A Visit to Sandringham of the 1890s

From a drawing in The County Seats of the Noblemen and Gentlemen of Great Britain and Ireland, Francis Morris, 1866.

  Old newspapers and magazines are time-machines. Reading the stories of years gone by brings one back to the actual day and time when it was written. The scene is penned with a fresh take on the context of the era. When one is interested to view the lives of our favourite royals, a browse on old books and newspapers is worth the time! Digital copies are available online. On such visit to a favourite digital repository, I found this old article published in 1893 in a weekend magazine called Cassel’s Saturday Journal. The articles describes, in rich prose, Sandringham, the Norfolk estate of the then-Prince and Princess of Wales. 

There are many matters connected with the Sandringham estate, the Norfolk residence of his Royal Highness the Prince of Wales, that are of special interest Years ago, when the Prince of Wales acquired this property, the mansion was much smaller than it now is, and for some time their Royal Highnesses occupied the original house which stood in the isolated park ; but as improvements were effected from time to time at much expense it was at last determined to raze the then existing buildings to the ground and to erect others on a larger scale. Even then their owner was not content, and year by year additions have been made, so that one can never be sure that the latest photograph published contains all the newest features of the place.

Today, in fact, the appearance of the red-and-white gabled hall has been much deteriorated by the temporary and ugly roofing of wood and iron, which was constructed to render the house habitable after the fire of last autumn. The damage was fortunately confined to the upper storey occupied by the servants, and solid floor of cement having stopped the downward course of the flames, which were threatening the treasures and unique furniture of the royal apartments.

“I was glad,” said the Prince to his tenantry, “that I was not burned out of house and home.”

When first the present writer saw Sandringham House through the fir plantations bordering the road leading from Wolferton railway station — at which the Prince has a private room which is often used for luncheon parties when shooting — he was disappointed.

The splendour of the approach through the dark stone pines, the coverts crowded with game, the peeps of wood land of wild and diversified nature, the glorious banks of rhododendrons, the trim chalets and lodges, the wire fencing which spoke of preserves and the grouse introduced by the Prince into the district, and the retired character of the beautiful spot, led one to expect a palace, or a Rosamond's bower. Instead, there was found an English home of Elizabethan aspect, quietly secluded, away from the bustle of the world, “ far from the madding crowd,” surrounded by a Swiss-like park, many miles in area, in the green recesses of which the rabbits and hares ran hither and thither, the blackbirds sang merrily, and the squirrels leaped from bough to bough in perfect freedom.

It is this corner of England, nearest to Denmark, that the Princess of Wales loves dearly. Her attachment for it is great. Here her husband, twenty-one years ago, lay at the point of death ; here her infant son, Prince John, who expired within a few hours of his birth, lies in his little grave in the yard of the grey-towered church of Sandringham; and here her other sons were lately stricken down, the one to recover, but the other to die on the eve of his marriage.

The visitor to Sandringham is most impressed with the finely wrought gates of iron which, after being exhibited in 1862 as a specimen of the excellence of Norwich craftsmanship, were presented as a wedding gift to the Prince and Princess of Wales.

Over these gates the royal crown and the heraldic shields of the Prince of Wales ate prominent When these Norwich gates are closed the visitor is directed to the principal lodge, which necessitates a tour of one side of the grounds, passing on the left the en closed gardens and on the right the green park, admission to which is gained by a wicket gate. Across the grass the long, low, east front of the mansion is visible, but the range of windows is not impressive, the principal architectural feature on this side being the handsome porch. From this aspect one notes on the extreme left the new ballroom, outwardly a rather plain structure ; next the great hall ; and on the other side of the porch the library, above them being the royal apartments.

Continuing the drive we next pass the stables, which have an inner and an outward quadrangle, where the Prince of Wales keeps his hackneys — many of them very beautiful creatures ; and on the other side of the high road, a copse, in the midst of which brawls a stream, feeding a roadside fountain which has a pent roof. Such ornamental structures are numerous in all parts of the estate. For the moment we do not turn into the lodge gates, but drive on, skirting the stone wall, behind which are the hothouses, another lodge, the kennels, and the comfortable house of the agent, Mr. Beck. As we continue the circuit one sees the water tower on a bill which supplies, not only the large mansion, but every cottage on the estate with pure water ; and on the left the village of West Newton, where every tenement is a picture of neatness, and the technical and art schools are to be found in a highly picturesque building. Here the royal family are frequent visitors.

In course of time as the circle narrows we see Park House and its grounds, occupied for nine out or the twelve months by Sir Dighton Probyn, Controller of the Household, who has the management of the estate. The Prince has five or six tenants only, but every cottager has more or less a direct interest in his welfare.

His Royal Highness is a good land lord ; his rents are low, and he is affable to all. When he shorts his game he does not sell it, as a certain Indian potentate did ; but he gives it away, and in the distribution the adjacent villagers get their share. One of the first attractions of Sandringham for the sportsman is the plentifulness of game and the abundance of cover.

The Prince is a good shot, but he does not like to be encroached upon by curious spectators. If he knows them as his tenants, all is well; but on one occasion when his quick eye discerned strangers pressing too closely upon the guns he said to a farmer, “Just tell them I am very glad to see them all ; but they must not come too close.”

“You must not come too close!”

This, in fact, is the position which has always been taken up at Sandringham. It is private property and an Englishman's castle. The full glare of publicity was not tolerated, even when the Queen was her son's guest, and a prospective heir to the throne lay dying. No prison could be more carefully watched by special police, each constable by long years of service knowing at a glance who has the right of entry and who is an intruder. Lunatics sometimes call, says Mr. Winkler — a German — who has succeeded Mr. Walker as inspector of this special body of A division of police, who follow the

Prince wherever he may go. Mr. Winkler has a bed in a little room at the back of the fire station in which stands a manual engine, which is worked for practice once a month by the house brigade, composed of servants, grooms, stablemen, keepers, gardeners, and others.

In ordinary times Mr. Winkler will make no objection to a stranger going to the post office, which the Prince insisted upon having opened for public business in a part of the hall, in imitation of one he bad seen at another mansion. To reach this post and telegraph office one must pass through the lodge gates — the lodge itself is chalet shaped, completely covered with ivy — up the drive, leaving the Bachelors' Cottage near to the ornamental duck pond on the left, and approach the hall by the servants' wing, passing the tower-like building, adorned with antlers' heads, which, in the shooting season, is stocked with game. If one returns by a devious path to the Bachelors' Cottage we shall there find Sir Francis Knollys, private secretary to the Prince of Wales, and the equerries, who have no families, installed in comfortable rooms which are in charge of a motherly house keeper.

One point must not be omitted. Both the Prince and Princess of Wales are passionately fond of clocks— not grandfather's clocks, but clocks of a fancy description. The finest collection in the world of this character is at Buckingham Palace, and at Marlborough House there are, it is said, 400. At Sandringham the number is about 300, and when they require repairing it is a work of many months on the part of the Queen's clockmaker and his assistant to put them all right A visitor to Sandringham is struck with a singular custom which has been handed down from the previous owner and is associated with the famous Earl of Leicester. Whenever the Prince of Wales comes to his Norfolk home he orders all the docks to be put half an hour fast. Consequently when the chime goes nine it is only 8.30. The practice causes much confusion, and immediately the Prince leaves for London the dials are put to Greenwich time again.