I had arrived in England in time for the Cowes Season, and was again in waiting in October in attendance on the Prince during a short visit he paid to Queen Victoria at Balmoral, on his way to Mar Lodge. I had, of course, been presented to the Queen before, but on this occasion, being an officer just returned from the Front, Her Majesty was particularly gracious, giving me her hand to kiss, and sending for me after dinner for a few minutes’ conversation. It was the very last time that I was ever to see her, for a few months later she was laid to her rest at Windsor. Mar Lodge is a delightful place, about twenty miles or so higher up the Deeside than Balmoral, and in those days it had only recently taken the place of the old Mar Lodge standing the other side of the river. The fire that destroyed the old lodge really must have been a blessing in disguise for the late Duke of Fife, for, (however pleasant its associations may have been,) it was badly situated, and its destruction gave him the excuse for building the present house, which is certainly one of the most comfortable residences in the North of Scotland. In those high latitudes it is everything to have the house the right side of the river,—that is[251] to say on the north side, with the consequent south aspect,—and the new Mar Lodge was ideally situated in that respect, fairly near the river, with a lovely view from its windows. Beautiful as are the surroundings of Balmoral, the castle none the less suffers from being on the south side of the Dee; there being considerable want of sunshine there in the shorter days of October.
The Prince had some good deer-driving at Mar, and another enjoyable amusement provided for the guests was a well-laid-out little golf-course. The Duke and his family were all keen golfers.
Another Deeside shooting lodge that was occasionally visited by the Prince was Glenmuick, which stands about half-way between Balmoral and Ballater. The existing house was built by the first Baronet, the then well-known Mackenzie of Kintail. The present baronet is an officer in the Grenadier Guards, a grandson of the old laird to whom I am alluding. The original Laird of Glenmuick was a great character. Starting in life as a small tradesman in Aberdeen, he had succeeded in making a large fortune, and became a popular person in Society, for he owned a few race-horses, was full of Scotch stories, and, moreover, played a very good game of whist. Glenmuick was a delightful place, for there is not only a good deer forest, where I have had some first-rate stalking, but there is also a very fair grouse moor. But the house itself could hardly be said to be a success. I always believed that its situation was selected rather with the view of impressing the good people of Ballater with the importance of its owner, than to provide a comfortable[252] home for himself and his guests. As far as I could see during my stay there, the only room that sunshine ever reached was the kitchen. None the less, it was a most amusing house to stay in, and the all-round sport was excellent.
There is nothing of any importance for me to relate until the new year of 1901. On the 20th of January Queen Victoria brought her long reign to an end, and died at Osborne, and my master came to the throne as King Edward VII. I was not in personal attendance on him at the time, but there was so much to do that his entire Staff was mobilised. Of course, representatives from all over the world flocked to London for the funeral, and I found myself detailed to look after the Russian and Greek suites that had come over in attendance on the Grand Duke Michael and the King of the Hellenes, the respective representatives of those two countries. There was great difficulty in housing this enormous influx of guests, but the late Mr. Larnach was one of those who came to the assistance of the Court Officials, by placing his fine house in Carlton House Gardens at their disposal, and I consequently took up my abode there, to look after the Russian and Greek gentlemen.
On the day of the funeral the party to which I was attached met the funeral cortège at Windsor, and I was consequently at the station there when a slight contretemps happened that attracted a good deal of attention at the time. The horses of the Horse Artillery team which were harnessed to the gun-carriage that was used as a bier, had become restive[253] from their long wait in the cold, and began to plunge about to such an extent that the coffin seemed to be in danger of being displaced. There was a Guard of Honour of bluejackets posted at the station, and Prince Louis of Battenberg, who was with them, quickly grasped the situation. The horses were taken out, the bluejackets manned the traces, and the last stage of the late Queen’s long journey from Osborne to Windsor was done in charge of the Royal Navy, to their great pride and satisfaction, and, naturally, to the infinite disappointment of the Royal Horse Artillery.
During the year of mourning that followed there was not much of interest for me to record; but in the late autumn King Edward was in residence for the first time as the owner of Balmoral. Naturally, His Majesty was not entertaining a party there, so there was not much official work to do, consequently on most days when there was not a deer drive, Harry Stonor, (who was on duty there as Groom-in-Waiting), and I, were sent on the hill to stalk, and very fine sport we had. I think between us, in something like ten days, we had twenty-five stags to our credit.
The year 1902 was a very busy one. In March I was in attendance on their Majesties, when they visited Dartmouth to lay the foundation-stone of the College there that took the place of the old Britannia. The change was all for the better, as the old ship was far from healthy even in my time, and age was not likely to improve her sanitary condition. From Dartmouth the Royal party went on to Plymouth, and passed the night on board the Victoria and Albert, where a large[254] dinner party was entertained, consisting not only of the principal Naval Officials belonging to the port, but also of the Admiral and Captains of a Japanese Squadron that was there at the time. On the following day Queen Alexandra launched H.M.S. Queen, with the usual ceremonial, and the King laid the first plate of a new battleship, the King Edward.
About two months later I was spending a Sunday at the White Lodge, Richmond Park, with one of my oldest friends, Mrs. Hartmann, to whom the lodge had been lent by the King. At luncheon time she announced to her guests that the King was motoring down for tea, and at tea-time he duly arrived. We were all assembled out in the garden, and I was sure from his manner that there was some news in store for us. We had not long to wait, as without any waste of words he informed us that what he was about to tell us would be known to the world next morning, and that was, that the conditions of peace had been signed at Vereeniging, which virtually meant that the long and tiresome South African War had come to an end. For many years past, even people quite unaddicted to business in the City, had been gambling in South African shares, much, I suppose, to the delight of the South African Jews, who had invaded London and taken up their abode there. It seemed the obvious thing that, peace being signed, South Africans would go up, and I fancy a good many of us went up to London early next morning to get the first of the market. The obvious rarely happens in real life, and, as far as I can remember, the shares that were expected to rise[255] all fell, and the small punters, as usual, lost their money.
In June the Coronation that had been arranged for the 24th was put off, owing to the very serious illness of the King, and the operation that it entailed. I was in attendance on the Grand Duke Michael Alexandrovitch of Russia, who had been sent to represent his brother, the Emperor. The Grand Duke was attended by a large suite, who were lodged very conveniently for the expected ceremony at the Buckingham Palace Hotel. Most of us remember the consternation that reigned in London when the ceremony was postponed, and few could have imagined it possible that the King could have made such a marvellous recovery as he did, and thus enable the Coronation to take place at the early date of August the 9th,—but so it was.
On the 1st of August I went down to Cowes to take my turn of duty. His Majesty had been already there for about a fortnight, and I remember my amazed delight at seeing him looking so marvellously well after such a short convalescence. Sir Frederick Treves, who had performed the operation (a very serious one), told me how astonished he was at the King’s powers of recuperation; and then afterwards, on the day after the Coronation, he was again telling me that he did not think it humanly possible that any man, who had only just recovered from such a dangerous illness, could be as well as he was after that very long and fatiguing ceremony at Westminster. I was very fortunate in being in personal attendance on that historic occasion, which has been so often described by far more practised[256] pens than mine, that I refrain from enlarging on it; but as an instance of their Majesties’ kind thoughtfulness for their attendants, after the cortège had returned to the palace we were all given the opportunity of offering our congratulations, before the King and Queen had divested themselves of their very beautiful, but remarkably heavy, coronation robes.
Events passed quickly. Within a week the Royal party had resumed their stay on board the Royal Yacht at Cowes. On the 16th the King reviewed the Fleet at Spithead, and the next day received on board the yacht the Boer Generals Delarey, de Wet, and Botha. Towards the end of August the Royal party went for a cruise, to work round to Scotland by the West Coast. Whenever their Majesties were cruising in the Royal Yacht or using her as their home at Cowes, the Marine Painter to the Sovereign, the late Cavaliere de Martino, was invariably one of the suite in attendance. Martino was a great character. A Neapolitan by birth, he had subsequently served in the Brazilian Navy, and then given up his naval career to become an artist. He had a complete knowledge of every detail connected with a ship, but, what was far more important, he had the real artist’s sense of atmosphere, which, for him, meant sea and sky, and I am lucky enough to possess several of his charming sketches to this day. I used to see a great deal of him when he was on board, as, knowing a little Italian, I could more or less understand the extraordinary sort of lingua franca that he always talked, which appeared to be a sort of mixture of Neapolitan, Portuguese, and English. The only guests on board,[257] I think, were the Marquis de Soveral, then Portug............