MARTYN DOWNER

The Queen's Knight

Buckingham Palace, Thursday 13 March 1890

It was going to be an uneventful day. The Queen planned to see the Prime Minister for an audience at three before going for a drive with Beatrice. Her country was at peace, enjoying the fruits of its hard-won empire. Looking for news, the papers reported a colliery disaster in Wales; the plans for a tunnel under the Thames at Blackwall; and excitement at the forthcoming University Boat Race.

But Reid was waiting for her when she reached London from Windsor at twelve- fifteen, which unsettled her. The unexpected appearance of the doctor, she wrote later, 'always alarms me'. In his hand, Reid held a telegram which the palace had received at precisely five minutes past eleven that morning. He tried to break the news gently, keen not to frighten the elderly Queen as he murmured Sir Howard's name. Was he ill? she asked anxiously. No, the doctor replied quietly, he was dead.

Despite Reid's caution, Victoria, he recalled, was 'much upset and cried' at the news. In fact, she was shocked beyond belief: first Albert; then Disraeli and Brown, now Howard Elphinstone. He had been Albert's friend - indeed, he had held her hand on the night her husband died, promising her his devotion. Then, as a father-figure to her children, he had been her constant, rock-like support, through happy times and sad: a shoulder to cry on, a friend to turn to. Now he, too, was gone - and in such a way!

After dining quietly with Alix, hurriedly summoned from Marlborough House to console her, the Queen sought solace in her private journal, as she had every day now for nearly sixty years. 'Dear Sir Howard is an awful loss,' she wrote; 'he was such a confidential devoted friend, and has been a father to Arthur, with whom he has been since 1859, having been chosen by beloved Albert. I am quite in despair. The whole thing haunts me.'

Unusually, Victoria composed the court circular announcing the death herself, brushing aside the objections of her private secretary Henry Ponsonby. 'The Queen', she began with tears in her eyes, 'received . . . with profound grief the terrible news of the untimely death of Sir Howard Elphinstone. Sir Howard possessed' - here Victoria paused, scratching out the last word before continuing - 'enjoyed Her Majesty's entire confidence, esteem, and friendship for 31 years . . . All the Royal Family unite with the Queen in deeply deploring Sir Howard Elphinstone's loss.'

The Master of the Household, Sir John Cowell, who 'cried bitterly' when he heard that his old friend was dead, was sent to meet Lady Elphinstone at Plymouth. He carried a letter from the Queen. 'Words cannot be found to express all I feel!' Victoria wrote to Annie, 'except to repeat how dear He was to me and my children. What a beloved and invaluable friend he was. My tears flow fast while I write in thinking of you both! My poor Arthur loses a second father and he owes his success in life to Him!'

All the children had reason to mourn. Bertie, who had always looked to Elphinstone for advice, told his mother that 'Old friends like Sir Howard can be ill spared, as they are not to be replaced.' Princess Helena, who was holidaying at Wiesbaden in Germany, felt 'sick with horror and grief. I cannot, cannot believe it is really true that we have indeed lost that dear devoted valued friend!! And in such a terrible way too! Christian and I always consulted dear Sir Howard about our ways & went to him in so many cases, when we wanted advice. We are awfully distressed.'8 Helena's younger sister Louise equally struggled to comprehend the appalling news. 'It is really too terrible and has given me quite a shock,' she wrote from Rome. 'He was so good, clever, kind, devoted, one of the oldest, truest friends. Dear Papa was so fond of him and thought so highly of him.'9 But it was the Queen's eldest daughter Victoria, known to the family as Vicky, who sent the most affecting letter. She had been very close to Elphinstone and, having recently lost her own husband, she felt this new tragedy especially keenly. 'You know that Fritz and I were devoted to him,' she wrote to her mother, 'and what a loss to you! You had not a truer and a more devoted servant and how profoundly attached to dear Arthur.'

In fact, Vicky's brother, currently in India with his regiment, was among the last to learn the news. 'I don't know how to begin,' the Queen wrote carefully to her son, 'oh; this is sad, sad, dreadful. Our dear beloved devoted friend . . . to think he is gone and in so awful a manner. What I too have lost I cannot say! Few if any gentlemen . . . ever were on such confidential terms with me as dear excellent Sir Howard.'