oh, hi mark

"Arms are so difficult to draw"...

While the Duke and Duchess of York (the future King George V and Queen Mary) were away on a royal tour in 1901, King Edward VII and Queen Alexandra commissioned an artist, Mrs. Gertrude Massey, to paint miniature portraits of their children, David, Bertie, Mary and Harry, as surprise gifts for them on their return. Mrs. Massey spent a lot of time with the children and got to know them well, and they became very fond of her.

In her memoir, Kings, Commoners and Me (1934), Massey described each of the children. She saw Prince Edward (David) as the "the most interesting" and Princess Mary as "the most mischievous".

As for little Bertie, she related a story of how one day he asked if he could draw her, "for a change", and she obliged him. As he drew, she observed "His face was so expressive, one could almost read his thoughts." His expression showed that he was pleased with his drawing, except for one thing.

"Would you mind if I don't give you any arms?'' he asked. "Arms are so difficult to draw."

Aw, Bertie!!! <3

I enjoy reading about these little moments throughout his life when Bertie's creative side would shyly show itself. I think he did have a creativity about him; he just didn't really get a lot of opportunity to explore it. Although he was never interested in fine arts and culture the way his younger brother the Duke of Kent was, I think he enjoyed designing and creating and was proud of these accomplishments in his humble way.

For instance, he loved landscape gardening, (once he wrote a letter in the "language of Rhododendrum"!). He did needlepoint, and created a set of 12 chair covers for Royal Lodge. He also designed the George Cross and George Medal himself. And of course there was his life long interest in photography and filming, which I can particularly relate to and understand. Even during his last Sandringham Christmas, King George designed trousers to be worn with the Order of the Garter robes instead of the traditional knee pants and Prince Philip photographed him wearing them. It has been repeated often that when he got interested in something, he was all in! That is the essence of a creative spirit, in my eyes.

What a sweet, sensitive soul.

ABOVE: The Daily Mirror - October 19, 1938

ROYAL VISIT TO CHILDREN'S HOSPITAL (British Pathé)

Today marks 70 years since Queen Elizabeth II acceded to the throne, following the death of her father, King George VI.

This is the first footage we have of Elizabeth as Queen, taken by Philip.

Various royals sitting for their portraits, painted by Philip de László, early 20th century.

“Albert enjoyed having a second family life. He grew very attached to Phyllis, or Phiggie, as he called her, and would wander into the woods and fields when at Sandringham for the weekend to find jay feathers to send to her, sometimes writing two or three times in a single day. Phyllis provided some welcome maternal affection, while Louis was always the father figure urging Albert on, pushing him to have fun, to test himself and to embrace the opportunities before him. And Albert did gain confidence.”

- from The King Maker: The Man Who Saved George VI by Geordi Greig

Just my extra two cents: while I really enjoyed this book and its insights into the royal family (some of the Queen Mary stuff is great), I do sometimes feel that Louis Greig is given too much credit for Albert’s personal development. The success of their relationship was not owed to Louis alone - it was also because of Albert’s character; he was willing to listen and he worked very hard on himself. Almost too much so! He did credit Louis with "saving his life" (it was Greig who convinced George V to let his son have surgery for the ulcer that debilitated him for three years) but I think he was way too modest in that way; he always wanted to credit others for his own successes. But that's just my own opinion. No doubt, the relationship between Louis and Albert was an important one and Greig was the right man for the job.

23 January 1936 | King George V’s funeral cortege passes through London on its way to Westminster Abbey. During the procession, part of the Imperial State Crown, which sat atop the King’s coffin, fell off. Some footage of the funeral procession shows the crown without the Maltese cross and orb.

As [the coffin] passed through streets packed to capacity with silent crowds, the Maltese cross - set with a sapphire said to have belonged to Edward the Confessor, eight medium-sized diamonds and 192 smaller diamonds - inexplicably fell from its place at the very top of the [Imperial State] Crown. Having caught a ‘flash of light dancing along pavement’, the new King’s [Edward VIII] instinct was to pick it up until, as he wrote, ‘a sense of dignity restrained me.’ 

‘Fortunately,’ he went on, ‘the Company Sergeant-Major bringing up the rear of the two files of Grenadiers… had also seen the accident. Quick as a flash, with scarcely a missed step, he… scooped up the cross with his hand, and dropped it into his pocket. It seemed’, said the King, ‘a strange thing to happen; and, although not superstitious, I wondered whether it was a bad omen.’