From Nancy Miller who has sent me her Grandfather's memories of life when Queen Victoria was resident on the Island. Nancy can be contacted by email at nemiller@artelco.com
Nancy writes, "My grandfather, Captain Henry Taylor, wrote his memories of growing up in Cowes.
As he wrote out these memories by hand, he was in his eighties and World War II was raging in Europe. In those places were I was unsure of his handwriting, I put [?].
I am his only grandchild, so I am glad to be able to pass his memories on." My father was Harbour Master on the Isle of Wight at the seafaring town Cowes and I believe I was born there in a seaside tavern by the name of The Bolton Yacht [?]. The house fronted on the High Street and
at the back of the Solent Sea, the house and outbuildings were the property of a rich brewer family the head of which was a Harbour Commissioner - hence the connection of the tavern and my father's job.
The Solent is a sheet of water capable of accommodating large and numerous shipping undoubtedly so used of recent date as a war or fleet anchorage. On the North side of the
Solent is the large port of Southampton - Portsmouth and naval establishments. I will endeavour to write of my boyhood and the people I remember long, long ago. Both of my parents were natives of Cowes and we had numerous relatives, particularly on my mother's side.
My father was fairly well to do with a good business and I was sent to private school near the home at an early age, and could read and write while quite young. During the Franco-Prussian War of 1870, I used
to sit on the table of the taproom and read the account of the battles fought. In those days there were quite a lot of the old time pilots and fishermen who could not read or write, and they would sit around the table
smoking their long 'Church Warden' clay pipes, sipping their beer and I would sit on top of the table reading the paper to them. After the defeat of the French, the French Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte, fled to England to escape capture, and lived in a large three story house about a mile from my home. Often in the evenings the Emperor &
Empress with their son would drive along the beach and I, with other boys, would walk by them paying no attention. The Emperor was a rather ordinary looking man but the Empress was a very beautiful woman.
I remember part of a "rhyme" about him. He was a poor sad hearted man, and an exile on our shore, a poor old man, broken down, Napoleon is no more." While on the subject of Royalty, from my native domicile, Osborne House, Queen Victoria's summer residence was plainly visible, and during my youth I had a job as errand boy. One of my duties was to walk to Osborne
House from Cowes and get a voucher for necessary groceries and other items from the storekeeper at Osborne, nicknamed 'John Brown'. He was a decent sort of a fellow, very large and very fat. Whenever we returned to him
with the orders filled to his satisfaction, he always gave a large piece of the finest fresh bread and a regular chunk of cheese, and let me tell you, never before or since have I tasted such food. To top off the food we
were always given a horn of beer. And I mean a Horn - no imitation. My oh my, that beer was good. Sundays, during the Queen's residence, the Queen would attend divine services at Whippingham Church outside the grounds. This little church was, I believe, built by Queen Victoria in memory of her husband, the Prince Consort.
Often some other boys and I would walk home from Cowes to Whippingham Church, timing our arrival a little ahead of Queen Victoria. We would be seated in a galley and see the Royal Family at their devotions. We youngsters
were herded out before the sermon and we should station ourselves at the side of the country road along which the Royal Equipage would travel. When Queen Victoria's carriage passed, we as loyal young Englishmen, would bare
our heads and bow, which always pleased the old lady immensely and she would return our bow. Still on the subject of Kings, Queens & Royalty, there is at Cowes a very notable Jack Club House occupied by only the very super elite of English Aristocracy. Its name is the Royal Yacht Squadron often alluded to as the Castle,
standing at almost the water's edge, facing to the North on the Solent and toward the South Coast of England. From this Clubhouse all the most notable Yacht Races and Regattas are directed or arranged. Along the edge of the
stone keys or yacht landing slips, there was a number of small old mule loading cannon - used only for saluting Roher paddles going like clockwork - and full sized bone in her teeth and sending a wave into the shore and playing the
very devil with the small water craft. Old Queen Victoria had a flare for pauper German Princes and she had one as Commander of her yacht - no work, good pay, plenty of brass - an opportunity to improve himself financially - or romantically. That's the guy my
father had to ball out for breaking all the Harbour Regulations. As a rule when Queen Victoria was in residence at Osborne a war ship (or battle ship) stayed on duty, termed by the people an 'iron clad'. The name of her was the Hector and she usually anchored about a mile off shore and did not move until the Queen departed. Sailors from the Hector would come ashore often in a special pinnace or barge, rowed by eight men, keeping splendid rhythmic strokes. This pinnace was usually in the charge of midshipmen. On one particular occasion
(so the story goes) the two midshipmen in charge was Prince Albert and his brother Prince George and came ashore for the mail. The boat's crew had to stay by the boat and the two Princes took a leisurely stroll to the Post Office, but on the way was a Tavern named the Red Lion. So it being a warm summer day they entered and had a few beers and
incidentally forgot about the Mail. So the warship had to send another boat to look for them. When they were found, the navel officer in charge of the second boat respectfully requested them to return to the ship. So they started
toward the boat and when stepping into it one of them slipped into the boat and skinned his hand so it bled rather freely. One of the cockney sailors in broad cockney accent whispered to the sailor next to him, 'By the lord,
old man, it's Red and I thought these beggars blood was Blue!'.
Nancy Elaine Taylor Miller, Clinton, Arkansas, USA.