Royal Transport. Peter Pigott
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If the travellers were not the royal family, who would care what cars, aircraft, or yachts they use? Air Force One, the Boeing 747 of the President of the United States, is far larger than the aircraft of the Queen’s Flight, the Saudi royal family has many more Rolls-Royces, and the fittings on Saddam Hussein’s former presidential yacht al-Mansur definitely outnumbered those on the now-decommissioned Britannia. Her Majesty now shares her aircraft with ministers and military personnel. The furnishings of the royal train have been described as rather dowdy, and the Rolls Royce Phantoms manage to convey a hearse-like, antiquated splendour. With the exception of the state coaches, the transport of the royal family is hardly noteworthy.
Perhaps because of this, there has been as far as I could ascertain, no complete study on all the family’s modes of transport. That is a pity, because, whether the Queen travels in the Gold Coach or a Canadian Forces aircraft, by the mere fact that she has done so, the vehicle becomes a link with our heritage. The grandeur of the monarchy, however faded one might hold it to be, provides continuity in a rapidly changing, increasingly globalized world. How it will adapt when Prince Charles comes to the throne (and if he will still be the King of Canada then) cannot be known. But my aunt is right. One tampers with such institutions at one’s peril.
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Buckingham palace on wheels — the Canadian National Railways carriages used by Their Majesties in the Royal Train in 1939.
On June 13, 1842, Her Majesty Queen Victoria took her first train ride. Precisely at noon, the Great Western Railway (GWR) steam locomotive Phlegethon departed Slough (at that time the station for Windsor Castle), pulling the royal saloon and six other carriages for Paddington. The stimulus for this trip had been her consort, Prince Albert, who had been riding in trains since 1839 and had finally been able to convince Her Majesty to try the newfangled, steam-hissing machines. Along with the rest of her household, Victoria dreaded the prospect, and it was only the trust in her beloved Albert that gave her the courage to attempt it.
The Phlegethon was a 2-2-2 locomotive and not yet a month old. Sharing the cab with the driver was the great engineer (and principal shareholder in the GWR) Isambard Kingdom Brunei and his Superintendent of Locomotives, Daniel Gooch. Built at the Swindon railway works, the royal saloon consisted of three compartments, with Her Majesty and her consort in the centre one. Brown in colour, the compartments were typical of the day: stagecoach-like boxes that were unheated and brakeless, with weak couplings, the passengers’ comfort and safety depending on an entanglement of chains to keep the train together. Her Majesty’s personal coachman rode on the footplate of the locomotive, as though behind horses. Repeatedly told that the engine had no need for his vigilance, he still insisted on pretending to handle the controls during the journey. Sadly, the smoke and soot so blackened the poor man’s magnificent scarlet coat that he never repeated the experience. When the train pulled into Paddington (then a small station, as the present building had not been built), the journey taking twenty-five minutes, Her Majesty pronounced herself charmed by the whole experience. A fortnight later, she returned to Windsor by train, bringing her infant Albert Edward (later the Prince of Wales) with her. Queen Victoria was not the first European monarch to ride in a British train — the King of Prussia had already enjoyed the comforts of the GWR, as had the Queen’s aunt, the dowager Queen Adelaide, consort of William IV.3
Her Majesty’s ride set the template for all royal train journeys to come, and many of the measures adopted during her reign have remained in use until recently. Even then, special precautions were taken to provide Her Majesty with privacy, comfort, safety, and security. Fearing that the event would attract crowds that might spill onto the tracks, the railway positioned employees on platforms, bridges, and in all towns en route until the royal train had passed. Other trains along adjoining tracks were halted and their contents examined. In later years, a pilot train would be sent ahead, and when there was more than one railway line, trains running parallel to the royal train were forbidden to match its speed, so that passengers could not look into Her Majesty’s saloon. As for speed, Queen Victoria forbade the royal train to travel faster than forty miles per hour during the day and thirty miles per hour at night. Later, her carriage would have its own semaphore signal: a small disc erected on the roof by which Her Majesty’s attendant could let a lookout man on the locomotive tender know that the Queen wished the train to slow down. Also, afraid that they might fall asleep on duty, Her Majesty periodically commanded that both the driver and fireman take sufficient rest periods, whether they wanted to or not. Finally, when the royal train went by, so as not to offend the royal eye by their attire, all railway employees, from station master, foreman, plate-layers, signalmen, gatemen, and shunters to guards and porters, were ordered to be dressed in their finest — even the firemen had to wear whites gloves while handling the coal. The Phlegethon set the trend for all royal locomotives in being lavishly decorated with flags and bunting. Taking it to the extreme, on later royal trips, the top layer of coal on the tender was painted white.
For travelling on the continent, Her Majesty personally owned a twin pair of six-wheeler saloons that were maintained at Calais. These were an exception to the rule, for unlike the other royal means of transportation, royal trains were never owned or maintained by the government (like the Royal Flight and the royal yacht) or by the royal household (like the carriages and cars). Except for those two saloons, neither the state nor the royal family ever purchased their own carriages or locomotives and, to this day, royal trains have been provided by railway companies, with the present royal train owned and managed by Railtrack.4 A total of twenty-two carriages were constructed during Victoria’s reign by the railway companies for her and her family, and while the cars were maintained for their exclusive use, they were never provided free, as the railways charged for their use.
It was with the acquisition of the rural residences — Osborne in 1845, Balmoral in 1852, and Sandringham in 1862 — that the royal family began to travel great distances out of London. For the honour of transporting them, the railway companies went to prodigious lengths, not only with the building of ornate and luxurious saloons but also elaborate stations at the royal residences of Sandringham (Wolferton), Osborne House (Whippingham), and Balmoral (Ballater). No railway station conveyed its royal origins better than Wolferton. Two miles from Sandringham House, the station’s origins date to the opening of the King’s Lynn-to-Hunstanton branch railway line in 1862, the year in which the Sandringham Estate was purchased by Queen Victoria for the young Prince of Wales. In 1863, the Prince of Wales and his bride, Princess Alexandra of Denmark (later Queen Alexandra), arrived by the royal train at Sandringham after their marriage and honeymoon. As the railway link between Sandringham and London, the station grew in importance, and its buildings were rebuilt in 1898 in Tudor style by W. N. Ashbee, the architect of the Great Eastern Railway buildings. Between 1884 and 1911, a total of 645 Royal Trains arrived at Wolferton, conveying Queen Victoria and many of the other crowned heads of Europe to Sandringham, including the German Emperor Wilhelm II and the future Russian Emperor Nicholas II. Politicians and statesmen also arrived on its platform to seek royal favour, and local railway employees never forgot the mad Russian monk Rasputin showing up to harangue the royal family — only to be sent packing back to London. As with the railway that built it. Wolferton Station was the scene of many great royal occasions. In 1925, the funeral procession of Queen Alexandra, who had come to Sandringham as a young bride, departed from the station on its way to London. From here too departed the royal train conveying the body of King George V to London for his state funeral in 1936, and in 1952 the funeral train of King George VI also began its journey at Wolferton. In later years the station was used regularly