has been admirably made. From here it is quite beautiful, so wild and
grand. The falls are equal to those of the _Bruar_ at _Blair_, and are
150 feet in height; the whole height to the foot of the loch being 500
feet. It looked very picturesque to see the ponies and Highlanders
winding along. We came, down to the _Shiel of the Glassalt_, lately
built, where there is a charming room for us, commanding a most lovely
view. Here we took the cold luncheon, which we had brought with us; and
after that we mounted our ponies, and rode to the _Dhu Loch_, along
a beautiful path which keeps well above the burn, that rushes along
over flat great slabs of stone. The scenery is exquisite. We passed a
small fall called the _Burn of the Spullan_ (“spout”). In half or three
quarters of an hour we were at the wild and picturesque _Dhu Loch_.
We got off our ponies, and I had just sat down to sketch, when
Mackenzie returned, saying my watch was safe at home, and bringing
letters: amongst them there was one from Lord Derby, which I tore
open, and alas! it contained the confirmation of the fatal news: that
_England’s_, or rather _Britain’s_ pride, her glory, her hero, the
greatest man she ever had produced, was no more! Sad day! Great and
irreparable national loss!
Lord Derby enclosed a few lines from Lord Charles Wellesley, saying
that his dear great father had died on Tuesday at three o’clock, after
a few hours’ illness and no suffering. God’s will be done! The day must
have come: the Duke was eighty-three. It is well for him that he has
been taken when still in the possession of his great mind, and without
a long illness,--but what a _loss_! One cannot think of this country
without “the Duke,”--our immortal hero!
In him centered almost every earthly honour a subject could possess.
His position was the highest a subject ever had,--above party,--looked
up to by all,--revered by the whole nation,--the friend of the
Sovereign;--and _how_ simply he carried these honours! With what
singleness of purpose, what straightforwardness, what courage, were
all the motives of his actions guided. The Crown never possessed,--and
I fear never _will_--so _devoted_, loyal, and faithful a subject, so
staunch a supporter! To _us_ (who alas! have lost, now, so many of
our valued and experienced friends,) his loss is _irreparable_, for
his readiness to aid and advise, if it could be of use to us, and to
overcome any and every difficulty, was unequalled. To Albert he showed
the greatest kindness and the utmost confidence. His experience and his
knowledge of the past were so great too; he was a link which connected
us with bygone times, with the last century. Not an eye will be dry in
the whole country.
We hastened down on foot to the head of _Loch Muich_; and then rode
home, in a heavy shower, to _Alt-na-Giuthasach_. Our whole enjoyment
was spoilt; a gloom overhung all of us.
We wrote to Lord Derby and Lord Charles Wellesley.
BUILDING THE CAIRN ON CRAIG GOWAN, &c.
_Monday, October 11, 1852._
This day has been a very happy, lucky, and memorable one--our last! A
fine morning.
Albert had to see Mr. Walpole, and therefore it was nearly eleven
o’clock before we could go up to the top of _Craig Gowan_, to see the
cairn built, which was to commemorate our taking possession of this
dear place; the old cairn having been pulled down. We set off with all
the children, ladies, gentlemen, and a few of the servants, including
Macdonald and Grant, who had not already gone up; and at the _Moss
House_, which is half way, Mackay met us, and preceded us, playing,
Duncan and Donald Stewart[38] going before him, to the highest point of
_Craig Gowan_; where were assembled all the servants and tenants, with
their wives and children and old relations. All our little friends were
there: Mary Symons and Lizzie Stewart, the four Grants, and several
others.
[38] One of the keepers, whom we found here in 1848. He is an excellent
man, and was much liked by the Prince; he always led the dogs when
the Prince went out stalking. He lives in the Western Lodge, close to
Grant’s house, which was built for him by the Prince.
I then placed the first stone, after which Albert laid one, then the
children, according to their ages. All the ladies and gentlemen placed
one; and then every one came forward at once, each person carrying a
stone and placing it on the cairn. Mr. and Mrs. Anderson were there;
Mackay played; and whisky was given to all. It took, I am sure, an
hour building; and whilst it was going on, some merry reels were
danced on a stone opposite. All the old people (even the gardener’s
wife from _Corbie Hall_, near _Abergeldie_,) danced; and many of the
children, Mary Symons and Lizzie Stewart especially, danced so nicely;
the latter with her hair all hanging down. Poor dear old “Monk,” Sir
Robert Gordon’s faithful old dog, was sitting there amongst us all.
At last, when the cairn, which is, I think, seven or eight feet high,
was nearly completed, Albert climbed up to the top of it, and placed
the last stone; after which three cheers were given. It was a gay,
pretty, and touching sight; and I felt almost inclined to cry. The view
was so beautiful over the dear hills; the day so fine; the whole so
_gemüthlich_. May God bless this place, and allow us yet to see it and
enjoy it many a long year!
[Illustration]
After luncheon, Albert decided to walk through the wood for the last
time, to have a last chance, and allowed Vicky and me to go with him.
At half-past three o’clock we started, got out at Grant’s, and walked
up part of _Carrop_, intending to go along the upper path, when a stag
was heard to roar, and we all turned into the wood. We crept along,
and got into the middle path. Albert soon left us to go lower, and we
sat down to wait for him; presently we heard a shot--then complete
silence--and, after another pause of some little time, three more
shots. This was again succeeded by complete silence. We sent some one
to look, who shortly after returned, saying the stag had been twice hit
and they were after him. Macdonald next went, and in about five minutes
we heard “Solomon” give tongue, and knew he had the stag at bay. We
listened a little while, and then began moving down hoping to arrive
in time; but the barking had ceased, and Albert had already killed the
stag; and on the road he lay, a little way beyond _Invergelder_--the
beauty that we had admired yesterday evening. He was a magnificent
animal, and I sat down and scratched a little sketch of him on a bit of
paper that Macdonald had in his pocket, which I put on a stone--while
Albert and Vicky, with the others, built a little cairn to mark the
spot. We heard, after I had finished my little scrawl, and the carriage
had joined us, that another stag had been seen near the road; and we
had not gone as far as the “Irons,”[39] before we saw one below the
road, looking so handsome. Albert jumped out and fired--the animal
fell, but rose again, and went on a little way, and Albert followed.
Very shortly after, however, we heard a cry, and ran down and found
Grant and Donald Stewart pulling up a stag with a very pretty head.
Albert had gone on, Grant went after him, and I and Vicky remained with
Donald Stewart, the stag, and the dogs. I sat down to sketch, and poor
Vicky, unfortunately, seated herself on a wasp’s nest, and was much
stung. Donald Stewart rescued her, for I could not, being myself too
much alarmed. Albert joined us in twenty minutes, unaware of having
killed the stag. What a delightful day! But sad that it should be
the last day! Home by half-past six. We found our beautiful stag had
arrived, and admired him much.
[39] These “Irons” are the levers of an old saw-mill which was pulled
down, and they were left there to be sold--between thirty and forty
years ago--and have remained there ever since, not being considered
worth selling, on account of the immense trouble of transporting them.
LAYING THE FOUNDATION STONE OF OUR NEW HOUSE.
_September 28, 1853._
A fine morning early, but when we walked out at half-past ten
o’clock it began raining, and soon poured down without ceasing. Most
fortunately it cleared up before two, and the sun shone brightly for
the ceremony of laying the foundation stone of the new house. Mama and
all her party arrived from _Abergeldie_ a little before three. I annex
the Programme of the Ceremony, which was strictly adhered to, and was
really very interesting:—
PROGRAMME.
The stone being prepared and suspended over that upon which it is
to rest, (in which will be a cavity for the bottle containing the
parchment and the coins):
The workmen will be placed in a semicircle at a little distance from
the stone, and the women and home servants in an inner semicircle.
Her Majesty the Queen, and His Royal Highness the Prince, accompanied
by the Royal Children, Her Royal Highness the Duchess of Kent, and
attended by Her Majesty’s guests and suite, will proceed from the
house.
Her Majesty, the Prince, and the Royal Family, will stand on the South
side of the stone, the suite being behind and on each side of the
Royal party.
The Rev. Mr. Anderson will then pray for a blessing on the work. Her
Majesty will affix her signature to the parchment, recording the day
upon which the foundation stone was laid. Her Majesty’s signature
will be followed by that of the Prince and the Royal Children, the
Duchess of Kent, and any others that Her Majesty may command, and the
parchment will be placed in the bottle.
One of each of the current coins of the present reign will also be
placed in the bottle, and the bottle having been sealed up, will be
placed in the cavity. The trowel will then be delivered to Her Majesty
by Mr. Smith of Aberdeen, the architect, and the mortar having been
spread, the stone will be lowered.
The level and square will then be applied, and their correctness
having been ascertained, the mallet will be delivered to Her Majesty
by Mr. Stuart (the clerk of the works), when Her Majesty will strike
the stone and declare it to be laid. The cornucopia will be placed
upon the stone, and the oil and wine poured out by Her Majesty.
The pipes will play, and Her Majesty, with the Royal Family, will
retire.
As soon after as it can be got ready, the workmen will proceed to
their dinner. After dinner, the following toasts will be given by Mr.
Smith:—
“The Queen.”
“The Prince and the Royal Family.”
“Prosperity to the house, and happiness to the inmates of Balmoral.”
The workmen will then leave the dinner-room, and amuse themselves upon
the green with Highland games till seven o’clock, when a dance will
take place in the ball-room.
We walked round to the spot, preceded by Mackay. Mr. Anderson[40] made
a very appropriate prayer. The wind was very high; but else everything
went off as well as could possibly be desired.
[40] The Minister of Crathie: he died November, 1866.
The workmen and people all gave a cheer when the whole was concluded.
In about three-quarters of an hour’s time we went in to see the people
at their dinner; and after this walked over to _Craig Gowan_ for Albert
to get a chance for black game.
We dressed early, and went for twenty minutes before dinner to see
the people dancing in the ball-room, which they did with the greatest
spirit.
THE KIRK.
_October 29, 1854._
We went to Kirk, as usual, at twelve o’clock. The service was performed
by the Rev. Norman McLeod, of _Glasgow_, son of Dr. McLeod, and
anything finer I never heard. The sermon, entirely extempore, was
quite admirable; so simple, and yet so eloquent, and so beautifully
argued and put. The text was from the account of the coming of
Nicodemus to Christ by night; St. John, chapter 3. Mr. McLeod showed
in the sermon how we _all_ tried to please _self_, and live for
_that_, and in so doing found no rest. Christ had come not only to
die for us, but to show how we were to live. The second prayer was
very touching; his allusions to us were so simple, saying, after his
mention of us, “bless their children.” It gave me a lump in my throat,
as also when he prayed for “the dying, the wounded, the widow, and
the orphans.” Every one came back delighted; and how satisfactory it
is to come back from church with such feelings! The servants and the
Highlanders--_all_--were equally delighted.
ARRIVAL AT THE NEW CASTLE AT BALMORAL.
_September 7, 1855._
At a quarter-past seven o’clock we arrived at dear _Balmoral_. Strange,
very strange, it seemed to me to drive past, indeed _through_, the old
house; the connecting part between it and the offices being broken
through. The new house looks beautiful. The tower and the rooms in
the connecting part are, however, only half finished, and the offices
are still unbuilt: therefore the gentlemen (except the Minister[41])
live in the old house, and so do most of the servants; there is a long
wooden passage which connects the new house with the offices. An old
shoe was thrown after us into the house, for good luck, when we entered
the hall. The house is charming: the rooms delightful; the furniture,
papers, everything perfection.
[41] A Cabinet Minister is always in attendance upon the Queen at
Balmoral.
IMPRESSIONS OF THE NEW CASTLE.
_September 8, 1855._
The view from the windows of our rooms, and from the library,
drawing-room, &c. below them, of the valley of the _Dee_, with the
mountains in the background,--which one never could see from the old
house, is quite beautiful. We walked about, and alongside the river,
and looked at all that has been done, and considered all that has to
be done; and afterwards we went over to the poor dear old house, and
to our rooms, which it was quite melancholy to see so deserted; and
settled about things being brought over.
NEWS OF THE FALL OF SEVASTOPOL.
_September 10, 1855._
Mama, and her lady and gentleman, to dinner.
All were in constant expectation of more telegraphic despatches.
At half-past ten o’clock two arrived--one for me, and one for Lord
Granville. I began reading mine, which was from Lord Clarendon, with
details from Marshal Pélissier of the further destruction of the
Russian ships; and Lord Granville said, “I have still better news;”
on which he read, “From General Simpson--_Sevastopol is in the hands
of the Allies_.” God be praised for it! Our delight was great; but
we could hardly believe the good news, and from having so long, so
anxiously expected it, one could not realize the actual fact.
Albert said they should go at once and light the bonfire which had
been prepared when the false report of the fall of the town arrived
last year, and had remained ever since, waiting to be lit. On the 5th
of November, the day of the battle of _Inkermann_, the wind upset it,
strange to say; and now again, most strangely, it only seemed to _wait_
for our return to be lit.
The new house seems to be lucky, indeed; for, from the first moment
of our arrival, we have had good news. In a few minutes, Albert
and all the gentlemen, in every species of attire, sallied forth,
followed by all the servants, and gradually by all the population of
the village--keepers, gillies, workmen--up to the top of the cairn.
We waited, and saw them light the bonfire; accompanied by general
cheering. It blazed forth brilliantly, and we could see the numerous
figures surrounding it--some dancing, all shouting;--Ross[42] playing
his pipes, and Grant and Macdonald firing off guns continually; while
poor old François d’Albertançon[43] lighted a number of squibs below,
the greater part of which would not go off. About three-quarters of
an hour after, Albert came down, and said the scene had been wild
and exciting beyond everything. The people had been drinking healths
in whisky, and were in great ecstasy. The whole house seemed in a
wonderful state of excitement. The boys were with difficulty awakened,
and when at last this was the case, they begged leave to go up to the
top of the cairn.
[42] My Piper since 1854; he had served seventeen years in the 42nd
Highlanders--a very respectable, good man.
[43] An old servant of Sir R. Gordon’s, who had charge of the house,
and was a native of Alsace; he died in 1858.
We remained till a quarter to twelve; and, just as I was undressing,
all the people came down under the windows, the pipes playing, the
people singing, firing off guns, and cheering--first for me, then for
Albert, the Emperor of the French, and the “downfall of _Sevastopol_.”
THE BETROTHAL OF THE PRINCESS ROYAL.
_September 29, 1855._
Our dear Victoria was this day engaged to Prince Frederick William of
Prussia, who had been on a visit to us since the 14th. He had already
spoken to us, on the 20th, of his wishes; but we were uncertain, on
account of her extreme youth, whether he should speak to her himself,
or wait till he came back again. However, we felt it was better he
should do so; and during our ride up _Craig-na-Ban_ this afternoon, he
picked a piece of white heather, (the emblem of “good luck,”) which
he gave to her; and this enabled him to make an allusion to his hopes
and wishes, as they rode down _Glen Girnoch_, which led to this happy
conclusion.
THE KIRK.
_October 14, 1855._
To Kirk at twelve o’clock. The Rev. J. Caird, one of the most
celebrated preachers in _Scotland_, performed the service, and
electrified all present by a most admirable and beautiful sermon, which
lasted nearly an hour, but which kept one’s attention riveted. The
text was from the twelfth chapter of Romans, and the eleventh verse:
“_Not slothful in business; fervent in spirit; serving the Lord._” He
explained, in the most beautiful and simple manner, what real religion
is; how it ought to pervade every action of our lives; not a thing only
for Sundays, or for our closet; not a thing to drive us from the world;
not “a perpetual moping over ‘good’ books,” but “being and doing good;”
“letting everything be done in a Christian spirit.” It was as fine as
Mr. McLeod’s sermon last year, and sent us home much edified.
FINDING THE OLD CASTLE GONE.
_August 30, 1856._
On arriving at _Balmoral_ at seven o’clock in the evening, we found the
tower finished as well as the offices, and the poor old house gone! The
effect of the whole is very fine.
GARDENS, &c. ROUND THE NEW CASTLE.
_August 31, 1856._
We walked along the river and outside the house. The new offices and
the yard are excellent; and the little garden on the west side, with
the eagle fountain which the King of Prussia gave me, and which used to
be in the greenhouse at _Windsor_, is extremely pretty; as are also the
flower-beds under the walls of the side which faces the _Dee_. There
are sculptured arms on the different shields, gilt, which has a very
good effect; and a bas-relief under our windows--not gilt--representing
St. Hubert, with St. Andrew on one side and St. George on the other
side: all done by Mr. Thomas.[44]
[44] He died in March, 1862. The Prince had a high opinion of his
taste.
[Illustration: BALMORAL CASTLE FROM THE NORTH-WEST.]
LOVE FOR BALMORAL.
_October 13, 1856._
Every year my heart becomes more fixed in this dear Paradise, and
so much more so now, that _all_ has become my dear Albert’s _own_
creation, own work, own building, own laying out, as at _Osborne_; and
his great taste, and the impress of his dear hand, have been stamped
everywhere. He was very busy to-day, settling and arranging many things
for next year.
OPENING OF THE NEW BRIDGE OVER THE LINN OF DEE.
_September 8, 1857._
At half-past one o’clock we started in “Highland state,”--Albert in a
royal Stuart plaid, and I and the girls in skirts of the same,--with
the ladies (who had only returned at five in the morning from the ball
at _Mar Lodge_) and gentlemen, for the _Linn of Dee_, to open the
new bridge there. The valley looked beautiful. A triumphal arch was
erected, at which Lord Fife and Mr. Brooke received us, and walked near
the carriage, pipers playing--the road lined with Duff men. On the
bridge Lady Fife received us, and we all drank in whisky “prosperity to
the bridge.” The view of the Linn is very fine from it.
All the company and a band were outside a tent on the bank overlooking
the bridge. Here we took some tea, talked with the company, and then
drove back by _Mar Lodge_,--the Fifes preceding us to the end of
the grounds. The same people were there as at the Gatherings,--the
Campdens, Errolls, Airlies, old Lady Duff, and Mr. and Lady L. Brooke,
and others. We were home at half-past five, not without having some
rain by the way.
VISITS TO THE OLD WOMEN.
_Saturday, September 26, 1857._
Albert went out with Alfred for the day, and I walked out with the two
girls and Lady Churchill, stopped at the shop and made some purchases
for poor people and others; drove a little way, got out and walked up
the hill to _Balnacroft_, Mrs. P. Farquharson’s, and she walked round
with us to some of the cottages to show me where the poor people lived,
and to tell them who I was. Before we went into any we met an old
woman, who, Mrs. Farquharson said, was very poor, eighty-eight years
old, and mother to the former distiller. I gave her a warm petticoat,
and the tears rolled down her old cheeks, and she shook my hands, and
prayed God to bless me: it was very touching.
I went into a small cabin of old Kitty Kear’s, who is eighty-six years
old--quite erect, and who welcomed us with a great air of dignity. She
sat down and spun. I gave her, also, a warm petticoat; she said, “May
the Lord ever attend ye and yours, here and hereafter; and may the Lord
be a guide to ye, and keep ye from all harm.” She was quite surprised
at Vicky’s height; great interest is taken in her. We went on to a
cottage (formerly Jean Gordon’s), to visit old widow Symons, who is
“past fourscore,” with a nice rosy face, but was bent quite double; she
was most friendly, shaking hands with us all, asking which was I, and
repeating many kind blessings: “May the Lord attend ye with mirth and
with joy; may He ever be with ye in this world, and when ye leave it.”
To Vicky, when told she was going to be married, she said, “May the
Lord be a guide to ye in your future, and may every happiness attend
ye.” She was very talkative; and when I said I hoped to see her again,
she expressed an expectation that “she should be called any day,” and
so did Kitty Kear.[45]
[45] She died in Jan. 1865.
We went into three other cottages: to Mrs. Symons’s (daughter-in-law to
the old widow living next door), who had an “unwell boy;” then across
a little burn to another old woman’s; and afterwards peeped into Blair
the fiddler’s. We drove back, and got out again to visit old Mrs. Grant
(Grant’s mother), who is so tidy and clean, and to whom I gave a dress
and handkerchief, and she said, “You’re too kind to me, you’re over
kind to me, ye give me more every year, and I get older every year.”
After talking some time with her, she said, “I am happy to see ye
looking so nice.” She had tears in her eyes, and speaking of Vicky’s
going, said, “I’m very sorry, and I think she is sorry hersel’;” and,
having said she feared she would not see her (the Princess) again,
said: “I am very sorry I said that, but I meant no harm; I always say
just what I think, not what is fut” (fit). Dear old lady; she is such a
pleasant person.
Really the affection of these good people, who are so hearty and so
happy to see you, taking interest in everything, is very touching and
gratifying.
VISIT TO THE PRINCE’S ENCAMPMENT AT FEITHORT.
_Tuesday, October 6, 1857._
At twelve o’clock I drove off with the two girls to the “Irons,” where
we mounted our ponies, and rode up (Brown and Robertson attending on
foot) through the _Corrie Buie_, along the pretty new path through
_Feithluie_ to the foot of the very steep ascent to _Feithort_, where
we got off and walked up--and suddenly, when nearly at the top of the
path, came upon Albert’s little encampment, which was just at the edge
of the winding path.
[Illustration]
Albert was still absent, having gone out at six o’clock, but Löhlein
and some of the gillies were there. The little house, with shelves
for keeping a few boxes (no seat), and a little stove, was not at
all uncomfortable; but the wind was dreadfully high, and blew in. We
waited for about a quarter of an hour, and then Albert arrived; he had
been out since six o’clock, shot three stags, but only got one bad
one. The fine one, yesterday evening, had cost him much trouble. The
night had been bitterly cold and windy; but he had slept. We lunched
in the little “housie” at the open door. There was a second hut for
the people. Luncheon over, we walked down and across the greater part
of the _Balloch Buie_, mounting our ponies wherever it was wet. We saw
deer as we came lower down, and all of a sudden a stag was seen quite
close by the path; Albert shot him, and he fell at once. He had very
fine horns, a royal on one side.