Welcome back to the Deep Dive. Today we are opening
up, well, a massive stack of sources on one of
the most consequential figures in modern history,
Queen Victoria. Absolutely. We're talking about
the woman who was, you know, born into relative
obscurity, politically speaking, and somehow
ended up defining an entire century. It's quite
a story. It really is. 63 years on the throne
and 216 days. to be precise. Longer than any
British monarch before her at that time. It's
staggering. And when we talk about the Victorian
era, we're talking about just immense change.
Right. Industrial Revolution roaring ahead. Yeah.
Huge political reforms, scientific breakthroughs
popping up constantly. And the British Empire
expanding to cover, well, a massive part of the
globe. It was reaching its absolute peak during
her reign. So our mission today for this deep
dive is to try and distill that enormous life
story from, as you said, that quite sheltered,
even miserable childhood. all the way through
to her becoming this sort of symbolic matriarch
of Europe and the empire. We want to give you,
the listener, the essential insights, the context
you really need to grasp this pivotal figure.
Maybe some surprising details along the way,
too. Exactly. And I think we need to keep one
central tension in mind throughout this. Which
is? Well, she was a constitutional monarch, right?
Her direct political power on paper was definitely
waning over those 63 years. That's the textbook
definition, yes. The power shifted more towards
parliament. The sources just consistently show
this intensely opinionated woman, someone who,
you know, privately and often quite successfully
tried to influence government policy. Absolutely.
Foreign affairs who got ministerial jobs. She
had strong views and wasn't afraid to push them
behind the scenes. So that tension, the symbol
versus the. Well, the quiet political operator.
That's where the really fascinating story is.
Agreed. Let's dive in. And maybe we should start
right at the beginning because becoming queen
was far from a certainty for her. Okay, so Victoria
was born Princess Alexandrina Victoria of Kent,
May 24th, 1819. But yeah, to really get why she
was even born, you have to rewind two years.
1817. The death of Princess Charlotte. Ah, the
succession crisis. That's the key. Charlotte
was George III's only legitimate grandchild,
wasn't she? Yes, the only one in that direct
line. And her death and childbirth, it wasn't
just a personal tragedy. It was a national catastrophe.
It threw the whole line of succession into complete
chaos. Right, because George III had all these
sons, Victoria's uncles, but none of them had
legitimate heirs who had survived. Exactly. They
were mostly middle -aged, living, shall we say,
rather scandalous lives, many estranged from
the court, suddenly there's immense pressure.
Marry, produce an heir, secure the Hanoverian
line. It became this desperate scramble. A royal
baby race, essentially. Pretty much. And Victoria's
father, Edward, the Duke of Cannes, he was the
fourth son. So when Victoria was born, she was
actually fifth in line. Fifth, so not exactly
knocking on the door of the throne. Not at all.
But the line was, well, brittle. And the key
figures died off quite quickly. Her own father,
the Duke of Kent, died in January 1820. And then
her grandfather, King George III, just a week
later. Wow. So suddenly she jumps up the ladder.
She's now the heir presumptive behind her uncles,
King William IV and his brother Frederick, the
Duke of York. Neither of whom had legitimate
children who survived past infancy, right? Correct.
So when Frederick, the Duke of York, died in
1827. Bam! Suddenly this young girl, Victoria,
is next in line to the throne of the most powerful
empire on Earth. That's amazing how quickly that
happened. And her name's Alexandrina Victoria.
There's a story there too, isn't there? There
is. Alexandrina was after her godfather, Tsar
Alexander I of Russia, a powerful ally. Victoria
was after her mother, the Duchess. But her parents
had other ideas first. Georgina. Charlotte. They
did, but the Prince Regent, who became George
IV, he was quite forceful. He apparently vetoed
those names and insisted only Alexandrina and
Victoria be used. Interesting. And later on,
she chose to drop Alexandrina herself. She did.
She preferred just Victoria. It's maybe an early
sign of her asserting her own identity, wanting
to shape her own image, even against what the
previous king had sort of dictated. Which is
ironic, given her childhood was seemingly designed
to prevent her from having any identity at all.
She called it rather melancholy. That's putting
it mildly. We need to talk about the Kensington
system. It sounds formal, but it was, well, psychological
warfare almost. Devised by her mother, the German
Duchess of Kent, and this other figure, Sir John
Conroy. Yes, her mother's controller. Fiercely
ambitious, very controlling. Their aim was purely
political. They wanted power. How so? By making
Victoria completely dependent on them, emotionally,
physically. Every aspect of her life. The goal
was if she became queen while still a minor.
Which looked likely for a while. Then a regency
would be needed. And who would lead that regency?
The Duchess of Kent with Conroy as her right
-hand man pulling the strings. That was the plan.
So what did this system actually look like day
to day? What were the rules? Utter isolation.
She was kept away from other children, even her
own cousins most of the time. She wasn't allowed
to meet anyone her mother or Conroy deemed undesirable.
Which included most of her father's family? The
British royals. Pretty much. Anyone who might
offer her a different perspective, a different
loyalty, it was about cutting her off. And the
bedroom arrangement. That's quite something.
Isn't it? Sharing a bedroom with her mother every
single night. Until the very morning she became
queen. No privacy. Constant supervision. That
kind of intense and forced closeness. It must
have been suffocating. It was designed for surveillance
control. But here's the crucial part. It didn't
foster dependence. It bred resentment. Deep resentment.
And we see signs of her pushing back. Even as
a child. We do. She apparently hated these public
tours, the royal progresses that Conroy and her
mother arranged. They were meant to boost the
Duchess's image, drum up support for their potential
regency. Victoria found them exhausting and,
you know, manipulative. And politically. Did
she resist Conroy directly? Yes, especially as
she got older. As a teenager, she flatly refused
all their attempts to make Conroy her official
private secretary. She saw through him. She was
fighting this internal battle long before she
had any real power. And winning it, essentially.
She kept him out of that formal role. She did,
which really set the stage for her future independence.
Meanwhile, of course, the question of who she
would marry was bubbling up. The matchmaking
game. Her uncle Leopold, king of the Belgians,
had a candidate. Yes, his nephew. Prince Albert
of Saxe -Coburg in Gotha. He was Leopold's favored
choice. But King William IV, who apparently couldn't
stand the Duchess and Conroy. Hated them. Yes,
he had his own preferred candidate. Prince Alexander
of the Netherlands. You see the political chess
game playing out through potential husbands.
In Victoria's reaction when she met them. Her
diary is quite telling. Oh, it's wonderfully
blunt. She met Albert and was just smitten. She
writes about how handsome he is, his blue eyes,
his delightful expression. She's clearly very
taken with him. And the other guy, Prince Alexander.
Dismissed. Very plain, she writes. End of story
for him, really. So her personal preference was
clear early on. And her timing, turning 18 just
before King William I died. That was incredibly
lucky for her, wasn't it? Crucial. Absolutely
crucial. She turned 18 in May 1837. William V
died just a few weeks later in June. If he died
just a bit earlier, she would have been a minor.
And the Kensington system would have clicked
into place. Yeah. The Duchess and Conroy would
have got their regency. Exactly. She avoided
that whole nightmare by a matter of weeks, by
a hair's breadth, really. And the moment she
actually became queen, her diary captures it
so vividly. It does. June 20th, 1837, woken up
at six in the morning by her mother. Then the
Archbishop of Canterbury and the Lord Chamberlain,
Lord Cunningham, arrive. And she meets them.
Alone. And that's the key word emphasized in
the sources. Alone. In her sitting room, still
in her dressing gown. After years of never being
allowed to be alone, never meeting officials
without her mother or Conroy hovering. She receives
the highest figures of the church and state by
herself. It's a profound moment. Lord Cunningham
tells her the king is dead and then delivers
the line. Consequently, that I am queen, you
can almost feel the shift in power in those words.
And her very first act as queen, decisive. She
ordered Sir John Conroy banned from her presence
completely. He could remain in her mother's household,
but he was never allowed near the queen again.
A total rejection of her past. Wow. And there's
one other significant shift that happens right
at that moment, constitutionally speaking. Ah,
yes. Hanover. The end of the personal union between
Britain and the kingdom of Hanover. Because Hanover
followed Silic Law. Correct. Silic Law prevented
a woman from inheriting the throne. So while
Victoria got the British crown, the crown of
Hanover went to her uncle, Ernest Augustus. A
rather unpopular figure, actually. So it was
a quiet separation, but significant. Britain
and Hanover went their separate ways after over
a century together. So she's queen. But she's
only 18. And politically, well, she's pretty
inexperienced. Right. All those years of isolation
under the Kensington system didn't exactly prepare
her for governing. Not at all. So initially,
she leans very, very heavily on her first prime
minister, Lord Melbourne, the Whig leader. And
the sources suggest this relationship was more
than just political mentorship. Oh, much more.
She saw him as a father figure. he was charming
experienced and filled that void left by her
own father's early death a contemporary observer
charles greville wrote melbourne was passionately
fond of her as he might be of his daughter that
sounds potentially problematic politically it
was while victoria saw a kind guide The opposition
Tories saw a young, naive queen being completely
manipulated by the Whig leader. It fueled partisan
tensions. But she did assert her independence
in other ways, like moving into Buckingham Palace.
Yes, that was a statement. She was the first
sovereign to actually make it her main residence.
And another thing, quite practical, she was financially
prudent. She used her income to pay off the massive
debts her father, the Duke of Kent, had left
behind. So a reasonably good start. But then
things took a turn. Her early popularity really
took a hit with a court scandal. Ah, yes. The
Lady Flora Hastings affair. This is where the
personal and political just collided disastrously.
Lady Flora was one of her mother's ladies -in
-waiting, right? And there were rumors. Rumors
that she was pregnant. Unmarried, of course,
her abdomen was visibly swollen. And because
she was close to the Duchess of Kent and, crucially,
Sir John Conroy. Victoria's nemesis. Exactly.
The court -rumor mill immediately decided she
must be pregnant by Conroy and Victoria. Well,
she hated Conroy. She resented anyone connected
to that old Kensington regime. She called Lady
Flora that odious Lady Flora. And she believed
the rumor. She did. And her belief gave the rumor
royal weight, which made it so much worse. What
was the truth? Tragically, Lady Flora wasn't
pregnant. When she finally agreed to a medical
exam, she was found to be a virgin. The swelling
was a massive cancerous tumor on her liver. She
died soon after. Oh, that's awful. And the public
reaction. Brutal. Absolutely brutal against the
queen. The Tories, the Hastings family, they
launched this huge press campaign. They painted
Victoria as cruel, naive, easily led and directly
responsible for spreading the slander that hastened
Lady Flora's death. So her image suffered badly.
Terribly. When she went out in public, people
hissed at her. They shouted, Mrs. Melbourne,
linking her directly to the Whig PM and suggesting
she was just his puppet. It was a huge public
relations disaster, deeply humiliating for her
personally. And this directly led into a constitutional
crisis. The bedchamber crisis. Yes. In 1839,
it followed directly. Melbourne's government
was weak and he resigned. Sir Robert Peel, the
Tory leader, was asked to form a government.
OK. Standard procedure. Standard procedure. Yes.
And standard practice was for the incoming prime
minister to request that the monarch replace
the ladies of the bedchamber, her closest female
companions, with women whose families were aligned
with the new governing party. Why was that done?
To ensure the monarch wasn't seen to be receiving
political advice or gossip from ladies loyal
to the opposite. It was about appearances and
preventing undue influence. But Victoria refused.
Flatly refused. She argued they were her personal
friends, not political appointees. She wouldn't
dismiss them. Of course, she was still smarting
from the Lady Flora affair, where the Tories
had attacked her so fiercely. And she was likely
still being advised by Melbourne behind the scenes.
So Peel couldn't form a government. He said he
couldn't govern effectively under those conditions
with the Queen's household staffed by wives and
sisters of his political opponents, so he resigned
the commission. And Melbourne came back. Melbourne
reluctantly returned for a short while. But the
whole episode, what does it show? Was she just
naive about constitutional rules? Or was she
deliberately testing how far her personal power
could go against convention? I think it's the
latter. She put her personal feelings, her loyalty
to her wig ladies, and her dislike of the Tories
ahead of established constitutional practice.
It was a very early, very clear sign of her strong
will and her willingness to dig her heels in
when she felt personally involved. Things shifted
dramatically, though, when Prince Albert came
back onto the scene. Yes, he returned in late
1839, and this time it was serious, since the
monarch had to be the one to propose. She proposed
to him. She did. October 15th, 1839, and they
married the following February, 1840. Her diary
entry from her wedding night is, well... Quite
something. It's incredibly intense, isn't it?
I never, never spent such an evening. My dearest,
dearest, dear Albert. His excessive love and
affection gave me feelings of heavenly love and
happiness I never could have hoped to have felt
before. Oh, this was the happiest day of my life.
You feel the sheer emotion there. And this marriage,
this happiness, it had huge political implications,
didn't it? Massive. Albert very quickly replaced
Melbourne as the dominant influence in her life.
He became her closest advisor, her private secretary
in all but name. He brought structure, seriousness,
and a strong work ethic to the court. He wasn't
just a consort. He was a partner in power. Absolutely.
And crucially, he also managed something quite
remarkable. He helped reconcile Victoria with
her mother, the Duchess of Kent. Really? After
all that bitterness from the Kensington system?
Yes. Albert acted as a mediator. Through his
efforts, the relationship thawed, and eventually
the duchess moved out of Buckingham Palace. It
was like the final dismantling of that oppressive
childhood system. Albert really solidified Victoria's
emotional and political independence. Now, despite
the clear marital happiness, Victoria's feelings
about having children were complex. Very complex.
Nine children over 17 years. That's a lot. But
she famously disliked being pregnant. She found
breastfeeding... disgusting. And she often wrote
in her journal that newborns were, well, ugly.
It's such a contract, isn't it? The woman who
became the ultimate symbol of Victorian family
values actually found the biological processes
quite distasteful. It's one of those fascinating
contradictions. But her experience with childbirth
led to a really significant moment in medical
history. You mean the chloroform story? Exactly.
This is a huge aha moment. For the birth of her
eighth child, Prince Leopold in 1853, and then
again for Beatrice in 1857, she used chloroform
as an anesthetic. Which was brand new technology
then. And controversial. Highly controversial.
There was strong opposition on religious grounds.
Critics argued it went against the Bible, the
curse on Eve. In sorrow thou shalt bring forth
children. They thought interfering with that
pain was defying God's will. And medical objections,
too. Yes. Some doctors were very wary. They thought
it was dangerous. The long -term effects weren't
known. It was a powerful, potentially risky drug.
But Victoria... Suffering and labor, she went
for it anyway. She did. She famously called it
that blessed chloroform and praised its effects.
And because the queen herself had used it and
endorsed it. It gave it immense legitimacy. Royal
approval. Precisely. The religious and social
objections just sort of melted away almost overnight.
It became acceptable, even fashionable, for women
to use anesthesia in childbirth. Her personal
decision had a massive positive impact on public
health, making childbirth safer and less traumatic
for millions. It's amazing how her personal choice
had such wide -ranging consequences. Speaking
of personal risk, though, her life was actually
in danger quite often during this period. Assassination
attempts. Yes, a surprising number of them. Between
1840 and 1850, there were at least five serious
attempts on her life. What does that tell us
about the time? Well, it reflects the political
instability, the social unrest of the hungry
40s. But it also highlights Victoria's own character,
her courage. Tell us about one of them, Edward
Oxford in 1840. Oxford fired two pistols at her
carriage. He was tried for high treason, but
found not guilty by reason of insanity. But then
two years later, 1842, John Francis fired a pistol
at her. And her reaction this time was incredible,
wasn't it? Quite extraordinary. After Francis's
first attempt failed and he escaped, Victoria
deliberately drove the exact same route the very
next day. Why on earth would she do that? To
bait him. She figured he'd try again in the same
spot. She drove faster this time with a larger
escort, essentially setting a trap. And it worked.
Francis took the bait, fired again, and was immediately
captured by police who were waiting. That's not
just bravery. That's proactive, almost calculated
courage. Using herself as bait. It really is.
And the attacks continued. John William Bean
in 1842 tried with a pistol loaded only with
paper and tobacco. William Hamilton in 1849,
again with a powder -filled pistol. And then
Robert Pate in 1850 actually managed to strike
her. He hit her. Yes, hit her on the head with
a cane as her carriage passed. It bruised her
forehead quite badly. It just shows the constant
level of threat she faced, particularly... during
the turbulent 1840s. Shifting focus a bit internationally,
she made some interesting moves too, like with
France. Yes, she actively worked to improve relations
with France, which hadn't always been warm, to
say the least. She visited the French king, Louis
Philippe I, in 1843 and again in 1845. And this
was historically significant. Hugely significant.
It was the first time a reigning British or English
monarch had visited a French monarch since, well,
since Henry VIII met Francis I at the Field of
the Cloth of Gold. Wow. Back in 1520, that's
over 300 years. A 323 -year gap, yeah. So these
visits were major diplomatic events signaling
a new era of cooperation, largely driven by Victoria
and Albert's personal diplomacy. Domestically,
though, this period was overshadowed by immense
tragedy, particularly in Ireland. The Great Famine.
Yes, the Potato Famine, from roughly 1845 to
1849, a devastating period. And Victoria did
receive criticism, being labeled by some as the
famine queen, implying indifference. But is that
fair? What do the sources actually say about
her response? Well, the label seems quite unfair
when you look closer. She personally donated
2 ,000 pounds to the British Relief Association.
How much was 2 ,000 pounds back then? A very
significant sum, equivalent to hundreds of thousands,
maybe even millions in today's money. It was
reportedly more than any other single individual
donation. Okay, so not indifferent financially.
Not at all. And politically, she also supported
the Maynooth Grant, which was government funding
for a Catholic seminary in Ireland. This was
deeply unpopular with many Protestants in Britain,
but she backed it. So the famine queen narrative...
maybe doesn't hold up to scrutiny. It seems largely
based on nationalist rhetoric later on. Her actions
at the time show personal generosity and a willingness
to support potentially unpopular relief measures.
And one final point in this busy period, her
relationship with her ministers. We mentioned
Melbourne, but later on, she clashed quite spectacularly
with Lord Palmerston. Ah, Palmerston, yes. He
was foreign secretary for much of this time and
later prime minister. He drove Victoria and Albert
absolutely mad. Why? What was the issue? He was
fiercely independent, often acted without consulting
the cabinet, let alone the queen. He'd make major
foreign policy pronouncements or decisions unilaterally.
Victoria found him arrogant, disrespectful, and
dangerous. She felt he wasn't following the profit
procedures. Exactly. She believed the monarch
had the right to be consulted to know what the
government was doing in her name. Palmerston
often bypassed her completely. So she pushed
back. Vigorously. She wrote repeated stern letters
to the prime minister at the time, Lord John
Russell, complaining about Palmerston's conduct
and demanding he follow protocol. Did it work?
Eventually, yes. Her persistent pressure contributed
significantly to Palmerston being sacked as foreign
secretary in 1851. He overstepped by publicly
approving Louis -Napoleon Bonaparte's coup d
'etat in France without any authorization. So
even though her direct power to, say, make policy
was limited. she could still exert considerable
influence by insisting on procedure and holding
ministers accountable. Absolutely. It shows her
using that right to be consulted and the right
to warn very effectively against a very powerful
and popular minister. It was a significant assertion
of monarchical prerogative in the mid -19th century.
Okay, let's move into the next major phase of
her life, which is defined by one overwhelming
event. The death of Prince Albert in 1861. Yes,
1861 was a devastating year for her personally.
First, her mother, the Duchess of Kent, died
in March. And while their relationship had been
difficult, Victoria was deeply affected. She
found her mother's private papers. And realized.
Realized the depth of her mother's love for her,
despite everything with Conroy and the Kensington
system. It apparently brought on immense regret
about their years of estrangement. And then,
just months later, in December, Albert died.
Suddenly. Of typhoid fever. He was only 42. And
Victoria was utterly, completely shattered. Her
grief was profound, overwhelming. And she blamed
his death, partly on their eldest son, the Prince
of Wales. She did, rather unfairly. Bertie, the
future Edward VII, had been involved in a bit
of a scandal with an actress while stationed
with the army in Ireland. Albert had traveled
to Cambridge to confront him about it shortly
before falling ill. Victoria convinced herself
that the worry and stress of that dreadful business,
as she called it, had weakened Albert and led
to his death. Wow. That's a heavy burden to place
on her son. It poisoned their relationship for
years. But the main consequence of Albert's death
was this dramatic shift in Victoria's own life
and public image. The Great Seclusion. Exactly.
She retreated from public life almost entirely.
She started wearing black mourning clothes. Which
she famously never stopped wearing for the next
40 years. 40 years. And she avoided public appearances,
rarely came to London. She spent most of her
time shuttling between Windsor Castle, Osborne
House on the Isle of Wight, and Balmoral Castle
in Scotland. Earning that nickname, the widow
of Windsor. Mm -hmm. And this withdrawal, which
went on for decades, wasn't just a personal choice.
It had serious political consequences. Oh, so?
Well... The public started to get restless. The
monarch wasn't visible. The ceremonial heart
of the state seemed to have stopped beating.
This led to a noticeable, if temporary, rise
in Republican sentiment in Britain. People started
questioning the value of a monarchy whose monarch
refused to perform her public duties. Is that
when that famous sign appeared on Buckingham
Palace? That's the story, yes. Around 1864, supposedly,
someone stuck a notice on the railings. These
commanding premises to be let or sold in consequence
of the late... occupants declining business ouch
that's pretty blunt it captures the mood perfectly
there was a real feeling that the monarchy itself
was becoming redundant because the queen simply
wouldn't engage she continued her paperwork yes
reading dispatches signing documents but the
pageantry the ceremonies the public face of the
monarchy she refused For years, it's an incredible
example of her personal grief taking precedence
over her public role. But within this secluded
world, she started leaning very heavily on certain
members of her household staff. Which brings
us to John Brown. Ah, John Brown. The Scottish
ghillie or manservant at Balmoral. Starting in
the mid -1860s, he became her closest companion,
her confidant. And this relationship caused quite
a stir, didn't it? A huge scandal. Brown was,
well, he wasn't like the courtiers. He was direct,
perhaps even gruff. He spoke plainly to the queen,
treated her with an informality that absolutely
horrified the rigidly hierarchical royal household.
And the rumor mill went into overdrive. Oh, completely.
Whispers about a secret romance, even a secret
marriage. The satirical press had a field day,
nicknaming her Mrs. Brown. How did Victoria react
to all this gossip and mockery? She seems to
have ignored it or perhaps even defied it. She
valued his loyalty and companionship immensely.
She even published a book, Leaves from the Journal
of Our Life in the Highlands. Which was very
popular, right? Hugely popular. And in it, she
praised Brown lavishly, spoke of his devotion,
detailed their excursions together. She wasn't
hiding the closeness of their bond at all. So
when he died in 1883, she must have been devastated
again. She was deeply grieved. And then she did
something that caused panic among her advisors.
She started writing a biography of him. A biography
of her servant? A eulogistic biography, praising
him to the heavens. Her private secretary, Sir
Henry Ponsonby, and the dean of Windsor got wind
of this and were absolutely terrified. Why? What
were they afraid of? The scandal. Publishing
such a personal, adoring account of her relationship
with a Highland servant would just confirm everyone's
worst suspicions and potentially damage the monarchy's
reputation irrevocably. So they intervened. They
did. Very delicately but firmly, they managed
to persuade her to destroy the manuscript. It's
an extraordinary moment, courtiers convincing
the queen to burn her own writing to avoid scandal.
But she still found a way to honor him publicly.
She did. When she published a sequel to her Highland
Journal's More Leaves, she dedicated it quite
pointedly to her devoted, personal attendant
and faithful friend, John Brown. It shows, again,
her fierce loyalty, placing personal connection
above courtly propriety. Now, while all this
personal drama was unfolding, her official role
was also changing. The empire was becoming more
central to her identity. Yes, particularly after
the Indian Rebellion of 1857, or the Sapoy Mutiny,
as it was often called in Britain. After that,
the British government took direct control of
India from the East India Company. And this led
to a new title for Victoria. It did. The conservative
Prime Minister Benjamin Disraeli, who knew how
to flatter the Queen, pushed through the Royal
Titles Act in 1876. Mink and her. Empress of
India, proclaimed on May 1st, 1876. Kezara Hind.
And this wasn't just symbolic for her, was it?
She got involved in the details. She did. Specifically
in the wording of the official proclamation announcing
the transfer of power in India back in 1858 after
the rebellion. What did she insist on? She insisted
personally intervene to ensure the proclamation
explicitly guaranteed religious freedom and tolerance
for Indians. The text had to breathe feelings
of generosity, benevolence, and religious toleration.
So she was using her constitutional position
to shape imperial policy based on her own moral
convictions, even though she was head of the
Church of England. Precisely. She overruled officials
who wanted to take a harder line, possibly threatening
native religions. She believed in fairness, possibly
influenced by her own affinity for the Presbyterian
Church of Scotland, which wasn't the established
church. It was a significant assertion of her
influence on a matter of huge imperial importance.
Her relationships with her prime ministers during
this era were famously varied. Disraeli, you
mentioned, knew how to handle her. Oh, he was
a master. He charmed her completely. His advice
to others was apparently, lay it on with a trowel
when talking to the queen. Lots of flattery.
And he connected with her personally. Yes, he
famously referred to her published journal saying
things like, we authors, ma 'am. He treated her
not just as a monarch, but as an intelligent
woman. She adored him. But her relationship with
the great liberal leader, William Gladstone,
was the polar opposite. Utterly different. She
couldn't stand Gladstone. She famously complained
that he addressed her as if she were a public
meeting rather than a woman. Too formal. Too
preachy. Yes. She found his intense moral earnestness
grating. She disliked his politics, his reforms,
particularly his moves towards Irish home rule.
She thought his 1885 government was the worst
I have ever had. So her personal feelings definitely
colored her political interactions. Immensely.
She was delighted when Gladstone's first Irish
Home Rule bill was defeated in 1886. While she
did, somewhat reluctantly, accept the expansion
of voting rights for men, like the 1867 Reform
Act. She drew the line elsewhere. Absolutely.
She remained resolutely opposed to votes for
women throughout her entire reign. A fascinating
mix of progressive instincts on some issues,
like religious tolerance, and deeply conservative
views on others, like female suffrage. As we
move into the later years of her reign, something
interesting happens. Victoria's public image
shifts again. The reclusive widow transforms.
Into what? Into this beloved, almost mythical
figure, the grandmother of the nation, the embodiment
of the empire. Her long seclusion was largely
forgotten or forgiven, and public affection surged,
especially around her jubilees. Right, the Golden
Jubilee first in 1887. marking 50 years. Yes.
That was a huge celebration, very much a sort
of grand European royal family affair. She hosted
a banquet for something like 50 visiting kings
and princes. It reestablished her firmly at the
center of European royalty. And then 10 years
later, the Diamond Jubilee in 1897. 60 years
on the throne. This one was different. It was
deliberately orchestrated, largely by the colonial
secretary Joseph Chamberlain, as a festival of
the British Empire. So the focus shifted from
European royalty to the global empire. Exactly.
They made a point of inviting the prime ministers
from all the self -governing parts of the empire,
Canada, Australia, New Zealand, the Cape Colony.
It was a massive display of imperial power and
unity, with Victoria at its symbolic heart. And
who was pointedly not invited? Her grandson,
Kaiser Wilhelm II. of Germany. Why exclude him?
He was family. He was considered too, well, volatile,
too bombastic. The British government worried
he might cause some kind of diplomatic incident
or try to upstage the proceedings. So they politely
kept him away. It underlined that this jubilee
was about Britain and its empire. Not the complex
web of European dynastic ties. And the public
reaction to the Diamond Jubilee. Overwhelming
affection. The procession through London was
six miles long. Victoria herself was 78 by then,
quite frail. She couldn't even manage the steps
of St. Paul's Cathedral for the service, so they
held it outdoors so she could remain in her carriage.
But the crowds were enormous, celebrating this
enduring symbol of stability. Yet even as this
revered imperial matriarch, She was capable of
causing fresh scandal within the palace walls.
Enter Abdul Karim. Ah, the moonshee, yes. Another
relationship that echoed the John Brown affair
and horrified the household. He started as a
servant. He was hired initially as a waiter during
the Golden Jubilee celebrations, one of two Indian
servants brought over. But Victoria quickly took
a liking to him. She promoted him, made him her
moonshee, or teacher. Teaching her Urdu. Yes,
Hindustani, basically. He became a constant presence,
traveling with her, advising her on Indian affairs.
He was given houses, titles, privileges. And
the royal family and the court staff reacted
how? They were appalled. Just as they had been
with John Brown, they saw this rapid elevation
of an Indian servant as completely inappropriate.
There were accusations that he was spying, that
he was biased against Hindus, that he was exploiting
the queen. A lot of it clearly stemmed from racial
prejudice. And Victoria's response? She fiercely
defended him. She dismissed their objections
flatly as racial prejudice. She valued his service,
his perspective, and his loyalty. She kept him
close until the very end of her life, ensuring
he received a pension and land back in India.
It's that same pattern again, isn't it? Intense
personal loyalty trumping court convention and
family disapproval. Absolutely. A consistent
thread throughout her long life. Now, alongside
being the symbol of empire, she also had that
other famous title. Grandmother of Europe. Precisely.
Through her nine children and their marriages,
her descendants were spread across almost all
the royal houses of Europe. Germany, Russia,
Greece, Spain, Sweden, Norway. Her grandson was
Kaiser Wilhelm II. Her granddaughter, Alexandra,
was the Tsarina of Russia, married to Nicholas
II. It really was one vast, interconnected royal
family web. It was. But this web carried a tragic
genetic secret within it. hemophilia the royal
disease yes hemophilia b specifically a blood
clotting disorder her youngest son leopold duke
of albany suffered from it and died relatively
young after a fall and he wasn't the only one
no At least two of her daughters, Alice and Beatrice,
were carriers. They passed it on to subsequent
generations in the Spanish and Russian royal
families, most famously to Tsarevich Alexei,
the son of Nicholas and Alexandra. His condition
arguably had huge historical consequences in
Russia. And the origin of the hemophilia in Victoria
herself? There were rumors, weren't there? Because
it wasn't in her ancestry. There were speculation,
yes. Whispers that perhaps her real father wasn't
the Duke of Kent, implying illegitimacy. But
science has a different explanation now. Yes.
Modern genetics points to a much more likely
cause, a spontaneous mutation. These mutations
happen randomly, but they occur more frequently
in the children of older fathers. And her father,
the Duke of Kempt. He was over 50 when Victoria
was conceived. Spontaneous mutations account
for roughly a third of all hemophilia cases.
So while we can't be 100 % certain, the scientific
explanation is far more plausible than the old
court gossip. So looking at her overall legacy
as monarch, she really oversaw the transition
to the modern constitutional monarchy, didn't
she? She absolutely solidified it. The monarch's
role shifted decisively during her reign from
someone who could, potentially, still wield significant
direct power, like her Hanoverian predecessors,
to someone whose power was primarily symbolic
and influential rather than executive. Exactly.
It's perfectly captured in that famous description
by the constitutional theorist Walter Bagehot,
written in 1867. What did Bagehot say the monarch
retained? He argued the sovereign kept three
key rights. The right to be consulted. The right
to encourage and the right to warn. And we've
seen examples of her using all three, haven't
we? Definitely. Warning Palmerston. Being consulted
on the India Proclamation, encouraging certain
ministers like Disraeli or discouraging others
like Gladstone. She operated very effectively
within those Bajajoshan limits, even while pushing
their boundaries sometimes. And she also redefined
the image of the monarchy itself. Crucially,
yes. She created the model of the family monarchy.
By presenting this image of stable, respectable,
bourgeois domesticity, albeit one she sometimes
struggled with personally, she offered a stark
contrast to the scandals, debts, and general
disreputability of her uncles and grandfathers
in the House of Hanover. And that resonated with
the public. Especially with the rising middle
classes. They could identify with, or at least
aspire to, this image of a moral, family -focused
monarch. It helped secure the monarchy's popularity.
and relevance in a rapidly changing society.
One last aspect we should touch on, Victoria
the writer. Oh, yes. Prolific doesn't even begin
to cover it. She wrote constantly. Her journals
alone run to 122 volumes. Starting when she was
just a teenager. From 1832 onwards, and estimates
suggest she wrote an average of 2 ,500 words
a day throughout her adult life. Letters, memos,
journal entries. It's an astonishing output.
Should be a goldmine for historians. But there's
a catch. A huge catch. After her death, her youngest
daughter, Beatrice, was appointed her literary
executor, and Beatrice took it upon herself to
transcribe the diaries. But she edited them heavily.
Very heavily, censoring anything she felt was
inappropriate or too personal. And then, the
truly tragic part, she burned almost all the
original volumes. No. Why? Presumably to protect
her mother's image, or perhaps the image of the
family. It's an incalculable loss of primary
source material. Generations of historians have
lamented it. Is anything left of the originals?
Thankfully, yes. Lord Escher, courtier and historian,
had previously made transcripts of the journals
covering the period from 1832 up to Albert's
death in 1861. So much of the earlier, perhaps
more candid material survived through his copies.
But the later decades are mostly known only through
Beatrice's heavily edited versions. Still, an
incredible written legacy. And one final myth
to bust about her personality. That famous phrase.
We are not amused. Yes. She apparently denied
ever saying it. And people who knew her well,
her household staff, confirmed that while she
could be stern, she also had a hearty laugh and
a good sense of humor. Apparently, she often
roared with laughter. So the image of the perpetually
stern, unsmiling queen in those later photographs,
it's not the whole picture. Not by a long shot.
It was partly the convention of photography at
the time requiring long exposures and partly
the image of solemn duty she projected after
Albert's death. But the private Victoria seems
to have been much more expressive. So the end
of this incredibly long era was approaching.
Her final years were marked by declining health.
Yes. Severe rheumatism made it very difficult
for her to walk. She relied heavily on a wheelchair
in her last couple of years. And cataracts significantly
impaired her eyesight. And more personal loss,
too, right near the end. Yes. Her second son,
Alfred, Duke of Saxe -Coburg in Gotha, died in
July 1900. Law seemed to punctuate her entire
life right up to the finish. When did she finally
pass away? January 22, 1901. She was 81 years
old. She died at Osborne House, her beloved home
on the Isle of Wight. Surrounded by family. Yes.
Her eldest son and heir, Albert Edward, the future
Edward VII, was there. And perhaps significantly,
so was her eldest grandson, Kaiser Wilhelm II
of Germany. Despite the political tensions, the
family bonds were still strong at the very end.
Her death marked the end of an era, quite literally.
And the end of a royal house. It did. She was
the last monarch of the House of Hanover. Her
son, Edward VII, inherited the throne. And because
his father was Albert, the royal house name changed
to Saxe -Coburg and Gotha. Which itself was later
changed during World War I. To Windsor, yes.
But her death ended the Hanoverian line that
had ruled Britain since 1714. And her funeral.
It wasn't entirely traditional, was it? She left
specific instructions. Very specific instructions.
She insisted on a military funeral, not a purely
state one. Why military? She wanted to be buried
as a soldier's daughter, honoring her father,
the Duke of Kent, and her own position as head
of the army. It was a statement about her identity.
And the color scheme was unusual, too. Strikingly
so. After four decades of wearing black mourning
for Albert, she requested that her funeral be
white. White horses, white decorations, a complete
reversal of the image she had cultivated for
so long. But perhaps the most fascinating details
are the personal items placed in her coffin with
her. Yes, these are incredibly revealing. They
tell the whole story of her deepest loyalties.
What was included? Obviously, things related
to Albert. Oh, yes. One of Albert's dressing
gowns was placed beside her and a plaster cast
of his hand, symbols of that lifelong devotion
and public grief. Those were expected. But there
were other items, more secret ones. There were.
Items related to John Brown. She had requested
and ensured it was carried out that a lock of
John Brown's hair and a photograph of him were
placed in her coffin. Yes. And even more intimately,
his mother's wedding ring, which Brown himself
had given to Victoria after his mother died.
She instructed that this ring be placed on a
finger of her left hand. Wow. And was this done
openly? No. Apparently, these items relating
to Brown were placed in her hand after her family
had paid their last respects, and they were concealed
from view by a carefully positioned bunch of
flowers before the coffin was sealed. A final,
private act of devotion, ensuring both her great
loves, Albert and Brown, went with her. It's
an extraordinary image. After decades of defining
herself as Albert's widow, she made sure this
other profound, controversial relationship was
acknowledged in the most private way possible,
hidden from the world but known to her. Where
was she finally buried? Beside Albert, as she
had always planned. In the Royal Mausoleum at
Frogmore, in Windsor Great Park. The end of a
reign that had not just spanned decades, but
had fundamentally reshaped Britain, its empire,
and the monarchy itself. Hashtag tag outro. So
looking back over this immense life, what are
the key takeaways? We've seen her journey from
that isolated girl under the Kensington system.
Through those early crises like Lady Flora and
the bedchamber affair, which really tested her
and the monarchy. To becoming this enduring symbol,
successfully managing that huge transition of
the crown's role from direct power towards moral
and symbolic authority. Absolutely. She navigated
that tricky path, accepting the constitutional
realities that Bajha described, but never giving
up her right to be consulted, to encourage and
especially to warn. She used her influence subtly,
but often very effectively. Whether it was pushing
back against Palmerson or insisting on religious
tolerance in India or just making her preferences
for certain ministers very clear. Right. And
then there's that transformation into the grandmother
of Europe and perhaps more significantly, the
matriarch of the empire. It's quite remarkable
how she recovered from that long period of seclusion
to become so beloved by the end. An empire whose
identity in many ways seemed to coalesce around
her image in those later years. The Jubilees
really cemented that. They did. The monarchy
became intertwined with the idea of Britain's
global destiny, and she was the living embodiment
of it. Okay, so we know her direct political
power decreased over the 63 years. That's clear.
But thinking about her personal impact. It was
immense, wasn't it? Undeniably. Her personality,
her opinions, her stubbornness, her loyalties.
They constantly shaped events, relationships,
even policy behind the scenes. So that leads
us to the final provocative thought for you,
the listener, to mull over. We call it the Victorian
era. But was that era just coincidentally named
after the monarch who happened to be on the throne
for so long? Or did the actual character of that
age? Its moral tone, its sense of duty, its imperial
self -confidence, even its particular kind of
domesticity. Was that shaped in some significant
way by the powerful, uncompromising, intensely
personal character of the woman at its very center?
Was the era Victorian because of Victoria herself?
It's a fascinating question about the real influence
of personality on history. Something to think
about. Join us next time for another Deep Dive.