Showing posts with label Henry James O'farrell. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Henry James O'farrell. Show all posts

Sunday, January 17, 2010

Alfred, Duke of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha

The fourth child of Queen Victoria and Prince Albert was Alfred (Alfred Ernest Albert.) He was born in 1844 at Windsor Castle. He was originally the Duke of Edinburgh, but towards the end of his life he ruled Saxe-Coburg and Gotcha in the German Empire, so he ended up being known as the Duke of ... well, you know.

He was known in the family as Affie. "Affie", not "Alfie." As in "Affable." (Or "Affluent.")

When he was born, he was second in line of succession to the British throne, but as his older brother married and began having children he dropped so far down he lost all interest. In all likelihood, I mean.

He had an interesting and honorable life. He joined the Navy at age 12 and stayed in for some 40 years. He worked his way up through the officer's ranks until, in 1893, he was awarded his baton as Admiral of the fleet.

In 1862, Prince Alfred was chosen by Greece to take their throne, upon the abdication of King Otto. However, the British government (not his mother) told him to send the Greeks his regrets, so he just stayed in the Navy.

Alfred was the first English prince to visit Australia, stopping there nearly 5 months during one of his naval voyages. (My source says "English prince" rather than "British prince", so I am doing the same here - although I don't have a clue what Scottish prince might have preceded him. Maybe one was transported. Sorry, Adullamite.)

On the (then) Duke of Edinburgh's second visit to Australia, in March of 1868, he was the victim of an assassination attempt. While picnicking, he was shot in the back by one Henry James O'farrell. The bullet was just to the right of the prince's spine. He was nursed by six Florence Nightingale-trained nurses, led by matron Lucy Osburn. He recovered.

The assailant was arrested at the scene and hanged 40 days later. Back then, if you were caught in the act, they just got it over with. Moral: don't embarrass the Aussies. I could find no record of O'farrell's final words, but I imagine them to be along the lines of, "Holy Mackerel! - the bloke didn't even DIE, fer chrissake!"

In January of 1874, the Duke of Edinburgh married the Grand Duchess Marie Alexandrovna of Russia, daughter of Tsar Alexander II. To commemorate this marriage, a small English bakery made the now famous Marie biscuit (with her name on them). So, that was pretty nice.

Marie herself was somewhat less than nice. She insisted on taking precedence over the Princess of Wales (Alexandra of Denmark) because her own family (so they all thought) was much higher in rank than the lowly Danes. Her own mother was Hessian, you see. (Remember the rule: Denmark or Hesse.) Queen Victoria smacked her down, though, and granted her precedence right after Alexandra. I'm sure you care. To soothe her feelings, her father gave her the staggering sum of £100,000 for a dowry and granted her another £28,000 per annum for life. So the cookie princess was able to survive her humiliation.

Oddly, the Duke's flagship, when he was an admiral, was named "Alexandra".

Marie and Alfred had six children (one was stillborn), but only one son, another Alfred, the Hereditary Heir to Saxe-Coburg and Gotcha. Gotha. I have to tell you this story: while his parents were busy celebrating their 25th wedding anniversary, the 24-year-old prince shot himself over a scandal involving his mistress-cum-unauthorized-bride (shades of Rudolf of Austria, eh?) and died a few days later. I think I will leave out the syphilis part.

The Duke himself died of throat cancer on 30 July, 1900.

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