King George V
Part Three, Chapter Nineteen: The Road to Banchory
As the carriage procession bearing the King and Princess Mary began winding its way through the city of London and out towards Tilbury, the cheers of onlookers greatly improved George V’s mood. He was none too enthusiastic about his impending tour of Scotland and with so much ill-feeling among his close family, he truly felt his place was at Buckingham Palace. He privately predicted that his tour would be a disaster and even inquired as to whether some of the itinerary beyond the larger cities might be trimmed a little so as to bring the eight-week trip down to just five. The King must have felt he was eerily accurate in his ominous expectations when, as the royal party passed through Thurrock, sheets of ice-cold rain began to pummel the top of his carriage making it impossible for him to continue much further. Fortunately, Charlie Phipps was well-prepared for all eventualities and he gave the nod to the coachman that rather than drive on to Tilbury, he should head for the village of Orsett instead. The scenery was somewhat grim with beggars and peddlers crowding about the gates to the workhouse on Rowley Road which was under significant pressure at this time and was turning people away toward the church of St Giles and All Saints which had now taken to operating a soup kitchen from the rectory. But within half an hour, the King’s carriage headed out onto a dirt road carved through the fields until just beyond the bare branches of the trees it was possible to make out the welcome sight of Orsett Hall.
Orsett Hall was a 17th century manor house set in 12 acres of parkland which had been transformed into the heart of a thriving agricultural estate by it’s owner Richard Baker in 1750. By 1844 however, the farms were failing and the house had passed to Richard Baker Wingfield-Baker, a former liberal MP now serving as Chief Justice of the Brecon Circuit. As he was almost always in Wales, Orsett Hall was left vacant and Phipps had added it to a list of “rest houses”, a carefully crafted catalogue of suitable residences which might play host to the King on his travels if something should delay His Majesty’s journey from A to B. Word was always sent ahead to home owners en route that the King may need to avail himself of their hospitality and in this case, Wingfield-Baker had instructed his staff to prepare for every eventuality. They were no doubt delighted to see the King’s carriage rattle along the gravel driveway up to the Hall and to see the Sovereign dash into the property to avoid the chaotic downpour outside. The accompanying carriages were lodged in the Mews, the 14 trunks they had brought from London unloaded into the boot room to keep them from harm. The King’s party was comprised of his Private Secretary (Charlie Phipps) and the Crown Equerry (Major Billy Smith) but also included Captain Lord Frederick Beauclerk. After his temporary stint as Crown Equerry, the King had taken a liking to him and appointed Beauclerk a junior Equerry, though his duties were mostly limited to accompanying the King when he travelled and he did not serve George V on a day-to-day basis at this time.
Princess Mary had brought with her the aged Miss Wilkins, her personal maid, but had also asked Lady Hannah Watson-Taylor to serve as a Lady in Waiting - somewhat begrudgingly. Lady Hannah’s sister (the Countess of Dalhousie) had declined the honour because she was suffering from a weak chest. Mary was disappointed as she had been a long-standing friend to the Hay family (whose ranks included Lady Douro - the future Duchess of Wellington - and the Marquess of Tweeddale) and felt that she should like to be served on the tour by “someone who knows about everything Scotch [sic]”. Lady Dalhousie apologised profusely and suggested Princess Mary might like to take with her instead Lady Hannah who had not long married the ambitious Simon Watson-Taylor who stood in line to inherit a healthy collection of sugar plantations in Jamaica. Watson-Taylor encouraged his wife to accept Princess Mary’s offer because he saw it may be a step up the ladder for his own social progression – though Lady Hannah soon came to regret it. She had only met the Princess once or twice and had forgotten quite how exhausting she could be, especially exacting when it came to mealtimes which (on tour) were very often disrupted or delayed, something which always put Princess Mary in a foul temper. Nonetheless, the royal party arrived at Orsett Hall and quickly settled in, the King complaining bitterly that their sojourn to Scotland was bound to be “the most crashing bore imaginable”.
Orsett Hall.
Two days later and the King was still at Orsett. The weather had turned so tempestuous that it was not deemed safe for the Royal Yacht to dock at Tilbury, let alone begin its journey north. The King was like a caged animal, thoroughly bored and with nothing to do but trapse about Orsett inspecting the library or games room. The only time he settled in fact was when he discovered a cosy niche of his own in the Music Room where he sat down to write letters to his friends and family. To his sister the Tsarevna (expecting her second child in June that year) he wrote a series of witty verses about his current predicament, one of which read “
Orsett not Dorset, O! What a disgrace!, for Dorset not Orsett is a far better place”. Then he wrote to inquire as to the health of his aunt Princess Sophia at Witley Court, the poor woman still in a state of shellshock after committing her name to the Duke of Cumberland’s troublesome affidavit. But the vast majority of his letters were sent to Princess Agnes at Wörlitz. He gently teased her that Frau Wiedl had not been able to join him on his Scottish excursion because she had to prepare her Berkshire estate for Agnes’ arrival ahead of the summer months and said that he hoped Agnes was “cheery of disposition knowing that you have left my evenings so totally devoid of amusement that all I can do is sit about thinking of you”. In another letter he writes, “Think of me, your poor Georgie King, wandering the Highlands and wondering why you are not”.
Finally, the skies cleared and despite a three-day delay, the King left Orsett and made his way to Tilbury where the royal party boarded the Royal Yacht and headed for the Firth of Forth. But though the rain had lifted, the sea was incredibly rough and even the redoubtable Princess Mary struggled to keep her composure. Poor Lady Watson-Taylor was so seasick that she locked herself in her cabin and howled with fright in between bouts of vomiting and the King made a promise there and then that if the Prime Minister ever asked him to undertake a tour of Scotland again, Graham was to join the royal party on the voyage “for why should he be spared this absolute hell?”. But eventually the waves subsided a little and the Royal Yacht arrived at Leith to hoards of eager spectators, all desperate to catch a glimpse of the King just as they had done 20 years earlier when George V’s parents had arrived at the start of their tour of Scotland in 1822. Accounts from the King’s arrival boast that “the welcome for His Majesty far surpassed that given to the late King when he came to Edinburgh and the carriage procession through the city was so well-received that the thousands who came to see the King pass by stayed long after His Majesty had departed”. But the King’s journal tells a different story and he suggests that the crowds were “quite plentiful but rather reserved and did not make a great fuss”.
The official welcome to Edinburgh saw the King and Princess Mary step onto a dais where they were greeted formally by the Lord Provost, the Lord High Commissioner to the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland, the Governor of Edinburgh Castle, the Principal of the University of Edinburgh and the Bishop of Edinburgh (who was also Primus of the Scottish Episcopal Church at this time) whilst a Guard of Honour was formed by the High Constables of the city. There seemed to be some confusion as the royal party then made off for Dalkeith House as the Lord Provost believed that His Majesty was to head to Holyrood Palace instead where he had arranged a peculiar ceremony in which several members of the Merchant Company of Edinburgh were to present “loyal greetings” in the form of beautifully illustrated rolls of parchment from the various Guilds they represented. The Lord Provost watched therefore as the King disappeared into the distance and had to hurry along to Holyrood to explain that he had made a mistake and that everyone present (with their loyal greetings in hand) should return the following day when the King came to Holyrood to host a levée in the Throne Room. But again there had been some miscommunication and when the guests arrived for this grand reception the following day, it turned out that so many invitations had been sent out that their number spilled out into the Morning and Evening Rooms that led on from the Throne Room. The atmosphere was so cramped and so uncomfortable that the King was forced to sit on a chair in the Antechamber (a kind of royal dressing room) and receive deputations in twos and threes with Princess Mary complaining that she didn’t have enough room to see any of those being presented from her position just behind the King’s seat. The result was regular interjections from the frustrated Princess bellowing at the poor Lord Provost; “Who is that?!” or “What did he say she was called?!”. It was hardly the stately occasion the organisers had in mind and the King was greatly relieved when he was allowed to head back to Dalkeith House.
Dalkeith House today.
At Dalkeith, George V was to host a “drawing room” for the “ladies of Scotland”, most of whom missed out on being presented at debutantes in London at Queen Charlotte’s Ball and so instead “came out” at Dalkeith House instead. The last of these ceremonies to be held in the presence of the King had taken place in 1822 and had been a great success with 457 ladies presented to King George IV to curtsey before the Sovereign. Custom dictated that the King acknowledge this obeisance with a kiss on the cheek which had amused King George IV enormously but which his son opted to dispense with, signalling his acknowledgement of each lady who sank to the floor before him with gracious nod instead. At first, the presentations went quite smoothly with each girl to be presented accompanied by a senior female family member such as an elderly spinster aunt or grand dowager of sufficiently impressive social rank. Each “sponsor” presented the footmen at Dalkeith with a small card on which they had written the name of the debutante and who was presenting them, the cards would then be slipped off the table in order of their presentation and handed to the Lord Provost who announced the guests to His Majesty. Alas, a clumsy debutante managed to sweep half of these cards onto the floor and in the muddle, the order was confused. The drawing room was scheduled to last for just two hours but went on for an interminable five as ladies were forced to push through the assembled throng from all directions upon hearing their name called much earlier or far later than they expected. Perhaps unsurprisingly, this was to be the last time such a drawing room was ever held in the King’s presence and by 1856, the practise had come to an end entirely with Scottish debs forced to make the journey to London for their “coming out” instead.
Thus far, the King had been proven entirely correct in his gloomy prediction that his tour of Scotland would be a disaster and his visit to Portobello Sands to receive representatives of the Clans did little to ease his anxieties that the whole trip was doomed to failure. The weather was so atrocious that the whole ceremony had to be relocated to the Assembly Rooms in Edinburgh where a grand ball was to take place that evening for the Clansmen and their guests. Because of this change of location, those in charge of arranging the Assembly Rooms for the evening’s entertainments could not put anything in place and so there was a ridiculous to-and-fro whereby the King and his guests were forced to return home and then come back to the Assembly Rooms two hours later than scheduled for an eight-course banquet and dancing. The guests were finally served pudding at 11.45am by which time nobody much had the enthusiasm for whirling about the floor and they were left disappointed. As if he wasn’t irritated enough, the King then noticed that Princess Mary was wearing a tiara with which he was unfamiliar. The sapphire and diamond bandeau was widely admired and eventually he asked Charlie Phipps whether it was new. Somewhat awkwardly, Phipps explained that the tiara in question was the Clans Tiara, gifted to the King’s mother in 1822 when she visited Scotland. Princess Mary protested that it would have been rude not to show off the piece to those who had given it two decades earlier but the whole business did little to cheer George V who by now longed to get as far away from Edinburgh as possible.
Finally, the royal party moved on to Glasgow where fortunately the sun shone as the King made his way to the newly christened George Square to unveil a statue of his late father. Luncheon was then given at the University in High Street where the King seemed somewhat cheered by his meetings with some of the students whom, to his great surprise, were mostly English. Then it was onto Glasgow Cathedral which had been Crown property since 1587 following the Scottish Reformation. The King was shown the Cathedral interior by the incumbent minister Duncan Macfarlane who had recently retired as the Moderator of the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland after a critical term which oversaw the Great Disruption. In 1843, 450 evangelical ministers broke away from the Church of Scotland to form the new Free Church, furious that the British government was exerting its authority to control clerical positions and benefits in what had always been regarded as a national church and not a state one. The King had no great interest in church politics and listened to Macfarlane somewhat half-heartedly as the former Moderator explained the intricacies of the arguments that had led to the schism of the previous year. Then Macfarlane said, “Of course Your Majesty, when you come here, you’re just one of us”, an apparent attempt to point out that in Scotland the monarch attends Kirk services not as Supreme Governor (as they do in the Church of England) but simply as another member of the congregation. George muttered in reply, “What it is to be ordinary”. [1]
One man who was never inclined to be ordinary was the 2nd Earl Digby, the long serving Lord Lieutenant of Dorset who just so happened to own Sherbrooke Castle in Pollokshields and who had fought tooth and nail to host the King before he left Glasgow for Stirling. In 1838, Digby had been left in high dudgeon when George V and Queen Louise visited Dorset and chose to stay at Highcliffe Castle with the Stuart de Rothesays instead of bunking at Lord Digby’s house at Sherborne. This time however, the Earl was not to be pipped at the post and was given the privilege of hosting the King and Princess Mary at Sherbrooke Castle in Glasgow which George III had visited in 1789 on his way to Stirling Castle. When George V arrived at Sherbrook he was thoroughly confused to see an honour guard formed of the Dorset Militia – of which Lord Digby had appointed himself Colonel in 1824 – and the King unwittingly committed a faux pas later that night at dinner when he complained that he had been “forced to bed down in a horrid little house at Orsett because of the rain”. The King had no idea that Orsett Hall’s owner, Richard Baker Wingfield Baker, was Lord Digby’s nephew and the poor Earl found himself nodding in agreement, lying through his teeth that he had never visited Orsett but hoped it hadn’t been as uncomfortable as the King suggested.
From Sherbrook, the King wrote to Rosalinde Wiedl begging her to join him at Banchory in the final fortnight of his tour. “Everything here is so very ghastly from the awful food to the horrid weather. The townspeople are so indifferent as to be rude and the officials so desperate for a whisper of civilization that all they do is fawn and scrape about in a way I find most displeasing. O! It is all such a bore and I simply cannot bear the idea of the dreaded Highlands. So please do come to Banchory if you possibly can for I shall be locked away in some piss pit of a castle no doubt owned by some other tedious toad of a Laird and quite frankly I believe I shall go quite mad”. Released from Lord Digby’s somewhat over zealous clutches, the King moved onto Stirling Castle which had last received a royal visit in 1789. To George V’s delight, his grandfather had been most displeased to find the castle in so poor a state and had spent a small fortune renovating it. 55 years later, George marvelled at Stirling’s home comforts and entered into the spirit of things when an impromptu display of Scottish country dancing was staged for him in the Great Hall, boldly attempting a reel in his newly acquired kilt. For the next few days, the King was able to relax as his diary was left empty and though he had not yet embraced Scotland and all it’s virtues, he was softening in his attitude, his letters to Frau Wiedl being somewhat more optimistic.
The Ruins of St Andrews.
The weather was once again to prove problematic at Dundee a week later when the King arrived at the docks to unveil the “Royal Arch”, though he was touched by the idea and expressed how sorry he was that he had to formally open the monument from the confines of the town hall, promising he would return to see the Arch at a later date. This surprised Charlie Phipps who up until now assumed that George V would never again set foot beyond Hadrian’s Wall but when he asked the King if he had meant what he said, His Majesty replied “Of course Charlie! If it were not for the rain I consider this place might be quite pleasant”. The further north the King went, the warmer the welcome seemed to become and en route to St Andrews there was not a village passed without crowds emerging at the roadside to wave or cheer. Slowly but surely, the King was warming to the Scottish people and when he visited the castle ruins at St Andrews, he veered off track leaving his tour guide behind to go and greet the assembled throng who had been pushed back behind a rope. One elderly woman craned so far forward to see the King that she toppled forward, George rushing to her aid and helping her up. Quite spontaneously, the old woman kissed the King on the cheek and in return, George did likewise with a hearty laugh declaring to the delight of the crowd, “Well now I really do feel welcome in Bonnie Scotland!”.
Strangely, the King seemed to be gaining enthusiasm for his visit and by the time the royal party reached Aberdeen, he was eager to see more of the sights. Unfortunately, the only thing planned for Aberdeen was a whistle stop carriage procession en route to Banchory, a particular shame because the sun had broken through the clouds and hundreds of people had turned out to see the King drive past. Again, quite spontaneously, the King ordered his coachman to stop as the royal procession turned into Westburn where a great number of spectators had gathered at the park. George descended from his carriage and went among them, a particularly well received gesture widely reported in the London press with special mention made of the fact that “the King complained somewhat that the sun had done little to warm the chilly afternoon and so a man in the crowd leaned forward and in jocular fashion offered His Majesty a ‘nip’ from his flask. The King was not only amused but took a 'wee dram' to the delight of those who saw it”. It was the end of March and the King had been in Scotland for four weeks, his official tour now concluded, but in order that he might recover from his arduous programme, the Burnetts at Crathes had offered him the use of their castle in Banchory for a two-week holiday. At the start of his trip, George could think of nothing worse than a fortnight in a draughty Highland castle - now he seemed to welcome it.
But upon his arrival at Banchory there was a familiar face to be found whose presence threatened to take the shine off of the King’s recovered good humour. As he entered Crathes, John and Mary Burnett (the 5th Laird and his wife) were delighted to welcome the Sovereign under their roof and introduced George and Princess Mary to the Burnett children, the eldest of whom (George Burnett) would one day serve as Lord Lyon King of Arms. Hovering in a doorway behind the Burnetts however was none other than the Foreign Secretary, Lord Betchworth.
“My apologies Lord Betchworth”, Mrs Burnett said quickly, motioning him to come forward. “Lord Betchworth arrived yesterday Sir”, she explained to the King, “He-“
“Oh I know who he is”, George shrugged, “Well Betchworth, I assume you aren’t here for the dancing but whatever it is, you shall have to wait. I am damp through and I want to see this beautiful house, if Mrs Burnett would be so kind as to give me the grand tour?”
The King offered Mrs Burnett his arm gallantly as she blushed a little and led him through into the Great Hall. As the royal party followed, Charlie Phipps hung back a little.
“What the devil are you doing here Harry?”, he whispered.
“I must see His Majesty as soon as possible”, Betchworth replied in hushed tones, “I am to return to London in the morning”
“What’s to do?”, Phipps hissed, “He won’t like it”
“The French Ambassador…news from the Straits...“
“Oh do keep up Charlie!”, the King’s voice boomed back along the Great Hall into the vestibule, “You’re slowing us all down!”
Phipps shook his head and dashed forward leaving Betchworth to pace nervously.
Perhaps a little unkindly, the King made the Foreign Secretary wait until well after dinner before he would grant him a private audience. John Burnett made his study available to His Majesty who sat warming himself by a roaring fire as Phipps was finally told to bring Lord Betchworth inside.
“Now then”, the King began with a sigh, “What is so important that I had to be bothered with it so urgently? I’m on my holiday man, can’t I be allowed a few weeks peace at the very least?”
“I do apologise Your Majesty”, Betchworth said hurriedly, and with enormous patience considering the King did not seem to appreciate the extraordinarily long and difficult journey Betchworth had undertaken to get to Banchory, “But just before you left London I received a message from the French Ambassador, the Comte St-Aulaire”
“Mad Louis? What’s he griping about now?”
“He passed on some intelligence, Sir. From the Dardanelles…Gallipoli to be exact…it’s a small town on the-“
“I know where Gallipoli is…”, the King huffed.
Betchworth straightened his tie nervously. “Yes of course Sir…well, Your Majesty will remember that it was agreed by the signatories to the Straits Pact in Vienna that an international body of observers would be stationed there to monitor ship movements and to ensure that the terms of the Pact were being met, specifically the quotas agreed for each nation”
The King lit a cigar and blew a cloud of smoke up into the air, avoiding eye contact with the Foreign Secretary.
“Yes….yes….”
“Well I regret to inform Your Majesty that we now have sufficient evidence to conclude that the Russians have been violating the terms of the Pact with alarming regularity. Indeed, the intelligence from the French government, which we have now confirmed with our independent observers in the Dardanelles, suggests that in the space of little over a fortnight, the Russians sent 10 ships through the Straits”
“War ships?”
“Possibly Sir”, Betchworth replied, “We are waiting on further clarification from our observers at Cape Hellas. The point is Your Majesty, they ought not to be there regardless of their intent because it exceeds the Russian quota and as such, we are honour bound to uphold the penalties agreed in Vienna. At the very least this shall mean economic sanctions but the terms of the agreement allow for the remaining signatories to demand that the Sultan close the Dardanelles to all Russian vessels whilst keeping them open to others because there is clearly a pattern of habitual violation of the terms of the Pacts"
The King stood up, finally looking Betchworth in the eye.
“Closing the Dardanelles to Russia alone will infuriate the Tsar beyond belief Betchworth. He's bound to respond...forcefully too...I presume you have concerns that such actions may lead to military action in the Straits?"
“That is the sum of it, yes Your Majesty”
The King paced a little. He knew well the consequences of violating the Straits Pact for he himself had counselled the government on what those consequences should be when the talks during the Hampton Court conference stalled. After a time, George motioned to Betchworth to sit down on the settee opposite and then sat down himself.
“What do you advise”?, he asked.
Betchworth coughed a little, his throat irritated by the cloud of smoke in the room but there was also a little nervousness too. He explained that the British must honour their commitment to the Straits Pact as it was a vital tool in keeping the Russians out of the Mediterranean. This was especially important in the first months of 1844 because the British economy was on a precipice and British exports to the Ottoman Empire, Egypt and the Danubian principalities had increased by 300%. Already the French and Austrian governments had signalled their intention to summon all Foreign Ministers from signatory states (excluding Russia) to Paris in order to issue sanctions against Russia for violating the pact they had signed. But If those sanctions did not work, the Pact allowed for signatories to send an instruction to the Sultan that he should close all access to the Dardanelles for all but his allies – in effect, closing off the Mediterranean to the Russians but keeping open access to the Black Sea for France, Austria, Prussia and the United Kingdom.
“The Tsar will never swallow that”, the King replied bluntly, “The whole purpose of economic sanctions was a deterrent, they must be explored to their most effective ends before anybody considers anything else”
“I quite agree Sir”, Betchworth said, “And I want to assure Your Majesty that this will be the position I relate to my colleagues in Paris. But I really must urge caution. It may well be that others push for harsher recriminations and we should be powerless then to oppose them – after all, we proposed the penalties in the first place...”
The King shuffled in his seat a little nervously. He recalled only too well his difficulties at the time in trying to put forward his own views on the matter only to be faced with claims of political interference by the Prime Minister. Nonetheless, he had managed to help Graham and the Foreign Secretary of the day, Lord Stanley, come to terms along the lines then adopted by the Straits Pact signatories which made it crystal clear that no signatory could be allowed to violate their quota of ships without serious consequences. Perhaps he too was aware of the King’s role in the Straits talks but if he was, Betchworth was careful to avoid any mention of the part George V had played in securing the Pact. Excusing himself with sincere apologies, Betchworth promised the King that he would be kept informed.
“Yes, I appreciate that”, George replied kindly, “And thankyou…Henry…for coming up here as you did. I…I’m grateful for your efforts”.
Betchworth bowed and disappeared to his room. The following day he would begin his journey back to London where tempers were bound to be high and where he faced an enormous test of his diplomatic skills as he made his way to Paris for urgent talks with his counterparts from other other Great Powers.
The following morning, the King awoke to find Betchworth had already left. He went into the dining room at Crathes to find Princess Mary, her plate loaded with fried eggs, bacon and sausages, tucking in greedily.
“Aunt Mary?”, the King said almost accusingly, “I don’t believe I have ever seen you take breakfast in a dining room before…”
“When in Rome dear…”, Mary replied through hearty mouthfuls, savouring a particularly crisp piece of bacon rind, “Ladies do not take breakfast in their rooms in Scotland. Do not ask me why, it was ever thus”.
At that moment, John Burnett appeared clad in thick country tweeds. He was accompanied by a dour looking gentleman of some 60 years, his gaunt features padded out somewhat by a vast grey beard with streaks of white that gave him the look of a disgruntled Father Christmas.
“Your Majesty, may I present my ghillie, Alistair Downie”
The King nodded his acknowledgement of Downie, noticing that the old boy made no attempt to bow his head at all and instead merely tapped the peak of his cap. Burnett opened his mouth to proffer an invitation to the King but Downie broke completely with royal etiquette (not waiting for the King to address him first) by saying gruffly, “It is the last of the roe. Will you walk out?”
George raised his eyebrows a little. He wasn’t used to being spoken to so directly by a servant, especially someone not in his own employ.
“Walk out?”
Princess Mary gave a little clap of her hands.
“Oh you must Georgie!”, she enthused, “Oh it’s quite the done thing up here you know”
Downie nodded toward Princess Mary approvingly. Against his better judgement, the King found himself accepting Downie's invitation and for the first time in his life, that afternoon set out stalking with Downie leading Mr Burnett, Honest Billy and Freddie Beauclerk out onto the hills. The King was surprised to find that he was expected to lay on the cold ground and shuffle along by his elbows keeping pace with Downie who every now and then paused and urged the party to look in a certain direction.
“I should think they’ve more sense than to wander about in this weather”, he complained in a whisper.
“Aye you’re right there”, Downie replied in agreement, “They’re just like us in that regard…they’ll keep to the warm as we would. But I have seen does in colder weather than this and it is dry, they welcome that”
Alas, the King’s first stalking experience did not result in a trophy but as the party returned to Crathes, they passed a small stone-built cottage on the very edge of the estate where a woman dashed out holding a parcel of brown paper tied with string. She gave a quick bob in Burnett’s direction but ignored the King entirely.
“You forgot your piece”, she said, clearly exasperated, “And you’ve been out there wasting your day away, you can feel the mist in the air, there’ll be no does up there now”
“My wife Sir”, Downie said by way of introduction.
Mrs Downie didn’t turn to acknowledge the King in the least.
“All well Mrs Downie?”, Mr Burnett said cheerfully.
“Aye it is”, Mrs Downie replied, “Except for this old fool. Will you come in?”
Crathes.
Somewhat puzzled, the King found himself traipsing inside the Downie’s cottage where a roaring fire belched heat and a large wooden kitchen table was laid with a simple crocheted cloth on which was a large homemade crusty loaf of bread and a socking great lump of cheese. The men sat about the table as Mrs Downie fetched some wooden boards which served for plates. Mr Downie fetched a bottle of whisky from the dresser in the kitchen and poured generous glasses. Talk quickly turned to the end of the season and a curious situation in which a neighbouring estate had complained of a poor run. Not having anything to contribute, the King sat quietly taking in the unusual situation in which he found himself. Suddenly he felt Mrs Downie’s hand on his shoulder as she offered him some more bread and cheese. [2]
“You’ll be him then”, she said matter-of-factly.
“Yes”, George replied, “I expect I am indeed
him”
“Well there you are.
Him.”, Mrs Downie replied with a cheeky grin, “You’re welcome at our table Sir. Though you’ll learn to drink up a bit faster with these two about you”.
George grinned. He had never been so comfortable in all his life. For the next week, the King threw himself into everything the Crathes estate had to offer and was disappointed that he could not pursue more country sports, it being the wrong time of year for most things. But he came to greatly enjoy hillwalking and though up until now he had always been very much a town mouse, he remarked to his Aunt Mary; “I feel for the first time I can truly breathe up here. It’s all such a revelation to me”. It is little wonder therefore that the King extended his stay at Banchory by another two weeks, not only because Frau Wiedl had indicated that she was on her way to join him but that he had formed a new routine full of long afternoon rambles (whatever the weather) and cosy fireside suppers where the atmosphere was kept deliberately informal. When Rosalinde Wiedl arrived, she found the King “much changed” and remarked that he looked “so very healthy and hearty, so relaxed and at ease with himself”. Phipps agreed with this assessment, writing later that “His Majesty came to love Scotland not only for its beautiful landscapes but for its people who always welcomed him warmly, respected him enormously but never jockeyed for his attention because of his rank or station. In the Highlands, His Majesty felt truly at peace and so it was to be expected that he should want to make himself a home there”.
The King’s troubles seemed to be a thousand miles away during his time at Banchory. The only time he thought about his domestic troubles was to express his disappointment that the Armaghs could not join the house party at Crathes. The Countess was unwell and the Earl did not like to travel such great distances by himself. Even state affairs seemed to fade from George’s mind for a time as images of Russian warships cutting through the Bosporus and heated debates over grain prices and taxes in the Commons were replaced by lush Scottish scenery, happy evenings spent with the Burnetts and lessons on rural life from the Downies. “Had I not been who I am”, the King mused to Phipps on one of their final evenings at Crathes, “I should have been a Scottish Laird”.
“Well you could still be that Sir”, Phipps teased gently, “What could be more appropriate than for the King of Scots to have his own estate up here?”
The King laughed.
“Graham wouldn’t like it”, he replied, “He only sent me here to stop me interfering in things”
Phipps peered into his glass of whisky awkwardly.
“You thought I didn’t know that didn’t you?”, George teased, “Well I do. And I say let’s give the old duffer what he wants eh? Because you’re quite right you know Charlie, why shouldn’t I have my own place in the middle of all this?”
Mr Burnett entered the library to bid the King goodnight.
“I say John”, the King asked tentatively, “You wouldn’t happen to know of an estate near here would you…not too expensive mind…”
Mr Burnett thought for a moment.
“Aye Sir…I believe there’s a place not far from Ballater, about 30 miles from here, one of Lord Aberdeen's estates. It was leased out of late to a chap by the name of Gordon but he…well…”
“What?”
“He died Sir. He…”
“Oh come on now John, what is it?”
“He choked to death on a fish bone” [3]
There was a moment of silence before the King, Phipps and Burnett burst out laughing.
“Poor fellow”, the King said mopping his eyes with a handkerchief, “A nasty business indeed. What’s this place called…the estate I mean?”
“Tis only a modest place Your Majesty but it’s a beauty alright. It’s called
Balmoral”.
Notes
[1] Church politics will become an important theme in our next few instalments but here it gets a fairly brief mention owing to the difference in the monarch’s position in the Church of Scotland vs the Church of England.
[2] I’m no expert on country pursuits but the King’s visit apparently coincides with the “last of the Roe”, the final week of March where people stalk Roe deer. The mind boggles. Apologies if some of the terminology isn’t quite correct here, the important thing is that George is getting a far warmer welcome here than he did in the cities.
[3] Poor Sir Robert Gordon did indeed die from choking on a fish bone in the OTL but it actually happened in 1847 which allowed Prince Albert to take on the remaining lease of Balmoral in 1848. Here Sir Robert meets his unfortunate end a little earlier because I wanted to settle an estate in Scotland a little earlier for reasons which will be become clear.
I hope this detour through Scotland was enjoyable, I suddenly realised that we've not actually been back there since the George IV timeline and though George V has been more interested in London, Windsor and Hanover, I thought it was about time we added another setting! As ever, many thanks for reading!