, where they grew flower or vegetables which he then bought from them. In the quaint Swiss Cottage, the young princes and princesses learned to cook and to live independent lives, regardless of their royal status. Unlike, too, most princes of the day, he was forward thinking enough to place as much emphasis on his daughters' education, as that of his sons.
He was a man with a social conscience, too, never tiring of discovering how workers lived and the conditions in which they worked, so that he might make suggestions to parliament in improving their lot. His belief that with the privilege of royalty, came responsibility, was one he instilled in his own children too.
There was never a prince more deserving of all the monuments erected in his honour and his untimely death at the age of 42 was not only a tragedy for his widow and children, but also for the whole country.