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 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 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 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 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 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 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, I think, were the Marquis de Soveral, then Portuguese Minister, and Mr. and Mrs. Derek Keppel, now Sir Derek and Lady Keppel, Sir Derek being the well-known Master of the Household to King George.

One of our first stops was made at the Isle of Man, which the King and Queen had never seen, and consequently desired to visit thoroughly. It was arranged that the party was to have a picnic luncheon at some historic ruin that is at one end of the island, and then drive across to the other side and finish the journey back to the landing-place by tramway. The arrangements for this expedition automatically fell upon my shoulders as Equerry-in-Waiting, and I don’t know that I have ever spent a more arduous twelve hours. It was the middle of the tourist season! I forget the exact number of thousands of them that were on the island that morning, but I remember that the entire local police consisted of a very able Chief Constable and, about six men. The tourists were determined to see as much of their Sovereign and his Consort as they could manage, and though it was the best-intentioned and most loyal crowd that I have ever seen, its immense size and demonstrative loyalty made it really very difficult to cope with. When the drive across the island took place, the tourists constituted themselves into a vast escort of bicyclists. This was all very well as regards the first carriage in which their Majesties were driving, but the carriages behind were enveloped in such a cloud of dust that the unfortunate coachmen literally could not see to drive. Finally, after what was for me, to use the modern expression, “a hectic day,” we arrived back at the port where the boats were ready to re-embark us all. The King’s carriage drove out to the end of the pier, but so great was the crowd that the occupants of the other carriages had to get out and walk alongside, and in the wake of, this one vehicle, and even that was not easy, for the pressure was so great, and the crowd so enthusiastic, that one had literally to cling to any part of the carriage one could get hold of. However all ended well. Their Majesties were much gratified with the loyalty and friendliness of the people, who were, on their side, equally delighted to have their Sovereign and his Consort actually in their midst; but personally, being, as Equerry, entirely responsible for anything connected with journeys, I was extremely relieved, when I found myself once again in the decorous surroundings of the Royal Yacht.

Another very interesting island visited that autumn was Arran, where the Duchess of Hamilton and her daughter were established in a shooting-box, which literally was a sort of sportsman’s paradise. Every officer in the ship who could be spared from duty was provided with some sort of sport. One party went after grouse. Two rifles were sent on the hill, and there was excellent salmon and sea-trout fishing for the rest. There was also known to be a heavy stag, who had taken to leaving the hill and coming down to feed on some corn that was in the immediate vicinity of the lodge; the King succeeded in shooting him late in the evening. The Royal party and their guests had spent the afternoon on the fringe of the moor, watching some sheep-dog trials; these trials, I believe, are constantly held in Wales and Scotland, and are well worth watching. Each shepherd works his own dog without moving from a certain fixed place, and it is little short of marvellous to see how dog and man work together. The sheep are in the distance on the hill, and the prize is given to the dog who succeeds in turning them off the hill, making them go through certain gaps, and finally rounding them up in a small enclosure in the shortest time, one of the conditions being that the sheep are to be herded there, without being distressed or exhausted.

Another place visited was Dunrobin, and there again excellent sport was provided. There were not a great many guests staying at the castle during their Majesties’ visit, but one charming lady, whose acquaintance I remember I had that opportunity of making, was Miss Irene Vanbrugh, otherwise Mrs. Dion Boucicault.

Shortly after the visit to Dunrobin I was relieved by a brother Equerry and went down South.

Whilst on the subject of country houses and sport in the North, I may as well mention that, before the war, I had made for many years a practice of going to Scotland in the autumn, and I can look back with infinite pleasure on the many happy and health-giving days spent in that very delightful part of the world. At many of these places I became almost an annual visitor. I am afraid to say how many times I was a guest at Tulchan, that delightful lodge and moor on Speyside, that was so long tenanted by the late Mr. Arthur Sassoon and his charming wife. Year after year I was one of the many who were invited there, and had not only excellent sport in very beautiful surroundings, but the greatest fun in the most supreme comfort; for though only a shooting-lodge, very simply arranged, the Chef was super-excellent, and the wine matched the Chef! One of the features of Tulchan was the number of dogs that literally swarmed there. Mrs. Arthur Sassoon herself was an ardent dog-lover, and had a string of Skye terriers. Our host had a large yellow retriever that was always with him. Every male guest thought it incumbent on him to bring a retriever, and the ladies of the party invariably possessed at least one dog apiece, and I veritably believe that had they not possessed a dog to take with them to Tulchan, they would have hired one for the occasion! So, as I remarked before, dogs swarmed there. Poor Major Seymour Wynne Finch (long since dead, to the infinite sorrow of his many friends, of whom, I am glad to remember, I was one,) was another yearly visitor to Tulchan. After one of his visits he wrote to thank his hostess for a very pleasant visit, adding: “it was so nice of you to have such a charming lot of dogs to meet me.” Moreover, there were very few years that passed without the late King, or the present King spending a few days of their stay in Scotland, as the guest of Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Sassoon at Tulchan Lodge, Speyside.

Another place I constantly visited was Strathconan, which still belongs to Captain and Lady Jane Combe, and here one always found almost everything in the shape of sport. To begin with, it is one of the very best deer forests in Scotland; in addition there was some good grouse shooting on the lower ground, endless fishing in the lochs and river that flowed past close to the lodge, which was itself a picture of comfort, and for off-days there was a small but beautifully kept golf-course.

Glenquoich was another forest Lodge, where I have stayed several times, when in attendance on the late King. Lying, as it does, on the West Coast, the nearest point of the sea being only some eight miles distant, it combined a first-class forest with perhaps the most beautiful scenery in Scotland. When on the high ground, stalking on a fine day, I do not remember ever seeing anything that quite came up to the beauty of the scene around. One of the features of the scenery consisting in the number of tiny lochs that made small patches of that most gorgeous blue that combines so well with the colour of the heather and the grey-brown of the rocks. The late Lord Burton had a lease of Glenquoich for many years, and was really a benefactor to the whole neighbourhood, as through the long winter months, when life is very hard for the gillies (who, in general, have to make all they can out of the shooting and stalking season) he used to employ them in making pony-paths on the hill, so that he could ride pretty nearly all over the forest.

Then, for golf purposes, I constantly used to stay with my kind friends, Mr. and Mrs. William James, who had bought a charming house, Greywalls, built by the late Alfred Lyttelton, close to the club house at Muirfield. Since poor Willy James’ lamented death, Greywalls has, I think, recently passed into other hands; but probably as a headquarters for golfing purposes it could not be surpassed, standing, as it did, on a Championship Course, and being within the easiest reach of North Berwick, Archerfield, Gullane, Gillspindie, Loughness, and indeed many other first-rate courses.

I was also a constant visitor at Gordonstown, as the guest of Mr. and Mrs. John Hanbury, where there was excellent low-ground shooting, and a delightful golf-course close by at Lossiemouth.

And, finally, another of my happy hunting-grounds has been, and is, Kinross, where, for many years past, I have been the guest of Sir Basil and Lady Montgomery, at their beautiful home on the shores of Loch Leven. Kinross deserves more than a passing mention. The beauty of the situation of the house is alone worthy of note. Built to face the island on the loch, where Queen Mary of Scots was imprisoned, I know nothing more beautiful in the way of a peaceful landscape, than the view from the windows. It commences with a foreground of walled garden, the centre of which is formally laid out and terminated by an imposing gate-way, known as the Fish Gate. Immediately opposite, as a mid-distance, is the principal island of Loch Leven, with its ruined castle embowered in trees, with various smaller islands dotted about, and the whole group encircled by the waters of the loch. In the distance are the outlines of the low Fife hills; while, as a finish to the picture, the loch is framed by the massive bastions of hill formed by Fife-Lomond and Glenarty, which rear themselves up from the placid waters to the right and left. The house, too, is very beautiful and interesting. The first owner and architect of the present building was Sir William Bruce, and there is a tradition that he built, with the object of disposing of it to the Duke of York for a Scottish residence when his succession to the Throne was in doubt, at the time of the passing of the Exclusive Bill. This hope, if it ever existed, speedily came to an end, for before Kinross House was finished, the Duke of York had ascended the Throne as James II, and had Holyrood for a Scottish palace. Kinross House is a fine example of one of the early mansions of the Scotch Renaissance. It contains many beautiful things, principal amongst which is a fine staircase, with pierced and carved panels, which leads directly to the ball-room, a very large saloon taking up the greater part of the first floor. In the saloon are hung, amongst other family pictures, a very fine full-length portrait of Lady Montgomery by Raeburn, faced by a Hoppner of Lady Elizabeth Montgomery, and there are two very good three-quarter-length Romneys of the Marquis and Marchioness of Townshend. Altogether, the house and its surroundings make up one of the most beautiful and “liveable” homes that I have ever come across in my wanderings in Scotland.