Sandringham Days

by John Matson

  For some years the Royal family had been enthusiastic rail travellers. The train was far quicker, and cheaper, than by horse and carriage, with its halts for changes of horses. Rail was already safe and dependable. Queen Victoria plied regularly between London, Windsor, Gosport (change for Osborne House) and Ballater (for Balmoral). The advent of the railways changed not only her lifestyle and habits, but also those of nearly everyone else. Families could now venture further from their homes in the course of a day than many of their forebears had done in a lifetime; the expanding middle class could afford the seaside holidays which had their origin in the approval given to sea-bathing by King George III’s physician, who declared it healthy and beneficial to the system. The Prince Regent had patronised Brighton, formerly the little village of Brightelmstone, by building his oriental Pavilion there; and now the remote coast beyond the Fens had become accessible.

  For the Prince of Wales the railway from Sandringham, which now linked at Lynn with the main line to London, provided inestimable benefits. His own restless nature found satisfaction in the ease with which he could enjoy the attractions of the capital. It was possible for him to break his holiday in Norfolk, travel to London for an engagement and return to Sandringham the following day without the least fatigue. Moreover, guests could come and go with ease; large house-parties gathered and dispersed twice a week with their hordes of servants and mountains of baggage in a way which would not have been possible before the advent of the train. A special train could be hired for about 5s a mile – not an exorbitant expense – and at short notice. The journey took 2½ hours.

  For many years this small line ran profitably. In due course it became absorbed into the Great Eastern Railway, and the facilities at Wolferton were improved. On the London-bound side new buildings were erected in 1876. They were not elaborate: it was not the prince’s habit to wait for trains. The opposite, or ‘Down’, side became a subject for some controversy. The line was doubled in 1898 and the Great Eastern Board decided, with some reluctance, to spend £8,000 on the building of a suite of Royal waiting rooms. It was a wise decision, for the Midland and Great Northern Line ran on the other side of the estate and would have been glad to attract the Prince’s patronage.

  The need for Royal waiting rooms on the Down side perhaps needs some explanation. If the Prince or Princess were arriving, they would not have been likely to spend time in the waiting room with members of their own Household before driving to Sandringham. Their main function, therefore, was to provide suitable accommodation for the reception and entertainment of Royal, and often related, visitors. After the initial greetings on the platform, the Royal party would pass into the small hall, the ladies and gentlemen retiring to their separate suites to left and right. In fine weather tea was sometimes served in a private garden. The room used by the Prince and, later, by him as King Edward VII, was furnished in a manly style, with a settle covered in red leather round the fireplace. There was a table with decanters, and suitable lavatory accommodation installed in an adjoining room which, with the rest of this area, was panelled. The door fittings were gold-plated and the glass in the windows was frosted to deter the curious.

  On the right of the hall was the Princess’ room, decorated in her favourite shade of blue. Here she entertained Queens and Empresses with tea and conversation. During this interlude servants had been busy piling luggage into wagons to be taken to the house and unpacked to be ready for the arrival of the Royal visitors. When all had been completed the two parties merged again to enter their carriages in the station approach where, on special occasions, a guard of honour from the Norfolk Yeomanry were drawn up. There were outriders and postillions, and the whole cavalcade swept up the hill towards the gates of the Hall.

  The scale of the welcome accorded to visiting Royalty could vary considerably. The Prince of Wales was a thoughtful host and nothing was omitted which could reasonably be expected. Queen Victoria’s first visit to her son’s home reflected an air of terrible urgency. She was met by Prince Alfred and two gentlemen from the Prince’s household, who wasted no time in escorting her up to the house, where her husband was fighting for his life.

  The Queen’s second visit afforded the Prince an opportunity of welcoming his mother in a more fitting style (for which he had been waiting, one suspects, these twenty-five years). This was the occasion of the engagement of Princess Louise of Wales to the Earl of Fife in 1889. The Prince was at the station to welcome the Queen; tubs of flowers and a red carpet brightened the platform. A large crowd had gathered and the Hunt was present to provide a splash of colour with their red coats, together with crowds of people on foot, on horseback and in carriages. Even though Queen Victoria never paid another visit to Sandringham, she was gratified by this demonstration of affection and respect by her son.

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHILDREN

  There were some inconsistencies in Queen Victoria’s hopes and fears. Since her mother’s death in 1861 she had been in mourning, and then became inconsolable after the Prince Consort’s death nine months later. She had suffered the shock of her eldest son’s escapade at the Curragh and of a similar incident involving her second son, Prince Alfred, when he was stationed with the fleet in Malta. She felt desperately alone. Yet, since she had withdrawn from public life the Prince had not only undertaken duties on her behalf but had also become, for lack of other employment, the acknowledged leader of Society – that Society which the Queen had always disapproved of as ‘shallow, idle and frivolous.’ Their sole aims in life, she declared, were pleasure-seeking and dissipation. The Prince defended himself and his ‘set’ as strongly as he could:

  With regard to what you say about the Aristocracy… I quite agree that in many instances amusement and self-indulgence, etc predominate, but it is hard to say that all are so. I know of so many instances where those of the highest rank are excellent country gentlemen – are Chairmen of Quarter Sessions, Magistrates, etc, and the ladies attend to their duties also.48

  The pre-eminence of the Prince and Princess in London society was a foregone conclusion and they were whirled into a ceaseless round of glittering engagements, centred on Marlborough House. The gossip columns reported carriages queuing for a mile to discharge their passengers, of dancing well into the small hours and entertainment on a lavish scale. ‘Bertie and Alix left Frogmore today,’ wrote the troubled Queen, ‘both looking as ill as possible. We are all seriously alarmed about her. For although Bertie says he is so anxious to take care of her, he goes on going out every night till she will become a skeleton, and hopes there cannot be.’49 ‘Hopes’ this time revolved around an heir.

  Much as the Queen deplored the pace that Bertie set – and Alix so willingly followed – she was reluctant to find any serious employment for her successor on the throne, a problem that only until recently remained unsolved. A year after his marriage she wrote to her cousin, the Duke of Cambridge*: ‘I entirely agree with your wishing Bertie to take an interest in the Army and to get him to feel that life is not merely for amusement.’ She hoped that ‘he could be made to work and be found fault with if he made mistakes.’ He could be under the command of the general commanding at Aldershot and learn to command a brigade. She was adamant that he should not in any way be put on the same footing ‘as his beloved great Father was or I am… Bertie should never be put more forward than is necessary.’50 In her case, the Queen had serious reservations about Bertie’s lack of discretion, and he was never to be given access to confidential papers. When an attempt was made to harness his energies by giving him an insight into the Foreign Office, Lord Clarendon noticed that a confidential memorandum had been seen circulating at the dinner table. He saw the solution to the problem as ‘most difficult’ and noted that the Prince’s interest in the affairs of a House of Lords Committee lasted no more than a day. There was certainly an element of jealousy in the Queen’s decision to deny him a position of responsibility, yet she deplored his seemingly useless existence. In 1871, Colonel Ponsonb
y, the Queen’s Private Secretary, noted: ‘Quite right to let H.R.H. know what is going on – but as the direction of affairs is not in his hands it does not appear to be necessary to submit confidential drafts for his consideration before they take effect.’ His restless nature and need for occupation in the absence of intellectual interests ensured for him the leisure in which to indulge his highly developed capacity for enjoyment. Ponsonby wrote of the Prince: ‘Nothing can be more genial and pleasant than he is for a few minutes. But he does not endure. He cannot keep up the interest for any length of time and I don’t think he will ever settle down to business.’51 Mr Gladstone commented: ‘What we want is not to supply him (the Prince) with the means of filling a certain number of hours: we should seek to give him a central aim and purpose which may… gradually mould his mind and colour his life.’52 The situation was aggravated by his abundant natural energy; his worst enemy was boredom and his mind, untrammelled by few serious considerations, was taxed only by the need to find constant occupation. As King, though, when his Secretary sometimes had difficulty in diverting him from social commitments and getting him to attend to State affairs, after some initial reluctance he would look up with his charming smile and say, ‘Yes, I see this is important,’ draw up his chair and give the matter his full attention. His abilities should never be underestimated; he put his charm to good use when his influence helped to establish the entente cordiale with France – his love of Paris and all its attractions, his fondness of the company of beautiful and intelligent women, his readiness to be amused all ensured that he was a familiar and welcome figure.

  But ‘hopes’ there were, despite the Queen’s pessimism; the Princess was pregnant, a condition that gave her little discomfort. The Crown Princess of Prussia visiting Sandringham that winter of 1863, wrote:

  This seems a charming place so quiet and country-like, and a delightful house furnished with great taste and comfort. Bertie and Alix seem to like it very much and to be very happy and comfortable. Dear Alix seems very thin but looking well; she shows her condition very little though her figure is much changed already – she seems perfectly well, has not an ailment of any kind or sort to complain of and has a very fresh colour.53

  The Princess continued in good health and spirits and subordinated her pregnancy to her pleasure. On 6 January 1864, in very cold weather, while spending Christmas at Frogmore in the Home Park at Windsor, she went out to watch the skating on Virginia Water, despite some warnings of incipient labour. She returned home and there gave birth, two months prematurely, to Prince Albert Victor.

  The Queen was much distressed at the manner of the small Prince’s arrival into the world. He weighed only 3¾lbs, and his grandmother complained that nothing had been made ready. The layette was described: ‘A basket (contents wanting)’. The child’s names she had arranged herself. The parents were not unnaturally upset: ‘I felt rather annoyed when told that you had settled what our little boy was to be called before I had spoken to you about it’.54 Her interference went further: she wished her uncle, the King of the Belgians, ‘to speak strongly and frighten Bertie… to make him understand what a strong right I have to interfere in the management of the child…and that he should never do anything about (him) without consulting me.’55

  Some years later Queen Victoria’s ‘interference’ took a practical turn when she refused to allow the Prince and Princess to take the little Princess Louise with them to spend Christmas in Denmark. She had reluctantly allowed the two young Princes to travel but argued that it was selfish of the parents to risk the health of Louise. The Prince of Wales wrote to the Queen in strong terms:

  I regret very much that you should still oppose our wishes but as you throw responsibility entirely on Alix if we take Louise, I naturally shall share it and have not the slightest hesitation or fear in doing so… her whole life is wrapt up in her children – and it seems hard that because she wishes (with a natural mother’s pride) to take her eldest children with her to her parents’ home every difficulty should be thrown in her way, and enough to mar the prospect, and when Vicky and Alice come here nearly every year with their children… it seems rather inconsistent not to accord to the one what is accorded to the others.56

  If the Queen had not previously perceived her lack of logic in the matter of her grandchildren’s travel, she could not fail to do so in the face of this frontal attack. She capitulated, contenting herself with finding fault with the composition of the suite accompanying the Prince and Princess. So, in December 1868, whilst Sandringham was being rebuilt, the Royal couple with their three eldest children set off for Denmark.

  The family of the Prince and Princess of Wales increased with the birth of Prince George on 3 June 1865 – like his elder brother, somewhat before his time – and once again Queen Victoria missed the event. ‘It seems that it is not to be that I am to be present at the birth of your children,’ she wrote fretfully to the parents.’57 Whilst she was delighted that the succession was thus made doubly sure (and how fortunate that was), she was about to enter a period of contention with the Princess, who was recovering from her confinement and, at the same time, undergoing considerable personal stress. Princess Alexandra was fiercely loyal to her native Denmark and was deeply disturbed by the misfortunes of some of her relatives who had been dispossessed of their lands by the annexation of the provinces of Schleswig and Holstein by Prussia. The Queen could sympathise with her but, with her own Germanic antecedents and with her eldest daughter now the Crown Princess of Prussia, her loyalties must at least have been divided. A possible coolness at this time in their relations was exacerbated by the Queen’s criticism of her grandchildren’s upbringing, stemming from her daughter-in-law’s independence of mind. The Queen, mindful of ‘her right to interfere’ complained to the Crown Princess: ‘Alix and I never will or can become intimate: she shows me no confidence whatever especially about the children.’58 She may well have felt slighted; after all, with nine children living and the youngest only eight years old, the Queen could claim to be expert in these matters, and might reasonably have expected to be consulted. When Prince George was nearly eighteen months old, the Crown Princess wrote to her mother suggesting that she should give more time to seeing Alix:

  I know Alix has the greatest wish to be now and then alone with you. She says she is not amusing, she knows, and she fears she bores you, but she loves you so much, and it seems to be a little ambition of hers to be alone with you sometimes. It was Bertie who told me this and it quite touched me.59

  It was an appeal which could not fail to touch the Queen’s warm heart also, and the Crown Princess’ advice was at once acted upon and proved sound. ‘I have taken a nice walk and drive with dear Alex and nothing could be nicer or dearer than she is,’ she wrote from Windsor. ‘It is quite charming to see her and hear her. She looks delicate. I do love her dearly.’60 For the moment the ‘fast’ life which the Princess led, which so worried the Queen, was forgotten.

  Some months later the Princess returned to Marlborough House feeling unwell following a visit to Sandringham. She complained of pains and a chill, and was clearly no better when the Prince, who had been to Russia to attend the wedding of his sister-in-law, Princess Dagmar, joined her in London. He left almost at once to attend a steeplechase and a dinner, returning home the next day to find the Princess in great pain and suffering from rheumatic fever. A few days later, and still in frightful pain, she gave birth to her first daughter, Princess Louise, without anaesthetic, since this relief was judged to be unwise in view of her illness.

  The Princess was exhausted and her condition gave the Queen great anxiety when she visited Marlborough House a week after the baby’s birth. The Prince, perhaps encouraged by the optimistic reports from the doctors, took his wife’s illness lightly. Never good in a sickroom and oppressed by inactivity, he shut his eyes to what he did not wish to see. His inattentiveness towards the Princess was much resented by Lady Macclesfield:

  The Princess had another bad night,
chiefly owing to the Prince promising to come in at 1.0 a.m. and keeping her in a perpetual fret, refusing to take her opiate for fear she should be asleep when he came! And he never came until 3.0 a.m. I hear nothing but general indignation at his indifference to her and his devotion to his own amusements.61

  Certainly the Prince at this juncture shows up in a bad light. Easily bored, he still played no part in the affairs of State, the Queen distrusting his discretion. He seemed doomed to a life of idleness, although this was exactly what the Queen explicitly deplored.

  The illness ran its course and it was not until the summer that the Princess was well, but the fever left her with a stiff knee for the rest of her life. She bore the handicap with great gallantry, often referring to it lightly and refusing to allow it to hinder her activities. Her saddle was changed for riding and she continued to dance and skate: the ‘Alexandra limp’ was instantly copied in fashionable circles. There were other difficulties; the Prince had dallied with well-known beauties whilst on his travels, though it is impossible to say how much his wife knew about his infidelities. What was known throughout the country, however, was that her husband had not chosen to remain with her during her illness but had sought his own pleasure; it was a humiliating thought. The Prince continued to find entertainment within a very fast set: on one occasion he and his companions loosed a carted deer in Harrow, chasing it through Wormwood Scrubs before the kill in the goods yard at Paddington Station. His evening amusements included visits to pleasure gardens in Chelsea; an elderly lady, whose grandfather had kept an all-night stall by Vauxhall Bridge, related that the Prince used to stop his hansom cab to buy a hot potato, usually in the very small hours.