Edward VII: The Last Victorian King

Foreword

Christopher Hibbert is one of the last of that generation of war heroes of the 1940s. He gained a Military Cross (MC) in Italy and then, after a false start as an estate agent, has devoted his life to the reconstruction of the past by a series of splendid works. The Destruction of Lord Raglan in 1961 marked the beginning of my own appreciation of his works. He has written principally of English history but not exclusively so. I have never met Mr. Hibbert but I know that he lies in Henley-on-Thames, and I imagine his enviable riverine but book-lined house in that elegant country town, within easy reach of great libraries in Oxford and London.

Mr. Hibbert’s life of Edward VII is a triumph of biography. The main lines of Edward’s life are elegantly chronicled and, though Mr. Hibbert has a wonderful eye for stories, he never intrudes these irrelevantly on us, but makes them illustrate some characteristic of his subject’s life.

Edward — ‘Bertie’ to his family — had his weaknesses. He was excessively concerned with the niceties of correct dress. He was obsessed by punctuality. He had a bad temper. He read few books and so was disliked by the great writers of his age: James, Kipling, Beerbohm thought him gross. He was superstitious, usually a bad substitute for religion.

But he loved dogs: always a good sign. He had a great sense of humour provided it was not he who was being laughed at. He loved Indians, Jews, and children. He was loyal to his friends. He was not snobbish. His memory for people was remarkable. He travelled a great deal, in three continents, and was as great a public success in the United States as he was in India though his great love was France where he was completely at home. Mr Hibbert’s description of Edward in Marienbad is a brilliant little essay. So is what he writes of the construction of the Entente Cordiale, one of the most important friendships in European history.

Edward spoke well without notes: another sign of quality. His French and German were excellent. He loved racing and the mixed society which he met on ‘the glorious uncertainty of the turf.’ His instincts were usually to be tolerant of mistakes. He was tactful. He often complained about the policies of his governments but, as a constitutional monarch, put up with them. Though never on good terms with his mother Queen Victoria, and treated strictly by his German father the Prince Consort, Edward was a friendly parent to King George V. Indeed the latter said a fascinating monarch but of an age just before the suicide of European civilisation in 1914.

Hugh Thomas