Kings, Queens and Pawns: An American Woman at the FrontRinehart, Mary Roberts
History
Kings, Queens and Pawns: An American Woman at the Front
Rinehart, Mary Roberts
World War, 1914-1918 -- Personal narratives
I stepped back as Her Majesty prepared to continue her visit round the
long room. But she indicated that I was to accompany her. It was then
that one realised that the Queen of England is the intensely practical
daughter of a practical mother. Nothing that is done in this Guild,
the successor of a similar guild founded by the late Duchess of Teck,
Her Majesty's mother, escapes her notice. No detail is too small if it
makes for efficiency. She selected at random garments from the tables,
and examined them for warmth, for quality, for utility.
Generally she approved. Before a great heap of heavy socks she paused.
"The soldiers like the knitted ones, we are told," she said. "These
are not all knitted but they are very warm."
A baby sweater of a hideous yellow roused in her something like wrath.
"All that labour!" she said, "and such a colour for a little baby!"
And again, when she happened on a pair of felt slippers, quite the
largest slippers I have ever seen, she fell silent in sheer amazement.
They amused her even while they shocked her. And again, as she smiled,
I regretted that the photographs of the Queen of England may not show
her smiling.
A small canvas case, skilfully rolled and fastened, caught Her
Majesty's attention. She opened it herself and revealed with evident
pride its numerous contents. Many thousands of such cases had already
been sent to the army.
This one was a model of packing. It contained in its small compass an
extraordinary number of things--changes of under flannels, extra
socks, an abdominal belt, and, in an inclosure, towel, soap,
toothbrush, nailbrush and tooth powder. I am not certain, but I
believe there was also a pack of cards.
"I am afraid I should never be able to get it all back again!" said
Her Majesty. So one of the ladies took it in charge, and the Queen
went on.
My audience was over. As Her Majesty passed me she held out her hand.
I took it and curtsied.
"Were you not frightened the night you were in the Belgian trenches?"
she inquired.
"Not half so frightened as I was this afternoon, Your Majesty," I
replied.
She passed on, smiling.
* * * * *
And now, when enough time has elapsed to give perspective to my first
impression of Queen Mary of England, I find that it loses nothing by
this supreme test. I find that I remember her, not as a great Queen
but as a gracious and kindly woman, greatly beloved by those of her
immediate circle, totally without arrogance, and of a simplicity of
speech and manner that must put to shame at times those lesser lights
that group themselves about a throne.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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