Sandringham Days

by John Matson

  KING EDWARD VII

  After King Edward ascended to the throne in 1901 it was inevitable that his public duties would sometimes force him to curtail the long-established seasonal visits to Sandringham. He spent Christmas and the New Year in Norfolk, with occasional visits to London, with a week’s shooting at Chatsworth or Elveden. By the beginning of February he was back at Buckingham Palace, and at the end of March he went abroad, to Paris and Biarritz, and to spend a month cruising, often in the Mediterranean, on board the Victoria and Albert. During the summer the King presided over the London Season, with occasional visits to Sandringham, moving to Windsor for Ascot races, then to Goodwood and Cowes. He then spent a month at Marienbad to take the cure – where, it was said, he would painfully lose half a stone, only to add as much on his return to London. There followed a month at Balmoral in October, returning to London via Newmarket, where he stayed in his own quarters at the Jockey Club. The second week in November was spent at Sandringham and, after a fortnight at Windsor, he was back in Norfolk, having completed an unrelenting round which would have exhausted anyone less robust or without such an insatiable capacity for enjoyment.

  By the turn of the century Sandringham had matured. The Big House had been rebuilt and extended; the Ballroom had been added, the Royal Stud established and a range of glasshouses built with the proceeds of the King’s racing successes in earlier years and fees from the stud. The game preserves were at their best, plantations thriving and the estate buildings in good order. Indoors an immense quantity of souvenirs and gifts had accumulated: whilst there was evidence of restraint in the King’s apartments, the Queen could never bring herself to throw anything away which represented, as she put it, ‘the kind thoughts of dear friends’. Prince Christopher, her nephew, noted his aunt’s ‘positive genius’:

  …for collecting trifles of every description and hoarding them long after their origin had been forgotten: books, photos, china, letters, old programmes, odds and ends of ribbons and laces were heaped together indiscriminately anywhere and everywhere. Beautiful miniatures and Georgian snuff-boxes occupied a table with Earl’s Court china pigs and bog-wood charms from Ireland; she kept the fishing-fly given her by a gillie in Scotland as carefully as she kept a brooch from one of the Indian maharajahs.179

  A zoo had been established in the grounds with its complement of tigers, elephants, kangaroos and bears – gifts acquired over the years by the Royal owners. The kennels often contained as many as 100 dogs, again gifts and acquisitions and strays rounded up on the estate, as well as the Basset hounds which were among the Queen’s favourite pets. The model buildings extended to the outlying villages on the estate, having their own social clubs, and the Royal visits to see how they were being used and to maintain contact with their tenants became a common sight:

  On November 7th we took His Majesty on a tour of inspection with Mr Beck, his Agent. First we brought him to Flitcham vicarage, that he might see the alterations and improvements which had by his direction been carried out. Thence he went on to an old house at Anmer, which was his property and which he had lent to Captain Hamilton… Here, too, additions had been made to the building, and when he had satisfied himself that all had been done as he wished, he re-entered the car and drove to Shernborne. The village forms part of the Sandringham estate, and the King always took a keen interest in its welfare. Here was an old inn which His Majesty had had converted for the villagers… This was but one of the many surprise visits he paid to the old house. He walked straight in, without any ceremony, chatted to the steward and his wife, and entered the rooms one after another. The blinds were not drawn, and I was watching some old fellows playing a game of dominoes, when the door opened and the King came in. Taken by surprise as they were, there was no awkwardness about the sudden silence in the room, for they were simply delighted to see him, and were one and all familiar with his presence. For years they had seen him about the village and shooting in the neighbouring fields. He was their squire. They all stood up beaming with pleasure, and the cheerful reverence with which they received his nod and smile was perfectly delightful.180

  Exactly, the King was their Squire. It was a role which he had valued and nurtured for many years, and now he could see the fruition of his earliest dreams. Sandringham represented, above all, stability and security in a world which was rapidly changing. Beyond the boundaries of the estate loomed the prospect of war and a turbulence unimagined in these quiet confines. Even now Haldane and Fisher were planning their reforms of the armed services; women were pressing for emancipation and the cause of suffrage after the manner of Lady Constance Lytton, Mrs Pankhurst and her daughters. Queen Mary was later to express her disapproval of their militancy. There was increasing industrial unrest, too, with strikes and rioting in the mining and manufacturing areas.

  It was the age of the Dreadnought and the submarine, of balloons and powered flight, and of the motor car. Though the King was something of a traditionalist, especially as far as his way of life at Sandringham was concerned, he was yet modern in his outlook. In 1900, while he was still Prince of Wales, his first motor car appeared at Sandringham – a 4 horse-power Renault with a high tonneau and complete with chauffeur. ‘The man managed it extraordinarily well,’ commented Prince George. Before the end of King Edward’s reign the travelling time between Sandringham and Newmarket had been considerably reduced. It was a welcome amenity that Prince Albert could never have foreseen. Later, the great high Daimlers, the coachwork finished in claret, with blue morocco leather upholstery, were a familiar sight in the neighbourhood. The King’s car was fitted with a special four-note horn which he had adopted after admiring a similar one on the car of his nephew, the Kaiser. Motorists, on hearing the imperious warning, soon learned to pull in to the side of the road, for the King could not bear to be held up by a car ahead of him.

  An interested observer of the King’s ways was E.W. Stamper, the motor engineer who invariably accompanied him on his journeys by road. In 1905 he wrote:

  Christmas Day… was spent at Sandringham. In the afternoon His Majesty asked me to take him for a run which would last about an hour and a half. I worked out a round by way of Hunstanton, Docking and Anmer – twenty-five miles in all. The snow was on the ground at the time and the country looked very pretty… ever afterwards we always went for this run on Christmas Day.181

  These ‘runs’ in the car were often memorable. Once, Stamper travelled for miles spreadeagled on the bonnet of the King’s car when the gear lever became detached from its socket and could only be held in place manually. Punctures were common on roads that had not been improved by tarmac, and mechanical breakdowns were frequent. Improvisation was the key word: if vital components broke loose or failed to function, they could often be held in place by the judicious use of a piece of bent wire or a collar stud. If they taxed Stamper’s ingenuity, it is a measure of his success that he remained in the King’s service until the end of the reign. When problems occurred the King, who was not renowned for his patience in the face of adversity, would settle himself in a corner with a look of comical resignation and read the newspaper. Queen Alexandra enjoyed the sensation of speed and wrote delightedly, ‘I did so enjoy being driven about in the cool of the evening at fifty miles an hour! – when nothing in the way of course!’ but would poke the chauffeur with her umbrella at bends in the road. Even in his late sixties the King showed an energy and zest for life. Though he has been described as ‘slow-moving’, this could not be said of him as late as 1907. Stamper wrote:

  The King was sprightly – noticeably so. His walk was never leisurely, unless he was out for a stroll pure and simple. If he had a destination of any kind, his pace was invariably brisk. He entered and left the house swiftly, and he was in and out of a car or a train in a moment… He spoke rapidly, ate very fast, thought apace. He even smoked hard. Speed was of the essence of his nature… Moreover, he expected it of others, and… of tardiness under any circumstances he was impatient.182

 
The King took to motoring with a keen enjoyment which was not necessarily shared by members of his Household. In 1907, the King was to tour the estate with Lord Suffield and Mr Beck, the Agent, accompanying him in the car; but Sir Dighton Probyn had ordered his carriage and pair, intending to follow on behind.

  ‘I would rather go with my horses, Sir,’ said Sir Dighton. ‘I don’t like cars very much.’

  But the King would have none of it, and insisted on him entering the car, saying, ‘You’ll have to get used to the cars, Probyn.’

  A year or two later, when he was in Scotland, Sir Dighton took to a car, and never used his horses at all.183

  During his reign King Edward VII ordered a golf course to be made in the Park:

  The putting greens were good though small and the fairways properly mown, but there were no bunkers. To remedy this, the Agent, Mr Frank Beck, had placed wicker hurdles to indicate where the bunkers would eventually be dug. He argued that they could easily be moved to any position that the King decided upon… Having blinked at the bunkers on the right and left of the fairway, the King proceeded to drive off and of course hit those on the right. The Agent… looked horrified but the King merely said, ‘What a silly place to put a bunker! See that it is altered tomorrow; have them put much more to the right, and further off the tee.’

  At every other hole the same thing happened, and the King got louder and louder in his denunciation of the person who had placed the hurdles. The second day we played he took the even holes and of course drove into the hurdles again, when precisely the same thing happened and he ordered the hurdles to be moved. The third day was the most unnerving for the Agent, because all the hurdles had been moved to different spots indicated by the King… Again, after viewing them distastefully the King never failed to drive into them and, in a voice of thunder, asked who had been stupid enough to place them there. When the Agent replied by reading his notes which proved that it was the King himself who had selected the spot, the King exploded with rage and ordered all the hurdles to be taken away.184

  On another occasion:

  In the afternoon Queen Alexandra and I played against Princess Victoria and Francis Knollys. The Queen seemed to confuse it with hockey and was under the impression that one had to prevent the opponent putting the ball in the hole. This usually ended by a scrimmage on the green. She also thought that the person who got into the hole first won it, and asked me to hurry up and run between strokes. It was very good fun.185

  The traditional elements favoured by the King could be seen in the revival of the ceremonial of Court functions, whose brilliance had been dimmed since Queen Victoria’s widowhood. He demanded a rigid adherence to the niceties of dress, uniform and the wearing of orders and decorations, and he enjoyed life in the Grand Style no less than his role of country squire. So, in the end, there was no paradox in the arrival of the motor car and electric lighting at Sandringham, and the formality of evening dress, gowns and tiaras worn as a matter of course at the dinner table of the Big House. Visitors to Sandringham often commented on the mixture of formality and ease which they encountered. Admiral of the Fleet Lord Fisher wrote:

  I went down to Sandringham with a great party… As I was zero in this grand party, I slunk off to my room to write an important letter; then I took my coat off, got out my keys, unlocked my portmanteau and began unpacking. I had a boot in each hand. I heard somebody fumbling with the door and thinking it was the footman whom Hawkins had allocated to me, I said, ‘Come in, don’t go humbugging with that door-handle!’ and in walked King Edward with a cigar about a yard long in his mouth. He said, (I with a boot in each hand), ‘What on earth are you doing?’ ‘Unpacking, Sir.’ ‘Where’s your servant?’ ‘Haven’t got one, Sir… couldn’t afford it.’ ‘Put those boots down: sit in that armchair.’ And he went and sat in the other one, the other side of the fire. I thought to myself, ‘This is a rum state of affairs! Here’s the King of England sitting in my bedroom on one side of the fire and I’m in my shirtsleeves sitting in an armchair on the other side.’186

  They talked for some time, until the Admiral was forced to remind the King that they would soon have to change for dinner. In this informal way the King could entertain his guests and keep himself informed about important matters. At this time Lord Fisher was deeply engaged in plans for the development of the Navy, building battleships apace to maintain parity with the German fleet, since the Kaiser’s envy of Britain’s naval power extended to the Empire as a whole, and was not to be trusted.

  The Christmas season was invariably spent at Sandringham. Fritz Ponsonby found that the festivities began on Christmas Eve:

  The King and Queen did the presents themselves and spent hours in the Ballroom arranging everything. In the centre of the Ballroom was a large Christmas tree and round this were ranged trestle tables the whole length of the room, covered with a white tablecloth. It was all beautifully done, and the pleasure of giving never seemed to leave Their Majesties. Before dinner on Christmas Eve we all assembled in the corridor outside the Ballroom and one by one we were called in. It was impossible to make a set speech, and most people, including myself, continued gasping ‘Thank you so much’.

  I was quite overcome at first by the number of presents I received. There were prints, watercolours, silver cigarette-cases, a silver inkstand, pins, studs, and several books. Gottlieb’s band played in the gallery, and every evening we went to the Ballroom and looked at everyone else’s presents. The King and Queen, of course, received wonderful things from their relations in Europe, the Emperor of Russia sending particularly lovely things by special messenger.

  On New Year’s Eve all the presents were taken away and the tables were arranged differently and closer to the Christmas tree. All the servants and workers on the estate came in and remained outside the row of tables while the presents were massed round the Christmas tree. Each servant and employee drew two numbers on entering the room, and the Princess and members of the Household took the numbers and found the present. Of course often a present didn’t fit the recipient and a housemaid might get a razor and a footman a powder-puff, but these could be exchanged later. Some 800 presents were given in this way and it seemed to give much pleasure. At the conclusion the Christmas tree was stripped and all the toys and sweets were given to the children.187

  The celebrations marked one of the highlights of the Sandringham year. In principle, the routine varied little, but the King’s activities might be modified by the weather, or his inclinations. Hockey was sometimes played on the lawn opposite the front door, and for years there had been skating and ice-hockey on the lake, which was lit in the early days by flaming torches and, later, by floodlights. A tent was erected by the lakeside and hot negus was served to the skaters. The King sometimes played in goal and would stand there, bowler-hatted with the customary large cigar held in a gloved hand which also grasped the hockey stick. His zest for amusement and activity, his capacity for enjoyment, never flagged; his concern for his guests’ happiness never diminished.

  The shoots on the estate took place both before and after Christmas, and were the central feature of the winter house-parties. They were arranged with the utmost care and attention to detail. ‘Luncheon’, wrote Fritz Ponsonby, ‘was in a large tent and everybody staying in the house had to come no matter what they might have been doing during the morning. Carriages were ordered and we all had to have luncheon in a damp tent. Tea was a full-dress meal with all the women in tea-gowns and the men in short black jackets and black ties.’188

  The King’s birthday shoot in 1909 was marred by tragedy. It was celebrated in the usual festive style in the company of members of the family and some of his oldest friends. The King had decided upon the Ling-House Shoot for the day, rather than the traditional Horse-Shoe and, according to custom, the gentlemen went off to shoot during the morning expecting the ladies to join them for lunch at about 2 p.m. in a big marquee pitched in one of the fields, where carriages and cars waited to take them back to the
house afterwards.

  ‘Soon after the guns had taken up their positions for the afternoon’s drive,’ wrote Stamper:

  The King’s pony-boy galloped up with the news that Mr Montague Guest had dropped dead on the shooting field. The King asked for the shooting-brake to be brought to where the body lay. It was a heavy vehicle and the ground was soft after the rain, but Stamper manoeuvred the car across the field. Mr Guest had been a large man and it was found that the shooting-brake was unsuitable, and the horse-drawn ambulance was sent for. Afterwards the King turned to the others and said, ‘We’d better all go home.’ Mr Guest was taken to the Royal waiting-room at Wolferton station; he had long suffered from a weak heart and no inquest was called for. But the King was very much upset by the loss of his friend, and the fact that it had occurred during one of the highlights of the year intensified the shock.189

  Discipline was tight during a shoot: on one occasion the King spotted a rare white pheasant flying towards the guns and called out, ‘Let it go!’ But Prince Edward, then about thirteen, brought it down with a clean shot. The King was very angry and sent him home in disgrace. He missed several shoots before he was allowed out again.

  Other events, too, marred the tranquillity of Sandringham: in December 1903 fire broke out under the hearth in Charlotte Knollys’ bedroom. It seems that the joists were insufficiently insulated from the newly-installed fireplace; smouldering, they crashed through the ceiling in the Queen’s room below. ‘Terrible smoke,’ wrote Queen Alexandra:

  …with a terrible crash down came half my ceiling… God saved us. Shock has done no harm to Charlotte… Luckily neither her sitting-room nor my dressing-room were touched… a good many of my precious souvenirs and things, books and photographs, etc. were both burnt or spoilt by fire or water.190