Victoria’s diary online

Images of all 40,000 pages plus of Queen Victoria’s diary - from 1832 to 1901 - have been published online as part of the Diamond Jubilee celebrations for HM Queen Elizabeth II. Hitherto, only relatively little of her diary has been published in any form, and the full manuscripts have only been accessible to scholars by appointment. This initiative - funded by Oxford University and two Jewish foundations - is thus making a valuable primary resource on 19th century history available for the first time to a much wider, indeed a global, audience.

The Royal Archives in collaboration with Bodleian Libraries today announced publication of the ‘first release of Queen Victoria’s Journals.’ This, they said, marks not only the anniversary of Queen Victoria’s birth (24 May 1819), but also the current Diamond Jubilee celebrations of HM Queen Elizabeth II.’ An official launch was carried out by The Queen who was given a remote control in Buckingham Palace’s throne room to point at a computer screen.

Digital images of every page - 43,765 of them - in the entire sequence of the diaries are now available online. Full transcriptions and keyword searching are also available but only for the period up to February 1840 when Victoria married Prince Albert. Transcription of the remaining diaries is a work in progress.

The announcement has attracted plenty of press in the UK. The BBC drew attention to what David Ryan, assistant keeper of the Royal Archives, said: ‘The virtue of digital access is its ability to reveal the thoughts of Queen Victoria to millions around the world, providing them with a record of the important political and cultural events surrounding a monarch whose name defined an age.’ It also noted that a Twitter account @QueenVictoriaRI will tweet excerpts from Queen Victoria’s Journals throughout the Diamond Jubilee period.

The Sun noted this: ‘When asked by Bodleian librarian Sarah Thomas if she herself wrote a diary, The Queen replied to laughter from those gathered to mark the launch: “Mine’s not being published.” ’ The Telegraph says Victoria’s diaries ‘provide a fascinating insight into her life as Queen’.

Hitherto, there have been various published collections of Queen Victoria’s diary entries. The first were Leaves from the Journal of Our Life in the Highlands and More Leaves, both edited by Arthur Helps, and published by Smith, Elder & Co in 1868 and 1883. Arthur Ponsonby, author of English Diaries, says she made £2,500 from the first publication and used the money to set up university and school bursaries for the people of Balmoral. Of both volumes, Ponsonby remarked: ‘the entries are so much cut and trimmed and edited for public consumption that the charm of personality is almost entirely eliminated’. In the 20th century, John Murray brought out various other editions, some edited by Viscount Esher, starting with two volumes of The Girlhood of Queen Victoria: a selection from Her Majesty’s Diaries 1832-40.

The British Monarchy website has long since offered a few choice extracts from Queen Victoria’s diaries, and both the Arthur Help books are freely available online at Internet Archive. The Diary Review has published two previous articles about Queen Victoria’s diaries (with extracts): The crown hurt me, on the 110th anniversary of the death; and The Great Exhibition, on the 160th anniversary of its opening.

According to the newly established Queen Victoria’s Journals website (established by The Royal Archives and Bodleian Libraries with the involvement of the publisher ProQuest), the diaries detail household and family matters, reflect affairs of state, describe meetings with statesmen and other eminent figures, and comment on the literature of the day.

There is plenty of other interesting information on the website about the diaries. There are, for example, four different versions, none of which covers the whole period, from 1832 to 1901: the original which she wrote herself (only 13 small purple and marbled volumes survive); a manuscript, abridged transcript written by the Queen’s youngest daughter, Princess Beatrice; a typed transcript prepared for Lord Esher (the first Keeper of the Royal Archives); and four volumes of drafts written by the Queen herself (all relating to visits to and from various members of European royal families).

Without any further information or explanation, the website says ‘The digital version of Queen Victoria’s Journals has been managed and funded by the Bodleian Libraries, thanks to the generosity of the following supporters: The Polonsky Foundation, The University of Oxford, The Zvi and Ofra Meitar Family Foundation.’ The Bodleian, which has managed the project, is part of the University of Oxford; and the other two are both funded by wealthy Jewish interests.

The Polonsky Foundation’s primary objectives ‘are to support higher education internationally, principally in the arts and social sciences, and programmes favouring the study and resolution of human conflict’. Much of this work, it says, is part of ongoing programmes being undertaken in conjunction with various Departments of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem and the Bezalel Academy of Art and Design, as well as other organisations within the United States and the United Kingdom.’ The Polonsky Foundation, which was set up by Leonard Polonsky, an American who studied at Oxford, and now runs Hansard Global Plc, provides financial solutions for international clients. The Zvi and Ofra Meitar Family Foundation says it ‘contributes to a broad range of organizations and activities in education and culture in Israel and abroad’. It was established by Zvi Meitar in 2004 to support young people outstanding in their field and to promote selected projects.

The new online archive of Queen Victoria’s diaries will remain freely available to British users and some specific libraries elsewhere, but, it will only remain freely available to other users until July 2012.

Amply rewarded

It is 70 years since the death of Princess Beatrice, a constant companion to her mother Queen Victoria while she was alive, and a great great grandmother to the current King of Spain, Felipe VI. Beatrice did not keep a diary herself, as far as I know, but Queen Victoria was a committed diarist: very soon after Beatrice’s birth, the Queen wrote of being ‘amply rewarded’ for the ‘very long wearisome time’. Moreover, it was Beatrice who edited Queen Victoria’s journals, a huge task that took her decades to complete, and she did so faithfully to the letter of her mother’s instructions. Towards the end of her life, Beatrice also translated into English, and edited, diaries kept by her German great grandmother.

Beatrice, the fifth daughter and youngest of nine children born to Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, was born at Buckingham Palace in 1857. The birth caused controversy, according to Matthew Dennison, author of The Last Princess: The Devoted Life of Queen Victoria’s Youngest Daughter (see review at The Guardian website), when it was announced that Queen Victoria would seek relief from the pains of delivery through the use of chloroform - the practice being dangerous to mother and child and frowned upon by the Church of England and the medical authorities. Two weeks after the birth (on 29 April), Queen Victoria wrote in her journal (freely available online here) about her newborn:

‘Till today I have been prevented from writing in my Journal, & I resume it today with feelings of the deepest, gratitude towards an All Merciful Father in Heaven who has preserved me, & restored me almost completely to health & strength. I have felt better & stronger this time, than I have ever done before. How I also thank God for granting us such a dear, pretty girl, which I so much wished for! She came into the world at 2 o’clock on the 14th, having caused me a very long wearisome time. I was amply rewarded, & forgot all I had gone through, when I heard dearest Albert say “it is a very fine child, & a girl!” & it was as inexpressible joy to me. My beloved ones love and devotion, & the way he helped in so many little ways, was unbounded. Mrs Lilley being old, & having been so ill last year, I had an assistant monthly Nurse, Mrs Innocent to help her. Dr Lucock & Dr Snow attended me. After I had some sleep, Mama & Feodore came in for a moment to see me. Albert had to go at 4 to the Council, & wished dear Aunt Gloucester. He brought Vicky in, to wish me good night - We have to settled that the Baby should be named, Beatrice>, Victoria, Feodore>. Beatrice, is a lovely name, meaning Blessed, & was borne by 3 English Princesses. Dear Mama, Vicky & Fritz & Feodore, are to be the sponsors. - Have done remarkably well all the time. - After the first days saw all the Children, & Vicky has often been reading to me, Mama, & Feodore, also constantly coming in & out. [. . .]

Occupied in choosing various things including little caps, &c - for the dear little new born one, who is such a pretty plump, flourishing child, promising to be very like Arthur, with fine large blue eyes, marked nose, pretty little mouth & very fine skin.’

From birth, Beatrice became a favoured child of her parents. Through much of her childhood she was referred to as ‘Baby’. Queen Victoria came to rely on her increasingly, for emotional and practical support, especially after the deaths of her mother and then of Albert in 1861, and from 1871 when the last of Beatrice’s older sisters married. At times, the Queen even dictated her private journal to Beatrice. Despite her mother’s reluctance to let Beatrice go, she did, eventually, in 1885, agree to her marrying Prince Henry of Battenberg, a morganatic descendant of the Grand Ducal House of Hesse, on the condition that the couple made their home with the Queen.

Beatrice and Henry had four children between 1886 and 1891, but Henry found domestic/royal life too monotonous and yearned for more employment. The Queen made him governor of the Isle of Wight in 1889, and, in time, consented to him joining an expedition fighting in the Fourth Anglo-Ashanti war (in present day Ghana). However, he contracted Malaria, and died in 1896. Beatrice continued to serve her mother, who gave her Henry’s job as Isle of White governor, as well as apartments of her own at Kensington Palace. On the death of the Queen in 1901, Beatrice was devastated; and, thereafter, not being close to her brother, the new King Edward VII, she played less of a role in public affairs

The marriage of Beatrice’s daughter, Princess Ena, to King Alfonso XIII of Spain in 1906 caused some controversy as it entailed her converting to Catholicism, against the wishes of Edward VII. The marriage, moreover, was to transmit Beatrice’s haemophilia gene to the Spanish dynasty. Felipe IV, who succeeded to the Spanish throne in June 1914, is her great great grandson. In 1917, George V’s policy of divesting the royal family of its German associations led the family to change its name of Battenberg to Mountbatten. Beatrice died on 26 October 1944; further biographical information is available at Wikipedia, Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, or The Royal Forums.

Queen Victoria left all her private journals to Beatrice, with instructions to edit or destroy any passages which appeared unsuitable for posterity. This involved her in transcribing the journals in her own hand, into 111 volumes, and destroying most of the originals. A few extracts from the diaries were published in the Queen’s lifetime - see The crown hurt me - and, in 2012, the Royal Family published 40,000 pages of the diary online as part of Queen Elizabeth’s Diamond Jubilee celebrations - see Victoria’s diaries online. Wikipedia has a separate entry for Queen Victoria’s diaries, although the fullest and most accurate information is on the Queen Victoria Journal website itself. Although, there are, in fact, four different versions of the journal, three of these versions only cover a few years, and it is Princess Beatrice’s 111 hand-written volumes that provide the vast bulk of what remains of Queen Victoria’s diaries. Thus, it is Beatrice who must have edited the above extract about her own birth!

Towards the end of her life Beatrice turned her hand to another ancestor’s diaries, those kept by Queen Victoria’s maternal grandmother, Augusta, duchess of Saxe-Coburg-Saalfeld. She translated these from the German, and they were published in 1941 by John Murray as In Napoleonic Days. Here is part of Beatrice’s own introduction to the book, and a few extracts, including the first and the last two.

‘The King having kindly given me his permission to translate for publication some extracts from my Great-Grandmother’s Diary, I hope this small effort and venture of mine may be of some interest to the public and ultimately benefit the funds of various War Charities. [. . .] Her original diary is in the family archives in Windsor Castle and, so far, the extracts from it have only been printed in German for private circulation. The curious similarity between the days of the Napoleonic wars and our own times has led me to think this Diary might appeal to some readers, interested in that period. The record is very simply told and contains many references to the Duchess’s family and the part they played in her life, but these could not be easily eliminated without spoiling the impression given by her graphic descriptions of the times in which she lived, in the Germany of that day so very different from present-day Germany.’

2 April 1806
‘The moon shines cold and bright in a cloudless sky. The mild breath of Spring has given way to cold biting east winds. It seems as if nature has allied itself with humanity to destroy all thoughts of happiness. There are nothing but storms in the atmosphere and amongst men. Poor Germany, what will thy fate yet be, given over to the caprices of a despot, who recognises no law but his own will, who sets no limit to his own lust for power, and to whom all means are justifiable to gratify this passion.

Soon to be under the yoke of an arrogant, grasping people, what future can my poor devastated country expect, she who once in olden days, defied the Roman Eagle! When the short shameful war broke out, I foresaw a dark future, but now that war has ended so disastrously my heart is filled with a nameless dread. Slowly and heavily the storm is creeping over Saxony. I wonder where I shall finish these entries and in what place I shall lay my weary head to rest, after life’s storms have passed over me?’

15 August 1806
‘At last the terrible blow has fallen which wrecks the German Constitution! Francis II has laid down the German Imperial Crown. In spite of the flaws of the old regime it surely is better than what we are going to be given in its stead. The ancient national oak, with its mouldering trunk and weather-beaten branches in which Wotan’s eagle has for 1000 years had its eyrie, cannot be expected to stem the present tide of events.’

28 September 1806
‘A false rumour last night that a French Cavalry Brigade was approaching, caused great distress in the town and deprived us of sleep. It was “much ado about nothing.” But I wonder if these disturbers of the peace may not some day unexpectedly descend on us?’

10 October 1806
‘Merciful God, what terrible times we have lived through! The grim memories of these days of bloodshed will never leave me. Already at [half past eight] my niece sent for me. Her corner room overlooked on the one side Wladbergen, through which the road from Coburg passes. On the left, shots were falling at intervals, as well as in and around the little village of Garnsdorf, at the foot of the hills, where the Prussian Jagers were posted. The ground above the forest was also being occasionally shelled. Prussien Batteries were stationed in the fields near the high road to Rudolstadt, and on the road itself, Fusiliers.

Towards 8 o’clock Prince Louis Ferdinand arrived on the scene, rapidly followed by Horse Artillery and 2 Saxon Infantry Regiments. In the distance their fine band could be heard, and lastly our brace Saxon Hussars came by, at a quick trot.

Prince Louis Ferdinand accompanied by his ADCs reviewed all the Troops, his brave, debonnaire appearance creating a general sense of confidence.

One could see the enemy coming down the hills, and hear the tramping of the Infantry and the sound of bugles. The whole scene of bloodshed lay spread out before us. The fire of Prussian Battery was incessant, but the French guns seldom came into action. Their Cavalry emerged from the forest and streamed along in a never-ending and terrifying procession.’

1 October 1821
‘I must somehow have caught a chill on my drive back from Ebersdorf, and feel very unwell. I have such pains in my limbs, that I am afraid I must be feverish.’

3 October 1821
‘I had such pains in my head and palpitations of the heart this morning that I could not help being alarmed about myself, but it passed off, and we were able to lunch in the little Casino at the foot of the old tower, the Ebersdorf family joining us.’

The crown hurt me

Today is the 110th anniversary of the death of Queen Victoria, Britain’s longest serving monarch, and indeed the longest serving female monarch in world history. Astonishingly, she kept a detailed diary for most of her life starting at the age of 13. Although the diaries are available to researchers, only a small fraction of them have ever been published, notably her earliest diaries. Somehow, she found the time to write in her diary at length about the day she became Queen and the day of her Coronation.

The only child of Edward, Duke of Kent, and Victoria Maria Louisa of Saxe-Coburg, Victoria succeeded her uncle, William IV, to the throne when only 18 in 1837. Three years later, she married her first cousin, Albert. Together they had nine children, many of whom married into European monarchic families. Albert was somewhat moralistic but also progressive, and, with Victoria, initiated various reforms and innovations, such as the Great Exhibition of 1851, which helped re-establish the British monarchy’s popularity. The success of the Great Exhibition led to the opening of public museums, such as the Victoria and Albert.

Albert died of typhoid in 1861, and, it is said, Victoria never fully recovered from the loss. Nevertheless, she continued to reign for another 40 years. During her time as queen, the British Empire doubled in size, taking in India, Australia, Canada and parts of Africa and the South Pacific. Her governments faced a number of foreign trials, including the Irish uprising, the Boer Wars and an Indian rebellion. She was also the subject of at least seven assassination attempts between 1840 and 1882. Her golden and diamond jubilees in 1887 and 1897 led to national celebrations. She died on 22 January 1901. Her reign, at 63 years remains the longest in British history, and is the longest of any female monarch in history. The Official Site of the British Monarchy has much more biographical information.

Victoria kept a detailed near-daily diary from the age of 13, but few of the original volumes survive, since they were all carefully edited and transcribed by her daughter Beatrice who used more than 100 volumes for the task. The first journal, begun in August 1832 when Victoria was but 13, was a small octavo volume half bound in red morocco with the words ‘This book Mamma gave me, that I might write the journal of my journey to Wales in it.’

There have been various published collections of Queen Victoria’s diary entries. The first was Leaves from the Journal of Our Life in the Highlands from 1838 to 1861, edited by Arthur Helps, and published by Smith, Elder & Co in 1868. Arthur Ponsonby, author of English Diaries (Methuen, 1923), says she made £2,500 from its publication and used the money to set up university and school bursaries for the people of Balmoral. More Leaves from the Journal of Our Life in the Highlands from 1862 to 1882, edited by Arthur Helps, was published by Smith, Elder & Co in 1883. Of both volumes, Ponsonby opines: ‘the entries are so much cut and trimmed and edited for public consumption that the charm of personality is almost entirely eliminated’.

After her death, in 1908, John Murray published three volumes of The Letters of Queen Victoria - A Selection from Her Majesty’s Correspondence between the Years 1837 and 1861. These volumes were edited by A C Benson and Viscount Esher, and the first contains extracts from Queen Victoria’s early diaries. Four years later, in 1912, the same publisher brought out two volumes of The Girlhood of Queen Victoria: a selection from Her Majesty’s diaries between the years 1832 and 1840 edited by Viscount Esher.

Here are two well-known passages from her diary, both very long (and considerably cut here) - how did she find the time? The first entry is from the day her uncle, King William, had died, thus making her queen; and the second from the day of her coronation. She was only 18 years old.

20 June 1837
‘I was awoke at 6 o’clock by Mamma, who told me that the Archbishop of Canterbury and Lord Conyngham were here, and wished to see me. I got out of bed and went into my sitting-room (only in my dressing-gown) and alone, and saw them. Lord Conyngham (the Lord Chamberlain) then acquainted me that my poor Uncle, the King, was no more, and had expired at 12 minutes past 2 this morning, and consequently that I am Queen. Lord Conyngham knelt down and kissed my hand, at the same time delivering to me the official announcement of the poor King’s demise. The Archbishop then told me that the Queen was desirous that he should come and tell me the details of the last moments of my poor good Uncle; he said that he had directed his mind to religion, and had died in a perfectly happy, quiet state of mind, and was quite prepared for his death. He added that the King’s sufferings at the last were not very great but that there was a good deal of uneasiness. Lord Conyngham, whom I charged to express my feelings of condolence and sorrow to the poor Queen, returned directly to Windsor. I then went to my room and dressed.

Since it has pleased Providence to place me in this station, I shall do my utmost to fulfill my duty towards my country; I am very young and perhaps in many, though not in all things, inexperienced, but I am sure that very few have more real good-will and more real desire to do what is fit and right than I have.

Breakfasted, during which time good, faithful Stockmar [a German nobleman and friend] came and talked to me. Wrote a letter to dear Uncle Leopold [Belgian king] and a few words to dear good Feodore [her stepsister]. Received a letter from Lord Melbourne [the Prime Minister] in which he said he would wait upon me at a little before 9.

At 9 came Lord Melbourne, whom I saw in my room, and of course quite alone, as I shall always do all my Ministers. He kissed my hand, and I then acquainted him that it had long been my intention to retain him and the rest of the present Ministry at the head of affairs, and that it could not be in better hands than his. He again then kissed my hand. He then read to me the Declaration which I was to read to the Council, which he wrote himself, and which is a very fine one. I then talked with him some little time longer, after which he left me. He was in full dress. I like him very much and feel confidence in him. He is a very straightforward, honest, clever and good man. I then wrote a letter to the Queen. At about 11 Lord Melbourne came again to me, and spoke to me upon various subjects. At about half-past 11 I went downstairs and held a Council in the red saloon.

I went in of course quite alone and remained seated the whole time. My two Uncles, the Dukes of Cumberland and Sussex, and Lord Melbourne conducted me. The Declaration, the various forms, the swearing in of the Privy Councillors of which there were a great number present, and the reception of some of the Lords of the Council, previous to the Council, in an adjacent room (likewise alone) I subjoin here. I was not at all nervous and had the satisfaction of hearing that people were satisfied with what I had done and how I had done it. . .

Wrote my journal. Took my dinner upstairs alone. Went downstairs. Saw Stockmar. At about twenty minutes to 9 came Lord Melbourne and remained till near 10. I had a very important and a very comfortable conversation with him. Each time I see him I feel more confidence in him; I find him very kind in his manner too. Saw Stockmar. Went down and said good-night to Mamma, etc. . .

28 June 1838
I was awoke at four o’clock by the guns in the Park, and could not get much sleep afterwards on account of the noise of the people, bands, etc., etc. Got up at seven, feeling strong and well; the Park presented a curious spectacle, crowds of people up to Constitution Hill, soldiers, bands, etc. I dressed, having taken a little breakfast before I dressed, and a little after. At half-past 9 I went into the next room, dressed exactly in my House of Lords costume; and met Uncle Ernest, Charles, and Feodore (who had come a few minutes before into my dressing-room), Lady Lansdowne, Lady Normanby, the Duchess of Sutherland, and Lady Barham, all in their robes.

At 10 I got into the State Coach with the Duchess of Sutherland and Lord Albemarle and we began our Progress. I subjoin a minute account of the whole Procession and of the whole Proceeding, the route, etc. It was a fine day, and the crowds of people exceeded what I have ever seen; many as there were the day I went to the City, it was nothing, nothing to the multitudes, the millions of my loyal subjects, who were assembled in every spot to witness the Procession. Their good humour and excessive loyalty was beyond everything, and I really cannot say how proud I feel to be the Queen of such a Nation. I was alarmed at times for fear that the people would be crushed and squeezed on account of the tremendous rush and pressure.

I reached the Abbey amid deafening cheers at a little after half-past eleven; I first went into a robing-room quite close to the entrance where I found my eight train-bearers: . . . all dressed alike and beautifully in white satin and silver tissue with wreaths of silver corn-ears in front, and a small one of pink roses round the plait behind, and pink roses in the trimming of the dresses.

After putting on my mantle, and the young ladies having properly got hold of it and Lord Conyngham holding the end of it, I left the robing-room and the Procession began as is described in the annexed account, and all that followed and took place. The sight was splendid; the bank of Peeresses quite beautiful all in their robes, and the Peers on the other side. My young train-bearers were always near me, and helped me whenever I wanted anything. The Bishop of Durham stood on the side near me, but he was, as Lord Melbourne told me, remarkably maladroit, and never could tell me what was to take place.

At the beginning of the Anthem, where I’ve made a mark, I retired to St Edward’s Chapel, a dark small place immediately behind the Altar, with my ladies and train-bearers, took off my crimson robe and kirtle, and put on the supertunica of cloth of gold, also in the shape of a kirtle, which was put over a singular sort of little gown of linen trimmed with lace; I also took off my circlet of diamonds and then proceeded bareheaded into the Abbey; I was then seated upon St Edward’s chair, where the Dalmatic robe was clasped round me by the Lord Great Chamberlain. Then followed all the various things; and last (of those things) the Crown being placed on my head which was, I must own, a most beautiful impressive moment; all the Peers and Peeresses put on their coronets at the same instant.

My excellent Lord Melbourne, who stood very close to me throughout the whole ceremony, was completely overcome at this moment, and very much affected; he gave me such a kind, and I may say fatherly look. The shouts, which were very great, the drums, the trumpets, the firing of the guns, all at the same instant, rendered the spectacle most imposing.

The Enthronisation and the Homage of, first, all the Bishops, and then my Uncles, and lastly of all the Peers, in their respective order was very fine. The Duke of Norfolk (holding for me the Sceptre with a Cross) with Lord Melbourne stood close to me on my right, and the Duke of Richmond with the other Sceptre on my left, etc., etc. All my train-bearers, etc., standing behind the Throne. Poor old Lord Rolle, who is 82, and dreadfully infirm, in attempting to ascend the steps fell and rolled quite down, but was not the least hurt; when he attempted to re-ascend them I got up and advanced to the end of the steps, in order to prevent another fall. When Lord Melbourne’s turn to do Homage came, there was loud cheering; they also cheered Lord Grey and the Duke of Wellington; it’s a pretty ceremony; they first all touch the Crown, and then kiss my hand. When my good Lord Melbourne knelt down and kissed my hand, he pressed my hand and I grasped his with all my heart, at which he looked up with his eyes filled with tears and seemed much touched, as he was, I observed, throughout the whole ceremony. After the Homage was concluded I left the Throne, took off my Crown and received the Sacrament; I then put on my Crown again, and re-ascended the Throne, leaning on Lord Melbourne’s arm. At the commencement of the Anthem I descended from the Throne, and went into St Edward’s Chapel with my Ladies, Train-bearers, and Lord Willoughby, where I took off the Dalmatic robe, supertunica, etc., and put on the Purple Velvet Kirtle and Mantle, and proceeded again to the Throne, which I ascended leaning on Lord Melbourne’s hand. . .

At eight we dined. Besides we thirteen - my Uncles, sister, brother, Spaeth, and the Duke’s gentlemen - my excellent Lord Melbourne and Lord Surrey dined here. Lord Melbourne came up to me and said: “I must congratulate you on this most brilliant day,” and that all had gone off so well. He said he was not tired, and was in high spirits. I sat between Uncle Ernest and Lord Melbourne; and Lord Melbourne between me and Feodore, whom he had led in. My kind Lord Melbourne was much affected in speaking of the whole ceremony. He asked kindly if I was tired; said the Sword he carried (the first, the Sword of State) was excessively heavy. I said that the Crown hurt me a good deal. . .

Stayed in the dining room till twenty minutes past eleven, but remained on Mamma’s balcony looking at the fireworks in Green Park, which were quite beautiful.

Quite a historic occasion

‘I also informed the Council that May and I had decided some time ago that our children would be allowed to marry into British families. It was quite a historic occasion.’ This is King George V, born 150 years ago today, showing a rare touch of excitement in his diary on the day he changed the royal family name from Saxe-Coburg-Gotha to Windsor. George, like his grandmother Queen Victoria, was a keen diarist, but, by all accounts, his diary style is rather flat.

George Frederick Ernest Albert of the House of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, the second son of Albert Edward, Prince of Wales (later Edward VII), and Alexandra of Denmark, was born on 3 June 1865. In his early years, he was educated alongside his older brother, Albert. Both were enrolled in the naval training academy in their teens. For three years, from 1879, the brothers served on HMS Bacchante visiting many parts of the world. While Albert went on to Trinity College, Cambridge, George remained in the Royal Navy, intending to make it his career.

In 1892, Albert’s death from pneumonia left George second in line to the throne (after his father). He left the Nayv, for more specialised training as the royal heir, and was soon created Duke of York by Queen Victoria. A year or so later he married Princess Victoria Mary of Teck (May), a German cousin who had been engaged to Albert. (See also The Diary Review article Princess Mary’s marathon.) The couple settled at York Cottage on the royal Sandringham Estate in Norfolk, living a fairly quiet life, though carrying out various public duties. During their marriage they had five sons and a daughter.

In 1901, after Edward VII had ascended the throne, George and his wife embarked on a long tour of the British Empire. This was devised by the government to reward Britain’s dominions for support in the South African War. The Duke and Duchess of York also spent the winter of 1905/1906 in India, and then went to Spain for the wedding of King Alfonso XIII to Victoria Eugenie of Battenberg. Edward died in 1910, and George became King George V on 6 May, with his coronation on 22 June the following year. Also in 1911, he revisited India for the Delhi Durbar so he and his wife could be formally acknowledged as the Emperor and Empress of India.

Public respect for King George V increased during World War One, during which he made many visits to the front line, hospitals, factories and dockyards. He also pressed for proper treatment of German prisoners-of-war and for more humane treatment of conscientious objectors. In 1917, anti-German feeling led him to adopt the family name of Windsor, replacing the Germanic Saxe-Coburg-Gotha. Across Europe, monarchies were falling, and though George sent help to royals in Austria and Greece, for example, he took the pragmatic decision, on advice, to keep his distance from the autocratic Russian royal family, and denied political asylum to his cousin, the Tsar Nicholas II, and his family after the Bolshevik Revolution.

After the war, King George played an active role in the country’s politics, choosing Stanley Baldwin, rather than Lord Curzon, to form a government in 1923 when Andrew Bonar Law resigned, and by persuading the Conservative government not to take an unduly aggressive attitude towards the unions during the General Strike. Then, in an attempt to achieve national harmony during the economic crisis of 1931, he persuaded Ramsay MacDonald to lead a coalition government. The following year, he introduced the idea of broadcasting a Christmas message to the country. Dogged by ill-health in his later years, he continued to spend much time on his favourite hobby - collecting stamps. In May 1935, the country celebrated his silver jubilee, and he died the following year. See Wikipedia, English Monarchs, The British Monarchy, or Spartacus Educational for more biographical information.

Like his grandmother, Queen Victoria, George kept a diary - from 1880 to 1935. The manuscripts are held by the Royal Archives. As far as I can tell, though, no parts have been published in their own right (unlike Victoria’s - see Victoria’s diary online and The crown hurt me). However, George’s diaries have been mined extensively by biographers, such as Harold Nicolson in King George the Fifth: His Life and Reign, London (Constable and Co, 1952), and Kenneth Rose in King George V (Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1983). See, for example, The Diary Review article on the anniversary of George V’s coronation - A terrible ordeal.

‘I am deeply grateful to Her Majesty the Queen,’ Rose says in his biography’s acknowledgements, ‘for gracious permission to publish documents of which she owns the copyright. These include many extracts from the Royal Archives made by Sir Harold Nicolson when writing his biography of King George V but not included in the completed work.’ He goes on to say that among these transcripts, ‘previously unpublished passages from the King’s diaries and from the correspondence of his private secretaries have proved particularly valuable to the present writer.’ Rose also includes a large number of quotes from several prominent diarists of the age - notably Harold Nicolson himself, ‘Chips’ Channon, Cynthia Asquith, Beatrice Webb. Here, though, are a few extracts of George’s own diary as taken from Rose’s biography.

[George V was in Madrid to attend the wedding of Princess Ena of Battenberg to the reigning king Alfonso XIII; the royal procession was heading back to the Royal Palace, when there was an assassination attempt.]
31 May 1906
‘Just before we reached the Palace, we heard a loud report and thought it was the first gun of the salute. We soon leaned however that when about 200 yards from the Palace in a narrow street, the Calle Mayor, close to the Italian Embassy, a bomb was thrown from an upper window at the King and Queen’s carriage. It burst between the wheel horses and the front of the carriage, killing about 20 people and wounding about 50 or 60, mostly officers and soldiers. Thank God! Alfonso and Ena were not touched although covered with glass from the broken windows . . .

Of course the bomb was thrown by an anarchist, supposed to be a Spaniard and of course they let him escape. I believe the Spanish police and detectives are about the worst in the world. No precautions whatever had been taken, they are most happy go lucky people here. Naturally, on their return, both Alfonso and Ena broke down, no wonder after such an awful experience. Eventually we had lunch about 3. I proposed their healths, not easy after the emotions caused by this terrible affair.’

[George V went to India in December 1911 for the so-called Delhi Durbar, a huge and spectacular event to commemorate his coronation and allow his proclamation as Emperor of India. It was the last of only three such Durbars, and the only one attended by the sovereign. ‘Even the King himself,’ writes Kenneth Rose, ‘who shunned hyperbole, described the Durbar as “the most beautiful and wonderful sight I ever saw”. The rest of his account is inimitably homespun.'  

12 December 1911
‘Reached the Camp at 3.0. Rather tired after wearing the crown for 3½ hours, it hurt my head, as it is pretty heavy . . . Afterwards we held a reception in the large tent, about 5,000 people came, the heat was simply awful. Bed at 11.0 & quite tired.’

9 August 1914
‘Warm, showers and windy. At work all day . . . I held a Council at 10.45 to declare War with Germany, it is a terrible catastrophe but it is not our fault. An enormous crowd collected outside the Palace; we went on the balcony both before and after dinner. When they heard that War had been declared, the excitement increased and May and I with David went on to the balcony; the cheering was terrific. [. . .]

Please God it may soon be over, and that He will protect dear Bertie’s life.’ [He is referring to his second son, the future George VI]

17 July 1917
‘I also informed the Council that May and I had decided some time ago that our children would be allowed to marry into British families. It was quite a historic occasion.’ [This came after the Privy Council meeting which established the House of Windsor and renounced German titles.]

22 January 1924
‘I held a Council, at which Ramsay MacDonald was sworn in a member. I then asked him to form a government, which he accepted to do. I had an hour’s talk with him, he impressed me very much; he wishes to do the right thing. Today 23 years ago dear Grandmama died. I wonder what she would have thought of a Labour Government.’

27 October 1931
‘May and I dined alone. We listened to the returns of the election on the wireless, which made us happy as the National Government have won seats everywhere.’

17 January 1935
[An illegible reference to snow and wind.] Dawson arrived this evening. I saw him and feel rotten.’ [King George V’s last diary entry.]

The Great Exhibition

Today marks the 170th anniversary of the opening, by Queen Victoria, of the Great Exhibition held in Hyde Park, London, in 1851. It was the first international expo of its type, and was notable, among other things, for being housed in the Crystal Palace. Prince Albert was much involved in planning the exhibition, and the Queen, in her diary entry for the opening day, applauds him highly for the exhibition’s success.

The Great Exhibition, officially called the Great Exhibition of the Works of Industry of all Nations, took place in Hyde Park, London, from 1 May to 15 October 1851. Prince Albert was heavily involved with the organisation, as was Henry Cole, a civil servant and inventor best known for introducing Christmas cards.

In the late 1840s, Cole, with Prince Albert’s backing, won a royal charter for the Royal Society for the Encouragement of Arts, Manufactures and Commerce, and organised several exhibitions for celebrating modern industrial technology. Soon, though, he perceived the possibility of opening a future exhibition to international participants. Queen Victoria approved a Royal Commission, under the presidency of Prince Albert, to manage such a project for 1851.

The Crystal Palace, designed by Joseph Paxton drawing on his experience of building greenhouses for the sixth Duke of Devonshire, was constructed to house the exhibition. (It was later moved to Sydenham in south London, an area which became known as Crystal Palace. The building itself, though, was destroyed by fire in 1936.) Some six million people visited the Great Exhibition and it was deemed a huge success, not least financially with the profits being used to found the now-famous Victoria and Albert Museum, the Science Museum and the Natural History Museum.

Here is an extract from Queen Victoria’s diary for the day of the opening, freely available on a website dedicated to her journals. (See also The crown hurt me.)

1 May 1851
‘This day is one of the greatest and most glorious days of our lives, with which, to my pride and joy the name of my dearly beloved Albert is forever associated! It is a day which makes my heart swell with thankfulness ... The Park presented a wonderful spectacle, crowds streaming though it - carriages and troops passing, quite like the Coronation Day, and for me, the same anxiety. The day was bright, and all bustle and excitement. At half past 11, the whole procession in 9 state carriages was set in motion. Vicky and Bertie were in our carriage. Vicky was dressed in lace over white satin, with a small wreath of pink wild roses, in her hair, and looked very nice. Bertie was in full Highland dress. The Green Park and Hyde Park were one mass of densely crowded human beings, in the highest good humour and most enthusiastic. I never saw Hyde Park look as it did, being filled with crowds as far as the eye could reach. A little rain fell, just as we started; but before we neared the Crystal Palace, the sun shone and gleamed upon the gigantic edifice, upon which the flags of every nation were flying.

We drove up Rotten Row and got out of our carriages at the entrance on that side. The glimpse through the iron gates of the Transept, the moving palms and flowers, the myriads of people filling the galleries and seats around, together with the flourish of trumpets, as we entered the building, gave a sensation I shall never forget, and I felt much moved ... In a few seconds we proceeded, Albert leading me having Vicky at his hand, and Bertie holding mine. The sight as we came to the centre where the steps and chair (on which I did not sit) was placed, facing the beautiful crystal fountain was magic and impressive. The tremendous cheering, the joy expressed in every face, the vastness of the building, with all its decorations and exhibits, the sound of the organ (with 200 instruments and 600 voices, which seemed nothing), and my beloved Husband the creator of this great ‘Peace Festival’, uniting the industry and arts of all nations of the earth, all this, was indeed moving, and a day to live forever. God bless my dearest Albert, and my dear Country which has shown itself so great today ... The Nave was full of people, which had not been intended and deafening cheers and waving of handkerchiefs, continued the whole time of our long walk from one end of the building, to the other. Every face was bright, and smiling, and many even had tears in their eyes ... One could of course see nothing, but what was high up in the Nave, and nothing in the Courts. The organs were but little heard, but the Military Band, at one end, had a very fine effect ...

We returned to our place and Albert told Lord Breadalbane to declare the Exhibition opened, which he did in a loud voice saying “Her Majesty commands me to declare the Exhibition opened”, when there was a flourish of trumpets, followed by immense cheering. Everyone was astounded and delighted. The return was equally satisfactory - the crowd most enthusiastic and perfect order kept. We reached the Palace at 20 minutes past 1 and went out on the balcony, being loudly cheered. That we felt happy and thankful, - I need not say - proud of all that had passed and of my beloved one’s success. Dearest Albert’s name is for ever immortalised and the absurd reports of dangers of every kind and sort, set about by a set of people, - the ‘soi-disant’ fashionables and the most violent protectionists - are silenced. It is therefore doubly satisfactory that all should have gone off so well, and without the slightest accident or mishap.’

This article is a slightly revised version of one first published on 1 May 2011.

Bertie in the Middle East

‘The anniversary of my Parents Wedding Day, what a sad day for poor Mama! We started at 10 A.M. sight seeing.’ This is Bertie, Prince of Wales, later King Edward VII writing in a diary during the first few days of a trip to the Middle East. The journey had been organised by his mother, Queen Victoria, who had never much liked her son, and partly blamed him for her husband Albert’s death. The diary has just been made available online - with images of the handwritten pages and a transcribed text - as part of an exhibition of mid-19th century photographs taken by Francis Bedford on the tour. Although biographers have had access to other of Bertie’s diaries, they are said to be scrappy and laconic, and none - as far as I know - have ever been published.

Albert Edward (always known to his family as Bertie) was born in 1841 in London, the eldest son of Victoria and her prince consort, Albert. Apart from various other titles, he was created Prince of Wales when one month old. From around the age of seven he was subjected to a strict educational programme devised by Prince Albert. He attended both Oxford and Cambridge universities, and in 1860 undertook the first tour of North America by an heir to the British throne. The following year he was serving with the army in Ireland, where he had a liaison with an actress that caused a major scandal. Prince Albert visited his son to admonish him, and died two weeks later. Queen Victoria held her son partly responsible for the death of his father. She withdrew almost completely from public life, and thereafter denied Bertie any control over affairs of state, court and the royal family. Soon after Albert’s death, Bertie was sent on an extensive tour of the Middle East.

In 1863, Bertie married Alexandra, eldest daughter of Denmark’s Prince Christian (later king), and they had five children that survived to adulthood. They established themselves at Marlborough House in London and Sandringham House in Norfolk, and entertained on a lavish scale. Bertie, indeed, played a free-and-easy part in London life, and travelled abroad often. He had many affairs, some causing scandals, and was a familiar figure in the worlds of racing, sailing and gambling. When Victoria died in 1901, Edward succeeded to the throne as Edward VII, and he set about trying to restore some splendour to the monarchy, starting with an elaborate coronation in 1902

Edward VII - nicknamed ‘Uncle of Europe’ - was related to most other Continental royal families, a circumstance that led him to travel abroad often to help Britain’s foreign policy. He was the first British monarch to visit Russia. At home, he supported the government’s major military reforms, and he founded the Order of Merit to reward those who distinguished themselves in science, art or literature. In the last year of his life, King Edward was involved in a constitutional crisis brought about by the refusal of the Conservative majority in the Lords to pass the Liberal budget of 1909. He died in May 1910, before the situation could be resolved, and was succeeded by his son who became George V. There is no shortage of biographical information online, from the British Monarchy website, Wikipedia, the BBC, or from biography reviews at The Guardian or The New York Times.

Bertie was certainly a diarist, if only an occasional one. None of his journals have been published, but several biographers quote from, or mention, them. In describing his sources in The Importance of Being Edward - King in Waiting 1841-1901 (John Murray, 2000), Stanley Weintraub says: ‘King Edward’s diary survives at Windsor and is quoted by biographers and editors; however it is scrappy and usually laconic.’ Now, though, The Royal Collection Trust, established in 1993 by the Queen and chaired by Prince Charles, has made one of Bertie’s diaries, of a trip to the Middle East, freely available online. The online publication - which was given little publicity of its own - is part of a bigger event, an exhibition of early photographs from the Middle East: Cairo to Constantinople.

According to the organisers: ‘This exhibition documents the Prince of Wales’ journey through the work of Francis Bedford, the first photographer to travel on a royal tour. It explores the cultural and political significance Victorian Britain attached to the region, which was then as complex and contested as it remains today. The tour took the Prince to Egypt, Palestine and the Holy Land, Syria, Lebanon, Turkey and Greece. He met rulers, politicians and other notable figures, and travelled in a manner unassociated with royalty - by horse and camping out in tents. On the royal party’s return to England, Francis Bedford’s work was displayed in what was described as “the most important photographic exhibition that has hitherto been placed before the public”.’

The following extracts are taken directly from the online exhibition.

10 February 1862
‘The anniversary of my Parents Wedding Day, what a sad day for poor Mama! We started at 10 A.M. sight seeing. We went first to the Palace which is a handsome building. The “Shönheits Gallerie” is well worth seeing, & the portraits are well painted, the pictures of Lady Ellenborough & Lady Milbanke (wh. are amongst them) are very good. The Ballroom is very handsome & so is the “Shlachten Saal.” The Queen was kind enough to receive me in her boudoir, wh. was very prettily arranged. She seems a very nice person, & must have been very pretty; I also made the acquaintance of her two sons, who seem nice, unaffected lads. We saw the two Theatres wh. adjoin the Palace, & a very pretty “Winter garten” with foreign plants & birds in it. From the Palace we visited the studios of Kaulbach, Pilaty [sic], Shraudolph [sic], Anschütz & Schwind. The two first are the two most celebrated painters. Kaulbach, showed us a beautiful fresco of the “Reformation” wh. he is painting & also a completed fresco of the “Battle of Salamis” wh. I admired immensely. Piloty, who painted the celebrated picture of Nero at the burning of Rome, which I saw last year at the Exhibition of pictures at Cologne, had not much in his studio, but the few things he had, we admired very much. We divided our day by lunching at 1.50. & Count Perponcher, who is now Prussian Minister at Munich, came to luncheon. After having eaten our fill, we proceeded in carriages to see the “Bavaria,” which is a monster female figure in bronze, cast out of the French guns wh. were taken in 1814 & 15. We went up inside the figure, & 7 of us could sit in the head, & 2 in the nose & eyes. From thence we visited the studio of Adam who paints animals, & very well too, we looked into Schwantaler’s [sic] studio were [sic] there were some good statues, but he was not at home. We then saw the Basilica, a very beautiful Church in Bysantine [sic] architecture, with a good deal of gold inside; it was built by King Louis of Bavaria (who has now abdicated) before going home we saw some excellent photographs, at a photographers called Albert. Mr. Bonar dined with us - & after dinner Louis, Keppel, Meade & I took a short walk. There was a very pretty ball going on at our Hotel, & Louis & I peeped into the room fr. a staircase, it seemed very gay & the ladies were well dressed & were decidedly pretty.’

21 May 1862
‘In the forenoon I wrote letters to England, wh. occupied all my time till luncheon. At 3 o’clock we rode to the Arsenal, with Sir H. Bulwer. The Capidan Pasha received us, & we had pipes & coffee. We then went into a Caique belonging to the Sultan wh. he has put at my disposal & we visited another part of the Arsenal, wh. is small but seems tolerably complete. We then took leave of the Capidan Pasha, got into our Caique & rode [sic] down the Golden Horn into the Bosphorus & went on board to see the Turkish ship that had met us at the Dardanelles. We remained a short time on board & then went ashore, not far off fr. the Sultan’s Palace, got on our horses again & rode back to the Embassy thro’ part of the town. In the evening [. . the] Sultan’s band played during dinner & very well.’

27 May 1862
‘At about 10.30. E. Leiningen Moore & I went to the Photographic Studio of M. Abdullah & were photographed (very successfully) “en carte de visite.” Abdullah, did took another photograph at the Embassy of a group of Sir H. & Lady Bulwer & all his staff, & myself & my suite. [. . .] At 4.30. we left the Embassy after having taken leave of Lady Bulwer. We then rode down to the landing place near Tophané Mosque, & were rowed about in our caiques passed past Seraglio Point; at a little after 6 we went on board the “Osborne” & took leave there of Sir H. Bulwer & all the Attachés &c. At 6.30. we wished Constantinople adieu, & steamed slowly down the Bosphorus leaving the beautiful town gradually in the distance, after having spent there a most agreeable week.’

9 June 1862
‘At Sea – A lovely day. A[t] 7. A.M. we had a bathe from the ship, in spite of one of the sailors telllin telling us that a shark of 10 feet long had been seen. In the middle of the day, we went through the “Passage de L’Ours” past the Island of Caprera, & saw Garibaldi’s house in the distance, & then passed thro’ the Straits of Bonnifacio.’

A terrible ordeal

One hundred years ago today, the British people were celebrating the coronation of King George V and his wife Queen Mary. Both George and Mary kept diaries, and although these have not been published, a few extracts are in the public domain, including some about their Coronation Day. In one, George calls the day ‘a terrible ordeal’ - though without further explanation.

George V, born in 1865, was the second son of Edward VII. He served in the Royal Navy from the age of 12 until 1892 when he became heir to the throne on the early death of his elder brother Albert (from pneumonia). The following year, he married Princess Victoria Mary of Teck, known as May, who had previously been engaged to Albert. They became Duke and Duchess of York and lived on the Sandringham Estate, in Norfolk. They had six children - Edward, George, Mary, Henry, George and John. The eldest two went on to become King, although Edward held the crown for less than a year before abdicating in favour of George (VI).

George V succeeded to the throne when King Edward VII died in May 1910, though his coronation did not follow until the following summer, on 22 June 1911. A film of the event can be seen at the British Pathé website. According to The Royal Collection website, the crowning of the Sovereign at the start of a new reign is ‘an ancient ceremony, rich in religious significance, pageantry and historic associations’, and has changed little in form since medieval times. To mark the 50th anniversary of the Coronation of Her Majesty The Queen, in 2003, a special exhibition was held at Windsor Castle. Among the items on display were the personal records of several monarchs: Queen Victoria’s sketchbook filled with her drawings of the day’s events, a press release at the time said, and ‘a poignant extract from the diary of King George V’ describing how his coronation ‘brought back many sad memories of 9 years ago when the Beloved Parents were crowned’.

There do not appear to be any published versions of George V’s diary. Robert Lacey, in his biography, Royal: Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II, which contains a generous section of historical background, might provide an explanation: ‘Every day of his adult life, King George V dutifully wrote up his diary - unlike his father, who never kept one. Edward VII had better things to do at bedtime. Bound in successive volumes of green leather, the diary of King George V is the journal of a very ordinary man, containing a great deal more about his hobby of stamp collecting than it does about his personal feelings, with a heavy emphasis on the weather. The simple, round schoolboy hand scarcely changes from the age of fifteen, when he started it, until the last entry, completed three days before his death . . .’

Nevertheless, some excerpts dating from the early days of the Great War were broadcast in 2004 for the first time by BBC Radio Four in its Book of the Week slot. This was by special permission from the Queen to mark the 90th anniversary of the outbreak of the First World War.

Nor is there a published version of Queen Mary’s diary - see an earlier Diary Review article about one extract (Princess Mary’s marathon). However, in his widely-respected biography, Queen Mary, James Pope-Hennessy draws extensively on diary material, particular Mary’s own diaries, but also occasionally her husband’s. Here is Pope-Hennessy, in the biography, looking back at that Coronation Day.

‘Although it improved later in the summer, the weather of June 1911 was windy and cool. Frequent rainstorms had been causing the London public, and the vendors of seats on the stands set up along the coronation processional route, some disquiet. In the whole month of June there were only five good days. Coronation Day, the twenty-second, was not amongst them. “Dull but fine - Our Coronation Day”, Queen Mary recorded in her Diary. King George’s comment in his Diary was longer, but it was equally characteristic: “It was overcast and cloudy with slight showers, & a strongish cool breeze, but better for the people than great heat.” The weather of Coronation Day, 1911, thus formed a sharp, symbolic contrast to that of the July morning, eighteen years before, when Princess May had, for the first time in her life, driven in state from Buckingham Palace as the central figure of a carriage procession. She was then driving to be married at the Chapel Royal; we may recall the sparkling sunshine of that July morning, and the cheers of the surging crowds. Her prospects then had seemed gay and exciting; her prospects now were a lifetime of dedication and responsibility. The overcast sky suited her serious mood.’

Pope-Hennessy goes on to describe other differences between the two occasions, before then returning to the diaries, and the entries for 22 June 1911.

Queen Mary: ‘Magnificent reception both going & coming back.’

King George V: ‘There were hundreds of thousands of people who gave us a magnificent reception. . . The service in the Abbey was most beautiful & impressive but it was a terrible ordeal. . . Darling May looked so lovely & it was indeed a comfort to me to have her by my side as she has been ever to me during these last 18 years.’

Lady Minto’s Indian diary

Academic Foundation, which describes itself as India’s leading independent publisher of academic/scholarly books in social sciences, has just published a condensed edition of the extensive diaries kept by Lady Minto during the five years that her husband was Viceroy and Governor-General of India. According to the publisher, ‘some of her opinions would make contemporary feminists, egalitarians of all sorts, gasp in horror but her extraordinary charm and passion for life, her sense of humour and sharp eye and ear for place, person and dialogue make her irresistible.’

Mary Caroline Grey was born in 1858, the daughter of General Charles Grey, private secretary to Prince Albert and later to Queen Victoria. Her grandfather, the 2nd Early Grey, had been a British Prime Minister. She married Gilbert John Elliot-Murray-Kynynmound in 1883, who succeeded to the title of the 4th Earl of Minto in 1891. They had five children. In 1898, Lord Minto was named Governor General of Canada. In 1901, after Queen Victoria’s death, the Duke and Duchess of Cornwall and York (later to become King George V and Queen Mary) visited Canada, and travelled with Lady Minto to western Canada and the Klondike. Lord and Lady Minto were both keen sports enthusiasts, and together founded the Minto Skating Club in Ottawa.

In 1905, Lord Minto was appointed Viceroy and Governor-General of India (thus following in the footsteps of his great-grandfather, the first Lord Minto). As in Canada, Lady Minto thrust herself wholeheartedly into supporting her husband with lavish social events, and contributing to charitable causes - launching, for example, Lady Minto’s Indian Nursing Association and remaining its president for many years. In 1907, Lady Minto organised a two-week Fete to raise funds for the Indian Nursing Association; and she arranged for the issue of several stamps. However, these caused a furore because they didn’t carry an image of the king - see Indian Postage Stamps for more. 

On returning from India in 1910, Lady Minto was appointed a Lady in Waiting to Queen Mary and, following the death of King George V, she was made an Extra Lady of the Bedchamber to Queen Mary. Lady Minto outlived her husband by a quarter of a century, dying in 1940. There is very little detailed biographical information online but the writer William Cross has a small website devoted to Lady Minto, and Wikipedia has an entry on Lord Minto. The Peerage also has a short entry for Lady Mary Caroline Grey

Lady Minto did, though, leave a substantial body of written material behind, now held by the National Library of Scotland (but I can find no trace of the holdings on the Library’s website). Much of this written material is in the form of diaries covering the years 1911-1936. She, herself, drew heavily on the diaries for her book India, Minto and Morley published by Macmillan in 1934 (available as a pdf from Internet Archive). She also made her diary available to the famous Scottish writer John Buchan for his Lord Minto, A Memoir (Thomas Nelson and Sons, 1924). This is available online at Internet Archive or Googlebooks. Buchan describes Lady Minto’s journal as ‘delightful’ and expresses a wish that it ‘could be given intact to the world, for in light and colour those words of an eye-witness are far superior to any chronicle at second hand.’

Only the diaries Lady Minto kept while in India have ever been published in their own right. It seems she had five volumes (and a sixth index volume) printed privately (probably at the Viceroy’s Press) around 1910 for family members and close friends. These volumes appear to be extremely rare. At the time of writing, the specialist antique bookseller Bates and Hindmarsh has a single volume of the index on sale for over £300; it also claims to have sold a full set, bound in blue, to the British Library. Anabel Loyd, a writer on Indian affairs, has edited the original Indian diaries into a single volume, which she self-published in 2015 through Amazon, as Vicereine: The Indian Journal of Mary, Countess of Minto. Since then, the Indian publisher Academic Foundation has re-published Loyd’s book (in March 2017), with the same title but a more upmarket presentation.

Here is the publisher’s blurb: ‘Mary Minto was a woman of her times. Some of her opinions would make contemporary feminists, egalitarians of all sorts, gasp in horror but her extraordinary charm and passion for life, her sense of humour and sharp eye and ear for place, person and dialogue make her irresistible. The people she met, the sights she saw and wrote of from her ringside position are part of all our histories most deliciously described in her journal. Even Lord Kitchener, stiff image on a poster, comes to improbable life playing parlour games at Simla and winning, to general hilarity, a baby elephant at the Minto Fete. There is so much more - maharajas, palaces, tigers and bears, pet dogs, Afghanistan and Burma, kings, queens and princes, a vast brigade of servants. . . this is a vivid slideshow of a particular life in India at the beginning of a century of change illustrated with previously unseen photographs . . . riches indeed.’

The following extracts are taken from the British Library’s (blue-covered) volumes of Lady Minto’s My Indian Journal.

3 February 1908
‘Remained at Barrackpore till the evening, planning garden improvements. Our big dinner party was postponed on account of the court mourning. Returned to Calcutta.’

6 February 1908
‘Violet, Francis, and I motored into the slums of the city and witnessed the worship of the Goddess of Wisdom by hundreds of little Hindu children. They sang a sort of chant, and then offered flowers. They have all sorts of strange traditions - if any worshipper of Saraswati does not abstain from using pen and ink on the feast day, they expect to be struck dumb. I believe they all prayed that I might have some share in the wisdom that the goddess freely dispenses; this no doubt will benefit me greatly during remainder of the year. The priest were delighted at my visit, and I departed covered with garlands, and scattering petals of flowers that clung to my garments.’

7 February 1908
‘Visited the Presidency General Hospital, and saw all the improvements they have made owing to our donation of Rs. 20,000 given from the Minto Fete Fund. The nurses in Calcutta are not up to date, and it is almost impossible to get a satisfactory nurse under Rs. 10 a day, and very often there is not one to be had for love or money. This makes me hope that Bengal will join my Nursing Scheme, but Calcutta is a difficult place to tackle, so many different people and interests have to be considered. Drove with Mrs. Forbes to the Tollygunge Steeplechases; crowds of people there. Captain Holden won two races: one on Lord Harry, the other on his new horse Jasper.’

15 June 1908
‘Went to church, and then had a quiet day, reading letters and papers. It is rather amusing that the Times should accuse the Government of India of inaction, and express a hope that they will not go to sleep again. It is not altogether probable that the people who are affected by the bombs and outrages should have any desire to fall asleep! It is easy to criticise from a distance of 5,000 miles. I hear Chirol has been ill, and is hors de combat at present. It is rather unlucky that the Times have taken on as Indian correspondent a man called Eraser who used to be on the staff of the Times of India; he got into trouble owing to drink and was dismissed; he also wrote for the National Review; he is very clever with his pen. He is a tremendous partisan, and I suppose because we were succeeding Lord Curzon he began to write spiteful articles before we reached India; these continued from time to time; then he made a most violent attack on me about the Nursing Scheme, saying I had simply made use of Lady Curzon’s work, &c., &c. It is rather strange to think of the power a man like this has, and that the British public accept as Gospel truth whatever views the most wrong-headed correspondent chooses to give vent to.’

29 June 1908
‘Went with Captain Goldie to see Lady Duff. She has made her house charming, quite the most English-looking abode I have seen in India. She has wall-papers which make the rooms much more cosy, they are a rare luxury out here. Each room is entirely of one colour, the shades all thought out with the greatest care.’

19 December 1908
‘Went to the races. Tea was spread out in a shamiana under the trees of which numerous people partook. This is an excellent way of getting in touch with Calcutta society.

Went down to Barrackpore by motor. Miserable at receiving a most anxious account of Lord Windsor. The nurses are splendid; Colonel Crooke is quite devoted and never leaves the house unless relieved for an hour or so by Major Bird wood or Captain O’Meara. Captain Gibbs and Arthur Guise are both at Agra, but have not been allowed into Lord Windsor’s room.’

3 February 1907
The Drummonds left at 8 a. m. Roily and I started in the motor at 11 o’clock for Barrackpore; the others came by launch. The Amir arrived at 1 o’clock and remained till 6 o’clock; he enjoyed himself so enormously. I was so exhausted after looking after him for all those hours that I went straight to bed, having had a terrible week of fatigue with the Fete. The Adams, Clem, Violet Crawley, and Lena Ashburton all came to help us to entertain the Amir, but what he really enjoyed was playing croquet with Eileen; he had never seen the game before, and enjoyed it so much that to my horror he suggested returning the next day to have another lesson. Sir Henry McMahon came to our assistance and put difficulties in the way. There was a good deal of chaff about a policeman who was engaged to guide him from Hastings House to the Lieutenant-Governor’s, a distance of a 100 yards; but the man lost his head and took him round and round and contrived to keep him 3/4 of an hour en route. The Amir said he was quite glad of this, as it had given him such amusement. I told him that he had visited so many places in Calcutta that he must know the city so much better than I did, that he could certainly be my guide. He answered with a bow - “If I was your guide, I should only guide you to Hastings House” (where he is lodging). After luncheon he said he had a few presents he wished to give us, and under the banyan tree were four separate piles of goods for myself and the three girls. He took the greatest delight in giving us each individual thing. The girls waited while he made me my presentations - first a lovely diamond and ruby bird of paradise, then some Astrakhan skins and other furs, and innumerable stuffs all made in Afghanistan, a shawl he insisted on pinning round me, and lastly two beautiful Persian rugs. Each girl had exactly the same in smaller numbers: Eileen a lovely ruby and diamond ribband ornament, Ruby five small diamond stars, and Violet one larger one, unfortunately all set in gold. Rolly was given the presents on a previous occasion. Gigantic carpets, furs, stuffs - and some Indian silver; also a silver cigarette-case with Venus in coloured enamel! a most startling apparition, but these will have to go to the Toshakahna. The Amir and I drove round the garden in the small pony-carriage. He is very fat and broad, and I had almost to sit on the spash board to avoid being squeezed flat by his portly figure. The shrubs are looking beautiful and are now in full bloom. Bill Lascelles has returned from Singapore; be was nearly boiled alive, and is most thankful to have got back again. It was an expedition he is glad to have experienced but is heartily thankful it is over.’

17 September 1910
‘After luncheon I paid a round of visits, said good-bye to Mrs. Clerke, sat some time with the Buchner family, visited Longe’s recently married wife, and then went on to see Mr. Parson’s garden. Unluckily a terrific storm came on which prevented my going beyond his green house. His flowers are celebrated and provide table decoration for the whole of Simla. Had tea with the Harnam Singhs. Lady Harnam is an exceptionally nice woman and very clever. All their sons have been brought up in England and one of them is married to an English woman. This son left India so young that, when he returned after leaving College, he could not understand a word of his own language; he alludes to the English and himself as “we”, and to natives as “they ”. Went on to see Mrs. Spence and sat with her till nearly dinner time. Went with the Erskines and Showers to the first performance of the Mikado, which was extremely good. Captain Hewett made a most excellent Chinaman, and Nelly Dane as one of the three little maids from school looked extremely pretty. It was terribly long and we did not get to bed till 1-30.’

29 October 1910
‘Rolly and I drove to the foot of the hill at Mashobra and rode round by Wild Flower Hall and had tea at the Retreat. Looked round the little house and garden for the last time, where we have spent so many happy days. We left the old mali in tears and walked by our favourite walk down the hill to the Mashobra bazaar, where the carriage awaited us. We felt very sentimental driving along the winding road for the last time with the overhanging rocks and pine trees lit up with the reflected gold from the setting sun.’

13 November 1910
‘My birthday brings a nasty jar with it, reminding me of advancing years, but the mail dispelled depression, as I received such delightful letters of good wishes from all the family. It gave me the pleasure to know what I was being thought of by loved ones far away. We received a cable last night from Mr. Gamier with the good news of Larry’s complete recovery. It was most thoughtful of him sending it, as I should otherwise have fussed on receiving the details of his accident, which was a very severe one. He was cantering across a stubble field with a friend when his horse must have put his foot into a rabbit hole and fallen with such force that the horse broke its neck and Larry was thrown violently to the ground. He was picked up in an unconscious condition and taken to a neighbouring farm-house, where the owners have been most kind and hospitable in allowing him to remain there. Mr. Gamier sent for the most eminent surgeon in the eastern counties, and I am thankful to say that no ill-effects are anticipated. I am so touched by the kind thought that has been evinced on all sides and so grateful to Lord Albermarle and Mr. Gamier for the care they have taken of Larry. I hope we shall find him entirely restored to health on our return.

Played a round of golf with Colonel Victor in tho early morning before the heat of the day. We are agreeably surprised to find the weather exceptionally cool for November. There has been an unprecedented amount of rain here during the autumn, consequently the Park is greener than I have ever seen it, and trees and shrubs look luxuriantly fresh and healthy. Roily and I went for a short ride in the afternoon before the 6 o’clock service, which we all attended. After dinner we sat out quite late enjoying the perfect temperature and the gorgeous moon which lighted up the whole river, and made the scene about as perfect a one as could be imagined.’

The King’s bathing habits

Charles Cavendish Fulke Greville was born two hundred and twenty years ago today. In memory of one of the greatest of 19th century political diarists, I am republishing here the whole of a chapter (Chapter 10) from my book Brighton in Diaries published by The History Press. (See also The Diary Review article about Charles’s brother Henry: I went with the queen.)

Of all the 19th century diarists who recorded public and political events, Charles Cavendish Fulke Greville, is probably the most important. Arthur Ponsonby, who wrote two learned reviews of English diaries in the 1920s, says that as a commentator on contemporary events he ‘holds a unique position’, for ‘he wrote history as it was in the making’. Other political and social diaries of the time ‘fade into insignificance when compared with his very full and detailed chronicle’. Indeed his early diaries, when published a decade after his death for the first time, caused an uproar. The Prime Minister at the time, Benjamin Disraeli, called them an outrage, and Queen Victoria, taking her cue from him, was indeed outraged - at the things written about her uncles many decades earlier.

Greville was born in 1794 into a branch of the family of the Earls of Warwick. Educated at Eton and Christ Church, Oxford, he paged for King George III for a short while before working as a private secretary to Earl Bathurst. Then, for more than 35 years, he was Clerk to the Privy Council, a job which brought him into contact with many important people of the time. He was much liked, and maintained good relations with both Whigs and Tories, often being employed as a negotiator during ministerial changes. His interests extended from horse racing (he owned horses and managed the Duke of York’s stables for some years) to literature. In 1859, he resigned the clerkship of the council, and in 1865 he died.

Sympathetic and kind, grumpy and vain

Described as sympathetic, generous and a delightful companion, he was also said to bustle with kindness. Smooth and urbane, Greville’s features were marked by a long, pointed chin and a strong nose which led to him being given the nickname of ‘Punch’; though he was also known as the ‘Gruncher’, on account of being grumpy when troubled by an attack of gout or his growing deafness. He could be vain too. Benjamin Disraeli, writing to a friend in 1874, said: ‘I knew him intimately. He was the vainest being - I don’t limit myself to man - that ever existed; and I don’t forget Cicero and Lytton Bulwer [Edward Bulwer-Lytton - a very popular writer of the day, he who coined the epigram, ‘the pen is mightier than the sword’]. Although he never married, one of his mistresses bore him a son who died as a young man journeying back from India.

Well known and well liked as he was while alive, Greville’s eminence today is entirely thanks to his diaries. Having always intended them for publication, Greville gave them to Henry Reeve, a Privy Council colleague. ‘The author of these Journals,’ Reeve says, ‘requested me, in January 1865, a few days before his death, to take charge of them with a view to publication at some future time. He left that time to my discretion, merely remarking that Memoirs of this kind ought not, in his opinion, to be locked up until they had lost their principal interest by the death of all those who had taken any part in the events they describe.’

The first three volumes of The Greville Memoirs - A Journal of the Reigns of King George IV and King William IV were published by Longmans, Green in 1874. And they caused a scandal. In Disraeli’s letter (the same one as mentioned above), he writes: ‘I have not seen Chas. Greville’s book, but have read a good deal of it. It is a social outrage. And committed by one who was always talking of what he called ‘perfect gentlemen.’ I don’t think he can figure now in that category.’ According to Queen Victoria’s biographer, Christopher Hibbbert, she wrote that she was ‘horrified and indignant at this dreadful and really scandalous book. Mr Greville’s indiscretion, indelicacy, ingratitude, betrayal of confidence and shameful disloyalty towards his Sovereign make it very important that the book should be severely censored and discredited,’ she wrote indignantly.

Five more volumes followed, in the 1880s, entitled The Greville Memoirs: A Journal of the Reign of Queen Victoria.

The gaudy splendour of the Pavilion

18 December 1821
‘I have not written anything for months. ‘Quante cose mi sono accadute!’ My progress was as follows, not very interesting: To Newmarket, Whersted, Eiddlesworth, Sprotborough, Euston, Elveden, Welbeck, Caversham, Nun Appleton, Welbeck, Burghley, and London. Nothing worth mentioning occurred at any of these places. Sprotborough was agreeable enough. The Grevilles, Montagu, Wilmot, and the Wortleys were there. I came to town, went to Brighton yesterday se’nnight for a Council. 

I was lodged in the Pavilion and dined with the King. The gaudy splendour of the place amused me for a little and then bored me. The dinner was cold and the evening dull beyond all dulness. They say the King is anxious that form and ceremony should be banished, and if so it only proves how impossible it is that form and ceremony should not always inhabit a palace. The rooms are not furnished for society, and, in fact, society cannot flourish without ease; and who can feel at ease who is under the eternal constraint which etiquette and respect impose?

The King was in good looks and good spirits, and after dinner cut his jokes with all the coarse merriment which is his characteristic. Lord Wellesley did not seem to like it, but of course he bowed and smiled like the rest. I saw nothing very particular in the King’s manner to Lady Conyngham. He sat by her on the couch almost the whole evening, playing at patience, and he took her in to dinner; but Madame de Lieven and Lady Cowper were there, and he seemed equally civil to all of them. I was curious to see the Pavilion and the life they lead there, and I now only hope I may never go there again, for the novelty is past, and I should be exposed to the whole weight of the bore of it without the stimulus of curiosity.’

The King’s bathing habits

19 August 1822
‘I went to Brighton on Saturday to see the Duke [of York - George IV’s brother and heir presumptive at the time]; returned to-day. The Pavilion is finished. The King has had a subterranean passage made from the house to the stables, which is said to have cost 3,000l or 5,000l; I forget which. There is also a bath in his apartment, with pipes to conduct water from the sea; these pipes cost 600l. The King has not taken a sea bath for sixteen years.’

I shot 376 rabbits

16 September 1829
‘Went to Brighton on Saturday last to pay Lady Jersey a visit and shoot at Firle. Jersey and I shot 376 rabbits, the greatest number that had ever been killed on the hills. The scenery is very fine - a range of downs looking on one side over the sea, and on the other over a wide extent of rich flat country. It is said that Firle is the oldest park in England. It belongs to Lord Gage.’

Heard at Brighton

‘I heard at Brighton for the first time of the Duke of Wellington’s prosecution of the ‘Morning Journal,’ which was announced by the paper itself in a paragraph quite as scurrilous as those for which it is attacked. It seems that he has long made up his mind to this measure, and that he thinks it is a duty incumbent on him, which I do not see, and it appears to me to be an act of great folly. He stands much too high, has performed too great actions, and the attacks on him were too vulgar and vague to be under the necessity of any such retaliatory measure as this, and he lowers his dignity by entering into a conflict with such an infamous paper, and appearing to care about its abuse. I think the Chancellor was right, and that he is wrong.

[In December 1829, the editors and proprietor of ‘Morning Journal’ were found guilty of libel on ministers and parliament and sentenced to a year in Newgate. The paper closed a few months later.]

There is a report that the King insists upon the Duke of Cumberland [another of George IV’s brothers] being Commander-in-Chief, and it is extraordinary how many people think that he will succeed in turning out the Duke. Lord Harrington died while I was at Brighton, and it is supposed that the Duke of Cumberland will try and get the Round Tower [part of Windsor Castle], but probably the King will not like to establish him so near himself. 

The King has nearly lost his eyesight, and is to be couched as soon as his eyes are in a proper state for the operation. He is in a great fright with his father’s fate before him, and indeed nothing is more probable than that he will become blind and mad too; he is already a little of both. It is now a question of appointing a Private Secretary, and [Sir William] Knighton, it is supposed, would be the man; but if he is to abstain from all business, there would seem to be no necessity for the appointment, as he will be as little able to do business with his Private Secretary as with his Minister.’

With tagrag and bobtail about him

19 January 1831
‘G[eorge] Lamb [politician and writer] said that the King [William IV] is supposed to be in a bad state of health, and this was confirmed to me by Keate the surgeon, who gave me to understand that he was going the way of both his brothers [George IV etc.]. He will be a great loss in these times; he knows his business, lets his Ministers do as they please, but expects to be informed of everything. He lives a strange life at Brighton, with tagrag and bobtail about him, and always open house. The Queen is a prude, and will not let the ladies come décolletées to her parties. George IV, who liked ample expanses of that sort, would not let them be covered.’

King, Queen, Princes, Princesses, bastards, and attendants 

14 December 1832, Brighton
‘Came here last Wednesday week; Council on the Monday for the dissolution [of Parliament]; place very full, bustling, gay, and amusing. I am staying in De Ros’s house with Alvanley; Chesterfields, Howes, Lievens, Cowpers, all at Brighton, and plenty of occupation in visiting, gossiping, dawdling, riding, and driving; a very idle life, and impossible to do anything. The Court very active, vulgar, and hospitable; King, Queen, Princes, Princesses, bastards, and attendants constantly trotting about in every direction: the election noisy and dull - the Court candidate beaten and two Radicals elected. Everybody talking of the siege of Antwerp and the elections. So, with plenty of animation, and discussion, and curiosity, I like it very well. Lord Howe is devoted to the Queen, and never away from her. She receives his attentions, but demonstrates nothing in return; he is like a boy in love with this frightful spotted Majesty, while his delightful wife is laid up (with a sprained ancle and dislocated joint) on her couch.’

The prize-fighter John Gully comes good

17 December 1832, Brighton
‘On Sunday I heard Anderson preach. He does not write his sermons, but preaches from notes; very eloquent, voice and manner perfect, one of the best I ever heard, both preacher and reader.

The borough elections are nearly over, and have satisfied the Government. They do not seem to be bad on the whole; the metropolitans have sent good men enough, and there was no tumult in the town. At Hertford Buncombe was routed by Salisbury’s long purse. He hired such a numerous mob besides that he carried all before him. Some very bad characters have been returned; among the worst, Faithful here [George Faithful - a nonconformist preacher and attorney - was one of the first two MPs returned for Brighton after it was created a Parliamentary Constituency]; Gronow at Stafford; Gully, Pontefract; [. . .] 

Gully’s [John Gully - see also Chapter Seven] history is extraordinary. He was taken out of prison twenty-five or thirty years ago by Hellish to fight Pierce, surnamed the ‘Game Chicken,’ being then a butcher’s apprentice; he fought him and was beaten. He afterwards fought Belcher (I believe), and Gresson twice, and left the prizering with the reputation of being the best man in it. He then took to the turf, was successful, established himself at Newmarket, where he kept a hell, and began a system of corruption of trainers, jockeys, and boys, which put the secrets of all Newmarket at his disposal, and in a few years made him rich. 

At the same time he connected himself with Mr Watt in the north, by betting for him, and this being at the time when Watt’s stable was very successful, he won large sums of money by his horses. Having become rich he embarked in a great coal speculation, which answered beyond his hopes, and his shares soon yielded immense profits. His wife, who was a coarse, vulgar woman, in the meantime died, and he afterwards married the daughter of an innkeeper, who proved as gentlewomanlike as the other had been the reverse, and who is very pretty besides. He now gradually withdrew from the betting ring as a regular blackleg, still keeping horses, and betting occasionally in large sums, and about a year or two ago, having previously sold the Hare Park to Sir Mark Wood, where he lived for two or three years, he bought a property near Pontefract, and settled down (at Ackworth Park) as John Gully, Esq., a gentleman of fortune. [. . .]

When Parliament was about to be dissolved, he was again invited to stand for Pontefract by a numerous deputation; he again hesitated, but finally accepted; Lord Mexborough withdrew, and he was elected without opposition. In person he is tall and finely formed, full of strength and grace, with delicate hands and feet, his face coarse and with a bad expression, his head set well on his shoulders, and remarkably graceful and even dignified in his actions and manners; totally without education, he has strong sense, discretion, reserve, and a species of good taste which has prevented, in the height of his fortunes, his behaviour from ever transgressing the bounds of modesty and respect, and he has gradually separated himself from the rabble of bettors and blackguards of whom he was once the most conspicuous, and tacitly asserted his own independence and acquired gentility without ever presuming towards those whom he has been accustomed to regard with deference. His position is now more anomalous than ever, for a member of Parliament is a great man, though there appear no reasons why the suffrages of the blackguards of Pontefract should place him in different social relations towards us than those in which we mutually stood before.’

6 August 1835
‘Yesterday to Brighton, to see my horse Dacre run for the Brighton stake, which he won, and back at night.’

Mrs. Fitzherbert and her papers

31 March 1837
‘Among the many old people who have been cut off by this severe weather, one of the most remarkable is Mrs Fitzherbert, who died at Brighton at above eighty years of age. She was not a clever woman, but of a very noble spirit, disinterested, generous, honest, and affectionate, greatly beloved by her friends and relations, popular in the world, and treated with uniform distinction and respect by the Royal Family. The late King, who was a despicable creature, grudged her the allowance he was bound to make her, and he was always afraid lest she should make use of some of the documents in her possession to annoy or injure him. This mean and selfish apprehension led him to make various efforts to obtain possession of those the appearance of which he most dreaded, and among others, one remarkable attempt was made by Sir William Knighton some years ago.

Although a stranger to Mrs Fitzherbert, he called one day at her house, when she was ill in bed, insisted upon seeing her, and forced his way into her bedroom. She contrived (I forget how) to get rid of him without his getting anything out of her, but this domiciliary visit determined her to make a final disposition of all the papers she possessed, that in the event of her death no advantage might be taken of them either against her own memory or the interests of any other person. She accordingly selected those papers which she resolved to preserve, and which are supposed to be the documents and correspondence relating to her marriage with George IV, and made a packet of them which was deposited at her banker’s, and all other letters and papers she condemned to the flames. For this purpose she sent for the Duke of Wellington and Lord Albemarle, told them her determination, and in their presence had these papers burnt; she assured them, that everything was destroyed, and if after her death any pretended letters or documents were produced, they might give the most authoritative contradiction to their authenticity.’

The Diary Junction