---

CHAPTER IV.

The Queen’s Visit to Kensington—Garden Party at Buckingham Palace—Review at Aldershot—Gift of a Battleship—The Prince of Wales’s Hospital Fund—The Jubilee Medals—Conclusion.

ON the Monday after the Review the Queen returned from Windsor to the Metropolis. She was received everywhere with enthusiastic greetings of loyalty and affection. It was no mere conventional reception this. The Nation had realised lately, as never before, the part their Queen had played in the building of the Empire, and one and all flocked out to do her honour. Her Majesty had returned to London to attend the garden party which was to be held in the grounds of Buckingham Palace in the afternoon. On her way from Paddington Station she visited Kensington, the place of her birth.

In front of St. Mary Abbott’s Church, Kensington High Street, the Queen stopped and received a splendid bouquet of roses at the hands of the Princess Louise. |The Queen’s Visit to Kensington.| Then the Marquis of Lorne presented the Chairman of the Vestry, who handed Her Majesty a loyal address, in which Kensington recalled with pride its long and many Royal associations. The Queen’s reply was characteristic and particularly interesting in view of recent events:—

“I thank you for your loyal and kind address. It gives me great pleasure to receive the assurance of devotion and goodwill from the inhabitants of Kensington, and I gladly renew my associations with a place which, as the scene of my birth and of my summons to the throne, has ever had, and will ever have, with me solemn and tender recollections.” The Queen then drove on to the Palace, 10,000 school children singing the National Anthem as she passed through Kensington Gardens.

The subsequent garden party in the gardens of Buckingham Palace was one of the most brilliant functions on record. The weather was beautifully fine, and there was a unique attendance of Royal and other guests; the Colonial Premiers were present, and the whole of the special envoys of Foreign Powers and other distinguished Jubilee guests. |Garden Party at Buckingham Palace.| The grounds were opened at four o’clock, and in a very short time the dresses of the ladies and the brilliant uniforms of men transformed them into a moving blaze of colour. Her Majesty’s guests amused themselves in a variety of ways—a favourite form of diversion being a row on the Palace lake, on which were a large number of boats in charge of picturesquely-attired Queen’s watermen.

When Her Majesty had traversed the lawn, and Lord Lathom had pointed many of the people out to her, she moved to the entrance of her own tent, and sat sipping tea and eating strawberries, with a white apron—the strings of which passed over her shoulders—spread on her lap in the homeliest fashion.

The Naval Review had been an exhibition of our first line of defence, and though there was nothing in the nature of boastfulness or arrogance about it, it was such a demonstration as could have been made by no other Power—perhaps, by no two Foreign Powers in combination. |Review at Aldershot.| The Military Review at Aldershot on July 1 was, of course, a much more modest affair, but the quality of the troops employed imparted a distinction to the function which went far to compensate for their smallness in numbers. Judged by Continental standards our Army is insignificant in size, but it must always command respect. Its traditions are splendid, and its recent achievements completely satisfactory. Some of the foreign Princes who were present with the Queen at Aldershot on July 1 had seen ten times as many soldiers in review, but it is safe to say that not one of them had ever seen a finer body, man for man, than the 28,000 British troops gathered together on Laffan’s Plain. The presence among these of detachments from so many British Colonies added a significance to the proceedings that could not have been paralleled at a Military Review anywhere else in the World.

About a quarter-past four o’clock the Queen drove up in a carriage. The troops were arranged in the shape of three sides of a great rectangle, Her Majesty occupying the centre of the vacant side. A Royal Salute was given, and then commenced the march past. The honour of marching in the van had been assigned very properly to the Colonial troops, consisting of 434 cavalry, 184 artillery and engineers, and 423 infantry.

The troops which followed represented almost every branch of the regular army and made a splendid show. But here, as in the Jubilee Procession itself, the Colonial contingent attracted the greatest share of attention. To see gallant horsemen and steady marching infantry in picturesque unfamiliar uniforms from every Continent all following the same flag and serving the same Queen was to receive a new and inspiring impression of the Empire. The red spaces on the map of the earth’s surface we had known from childhood’s day to represent portions of our own Empire—but the impression was a vague one until we saw Canadian, Australian, and South African, actually under arms in defence of their and our Queen, as much as of their own distant homes. It was then brought home to us, with startling effect, how great is the birthright of every Briton, how great the privileges attaching to such citizenship—and how great the responsibilities. These men came to us, not in gratitude for any priceless advantages we have bestowed upon them—for we have done nothing of the kind—but simply because their blood is the same as ours, their traditions the same, and their sympathies. We are still well able to take care of ourselves; but who shall say that the Old Country may not one day need the strong, right arms of her children across the seas?

That our Colonial troops are not merely ornamental soldiers their shooting at Bisley, at the meeting which ended on July 10, amply proved, if their splendid horsemanship and marching had not proved it before. Though for the most part entirely unused to the new Lee-Metford rifle, they secured the Kolapore Cup, and, in a year which produced record scores, held their own against the picked marksmen of our Regulars and Volunteer Army.

The Review was brought to an end with the defiling past of the infantry. A splendid effect was produced when the infantry gave the Royal salute, and then burst with one accord into shouts of cheering—bonnets and busbies being thrown up into the air or waved frantically on bayonet points. The Queen returned to Windsor the same evening, and the Jubilee celebrations proper were over.

On Saturday, July 10, a dinner was given at the St. George’s Club, Hanover Square, in honour of the Colonial Premiers, five of whom were present. A distinguished company assembled; but the occasion would not have merited mention in a history of the Queen’s reign, had it not been for a speech made by the Right Hon. G. J. Goschen, First Lord of the Admiralty. |Gift of a Battleship.| In language, the very simplicity of which riveted attention from the first—coming as it did from the most eloquent member of Lord Salisbury’s Cabinet—Mr. Goschen announced that he had that day received a battleship from Sir J. Gordon Sprigg, representing the Government of Cape Colony! His actual words were:—

“To-day I have had an interesting scene, a simple scene, but one which will come home to all of you. I received the present of an ironclad at the hands of a British Colony. (Loud cheers.) There was no ceremonial, there was no great reception, there was no blare of trumpets; but Sir Gordon Sprigg simply came to the First Lord of the Admiralty and told him that the Cape Colony was prepared to place an ironclad of the first-class at the disposal of the Empire. (Cheers.) I thank him on behalf of the English nation, I thank him on behalf of the Government, and I thank him also on behalf of the Empire at large, of which the Cape Colony is so distinguished a part. That offer of a first-class battleship is accompanied by no conditions; but it is proposed that that ship shall take its place side by side with those sister ships, paid for by the British taxpayer, which many of you have seen at Spithead. (Hear, hear.) No conditions attach to it; it is a free gift intended to add to the power of the British Empire.” (Cheers.)

This statement evoked expressions of great enthusiasm from the gentlemen who dined at the St. George’s Club that night; the next morning it thrilled the entire nation. The zenith of the Jubilee celebrations of 1897 was reached; a self-governing Colony had come forward and presented to the Crown the most magnificent gift of which history has any record! Jewels and gold and the richest products of Oriental looms have been showered on our Empress-Queen until her palaces have become museums of priceless offerings; but that of the Government and people of Cape Colony outvalued these as much as they outvalue the treasures of ordinary men. Not so much the gift itself, however, but the spirit of the givers touched the heart of the British people. Not in their most visionary dreams had Imperialists contemplated such a consummation as this. Sentiment, so often and so thoughtlessly derided, had triumphed over the cold calculations of the “practical” politician, and the foundation-stone of a united Anglo-Saxon Empire had been laid.

There are a few other features of the Jubilee celebrations which demand notice before this narrative is brought to a close. Chief among these is the Prince of Wales’s scheme for establishing the London hospitals on a firm financial basis—the greatest charitable project in a year made memorable by many such undertakings. So far back as February 6, when a thousand Jubilee plans were being discussed, a statement of the Prince’s own wishes in the matter had appeared in the newspapers. |The Prince of Wales’s Hospital Fund.| His Royal Highness began by saying that the Queen herself had no wish to express an opinion as to the form any celebrations might take. In the absence of any declaration on the part of Her Majesty, His Royal Highness felt at liberty to lay before the inhabitants of London a scheme very dear to his heart. Briefly explained, they were that such a sum of money should be secured, in the form preferably of annual donations, as should suffice to free the London hospitals of debt for ever. An additional annual income of from £100,000 to £150,000 was necessary.

At the time of sending these pages to press, it is not known how far His Royal Highness’s wishes have been realised; but it is stated that a sufficient amount has been collected to relieve the hospitals permanently of some of their more pressing needs. A device, characteristic of the age, was resorted to to swell the proceeds of the fund. Two Hospital Stamps were issued under authority, and sold at 2s. 6d. and 1s. each, the more expensive one being of a red colour and the less expensive blue. An artistic group representing Charity, after Sir Joshua Reynolds, occupies the centre of each stamp. The legend “1837: The Queen’s Commemoration, 1897” runs along the top, and at the bottom appear the words, “Prince of Wales’s Hospital Fund, Albert Edward, Prince,” the signature being a facsimile of His Royal Highness’s handwriting. The sale of these must have been prodigious, but until the Hospital Fund’s accounts are made up it will be impossible to judge how far philatelists all over the world availed themselves of the opportunity to add these unique specimens to their collections. The dies from which the Hospital Stamps were printed were subsequently destroyed in the presence of the Duke of York at the Bank of England. Another happy idea was the publication of an official programme, authorised by the Prince of Wales, of the Jubilee Procession. The programme, which was sold at a shilling a copy, was admirably illustrated. The entire profits were devoted to the Hospital Fund.

The commemoration medals struck to celebrate the Diamond Jubilee were eagerly bought up by all classes of Her Majesty’s subjects. They were, perhaps, the most artistic things ever issued from the Royal Mint, though the small size of some of them interfered sadly with the effect of the design. |The Jubilee Medals.| The prices were as follows:—Large gold, £13; small gold, £2; large silver, 10s.; small silver, 1s.; and large bronze, 4s. It was a happy idea to give on the reverse of the medals the Queen’s head, by W. Wyon, as it appeared on the coinage for 1837 to 1887. The choice of the motto—“Longitudo dierum in dextera ejus et in sinistra gloria”—could not have been bettered if the whole of literature had been searched through. The head, by Brock, on the obverse, first used in 1892, is undoubtedly the most satisfactory likeness of the Queen that has appeared on the coinage. In the gold medals the metal was unpolished, and the large silver ones were covered with a thin coating of platinum, the burnished appearance of newly-stamped coinage being thus avoided, much to the advantage of the design. In both cases the metal was of the purest quality, and it is interesting to note that there was actually £12 15s. worth of gold in the £13 medal.

Innumerable publications relating to the Jubilee were issued from the Press. The Illustrated London News’ special number was a triumph of colour-printing; the “Golden Number” of the London Daily Mail was, as its name indicates, printed entirely in gold, and found a ready sale at 6d. a copy.

Reviewing the Jubilee celebrations as a whole it is impossible not to be struck by the leading characteristic of them all—their complete success. The Sovereign Lady in whose honour everything was done, was delighted with all; her subjects throughout the Empire enjoyed themselves hugely; not a single accident dimmed the happiness of Jubilee Day in London; the Procession was the most splendid ever witnessed; the Review at Spithead transcended in magnificence anything of the kind recorded in the annals of our navy; and the Review at Aldershot was a triumph for our brave little army. Almost as remarkable was the exaltation of national sentiment manifested at this time. It seemed as if we had suddenly discovered that we belonged to a very great Empire, and were overjoyed at the thought of it. When we saw the Colonial Premiers and the Colonial soldiers, we realized for the first time that we were co-heirs with them to a hundred Empires, and our imaginations were kindled. Our political views widened out to the furthest horizon and we were Conservatives and Liberals no longer, but Imperialists. We wanted but a sign from the Colonies themselves to declare ourselves Imperialists for ever, and we received a hundred signs. The offer of a battleship from the Cape Colony was the greatest of these signs, but it was only one of many. The Colonial Prime Ministers came to us bearing messages of affection from the great new Britains they represented, and in one or two instances their proposals shadowed forth measures of great advantage to us and to them. Canada, in particular, offered a considerable reduction of the tariff in return for the reception of Canadian goods on terms which have hitherto been rendered impossible by the existence of commercial treaties between this country and Germany and Belgium. She asked, in fact, for liberty to trade with this country on terms specially advantageous to both ourselves and Canada; and in promptly giving notice to terminate the treaties referred to, Lord Salisbury’s Government accorded to Canada the honour of taking the first practical step towards solving the fiscal difficulties which stand in the way of Imperial federation. The exhortation of the great bard who represents so strongly the spirit of the Victorian age seemed now for the first time to have come right home to the heart of the nation:

It is well that this first great reunion of the Anglo-Saxon race should have taken place on the occasion of the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee Commemoration. Let us hope that she may live to see another and even greater Jubilee, another gathering together of the scattered members of her Empire!

GOD SAVE THE QUEEN.

---

The Portraits of Author and Composer are from Photographs by Window and Grove, London, and Kilpatrick, Belfast.

---