Sandringham Days

by John Matson

  She had grown very vulnerable to criticism, and always sensed it even when unspoken. It was not wanting, especially from Queen Alexandra and Princess Victoria. In spite of their cordial relationship the Queen had succeeded in creating in her daughter-in-law a lack of self-confidence. Although it was screened behind an air of great dignity and reserve, Princess May in reality longed for approbation.

  Prince George, ordinarily not an imaginative man, understood this, and always showed his admiration for her…163

  Yet in more than one sense, devoted and anxious for their children’s well-being though they were, something was missing. Prince George inspired a deep respect in his children, bordering on fear: the chaffing and banter that was part and parcel of life at the ‘Big House’ and the critical interrogations about their activities did not encourage an easy response and ‘added to the shyness and tied the tongues of those by nature the most diffident’. Less tolerant than his own father, the Prince gave vent to his feelings in no uncertain manner and, though he enjoyed bathing them and playing with them – ‘I am a good lap,’ he once said – there lacked a closeness in their relationship. A gruff manner and an uninhibited tendency to shout when annoyed was unlikely to promote much more than awe: it was said that the Duke trusted his servants so greatly that he could always express his feelings ‘instantly and without reserve’164 to any member of his household; a freedom he seldom failed to exercise. When Prince Albert was five his father wrote: ‘Now that you are five years old, I hope you will always try and be obedient & do at once what you are told, as you will find it will come much easier to you the sooner you begin…’165 As a father he was proud of his children, but he was a more anxious parent than he ever realised and, lacking in imagination to an astonishing degree, felt that it was never too soon to commence their training for public life.

  The Princess enjoyed the company of her children and transmitted to them what little culture they possessed in later life, but they saw her as one with their father, and never knew until much later in life that she had frequently interceded for them with her husband. The Duke of Windsor told James Pope-Hennessy:

  My father was a very repressive influence. When he used to go banging away for a week or two at some shoot in the Midlands, and my mother would never go to those things, we used to have the most lovely time with her alone – always laughing and joking… she was a different human being away from him.166

  They were unlucky in their nursemaids, too. The first, engaged on the birth of Prince Edward, had been dismissed for being insolent to the Duchess of Teck; the second, jealous of the parents’ affection for her charges, used to pinch them as they were brought in for the evening visit, so that they were often in tears. The parents, helpless and frustrated, and lacking in experience, sent for the nurse to have them taken away. After three years, this distressing business was uncovered, and the nurse dismissed. It then came to light that the poor woman had not had a single day’s holiday in three years. After this, the under nurse, Mrs ‘Lalla’ Bill, took charge of the nursery and the children flourished in a happier environment. Nevertheless, it has to be said that the Royal children had a strange upbringing. Mrs Bill was joined by the Princess’ former governess, Mme Bricka – proficiency in French was strongly encouraged. When Prince Edward was seven, he and Prince Albert were placed in the care of a valet, Frederick Finch, who looked after them with great devotion, supervising their clothes and their cleanliness, and chastising them when necessary. He must have earned their respect, for he remained in Royal service until his retirement in 1935.

  With the transition to the schoolroom came another change. Mr Henry Hansell was appointed tutor to the Princes. He was thirty-nine years of age, tall, a bachelor and a keen golfer. He had already been tutor to Prince Arthur of Connaught and so could in a sense be considered well qualified. Preferring private tutoring, he had little experience as a schoolmaster. Subject to fits of abstraction, when he would stare into space, and without much sense of humour, he nevertheless succeeded in gaining the affection of the boys. From his limited experience as a preparatory schoolmaster, he was privately of the opinion that a school would be the environment best suited to the Princes but he set about the creation of an academic environment conscientiously: ‘Mr Hansell organised a schoolroom on the second floor,’ wrote the Duke of Windsor.

  He imported two standard school desks with hinged lids and attached chairs, with hard wooden seats and straight backs. A blackboard, a set of wall maps and, of course, an ample stock of arithmetic and history books, grammars and copy books with lined pages completed the equipment.

  Next he drew up a daily timetable of work designed to make us follow the regime of the ordinary schoolboy. Finch woke us at seven and saw to it that we were dressed and at our desks half an hour later for three-quarters of an hour’s ‘preparation’ – homework – before breakfast. In the winter it would still be dark, and I dreaded entering that cold room to grapple with some unfamiliar problem on an empty stomach. At 8.15 Mr Hansell would appear to take us downstairs to breakfast, and by nine we were back at our desks to study until lunch, with an hour’s break in the forenoon for play. After lunch he would take us out, perhaps for a walk in the woods or to kick a football on the lawn. Then we would go back to our lessons for another hour, always stopping at tea-time for muffins, jam and milk – our last meal of the day.167

  After tea, the Princes were summoned downstairs to greet their parents. The Prince of Wales seldom stayed long, going off to the Library, but the Princess taught them songs and, during the precious hours before dinner, read and talked to them. It was then that they began to acquire the advantages of her cultured mind. As neither their father nor their grandparents claimed any pretensions to artistic tastes, it was not surprising that the Duke’s children were brought up ‘with their backs to one of the finest collections of pictures in the world.’168 Mr Hansell lacked the inspiration to inspire small boys; outings were few and far between. It even began to seem that he was not an effective teacher and, as their lack of progress became more marked, additional tutors were engaged as specialists in their own subjects. Mlle Dussau was engaged as Princess Mary’s French tutor: she disliked small boys and hostilities commenced when she insisted that French was to be spoken at meals. It was then that M. Hua, who years earlier had taught Prince George, was summoned back into Royal service to reconcile the opposing forces and to teach the language to the Princes. Meanwhile, Mr Hansell’s own emphasis was on virtue as an end in itself and, with few other attributes, it is difficult to estimate the service he rendered to his Royal charges, though he remained with the Princes when they entered the Royal Navy. ‘Both boys must give a readier obedience. I often describe them to myself as obedient boys at the second time of asking.’ Describing the use of his Report Book, Mr Hansell wrote: ‘With regard to my own work & the responsibility of surveillance, I propose only to make a direct report for special misbehaviour and idleness, such report only to be made after due consideration and with full conviction.’169

  Such reports almost invariably meant a summons to the Library. That there was mischief and misbehaviour is indisputable: discipline in these unusual academic surroundings was shaky. Dr Oswald, the German tutor, complained: ‘Your Royal Highness, it isn’t only that Prince Albert is inattentive, but when I scold him he just pulls my beard.’170 And Mr Hansell:

  I must keep Princess Mary (aged six) apart from the others as much as possible, whenever it is a matter of work. Her disposition is mercurial; one can enforce discipline and order of a sort but the fact remains that, so long as she is in the room, her brothers cannot concentrate their attention on any serious work.171

  The summons for the inevitable dressing-down that followed such reports was dreaded by the Royal children, but especially by Prince Albert, who was a highly sensitive boy at this time, developing a speech impediment which was to handicap him for much of his life. The cause is not fully known but may have been the result of a left-handed child being forced in
to right-handedness. When reprimanded by his father, he could only listen, unable to defend himself. His father’s peremptory demand to ‘get it out’ only made matters worse.172 His speech therapist, Lionel Logue, starting his work with the Duke in 1926, believed that the cause of the defect was physical rather than mental. Certainly Logue achieved considerable success.

  When Prince Albert was eight he underwent remedial treatment for knock-knees, from which his father too had suffered. For a time he spent his nights and part of his days in splints: for a lively boy who was particularly well co-ordinated, the experience, though successful, must have been irksome and even humiliating, and distracted him from his lessons. ‘Prince Albert’s early morning work is rendered almost useless by the splints,’ Mr Hansell wrote. ‘Under the conditions however small results can only be obtained by very great and sustained efforts on the part of the teacher.’173 In July the tutor wearily admitted defeat: ‘Practically all Prince Albert’s work with me has been combined with the splints. It is now quite certain that such a combination is impossible.’174

  There were other difficulties; Mr Hansell was probably the only one in authority who understood the impossibility of his task. Within this wretched, ugly little house he had to create a preparatory school for two boys; he was bound to fail. There were perhaps other men better suited at least to try. Introspective and with a love of church architecture he must have chafed under this stultifying routine. Every morning he used to walk to the top of a small rise near the Cottage and stare out at the view. Prince Albert asked him what he found to look at. ‘I don’t think you will understand,’ Hansell replied, ‘but for me it is freedom.’175

  Dutifully, he rounded up other boys in the neighbourhood to make up a football team: they met with some success, but the atmosphere was artificial. We are reminded of Prince Albert’s futile attempts to provide companions for his own son, now King Edward VII, entertaining them with ‘improving’ conversation. After such dismal sessions it is scarcely surprising that in later life he chose his friends for their companionship and entertainment value. These Royal children lacked the wider horizons of other young people and, as Hansell was well aware, the companionship of contemporaries. Even contact with the children of members of the Household was limited; it was not surprising that, when they entered the Royal Naval College at Osborne, they seemed to stand out as ‘different’. Yet they were neither lonely nor bored at Sandringham: they rode their bicycles at headlong speed down the hill to Wolferton, bought sweets at the village shop and learned to ride and shoot – but golf was not encouraged. ‘If we let those boys on the fairway, they will only hack it up,’ their father said, though he later relented. There were visits, too, when the Princes were in London to museums, exhibitions and the Tower.

  It was at Sandringham especially that the young Prince Albert absorbed the sights and sounds of nature around him, so that he became a true countryman at heart. With Walter Jones, a local schoolmaster at West Newton, the Princes walked the bracken and heather and learned the haunts and habits of the wildlife. Mr Jones was a remarkable character: when Mr Hansell was on holiday, he replaced him in the schoolroom at York Cottage and earned the confidence of his charges and the respect of their father, who often included him among the guns of the shoot.

  It was this relationship with nature that differentiated Prince Albert from his father. King George had grown up within the tradition of the formal shoot. One of the best game shots in the country (he shot with a straight left arm) and a greater enthusiast for the sport than even his own father, he accepted the challenge of high, fast birds, but it seems that he never considered reforming the established shooting customs at Sandringham. He himself was content to use hammer guns long after they were out of fashion. But he did engender a love of the sport in Prince Albert who, as we shall see, departed from these customs and developed his own interests and skills. On 23 December 1907, the twelve-year-old Prince made the first entry in his game book: ‘Sandringham Wolferton Warren. Papa, David and myself. 1 pheasant, 47 rabbits. My first day’s shooting. I used a single barrel muzzle-loader which Grandpa, Uncle Eddy and Papa all started shooting. I shot 3 rabbits.’176

  In every aspect of his children’s lives the Prince of Wales was demanding, critical and difficult to please. In 1911, the seventeen-year-old Prince Edward spent the winter at Sandringham with his young brother, Prince George, while his parents were on their tour of India. He wrote to his father: ‘I have had some splendid practice and feel that my shooting has very much improved. It is the small days that give one far more practice than the big ones. One can take one’s time and shoot much better.’177 The King’s crushing reply indicated neither approval nor interest:

  Judging from your letters and the number of days you have been shooting, there can’t be much game left at Sandringham, I should think. It also seems a mistake to shoot the coverts three times over, I never do that unless a few more cocks have to be killed. I can’t understand Bland wishing you to do so. You seem to be having too much shooting and not enough riding or hunting… You must learn to ride and hunt properly and you have had such good chances this winter at Sandringham. I must say I am disappointed.178

  Perhaps he had forgotten the easy and happy relationship he enjoyed with his own parents, though he had been in awe of his autocratic father. Small of stature – he was only 5ft 6ins tall – and lacking in self-confidence as a member of a family whose way of life was entirely subordinated to that of the parents, he appears consciously to have imposed an authoritarian, quarterdeck discipline on his children. A history of dyspepsia and, later, pain from his injury in Belgium, may have contributed to a tendency to irritability. As far as Prince Edward was concerned, the void existing between father and son was seldom bridged; chiefly during the war, and again when the King suffered from an abscess on his lung in 1929 (when the Prince realised that his father had suddenly aged and was seen to be vulnerable). The King, too, recognised the help that his eldest son had been to him during the war and for the tours of the Empire he had undertaken, and there was a real, if fleeting, warmth between them. In general, though, the further the King retreated into the past, the more the son advanced into the twentieth century. He recorded ‘my father had a most horrible temper.’

  The behaviour of the young Prince Edward, now Prince of Wales, spoilt by excessive adulation and affected by a change in his personality caused, in the opinion of those close to him, by a glandular illness at puberty, was giving his Household and others close to the throne a good deal of anxiety. He had few real interests; even those that he pursued, such as gardening, were principally alleviations from boredom. In those post-war years the accent was on change – even for the sake of change. It was Art Deco, innovative, unconventional and daring; it was the coming of jazz and the Charleston, of nightclubs and cocktails, all of which appealed strongly to the Prince’s active mind. Behind the princely figure capturing the hearts of the Empire with his informality and charisma during those tours, there was a lonely young man longing for the freedom of the new age.

  The accession of King Edward VII caused changes to the steady routine of Sandringham life – that, and the natural passing of the years. The new King had at last found employment and public duties took him away from Norfolk more often and for longer periods that at any time during the previous forty years. Prince George, now Prince of Wales, and his father’s successor, took on more engagements. If, at first, he did not relish these incursions into his private life, he committed himself to them conscientiously. Thus the old Queen’s death marked a watershed between those carefree days in the ‘90s and a time of increased responsibilities. Moreover, it was during this later period that Prince Edward and, later, Prince Albert left the secluded schoolroom at York Cottage for the wider, harsher world of Naval Cadets at Osborne. King Edward, failing to persuade any of his relations to accept the great house on the Isle of Wight, left it to the nation to become a convalescent home for officers from the Boer War. The grounds became the site
of the new Royal Naval College at a time of expansion of the service. It was initially a lonelier world for the boys: friendships formed slowly and with caution; there was strict segregation between ‘terms’ or entry groups, so that Prince Albert could only meet his brother on the far side of the sports field. He accepted with seeming equanimity the drill of leaping from his bed, stripping, and jumping into the plunge pool at the end of the dormitory, all in record time and pursued by the Cadet Captain with powers of punishment. He battled with an unfamiliar, crowded environment which would have passed unremarked by any boy from a preparatory school; his stammer was a handicap and he was ill-equipped for the academic challenges. ‘My dear boy,’ wrote the King, ‘this will not do. If you go on like this you will be at the bottom of the class.’

  Sheer courage and determination saw him through to Dartmouth and eventually to sea as a midshipman. It was at Osborne that he made some lifelong friendships, among them Miles Reid and Louis Greig, who became his equerry and remained with him for over thirty years as equerry and later, until his marriage, Comptroller of his Household. He also acknowledged the debt he owed to his strict, but fair and friendly term officer, a Lieutenant Phipps. These and several others stood him in good stead for many years. It was noticed that at this time his stammer all but disappeared. Prince Albert was not a natural sportsman, but was a strong cross-country runner, rode, hunted and enjoyed a strenuous game of tennis. He was good company, cheerful, friendly, mischievous and ready to participate in activities. In short, he was a thoroughly agreeable shipmate.

  CHAPTER TEN