PILLARS’ of the KING'S HOUSE

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 566, 19 January 1929, Page 24

PILLARS’ of the KING'S HOUSE

At Sandringham the King Is Squire —But Mr. Beck Is Right-Hand Man

iNDRINGHAM considers the Royal family its \ own private property. ; The villagers talk of ; the King and Queen y I “coming home” to stay among them. Windsor end Buckingham Palace are doubtless all very well in their way, Balmoral L q nice enough for a fishing and shooting holiday, but. argue the people of Sandringham (in the broadest Norfolk dialect), what’s the use of pretending that “they” are at home unless “they” are with us? And, although the burgesses of Windsor and the clansmen of the Peeside may be annoyed. Sandringham is right. in Norfolk the King becomes the squire and the Queen the squire’s lady. Here they can put off ihe trappings of great place and play at being a plain, everyday married couple. There are several conspirators who spend their lives helping them io sustain the charming illusion. Chief among them is Mr. Beck, the 4 squire's” agent, who has managed io make the Sandringham estate the model of efficiency and good order for ihe rest of the country. He is a tall, lean, massive boned man, grey-headed and moustached, with the stride of a giant, and an air of quiet command. He lives with his wife and his sons in a pretty house inside the grounds of Sandringham House, near to York Cottage. His office adjoins it. and from here he has directed the affairs of the King for many years. There is not a man or woman or

child on the estate that does not know Mr. Beck. For his part, he knows the history of each one of the tenants, as well as that of their family, relatives and friends. If you call on him Mr. Beck will receive you with a grave and oldfashioned courtsey, and offer you a i glass of sherry. Accept it, for you will not often again taste so sound 1 a wine. He will transact your busi- ! ness for you almost before you have ! realised that he has begun to look : into it, paying the same attention to ! it whether it concerns a trifle or the whole future of a farm. He is dili- : gent, thoroughness personified. You him in his most typical frame of mind driving on a tour of inspection round the estate with the King. Both in tweeds, looking round them, stopping every half-mile to inspect this or that improvement, deep in earnest conversation, they have only one thought in their minds — Sandringham. The King inspects, comments, suggests, approves and criticises just as ihough his Norfolk estate were his life's work; and Mr. Beck assists him

in maintaining the illusion. This ; ■ complete change of interest is, of j course, his Majesty’s best recreation and holiday. Mr Beck knows it, and takes care that while he remains at Sandringham nothing but Sandring- ! ham shall occupy his mind. A friend of Mr. Beck’s and a frequent visitor to Sandringham is Mr. Richard Marsh, of Newmarket, for j many long years trainer of the i “squire’s” racehorses, and of his I father’s before him. Genial, ruddy, and the best of company, Mr. Marsh ; is always popular, and Sandringham laments that since he retired his ap- ; pearances have been less frequent. Inevitable post-war economy has ! diminished the amount of money ; available for the “squire’s” string of horses, and perhaps Mr. Marsh lai ments the grand old days when he won the Derby for King Edward with ! Minouru, but be is never despondent| over the prospects of the Royal col- | ours. Nothing has delighted him so ; mtich for years as the victory of I Scuttle in the Two Thousand Guineas. I though, of course, he had nothing to I 'do with the filly’s training.

On Newmarket Heath Mr. Marsh is a king. He and his brother have been In the sport df kings for so many years, and their shrewdness and integrity are so famous that their judgment is valued above rubles by racing men. One morning a few years ago one of Mr. Marsh’s daughters, then a little girl not long out of the nursery, was walking toward Newmarket. A well-dressed man approached and. raising his hat with an air of deference, said to her: “You do not happen to know what your father thinks of his horse’s chances in the second race to-morrow, do you, my dear?”

Though his racing stable may not fully maintain the tradition of his father’s, the “squire’s” pedigree stock, his Cleveland bays and his draught horses are the envy of all the other competitors at agricultural shows throughout the country. Sandringham and Windsor are the headquarters of these among his interests, and naturally Sandringham thinks that Windsor’s part in the business is purely nominal. At all events one cannot believe that Mr. Beck mentions Windsor when he accompanies the “squire” on a visit to the farms where these magnificent animals are bred.

They are all charming, these folk down in Norfolk, from Mr. Beck to Queen Alexandra’s old coachman, whom you will find pottering about the stables, convincing' himself that he is very busy. “He won’t retire,” they will tell you, “so he just comes and does what he likes.”