Censoring Queen Victoria

by Yvonne M. Ward

  Bigge also questioned some of Benson and Esher’s editorial decisions, including an apparent attempt to avoid provoking The Times. Leopold had often complained to Victoria of the ‘scurrilous abuse [heaped] on the Coburg family’ by the English press, especially following his marriage to Princess Charlotte, and commended Victoria’s principle of not minding what the newspapers said. In a letter written just prior to Victoria’s accession, he sought to instruct her about the power of the press and launched an attack – unwarranted, in Benson and Esher’s view – on The Times. This letter contained a very idiosyncratic but perceptive account of the paper’s editorial positions on several political topics, as well of its occasional criticisms of Leopold himself. Benson and Esher must have appended a footnote to this letter criticising Leopold, with which Bigge disagreed. Bigge thought that Leopold’s ‘severe strictures … [were] more or less historical’ and unobjectionable as they are ‘those of a foreign onlooker’. The editors did not agree with him, and only one paragraph of this interesting six-page letter was eventually published, omitting any direct reference to The Times.

  John Murray may have been behind this decision. The editor of The Times had recently begun to publish anonymous articles critical of the production and pricing of the Letters of Queen Victoria and accusing Murray of seeking exorbitant profits. Murray launched a libel action against The Times and its editor, which was finally concluded in Murray’s favour in May 1908.

  Meanwhile, Esher privately sounded out his second possible reader, John Morley:

  I have finished Vol I and Vol II of Queen Victoria’s Correspondence, the penultimate revise. It has been difficult work, as, since the book is to be issued by the direct authority of the King, much care must be taken not to allow anything to slip in which can give pain or offence. The latter term in its most catholic sense. Between ourselves, the King wishes you to look through the final proofs. Will you, when asked, consent?

  (There is, unsurprisingly, no evidence that Esher actually consulted the King before making this request to Morley.)

  On the same day, 17 August 1906, he wrote to John Murray, saying: ‘I return the proofs of Volume I. The King has gone through them and by H.M.’s directions I have cut out certain passages.’ These deletions were not restricted to Bigge’s list and included several long excisions. Murray replied, ‘From the editorial point of view the excisions seem to be not serious. From the printer’s point of view I fear they will be very serious.’ Murray sent a similar letter to Benson, who was at his mother’s home at Horsted Keynes, Sussex. In his diary Benson recorded:

  20 Aug 1906

  Woke feeling better then opened letter from Murray which had arrived on Sat – not new proofs but the King’s copy!! Many omissions, some very serious – long serious letter from Murray. Went up to Town to see Murray – went solidly through [it all].

  Such lengthy excisions at this stage were a technical nightmare. There were more than a thousand pages already typeset, sitting in trays at the printers. The material to be deleted had to be located in the trays of type and that type removed. A decision had then to be made whether the remaining type should be physically moved up to fill the gaps, or whether alternative text of the same length should be found as a replacement. Either option was time-consuming and expensive, and would have repercussions for the publication dates of the book. It also meant additional work for the indexers, as the indexes for Volume I and II were by now almost complete. After spending half a day with Murray, Benson wrote to Esher:

  I have just been through the proofs with Murray. There are three serious omissions. If these omissions are met simply by closing up the pages, the whole pagination of the book will have to be altered, and the index thrown out of gear. It will mean breaking up every page [of type] from the point of the first alteration [on page 8] to the end of the book – this will waste time and be of course very expensive.

  What I would suggest is that we should find some unemphatic passages of letters of a purely historical kind to fill up the gaps – It will be quite easy to do this out of the cancelled proofs or the MSS. The introductions [i.e., the replacement material] need not come chronologically exactly where the omissions come, but a few pages earlier or later; and thus only a few pages need be disarranged … – but you can trust me to find absolutely colourless passages.

  This solution may well have been Murray’s. Benson now set about collecting lines of ‘absolutely colourless’ text. Considering the agony he had felt at having to delete so much interesting material in the earlier stages of the project, he must have felt a huge frustration at this point. But his pragmatism came to the fore; he took Esher at his word and believed that these changes had been requested by the King, and that once they were made they could finally send the book to print.

  Meanwhile, Esher had received Morley’s response to the proofs:

  My dear Esher,

  I have read it all with the utmost interest and gratification.

  Success in biography obviously depends on three things – subject, material and handling.

  As for subject, Queen Victoria stands in the first place, for not only was her rank and station illustrious, but her personality was extraordinary – in its vigour, tenacity, integrity, and in the union of all these stubborn qualities with the suppleness and adaptability required from a Sovereign in a Constitutional system.

  Second, your material was evidently rich and copious, and I cannot think but that the King was right not to pinch you. I hope the same liberal spirit will help future volumes.

  Thirdly, I thoroughly applaud your plan. A biography of the three-decker stamp, filled out with dead history, would have been, I believe a great mistake. I always thought Theodore Martin went too far in that direction. What people want to know, and will always want to know, about Queen Victoria, is her character, her ways in public business, her relations with her Ministers and her times.

  You give quite enough in your excellent introduction to the chapters, to let people know where they are; and if they seek more, there are plenty of books already where they can find it.

  I have kept a keen look-out, as you wished me to do, for references or quotations that might touch sore places. I find none such. The air of the whole book is good-natured as it should be and I see nothing to give pain to anybody. It will doubtless be harder to walk quite safely as you come nearer our own day. Meanwhile I feel pretty sure about you. Of course, I do not overlook the responsibility that falls in a special degree upon the King. So far, I do not hesitate to say, if I am any judge, that there is not a line with which from this point of view anybody can quarrel.

  The industry and exactitude with which the elucidating notes etc., have been prepared, command my real admiration. I know well how much pain is meant by these things. I have jotted down on a separate piece of paper one or two most minute and trivial points that struck me.

  One word I should like to add, though it is not within my commission: don’t publish one volume by itself. I am sure, and my publishers agree, that one distinct element in the success of my Gladstone was that people sat down to the whole meal at once. You may choose, or may not be able, to do as much as this. But pray try to approach my counsel of perfection, if and in so far as you can.

  I congratulate you, dear Esher, on your associations with a book that all the world one day will read, study, admire and greatly like (which is more than admiring) as now does,

  Yours most sincerely,

  John Morley

  Most of Morley’s recommendations were corrections to errors in names and titles, and Benson was grateful to have his imprimatur. With Morley’s seal of approval, Esher felt he could confidently proceed with Volume I. He promptly sent Morley’s letter to the King and suggested that he approve the volume to go to press. The King complied, giving his full consent, albeit briefly:

  Mr Morley’s letter is a most cheering and complimentary one. His advice should also be followed and not produce one volume by itself. It is likely to be a great
success.

  Edward R.I.

  Having Morley as a reader was Esher’s trump card. King Edward, despite being claustrophobically surrounded by intellectuals and learned men in his boyhood, maintained an admiration for certain men of learning all his life; John Morley was one of them. Finally, on 24 October 1906, after both Benson and Murray had checked it through one last time, the first volume went to be stereotyped. Volume II still awaited the King’s approval, and Volume III was yet to be set into type.

  Esher now turned his attention to Volmes II and III. He did not seek outside readers for these volumes; he and Knollys would instead act as the King’s censors. Although when Esher discussed these final changes with Benson and Murray, he spoke as though they were the King’s, correspondence confirms that Esher and Knollys were busy drawing up the ‘King’s excisions’ in Scotland while the King himself was on the Continent.

  Benson gently put to Esher that many of the proposed excisions for Volume II were ‘quite unnecessary & even pointless & to garble some of the letters very much. I suppose there is no appeal?’ Esher forwarded Benson’s protest to Knollys, who haughtily replied:

  I return Benson’s letters. Literary recluses are not always the best judges of what is good taste in these matters and I think we have been very indulgent in our excisions. I shall be curious to know to what particular ones he objects to as ‘pointless’. He forgets that the work will be published under the direct auspices of the King.

  Tellingly, Knollys referred to ‘our’ excisions rather than ‘the King’s’. Esher’s response to Benson has not been located, but it was persuasive enough for Benson to acquiesce: ‘I quite see your point about H.M.’s position in the matter.’

  Upon his return from holiday, however, Benson had second thoughts. He tried again to have Esher reconsider the deletions. He put specific arguments against some of them, filling nine foolscap pages with a list of the proposed excisions and his objections. For example, some were simply, he contended, ‘historical facts’; others changed the meaning or intent of the Queen’s comments. Esher responded forcefully:

  My dear ACB,

  I have gone very carefully through your suggested restorations of the original text and have spoken to the King about them.

  H.M. says that it is not a question of ‘well known historical facts’ or the ‘great historical value’ of passages. The point is that this book is published under the King’s authority. Take for instance your suggestion in regard to page 17. You would not feel that the King would be justified in allowing a passage to be printed in which his mother characterises a living sovereign, one of the most respected and a great personal friend of the King, as an ‘utter nullity’.

  The same class of objection holds good in all cases where excisions have been made. The principle all along has been to avoid giving pain to living servants or friends of the King, or umbrage to foreign states. I am sure you will feel that this is the right view, even if the book should suffer, which in my judgment it will not.

  Yours always,

  E

  The ‘utter nullity’ was the Austrian Emperor. The phrase was not Victoria’s; she was repeating to King Leopold an opinion of Tsar Nicholas I, although we can assume it was a view shared by Victoria, Albert and possibly also Leopold. But the reference was not, as Esher suggested, to Emperor Franz Josef, who was indeed a ‘great, personal friend’ of King Edward VII. It referred to his elderly uncle, Ferdinand I, who became emperor in 1835 and who abdicated during the Revolution of 1848 (to be succeeded by Franz Joseph). He was known to be mentally deficient, so Benson was justified in saying this was ‘a perfectly well-known historical fact’. And he had died in 1875, so Esher was wrong to say that the words described a ‘living Sovereign’. These misunderstandings confirm that Esher had not in fact ‘spoken to the King’ about these excisions. For all his shortcomings, Edward VII was pedantic about such personal details and would have corrected Esher on this point (he once sent an equerry to correct Esher’s son, Maurice, after Maurice, within the King’s earshot, had referred to Nicholas II as ‘the Russian Emperor’ instead of ‘the Emperor of Russia’). Yet again, Esher assumed an authority which in reality he did not have.

  But Benson had no further recourse and the sentence was omitted. In making this change, Esher probably had in mind the King’s recent visit to Austria, his ongoing friendship with the Austrian royal family and his desire to maintain political peace in Europe. Esher could have simply justified the deletion to Benson on the grounds of European diplomacy, but he chose instead to flaunt his ‘superior knowledge’ – which in this instance was incorrect.

  The excisions ordered from Volume II fall into several categories: those based on political considerations, especially as they might have affected Edward’s relationship with his ministers or his European connections; those which showed Victoria to have been excessively assertive, unfeminine or insulting; and those which showed political bias. There was some overlap between these categories; for example, one of the ordered excisions was from Victoria’s description of the Irish people during her visit to Dublin in 1849. She described her reception by the Irish crowds to Leopold:

  The most perfect order was maintained in spite of the immense mass of people assembled and a more good-humoured crowd I never saw, but noisy and excitable beyond belief, talking, jumping and shrieking instead of cheering … you see dirtier, more ragged & wretched people here than I ever saw anywhere else.

  The King (or rather, Esher) ordered that the word ‘dirtier’ be excised, while ‘ragged’ and ‘wretched’ were allowed to stay. Benson contested it: ‘Why erase?’ Later, Victoria also described the Irishwomen as ‘handsome’, with their ‘beautiful black eyes and hair’ and ‘fine … teeth’. She was sympathetic to their situation and – in the desperate circumstances of post-famine Ireland – ‘dirty’ was probably accurate, although perhaps too blunt for the political climate of 1906. Whether the censors excised it because it was offensive to the Irish people or too unfeminine for a Queen is impossible to say.

  Benson and Esher had already omitted some of Victoria and Albert’s views on Ireland, conscious that it was a sensitive topic. King Edward and Queen Alexandra had made two visits to Ireland as sovereigns, in 1903 and 1904, and the King visited alone in 1907. The great enthusiasm with which they were received raised temporary hopes that, even in an era of ardent Irish nationalism, the monarchy might continue to bind the United Kingdom together. In this climate, some of Victoria’s opinions were deemed unpublishable.

  In 1848, Victoria had written to Leopold about the Young Irelander movement and their failed uprising that July:

  There are ample means of crushing the rebellion in Ireland, I think it is now very likely to go off without any contest which people (and I think with right) rather regret. The Irish should receive a good lesson or they will begin again.

  The words in italics were initially included, but were deleted as another of the ‘King’s excisions’. It seems Esher and Knollys felt that Victoria’s call for the Irish to be taught a ‘good lesson’ was too brutal for public consumption, although, curiously, her opinion that she had ‘ample means of crushing the rebellion’ was not.

  Victoria’s views about the French were also softened, probably to avoid offending the King. In 1848, when the French King was forced to abdicate, the royal family – the Orleans – sought refuge in England and were given the use of the Surrey home of their son-in-law, King Leopold. Benson and Esher included some letters from early in 1848, in which Victoria expressed concern for their wellbeing. Elsewhere, however, the Queen was venomously critical of French politics, both monarchical and republican. Edward VII, in contrast, was known to be very fond of French people and institutions, as was Esher. Several excisions were ordered from Volume II to avoid giving offence. In 1846, contrary to a pledge he had given to Victoria, the French King had pursued what he saw as a diplomatic coup involving the marriage of his son to the younger sister of the Queen of Spain. Victoria referre
d to this ‘faithless conduct of the French’ in a letter to Leopold, a phrase which was ordered to be excised. Benson argued that stronger language was used in subsequent letters (Victoria went on to rage against the King’s ‘infamous’ and ‘very dishonest’ behaviour) and that this material was not controversial. The ‘Queen’s inclination had long been known – the gap will be more suggestive than the excised term,’ he pleaded. Nevertheless, it was removed.

  In 1848, Louis Philippe was forced to abdicate and escaped, in disguise, to England. Although she did not approve of his decision to flee, Victoria understood it: ‘Still the recollection of Louis XVI and the wickedness and savageness of the French mob is enough to justify all and everybody will admit that.’ The words in italics were deleted, although Benson again protested: ‘No cause for excision.’ As the political temperature rose, Victoria continued to discuss the situation with Leopold; again, Esher ordered that her harsh criticism of the French people be removed: ‘In France, things go on dreadfully & for the sake of morality there ought to be some great catastrophe at Paris for that is the hothouse of Iniquity from wherein all the mischief comes.’

  Later, upon hearing of the coup d’état by Louis Napoleon, Victoria wrote ironically to Leopold: ‘I must write a line to ask what you say to the wonderful proceedings at Paris, which is really like a story in a book or a play! What is to be the result of it all?’ Victoria’s scorn for the 1848 revolutionaries would have been provocative and even dangerous in an era of bloc alliances; Britain had only recently entered the Entente cordiale with France, and was hopeful of securing a Triple Entente including Russia (this was eventually achieved in 1907). Although Victoria’s remarks referred to earlier French regimes, they might still have been regarded as offensive to the French people, and to her Francophile son.

  By 1852, Louis Napoleon had declared himself Emperor for life as Napoleon III. Unmarried, he hoped to find a bride who would secure a useful alliance. One candidate was Princess Adelaide, the sixteen-year-old daughter of Queen Victoria’s half-sister, Feodore. Both Feodore and Victoria opposed the marriage, for several reasons. Politically, Victoria, Albert and the government were reluctant to recognise the Second Republic and Napoleon III. Ada would have had to convert to Catholicism. And the Emperor, at forty-four, had already acquired a reputation as a womaniser, which the sisters found distasteful in a prospective husband. Adelaide was in England under Victoria’s care at the time. Feodore wrote to Victoria to discuss how to repel the approach by Napoleon III’s agent. A month later, Napoleon married Countess Eugenie. Late in the editing process, Benson suggested that these particulars be omitted because of the hurt they might cause Napoleon III’s widow, Empress Eugenie, who was still alive and had lived in England. Esher greatly admired Eugenie, and had already approved the letter several times. It remained in the published volume, but with one set of ellipses following Feo’s cry: ‘If we could just say, “No!” at once! …’ The excision probably included a personal assessment of the Emperor that justified her opinion of his unsuitability.