The Widow of Windsor

Chapter XXVIII THE DIAMOND JUBILEE

The Queen had been on the throne for sixty years. This was a cause for great celebration. There must be a glittering Diamond Jubilee.

She was seventy-eight; she was old and tired; and life, she was fond of saying, had not been easy. But this was an occasion which even she could not evade.

The last few years had been a trial to her. Gladstone’s government had been defeated and replaced by that of Lord Rosebery; and now Lord Salisbury was back in office again.

A very sad event had happened. Beatrice’s husband Prince Henry of Battenberg had volunteered for active service in Ashanti. She would never forget poor Beatrice’s sorrow when he left; and the fact that they had lived with the Queen made this all the harder to bear. Poor darling Baby, how very sad for her! Henry had been sent home with a fever – how that dreaded fever in some form or other took its toll of her family! – and he had died on the way. But Baby had her dear children to support her. It was ironical. Poor Beatrice and Henry had been happy whereas Louise and Argyll were far from that and there had been a great deal of talk because Louise had refused to stay with him in Canada.

The Czar of Russia had become very ill and Dagmar, Alix’s sister, who had always dominated him since the assassination of his father, was very anxious. Her son Nicholas had married Alicky, Alice’s daughter – a beautiful girl, so intelligent and self-sufficient, as she had had to be, poor darling, since she had been so young when her mother had died. Alicky was one of the Queen’s favourite grandchildren and she was pleased to see her so well married, although she did doubt whether great crowns were always a blessing.

So life went on – the children became parents in their turn and had their grandchildren; and she seemed to go on living. Sometimes she wondered whether she was indestructible; and yet how sadly she felt her age at times. But she could still enjoy having the family round her; she liked the children as long as they were not little babies who always reminded her of frogs and had tiresome habits such as dribbling and even more unpleasant ones; but as they began to grow up they were sometimes delightful. It had been a joy to have a visit from Alicky with Nicky her husband and their baby girl; it was very pleasant to see George and May together. What a blessing they so fortuitously had fallen in love after the death of poor Eddy, and had two sweet little boys already.

And now she had reigned longer than any English monarch – even longer than her mad grandfather King George III. There must be a celebration such as the people had never seen before. This was one of the occasions when she must agree that there must be no concession to age, fatigue or dislike of ceremonies. This was to be the Diamond Jubilee.

She had been feeling very dejected during the last days because Annie MacDonald, who had served her as wardrobe maid for more than thirty years, had been taken very ill and she knew her to be dying. Annie was the one with whom, as with John Brown, she had felt herself to be so much at home. Like John Brown, Annie had never flattered her but always spoken the truth even if it was critical. She trusted Annie and now she knew that when she returned to Windsor Annie would not be there.

She went to see her before she left.

‘So you’re going to London?’ rasped Annie.

The Queen said: ‘It’s my jubilee, Annie.’

‘Mind you wrap up well. Those bitter winds …’

‘It’s June, Annie. It’s the heat, I fear.’

But Annie’s eyes were glazed. She was far away in the days when she and John Brown used to scold their mistress for not taking care of herself.

Another faithful creature lost!

She travelled from Balmoral to Windsor for a service at St George’s Chapel on the 20th of June, which was the actual date sixty years before when she had acceded to the throne.

The next day she took the train to London.

The Jubilee celebration took place on the 22nd of June. The sun shone brilliantly as the Queen left Buckingham Palace and began the circular tour of her city. She had been determined that the pageantry should stress the significance of Empire. Prime Ministers of the colonies; armed forces culled from all over the world where the British flag flew; delegates from all the dependencies. The troops which formed part of the colourful procession were from Australia, South Africa and Canada; there were Indians who looked magnificent in their brilliant uniforms; soldiers from Africa, Hongkong, Borneo and Cyprus. All the world must know that she was indeed an Empress.

From the Palace the cavalcade went to St Paul’s where a service was conducted; and after that began the great tour.

In the Park the guns boomed; in the streets the people cheered. London had gone wild with enthusiasm for the longest reign. The Queen, always easily moved, was in tears as she read the loyal greetings on banners stretched across even the poorest streets. ‘She wrought her people’s lasting good,’ said one. What a glorious epitaph! Albert would have been proud. ‘Our Hearts Thy Throne,’ said another. What loyal loving messages! It had been a wonderful reign. She could rejoice. But she had had such wonderful support during her long reign. Lord Melbourne, dearest dearest Albert, Sir Robert Peel, clever Disraeli and now Lord Salisbury who was very adequate; and she must not forget – nor would she ever – those who worked behind the scenes, her dear good Annie MacDonald who had been unselfish in her service and dear kind faithful John Brown whose strong arm she so sadly missed even now.

Dear people! Happy day! It was a wonderful thing to have lived so long; to have been a Queen and at the end – for she knew she was very close to that – to hear her people say ‘Our Hearts Thy Throne.’

There had been great progress during the time she had been on the throne. The electric light and the telephone had been introduced. What wonderful inventions! And before setting on her historic journey round her capital she had pressed an electric button which had telegraphed her message to all parts of the Empire.

‘From my heart I thank my beloved people. May God bless them.’

Bertie sat beside her – squat, square and comforting. Bertie was always at his best on such occasions. The people cheered him too. ‘Good old Teddy!’ His sins were very easily forgiven. Who but Bertie could have sailed triumphantly through the Mordaunt and Baccarat cases and all the rumours of profligacy and extravagance to be the people’s ‘Good old Teddy’? How strange people were. They had never shouted like that – with genuine affection – for Albert who had been so good and devoted himself to their service; and, although they had the deepest respect for their Queen and an affection for her in a remote kind of way, it was Bertie who was their Good Old Teddy, Bertie who had their warmhearted love.

That was good because Bertie would soon be their King. King Edward VII – and she had once so wanted it to be King Albert; now that did not seem so important. What did matter was that the people loved Bertie; they would accept Bertie; and they had a great affection for their Queen.

It was the most tiring and most gratifying day of her life.