The Widow of Windsor

Chapter XVI THE WOULD-BE ASSASSIN

It was a happy Christmas after all. Although for the Queen it was the mourning season she could not but rejoice at Bertie’s recovery. He was still very ill, and although he was on the road to recovery he must not be allowed to overstrain himself.

Alix wanted to show her gratitude for his recovery so she presented a brass lectern to the parish church on which was inscribed:

To the glory of God

A Thanksgiving-offering for his mercy,

14th December 1871

Alexandra

It was a miracle, said the Queen. On the anniversary of the very day on which Albert had died Bertie had come face to face with death and been allowed to return to life. The Queen believed that Albert had been caring for her son and that it was a sign from him. She was sure that the spirit of Albert was not far away. In fact, as she said to Alice, it was this knowledge which enabled her to go on.

Careful nursing was still necessary and Alix was determined that no one but herself should look after her husband. This was the happiest time of her marriage for Bertie relied on her. He had no wish now to be with those brilliant witty friends; he was quite happy to sit and talk with Alix and have the children to see him and talk to him, being as quiet as they could be, for they had been warned not to tire Papa. Never had Alix felt so close to her little family. This intimacy was what she had always longed for; and the fact that Bertie enjoyed it made her very happy.

The Queen was pleased. ‘They are hardly out of each other’s sight,’ she wrote to Vicky. ‘They are like a pair of young lovers.’

She was pleased. Alix was a good sweet girl, though her unpunctuality was tiresome. As for Bertie, he had always had a sweet nature and now that he was not racketing about with a lot of fast friends, he was really very charming. As for the children, although not disciplined as much as the Queen would have liked them to be, they were so devoted to their parents that they obeyed without being forced to do so. They referred to Alix always as ‘Mother dear’, which was rather charming. She would hear young Georgie saying ‘Where is Mother dear?’ Or ‘Mother dear told me this or that.’ And to see those two boys vying for her favour … well, it was quite touching.

Of course Alix was not clever – she hardly ever read a book, nor did Bertie for that matter – and she could never understand politics as a Queen should and she was apt to become over-emotional when these matters touched her family (as she had been over the Danish–Prussian war) and that was not a good thing, but she was a good homely woman, an excellent wife and mother; and after all that was important.

The Queen decided that William Jenner and Dr Gull should be rewarded for their services and Mr Gladstone agreed. It would please the people and Mr Gladstone was relieved because the people had changed their attitude towards the royal family since Bertie’s illness. Royalty had become popular and to see the crowds waiting for the bulletins even in January was astonishing when such a short time before people like Dilke had appeared to have quite a following.

The Prince had come close to death and there was nothing like death for enhancing popularity and as Mr Disraeli commented: ‘To have come closer to death and lived was an even greater achievement than to have died.’

The royalty question had become much less acute.

So it would be very pleasing to the people if William Jenner was gazetted as K.C.B. and Dr Gull was made a baronet.

That was not all. There must be a thanksgiving service, said her ministers.

Bertie had recovered and by the end of February the ceremony was to take place. The people lined the streets to cheer and cry ‘God Save the Queen’ and ‘God Bless the Prince of Wales’. It was very affecting, said the Queen and most fitting and it showed that however much the people were led astray by wicked people who wrote scurrilous pamphlets and disgraceful scoundrels like Sir Charles Dilke who called for a Republic to replace the Monarchy, the people themselves were ready to show their loyalty.

Seated next to Bertie, who still looked pale, and considerably thinner which moved the people deeply, they came through Temple Bar. Behind her on the box was John Brown, looking very handsome and very efficient, keeping a watchful eye on the crowds. ‘I dinna trust these southerners,’ he had told her.

‘Good old Teddy,’ roared the crowd.

And on impulse, her eyes full of tears of gratitude for his survival, she lifted his hand to her lips and kissed it. It was the right gesture. The crowd roared its approval. The Queen was human. She was a mother rejoicing that her son who had come to the grave was with her once more.

It was very dark in the Cathedral but the service was moving and when it was over they drove once more through the streets.

Mr Gladstone was pleased. This was the sort of ceremony that the people loved and moreover expected from its royalty.

The next day the Queen was riding in her carriage with Prince Arthur, and Brown as usual on the box, when a young man stepped off the pavement and pointed a pistol at her.

It was not a new experience for the Queen although it was some time since the last attempt had been made on her life.

Arthur cried: ‘My God!’ and tried to leap from the carriage; but someone was there before him. The ever-watchful Brown had seen the young man raise his arm and with one bound he was off the box and he had the offender in his grasp.

The Queen could not take her eyes from that stalwart figure on whom she believed she could rely as she could on no one else. What should I do without him? she asked herself. And now he had saved her life.

The Queen lay on her bed, trembling slightly. It could so easily have happened. This was the sixth time an attempt had been made on her life. Could she go on hoping that they would continue to be unsuccessful? How alert Brown was where her safety was concerned! Of course Arthur had tried to seize the man but Brown was there before him. Who knew, if Brown had not been there, Arthur’s efforts might have been too late.

The Prime Minister called. She did not ask him to sit down in her presence. That was a very special favour reserved for a minister who was also a friend. It had never been offered to Mr Gladstone, although Lord Melbourne had arrived at the stage when he took the familiarity as a matter of course and did not always ask her permission. Even on an occasion like this when she had narrowly escaped from death Mr Gladstone put on his speaker-at-a-public-meeting attitude and although he expressed concern at what had happened he was not moved as Mr Disraeli or Lord Melbourne would have been.

The pistol, he told her, had been unloaded and the young man who had pointed it at her was mentally deficient. When questioned he had babbled about frightening the Queen into freeing Fenian prisoners. He was, of course, Irish, and his name was Arthur O’Connor.

‘Those Irish!’ cried the Queen. ‘What trouble they make.’

Later when she heard that O’Connor had been sentenced to a year’s imprisonment she was alarmed. ‘What when he comes out?’ she demanded. ‘Has it occurred to people that he might make another attempt and this time be successful? Could he not be transported?’

As it was the understandably fervent desire of the Queen that O’Connor should be transported, the government offered him the opportunity of leaving the country and paid his passage money so the Queen had nothing more to fear from the dull-witted O’Connor.

There was one who had come out of the affair with honours. This, she said in secret glee, is a vindication. What did Bertie, Vicky and Alfred think now of the man of whom they had been so critical? They had to admit that John Brown had saved their mother’s life and they should be eternally grateful to that good and faithful man.

If they weren’t, she was.

Bertie, however, when she discussed the matter with him, replied that Brown did his duty, he would agree to that; but that was what he was employed for.

‘My dear Bertie,’ cried the Queen, ‘you should have seen the manner in which he leapt from the box and tackled that wicked young man.’

‘Arthur did the same.’

‘Arthur tried to protect me, yes. But Brown was there before him. Why, had the pistol been loaded it could have been fired before Arthur grasped the would-be assassin’s arm.’

‘Before Brown did too, had it been loaded,’ added Bertie. ‘But, Mama, do not let us consider such a terrible possibility.’

‘It is a possibility ever present where royalty is concerned,’ replied the Queen. ‘It has happened to me before and I feel some small consolation in the fact that all those who have had the desire to kill me have been mad.’

‘Pray do not talk of such a thing, Mama,’ said Bertie with real feeling which was touching, particularly as he looked so pale and so much thinner after his illness.

‘My dearest child,’ she said tenderly, ‘I believe you are glad that I have been spared.’

Bertie kissed her hand and the tears came to her eyes. Bertie was really good in many ways.

‘I am going to give good faithful Brown a gold medal commemorating the occasion and twenty-five pounds a year shall be added to his salary.’

‘A very excellent reward for doing his duty,’ said Bertie. ‘And you will let Arthur know how much you appreciate his efforts.’

‘I am having a gold pin made for him.’

The Prince of Wales raised his eyebrows. A gold pin was not very much when set beside a gold medal, the Queen’s effusive thanks and praises, plus twenty-five pounds a year.

As the Prince said to Alix: ‘This affair has made Mama even more besotted over that man Brown.’