Posts tagged ‘Balmoral’

October 22, 2017

Who owns this landscape? The Braemar poacher who would not be a rich man’s flunkey.

The year is 1843 and on the 25th of August a party of gunmen come upon a corpse; cold and stiff on the moors of Glencairney at Creagan Sgor in the wilds of Glenbuchat, a pointer dog docile at its side.

“Brave Sandy, art thou dead?” Word spread like wildfire through the Highlands.

Sandy – Alexander Davidson – a poacher, famed, renowned, notorious and, aye, a dancer of great reputation had lain down one last time never again to rise up at first light and set out over the springy heather to claim his dinner.  

Sandy was a mountaineer – a mountain man – whose home was the purple heather-clad hills of Scotland. He rejected the habiliments (clothing) of the Sassenach preferring ‘the garb of Old Gaul’ which he would close about him at night under the shelter of a rock or thicket to sleep the sleep of the just, his dog Charlie a quiet and attentive guard.

deer stalking 2

It’s easy to romanticise the poacher of the past and in truth there is a difference between those who took an animal from need and those men and women who take to the hills for the thrill of the kill, a handsome payout for a saddle of venison from a none-too-fussy restaurant owner or in other parts of the world those who indifferently help wipe out whole species for the sheer fun of it or slaughter to satisfy a yearning for horn for remedies or decoration – and I accept some of that is done by very poor people who have few alternatives to scrape a living.  

I like to photograph the graceful roe deer I encounter near here and hate to hear blasts from rifles I know are targeting these little creatures and shake my head when I come across their tiny hooves and discarded hides at a roadside. I’m fairly sure I know someone round here who does this, and it isn’t from want.

Poacher and Dancer

Alexander Davidson was born at Mill of Inver by Crathie (close to Balmoral) in 1792 and as a child was put to learn the art of gamekeeping possibly with Farquharson of Finzean*. Farquharson was a reluctant politician preferring to while away his time taking pot-shots at game on his lands. He was great friends with Lord Kennedy, a fellow ‘sportsman’ by choice who one October (of many) was ‘much amused with a wild boar hunt’ at which he shot both tusks off a fine specimen eventually felled by volleys of shots from his gentlemen companions ‘but so tenacious was he (the boar not Lord Kennedy) of life, that he did not yield it until after receiving six shots through the head and body.’

In a normal week of ‘sport’ Kennedy, Farquaharson and their gentrified mob would bravely slaughter several ‘very fine red deer’ from the safe end of a rifle and at the end of a good season would go on to celebrate at a grand ball in Braemar’s Fife Arms Inn.

Sandy Davidson also loved the thrill of a chase and kill but he had the misfortune to have been born into poverty and not upon a soft bed belonging to a family whose lands and titles came to them because of battles fought long ago or ‘arrangements’ between similarly fortunate families. Having grown up knowing these people Sandy developed a healthy loathing of toadyism and proclaimed he was not designed to doff the cap to the gentry, “sooner than be in any way a flunkey, I’d rather go and beg my bread” – admirable sentiments which upped my opinion of the man, albeit he was a poacher. And being something of a Sabbatarian, though lapsed due to his way of life on the muirs, Sandy Davidson objected to being ordered out to shoot on a Sunday by the laird so turned his back on paid employment as a gamie. Having to live somehow, Sandy – Roch Sanie – turned to smuggling of which opportunities were ample up Deeside and Donside – for venison but mainly for whisky and while his new occupation was fraught with more dangers than that of a rich man’s flunky it was very lucrative and did not involve humiliating himself in the service of another man who regarded himself superior.  

Sandy was fit, well-built and handsome with a ‘finely chiselled face’ and ‘hairy as an ox.’ In summer he dressed himself in a kilt, cotton shirt and thin tartan coat with Forfar brogues on his feet and when winter came he changed into trousers; a style of clothing he adopted out of patriotism to Scotland he explained and possibly for that same reason he generally spoke the native Gaelic although his English was very good. Gaelic was the language of the glens up Deeside until the ’45 and the Union of Parliaments determinedly set about undermining it by insisting on English being spoken in schools until most traces of it, bar place names, were near completely eliminated.   

Sandy was also renowned as a dancer; a graceful dancer with great lightness of feet and wouldn’t that be an advantage in a poacher? His Highland reels and other dances won him prizes at Highland Games and competitions around Scotland including the Caledonian Hunt Club in Edinburgh, an organisation designed to preserve Highland culture – dance and games – after decades of attempts by government to snuff it out.

At a time when Deeside’s forests provided vast amounts of timber for building and ships felled tree trunks were dragged to the banks of the River Dee strapped together in great rafts and floated down river with men on board to provide timber for Aberdeen’s shipbuilding yards. Sandy Davidson leased a section of forest from the Earl of Fife at Glen Derry and hired men to help with the treacherous river journey but this attempt to earn a legal living came to nought when the Earl of Fife was made bankrupt and failed to pay Sandy.

Having been burned once too often by the titled and wealthy estate owners Sandy picked up his bag and gun and for 20 years roamed the Highlands as a ‘free forester’ of ancient times claiming privilege of the unalienable right of a free-born Scot.

Each March found him fishing the best salmon pools on the rivers Dee and Spey and fearlessly he would walk into the water, up to his neck, irrespective of the cold and wait till he caught something or it became clear he would catch nothing.

Charlie was trained to remain quiet at the approach of strangers for the last thing Sandy Davidson wanted was to alert a gamie of his hiding place when he was in possession of a bag filled with hare or fowl. But one time Charlie did his job too well and Sandy was discovered fast asleep in the heather by a laird who demanded his name.

“My name is Alexander Davidson; what is your name?”

“My name,” replied the other, “is George MacPherson Grant of Ballindalloch, and I require you to follow me.”

Sandy was duly taken to court and fined £5. In retaliation Sandy made sure he poached the moors of Ballindalloch thoroughly after that.

He was polite and his manner encouraged the gentry to treat him with more care than they might otherwise but their laws were there to protect their property so they wouldn’t let him away with taking anything that had a price. On his ‘annual tour’ around estates he would sometimes approach a big house and ask permission to cross the land, to keep to a straight line and only kill what he required. Any laird who refused him could expect him to take his revenge in bagging as many animals and birds as he was able for cross the estate he would irrespective of an officious owner.

Said to be fearless, generous and kind-hearted Sandy Davidson became the stuff of legend.

His foot was foremost in the dance,

His laugh the loudest rang;

Nae e’e could match his mirthful glance,

Nane sung so sweet a sang.

 from Norman MacCaig ‘s A Man in Assynt

Despite tensions in his relationship with lairds several had a sneaking regard for him and invited him to entertain their guests with his dancing; his notoriety no doubt adding to his attraction.

Many a chase on a muir ended with him slipping into a bog, a moss-pot, his nose all that remained above the water till a perplexed gamie gave up the chase. But he did not always evade them and whenever he was overcome he offered no resistance but would go with the laird’s lackey for another appearance before the law. The last time this happened Sandy Davidson was apprehended near Dufftown and taken by his pursuers to Elgin via every public house along the way.  

This “perfect child of nature – as complete a Hawkeye of the old country as the times would admit of” had no home but everywhere was his home across the broad bonny face of the Highlands. One day his gun would ring out in Perthshire, another in the wilds of Lochaber, or on the muirs under the black shadow of the Cairngorms, around Inchrory where the Avon** and Don gather water or at Strathspey and the hills of Moray and Inverness.

Like Walter Scott’s Bertram he possessed:

“The steady brain, the sinewy limb,

To leap, to climb, to dive, to swim;

The iron frame, inured to bear

Each dire inclemency of air,

Nor less confirmed to undergo

Fatigue’s chill faint, and famine’s throe.”

 

In 1820 Farquharson of Finzean and Lord Kennedy had a £50 bet – £50 in 1820 was worth around £1500 in today’s value – with Davidson that he would not run without clothing from Barclay Street in Stonehaven to the gate of Inchmarlo near Banchory, a distance of around 20 miles, within a given time. Davidson had almost made it but the men had paid a posse of women under the stewardship of a Mrs Duncan to guard the Brig o’ Feugh at Banchory to prevent Davidson crossing. Duncan was paid a generous 20 shillings and the others something less to fill their aprons with stones and other missiles to chuck at the exhausted man as he attempted to run over the bridge. Mrs Duncan was also armed with a heavy knotty stick she intended to use against Sandy Davidson. As Davidson neared the brig and paused to catch his breath he noticed the trap and at the same time his enemies spotted him and began pelting him with their stones but bounding with renewed vigour the fleet-footed Davidson evaded them and crossed to the other side of the river. Later Mrs Duncan complained Sandy Davidson to be “not a man but a beast” whether from his hirsute appearance or from peak because he had foiled her efforts who knows. At any rate Sandy Davidson reached Inchmarlo within the given time and pocketed the £50.

Brig o Feugh

Behind occasional sport of this kind Davidson’s chosen lifestyle was fraught with danger. He had to go out of his way to make himself into a character to evade the tyranny of Britain’s Game Laws passed by members of parliament who as landowners created laws to benefit themselves and preserve their property rights including the wildlife that passed across the lands they claimed as theirs. Their lackeys, game keepers and river ghillies, rarely shied away from carrying out their duties irrespective of whether a rabbit or bird was being taken to prevent a family starving. For those caught a hefty fine awaited and for any who repeated the crime the prospect of transportation somewhere across the oceans. Magistrates and sheriffs fulfilled their roles to serve the wealthy, their own people, and rarely extended sympathy to the impoverished and desperate brought before them.  

Temptation must have been great for a parent living close to land teeming with food denied to them wholly on grounds they were the property of one family and were wanted for sport, a pastime, for their exclusive enjoyment. Out of necessity many risked capture and the courts to take something for the pot, and sometimes more, from under the noses of the gentry and were loudly and soundly condemned by the great and the good who regarded poaching as the nursery of robbers and murderers and poachers as desperate characters who infested the hills.

As for Sandy Davidson he lived a charmed life in many ways. He refused to kowtow to those accidentally privileged whose fortune was to be born with political rights they could use to enhance their own interests at the expense of the rest of the population.

John Stuart Blackie

John Stuart Blackie

 

Radical, humanitarian and Scottish nationalist John Stuart Blackie commented in the mid-1800s on how far removed were the privileged few from the morality of the New Testament. He was writing about the hypocrisy of the landed interests who trotted into church on a Sunday to sing psalms and pray about goodness and mercy who went back to their mansions to dine while their lackeys denied a starving child a mouthful of food. And Blackie implicated the church for its willingness to conspire with the ruling classes to maintain such inequality.

“A minister of sacred things,

He bound together, by higher ties than human law,

The men that shared his faith with awe;

He had his seat at power’s right hand,

And lords and ladies of the land

Did call him brother.”

 John Stuart Blackie’s The Cottage Manse

Sandy Davidson has long gone and so too has John Stuart Blackie but their sentiments that emerged from a different time have echoes today for here in Scotland the landed estate maintains its swagger as it endeavours to retain the privileges of power of a rotten system of elitism and inequality.

“Who owns this landscape? –

The millionaire who bought it or

the poacher staggering downhill in the early morning

with a deer on his back?”

 from Norman MacCaig’s A Man in Assynt

(Sandy Davidson 1791 – 1843)

*Finzean – pronounced Fingin

** Avon – pronounce An

See also for John Stuart Blackie – O Albin! O my country!

 

 

September 17, 2017

50 years ago today Aberdeen Youth CND beats in bid to stop the war but only stopped a car

 

Fifty years ago today: 17 September 1967

cnd demo crathie 1967

Aberdeen Youth demonstration outside Crathie Church

BANNER RILES CROWD

Hostility as two dart in path of Queen Mother’s car
Part of the 3000 crowd at Crathie Church turned hostile yesterday towards two youths who stepped in the path of the Queen Mother’s car waving a “Peace in Vietnam” banner.

One man lifted his walking stick to tear down the banner, and a woman came out of the crowd pulling at it with her hands. They had to be restrained by the police.

Apparently the demonstrators ‘ plan was to wave the banner in front of the Prime Minister’s car, but this misfired.

The incident happened as the procession of three cars with the Royal Family and Mr And Mrs Wilson was leaving the small Deeside church after the morning service.

One car with the Queen, the Duke of Edinburgh, Princess Anne and Prince Andrew had passed the corner of the roadway leading to the green bridge near the Balmoral entrance when two young men darted on to the roadway with a banner reading:

Aberdeen youth for peace in Vietnam

Up went the banner as the Queen Mother’s car approached the corner. Two police officers leapt forward and pushed the youths back to the verge.

ANGRY

People standing nearby became hostile. There were angry murmurings and the man with the walking stick hooked it under the banner in an effort to pull it down.

The crowd were told by the police to quieten down.

Mr Wilson’s car was following that of the Queen Mother but was some distance behind. The banner was down by the time he passed.

The Royal Family had driven to the church under low cloud and overcast skies. Mr Wilson and his wife were first to arrive, followed by the Queen Mother, wearing a lime coat and dress with petalled hat.

SMILES

There were smiles and waves from the Queen, dressed in a powder-blue linen coat and dress with matching hat, and Princess Anne, wearing a spring-green coat and white hat topped by a pompom.

The Duke of Edinburgh, the Prince of Wales and Prince Andrew wore the kilt.

At the service, Mr and Mrs Wilson, who are spending the weekend as the guests of the Queen at Balmoral, were seated in the Royal transept.

Text of the sermon – from the Sermon on the Mount – was “Let your light so shine before men that they may see your good works.”

(Aberdeen Press & Journal 18 September 1967)

 

Smothpubs blog link to other Aberdeen YCND anti-Vietnam war activity

March 21, 2016

Hares to the Slaughter

hare 2

Once upon a time in a land of snowy peaks and heather muirs there lived a hare whose pelt could change with the seasons. This hare was called Blue or Mountain for it had a tint of blue when the weather was fine and it turned as white as swan down when ice and snow were brought to the land of Scotland on the tail of a wind from the north.

Blue or Mountain was sometimes known as Lupus Timidus for Lupus meant hare and Timidus told what a gentle and timid creature this was.

One day evil spirits, known as the agents of darkness, claimed Blue’s land belonged to them and from that time Blue and all the other creatures of the muir lived in fear that the evil ones would hunt them down for the evil ones liked nothing better than destroying the animals of the muir for it made them feel heroic. But none of the evil ones were as fleet of foot as the creatures they stalked so they chased them on motor vehicles and fired at them with guns that could blast them to smithereens at long range or else they set metal traps that sprang shut trapping the foot of a grazing animal that might starve to death unless clubbed over the head as an alternative.

shot hares

One day a bird sat at an open window and overheard the evil forces talk of what they would do to Blue if they caught him for they blamed the hare for spreading tics which brought disease to their grouse and, they said, no other creature had the right to kill grouse who wasn’t prepared to pay to ‘bag’ them. The bird learnt that grouse were what was called property and not free birds of the sky and muirs like her.

When the bird told Blue what she had overheard Blue at first planned to escape but where could he go? The muirs were his, he thought, for generations of hares had lived in the mountains of his native Scotland for thousands of years which Blue knew was a very long time and longer than the evil spirits who claimed to own the land and the sky above into which grouse were released before being promptly shot back out of it.

The animals of the muir living in a place called the Cairngorms National Park gathered together to discuss what could be done to put an end to the persecution of Blue by the mob of evil ones. First to speak was a rook, who was a very intelligent bird,  and told of something called the BBC which told stories it wanted people to believe and one of them was how landowners, who the rook explained was another name for the evil forces, sought to reassure the public that mountain hares must be culled. The rook told how the BBC had UNDERLINED words which meant they must be believed and it accused Blue of endangering plants, though it never provided any evidence for this claim.

bbc hare

 

“An organisation representing landowners has sought to reassure the public on the culling of mountain hares.

The Scottish Moorland Group has responded to concerns raised earlier this month about the shooting of the animals in the Cairngorms.”

All the assembled animals gasped for Blue’s future sounded bleak as it was widely known that when the evil forces spoke of culls it was for the animals own good though none at the meeting had ever spoken to a culled creature who had returned to tell the good it had done them.

A red deer that had been nibbling at grass during the discussion spoke up – “I lost my brother to an evil one who admired his antlers so much he said they would look better hanging on a wall in his castle,” she reported sadly. “When I asked questioned him the evil one and his friends laughed and waved their rifles at me and told me it was legal and when things are said to be legal for people it often spells bad news for us animals.” The deer then lay down and listened to the others.

“I’ve had to flee persecution,” whispered a fox recently arrived in Scotland from England.

The fox’s words were met with a growl that was traced to a sleek black dog whose mouth hung open revealing a jaw full of sharp teeth. “Too many like you makes a need for culls,” he snarled.

The other animals studied the dog who some suspected lived with the evil ones. “Culls are only necessary when too many of one kind of animal lives in these parts,” it barked underlining its message that responsibility for culls lay with the animals and not those who did the culling. 

“Who decides there are too many?” enquired an owl.

“Those who manage the land,” snarled the dog, “it is a responsibility they take very seriously. Land doesn’t just look after itself it has to be managed and that means everything on it. Only insiders know what’s best for the land not external commentators.”

“It used to manage itself very nicely,” said a Golden eagle, “back at a time there were many like me, now I fly for miles without seeing another of my kind.

“I don’t want anyone deciding if I live or die, I’d prefer to do that myself,” remarked the owl but by now the black dog had slunk away.

The rest of the animals sighed for they could see no escape from the evil forces, specially now they learnt what they did was LEGAL. They suspected for all of them there was a season when they might be killed LEGALLY even though they believed the land belonged to them as much as it did to the evil forces.

What will happen once Blue is killed? asked a voice from the back. Surely a Scottish muir without Blue would be less beautiful for us all? They turned to the rook for an answer.

“If Blue was property his death might be delayed but he is what is known as vermin and the evil forces are sworn to remove vermin whenever they choose, LEGALLY,” explained the rook sagely. He looked over at the deer who was paying no attention.

“My family were hunted to near extinction in a time called feudal,” purred a wild cat, “are we still living in feudal times?” it asked.

hare

“Oh I think we are,” chirped a grouse, looking over its shoulder in the direction the black dog was last seen.

As jagged-tooth traps snapped and guns blasted both day and night the creatures of the muirs ran for their lives in all directions. The last they saw of their friend Blue was him running uphill as fast as his legs could carry him with the forces of evil on his heels.

The Raptor blog https://raptorpersecutionscotland.wordpress.com/tag/mountain-hare/

http://www.heraldscotland.com/news/14340402.Outrage_of_landowners_mass_killing_of_mountain_hares/

June 19, 2015

The Monarch Abideth: Queen Victoria Comes to Aberdeen

Victoria

Guest blog by Textor

 

As much as Scotland has now a reputation for trashing the status quo in British politics it’s sad but probably true that the Scots since the Union of 1707 have favoured monarchy over republic.   Even the attempt to overthrow the established state in 1715 and 1745 was in large part to do with re-establishing the rule of an ousted royal family, the Stuarts.   The Stuart cause was defeated, extreme violence, cultural suppression and changes in the mode of Highland landholding took the heart out of the clan system.   And irony of ironies by the end of the 18th century many of the members of the formerly oppositional tribes had rallied to the British flag (with the enthusiastic urging at times of their commercially orientated clan betters) with the kilted Highlander becoming an icon for all that was brave and loyal in the post 1746 world and after the Crimean War many a kilted “Jock” proudly wore the mark of valour, a Victoria Cross.

Having leased Balmoral Castle Queen Victoria first journeyed to Aberdeen in 1848. She swiftly adopted not the manners and culture of the locals but what she thought was their mode of dress.   She and her husband Albert adored tartan and when in 1852 they bought Balmoral, their Highland Home, tartan became de-rigueur, found on floors, walls, attendants and covering the Royal torso.   With the political and military threat from the Stuarts dealt with, so the trappings (or what was claimed to be the trappings) of clan society could be brought back to the daylight and used to demonstrate the Royal affinity felt for the Scots’ traditions and their nation, at its most visually preposterous when George IV wore pink tights in 1822.

For Aberdeen Victoria’s Balmoral, the royal connection became an object of local pride and a cultural link in an ideological chain which helped secure many Aberdonians fast to the established order.   Until the 1840s Royal Visits had been few and far between, but now, with Balmoral so close to the city visits became at the very least an annual affair affording subjects frequent opportunity to see the monarch.  

When Victoria first landed at Aberdeen the harbour was in the process of converting from entirely tidal to one with a lock system ensuring some deep water berthing at part of the quayside although other areas at low water still stank and consisted of mud banks, betraying effluent and occasionally bodies.   And it was to this mix of a very insanitary and an increasingly viable commercial harbour that she arrived on the 7 September 1848.   The Aberdeen Journal, a local conservative newspaper, was overjoyed and immediately set about constructing an identity for Victoria and Balmoral, something which the paper hoped would lead Aberdonians to show deep respect and some reverence (being then a Presbyterian country straight worship of the monarch would have been idolatrous) not only for the Queen but for all that she embodied, in other words the British state.   Aberdeen, Victoria and Balmoral all became agents in an ideological threesome.

When it became apparent in August 1842 that the Queen was to tour Scotland Aberdeen Journal assumed that all who bear the name Scotsmen would be naturally aware of their duty and have the correct inclination i.e. fervent loyalty. This for a tour which missed Aberdeen.   Six years later the Queen’s highland jaunt was scheduled to include Aberdeen, the local newspaper was overjoyed: God Bless Her; the new harbour lock almost completed was, if not the very wonder of the world then at least one of the noblest work in the kingdom and would provide an impressive berth for Victoria’s ship.   By the end of August 1848 the Town Council had prepared to meet Her Majesty and the editor of the Journal believed that the visitors would find a city at fever pitch with loyalty, greater than any ever previously seen in the Granite City; sounding like a free market in ideological emotion the editor wrote that citizens will vie with each other in acts of devotion.  

Balmoral

There is a question mark over the extent to which the weekly newspaper directly impacted on the working classes of Aberdeen as it was relatively expensive (4½ old pence) there still being a tax on newspapers, a circumstance introduced specifically to put radical publications out of circulation. The Journal was not directed at working classes but largely at the “opinion forming” men (not women) of the city, primarily businessmen and professionals including clergy, especially men of the Church of Scotland most of whom could be relied on to give a lead or place a restraining hand on all who might be inclined to republicanism.   This was not an academic question as it was a time of revolutions on the Continent and Chartism at home, not to mention unrest in Ireland .   So serious was the latter that Victoria and her advisors decided to cancel a visit to this particular “dominion”- The Times noted that sound-minded and sound-hearted Englishmen would approve cancelation of the Irish tour as it would save the Queen being confronted by wretches and seditious and calumnious cries.   Just in case any wretches might confront the Queen in Aberdeen Special Constables were sworn-in to keep order as the royals processed through the town.

The occasion became an opportunity to show loyalty and make money.   Leading the charge in this was a local shopkeeper, Martin the Hatter on Union Street, a man with a keen sense of advertising who placed many humorous and lengthy ads. in the Journal.   Victoria’s coming visit was too good an opportunity to miss: he called for Three Hurrahs for our Noble Queen for the mother of Britain’s future, and was pleased to report that Scotland has not degenerated from the loyal and patriotic feeling which has ever characterized her as a nation; first extolling patriotism he then went on to the hard sell advising customers it would not do to gaze at the Queen wearing an unseemly old hat better that they should be seen in Martin’s beautiful Satin Hats.

As Martin laid in a stock of silk hats so also the Town Council prepared by commissioning the building of a triumphal arch bearing the Royal Arms and national banners all under the supervision of the City Architect John Smith.   Additionally an immense ampitheatrical stage was erected to hold 2000 spectators anxious to behold the person of their beloved Queen.   The Journal confidently predicted that Aberdonians, a free and enlightened people, would show a deep feeling of attachment . . . towards the person and Government of Her Majesty.   The beauties and tranquillity of Balmoral and Deeside were emphasised and the editor asked that Victoria be allowed to enjoy them undisturbed much as was said to be attainable by her humblest subjects.  How far the lives of Aberdeen ‘s unemployed, not to mention the distressed in Ireland, were tranquil and beautiful is a moot point and not one that concerned the Journal.  

Effusive exclamations of loyalty began to pour from the mouths of the North East’s great and good.   Civic heads, churchmen and local aristocrats met to assert their devotion to Victoria and all that she symbolised stressing that in no part of the Empire could your Majesty be surrounded by more loyal, more attached, and more devoted subjects.  

In the event the royal party arrived twelve hours early on the 7 September, catching the expectant Aberdonians off-guard, many still in their beds, but in an act of gracious condescension the Queen chose to remain on board the royal yacht in order that her subjects were not disappointed.   Victoria and Albert appeared on deck with their interesting children . . . arrayed in the simplest garb . . . the picture presented was one of high moral power and grandeur, producing an ecstasy of feeling which could only vent itself in tears.   The Queen stood on deck as mother of her children and by implication mother of the nation, capable of love, affection and through her government a strong hand when required, as had been applied to Chartists and others.   Hinting at how things had changed since the Stuart’s had sought to impose themselves upon Britons through Divine Right the editor stressed devotion was freely given by rational beings, not because of idle or superstitious regard for rank or outward show, but from a solid conviction of the many privileges and blessings which they enjoy under her sway.   In other words she was monarch under parliament.

Victoria

It was from this visit of September 1848 that the whole sorry mess of Victoria and Deeside emerged.   There’s little doubt that the area gained from the royal connection, especially after the railway was pushed westward 1853-1866 (although Victoria insisted as much as the hoi polloi might love her she did not want them disgorging from trains near Balmoral, hence the railway stopped at Ballater).   She bought Balmoral from the Earl of Fife’s estate in 1852 and finding the property, a pretty little castle, too modest had built the silliness which stands by the banks of the Dee.   Almost 170 years on and Balmoral remain a favourite amongst many Royals and is still a potent part of the ideology of the British state even if today the Monarch must tolerate the great adoring unwashed walking in the castle grounds, through the castle doorway and gawking as she attends services at Crathie Kirk.   Some might see this as a sign of the willingness and ability of the of the Royals to be “just like us”.   But they are not like us, they are part of an institutional framework which helps maintain class divisions and the ruling power of capital.   Reminders of Victoria’s foundational role in this abound in the North East not the least being signage for the Victorian Trail.   In this tale of forging mind-chains the Queen is dead but the Monarch abides.