The last bulletin was issued on 14th January, and nine days later Sir William Jenner was gazetted a K.C.B. and Dr. W. Gull was created a Baronet—rewards which gave particular satisfaction to the nation.

It was whispered at the time that King Edward, under Providence, really owed his recovery to one of those sudden inspirations of genius of which the history of medicine is full. He seemed to be actually in extremis, when one of his medical attendants sent in haste for two bottles of old champagne brandy and rubbed the patient with it vigorously all over till returning animation rewarded the doctor’s efforts.

King Edward’s recovery was hailed with feelings of deep thankfulness by the whole nation, and it was universally deemed appropriate that public thanks should be returned to Almighty God for His great mercy. The utmost interest was taken by all classes of society in the preparations for the proposed National Thanksgiving. Mr. William Longman wrote to the Times urging that, as in 1664 and 1678, subscriptions should be invited for the completion of the Cathedral Church of St. Paul in London as a perpetual memorial of the event.

During the interval before the day fixed for the National Thanksgiving, King Edward and Queen Alexandra paid visits to Windsor and Osborne. When they returned to London one of the first visitors they received was Dr. Stanley, who had now become Dean of Westminster. It was resolved that they should attend a private service of thanksgiving in the Abbey, which the Dean thus describes in a letter to an intimate correspondent:—

“I went to Marlborough House to suggest, through Fisher and Keppel, that the Prince of Wales should come. He consented at once, and it was agreed that he, the Princess, and the Crown Prince of Denmark, and if in town, Prince Alfred, should come. I kept it a secret except from the Canons. We met them at the great Western door; the nave (as usual) was quite clear. They walked in with me, and took their places on my right. I preached on Psalm cxxii. 1. The Prince of Wales heard every word, and has decided that it shall be published, which it will be, and you shall have a copy. It was one of those rare occasions on which I was able to say all that I wished to say. They were conducted again to the West door, and departed.”

The day fixed for the public National Thanksgiving in St. Paul’s was 27th February, and never, save perhaps on 22nd June 1897, did Queen Victoria and her eldest son and daughter-in-law receive a more splendid and heartfelt welcome. Thirteen thousand people were admitted to the Cathedral, among them being most of the notable personages of the day, including all the great officers of State.

The procession set out from Buckingham Palace at twelve o’clock. First came the Speaker, the Lord Chancellor, and the Commander-in-Chief, in their carriages, followed by nine Royal equipages, in the last of which sat Queen Victoria, dressed in black velvet trimmed with broad bands of white ermine, Queen Alexandra in blue silk covered with black lace, King Edward in the uniform of a British general and wearing the Collars of the Orders of the Garter and the Bath, Prince Albert Victor then a boy of eight, and Princess Beatrice. The late Duchess of Teck, to her great grief, could not be present, as her eldest son had sickened with scarlet fever.

In the Green Park the procession was greeted by an army of 30,000 children, who sang the National Anthem as the Royal carriages drove by.

St. Paul’s was reached at one o’clock, and the Royal party were received at the great West door by the Dean and Chapter. Queen Victoria passed up the nave leaning on the arm of her son, who conducted Her Majesty to a pew which had been specially prepared for the occasion.

The service began with the “Te Deum,” and after some prayers a special form of thanksgiving which had been officially drawn up was said. Then the Archbishop of Canterbury preached a short sermon from the text, Romans xii. 5, “Members one of another.” The service concluded with a thanksgiving hymn which had been specially written for the occasion. The proceedings were over by two o’clock, and the procession returned by a different route, along Holborn and Oxford Street, in the presence of an enthusiastic crowd said to be the largest ever collected in London. As the poet sings:—

Two days later Queen Victoria wrote from Buckingham Palace to Mr. Gladstone, who was then Prime Minister, one of those touching letters which on many occasions drew still more closely together the ties of loyalty and affection between Her Majesty and her people. The Queen wrote that she was anxious “to express publicly her own personal very deep sense of the reception she and her dear children met with on Tuesday, the 27th of February, from millions of her subjects on her way to and from St. Paul’s. Words are too weak for the Queen to say how very deeply touched and gratified she has been by the immense enthusiasm and affection exhibited towards her dear son and herself, from the highest down to the lowest, in the long progress through the capital, and she would earnestly wish to convey her warmest and most heartfelt thanks to the whole nation for this great demonstration of loyalty. The Queen, as well as her son and dear daughter-in-law, felt that the whole nation joined with them in thanking God for sparing the beloved Prince of Wales’s life.…”

Although the Duchess of Teck had not been able to attend the Thanksgiving Service at St. Paul’s, she returned to England in time to take part in a great ceremony which took place on the 1st of May at the Crystal Palace. Referring to this occasion, she writes:—“We drove down to Sydenham with Louise as Alfred’s guests to attend the fête in celebration of Wales’s recovery. Concert: Sullivan’s Te Deum, Miscellanies with Titiens.”

The impression made by King Edward’s illness and marvellous recovery upon the Royal family in general is well illustrated by the following passage from a letter written by Princess Alice to her mother in December 1872:—

“That our good, sweet Alix should have been spared this terrible grief, when this time last year it seemed so imminent, fills my heart with gratitude for her dear sake, as for yours, his children and ours.… The 14th will now be a day of mixed recollections and feelings to us, a day hallowed in our family, when one great spirit ended his work on earth … and when another was left to fulfil his duty and mission, God grant, for the welfare of his own family and of thousands.”

CHAPTER XI
1873-1875

The year 1873 was spent on the whole very quietly by the King and Queen. His Majesty took up once more the thread of his public life which had been interrupted for a considerable time by his illness and convalescence.

A pleasant glimpse of the home life at Sandringham about this time is given in the following letters from the witty and eloquent Archbishop Magee (then Bishop of Peterborough), written to his wife:—

King Edward and Queen Alexandra represented Queen Victoria at the marriage of the Duke of Edinburgh and the Grand Duchess Marie of Russia in January 1874. The English marriage service was performed by Dean Stanley, who wrote to Queen Victoria an interesting letter describing the Imperial wedding, in which he mentioned how much he had been struck, both in the chapel and at the subsequent banquet, by the singular difference in character and expression of the four future kings, the Prince of Wales, the Crown Prince of Prussia, the Cesarewitch, and the Crown Prince of Denmark, who were all present.

On the Sunday following the wedding King Edward and Queen Alexandra attended the service at the English Church in St. Petersburg, and the Dean preached on the marriage feast at Cana in Galilee, much the same sermon which he had preached in the Chapel-Royal at Whitehall on the Sunday following the marriage of their Majesties. All through this visit to Russia their Majesties were received with unusual distinction, and a grand parade of troops was held in honour of King Edward.

King Edward dined in the Middle Temple Hall on Grand Night of Trinity term in 1874. On this occasion His Majesty humorously expressed the opinion that it was a good thing for the profession at large, and for the public in general, that he had never practised at the Bar, for he could never have been an ornament to it. In saying this his modesty probably led him astray, for he is a thoughtful and lucid speaker, and his habits of method and order would certainly have stood him in good stead if he had been compelled to apply his mind to any profession. His Majesty was elected a Bencher of the Middle Temple in 1861, and served the office of Treasurer in the Jubilee year of 1887.

When King Edward and Queen Alexandra were first married they always gave two great balls at Marlborough House each year—one on the anniversary of their wedding day, and one at the close of the London season. But the most splendid entertainment ever given by their Majesties was the great fancy dress ball in July 1874. Over fourteen hundred invitations were sent out, and the Royal host and hostess made no stipulations as to the choice of costume, leaving it to individual taste. The Queen wore a Venetian dress, and was attended by her two young sons as pages. The King appeared as Charles I., wearing a costume exactly copied from the famous Vandyke picture, that is, a maroon satin and velvet suit, partly covered with a short black velvet cloak, while the black hat, trimmed with one long white feather, was looped up with an aigrette of brilliants. He also wore high buff boots, long spurs and sword, while round his neck hung the Collar of the Garter.

Many of the costumes worn were very interesting and curious. In the Fairy Tale Quadrille, the Earl of Rosebery, then quite a youth, was Blue Beard; Mr. Albert (now Earl) Grey, Puss in Boots; and the Duke of Connaught, the Beast. Lord Charles and Lord Marcus Beresford were a couple of Court jesters. The only person present who was not in fancy dress was Benjamin Disraeli, then Prime Minister. He wore the official dress of a Privy Councillor.

That same year the King and Queen visited Birmingham for the first time, being received by the then mayor, Mr. Joseph Chamberlain, who was at the time credited with being so advanced a Republican that many fears were expressed that he might behave with scant courtesy to his Royal guests, and bets were even taken as to whether he would consent to shake hands with them! However, these prognostications proved groundless, and it is particularly interesting to recall the comment which the Times made on the following day:—

“Whatever Mr. Chamberlain’s views may be, his speeches of yesterday appear to us to have been admirably worthy of the occasion, and to have done the highest credit to himself. We have heard and chronicled a great many mayors’ speeches, but we do not know that we ever heard or chronicled speeches made before Royal personages by mayors, whether they were Tories or Whigs, or Liberals or Radicals, which were couched in such a tone at once of courteous homage, manly independence, and gentlemanly feeling, which were so perfectly becoming and so much the right thing in every way as those of Mr. Chamberlain.”

On the same day that this appeared in the leading journal, Sir Francis Knollys wrote to Mr. Chamberlain a most cordial letter, in which he said:—

“I have received the commands of the Prince and Princess of Wales to make known through you to the inhabitants of the borough of Birmingham the satisfaction they derived from their visit to that town yesterday. They can never forget the reception they met with, nor the welcome given to them by all classes of the community.… I may further congratulate you and the other members of the reception committee on the happy result of their labours. Nothing could have been more successful, and their Royal Highnesses will ever entertain most agreeable recollections of their visit to Birmingham.”

In conclusion, Mr. Chamberlain was informed that the King wished to give £100 to a Birmingham charity, and was asked to state which he considered to be the most deserving, and at the same time the most in need of support.

The festivities of the following Christmas were overshadowed by the death at Sandringham from inflammation of the lungs of Colonel Grey, who had been for some time a valued member of the Household. It was with reference to this sad loss that Princess Alice wrote to Queen Victoria:—“Dear Bertie’s true and constant heart suffers on such occasions, for he can be constant in friendship, and all who serve him, serve him with warm attachment.”

In 1875 the death of Canon Kingsley came as a great blow to their Majesties, who were both fondly attached to the famous writer.

CHAPTER XII
THE KING’S TOUR IN INDIA

Lord Canning, the great Viceroy of India, once told the Prince Consort how desirable he thought it that the Prince of Wales should, when grown up, visit Queen Victoria’s Eastern Empire, and later on, those who had the privilege of the young Prince’s friendship were well aware that an Indian tour had become one of his most ardent wishes.

But the project of the Heir-Apparent’s visit to India only really took shape early in 1875, and on 20th March it was publicly announced that the Prince contemplated this journey, the Marquis of Salisbury, who was then Secretary of State for India, making an official announcement to the Council of India of the intended event. The Council passed a resolution that the expenditure actually incurred in India should be charged on the revenues of that country.

Curiously enough, a great deal of hostile feeling was aroused by the announcement of this Royal tour. On 17th July a great meeting was held in Hyde Park to protest against the grant of money which was then being sanctioned by Parliament to defray the expenses of the journey. Many people went so far as to declare that they would have acquiesced in the passing of the vote had the Heir-Apparent’s visit to his mother’s Eastern dominions been a “State visit” instead of a mere “pleasure trip.” And yet it need hardly be pointed out that, greatly as King Edward looked forward to his tour, the journey was likely to prove anything but a mere “pleasure trip” to India’s Royal visitor. He and those about him well knew that from the moment he landed at Bombay till the day he left India he would not only constantly remain en évidence, but he also expected to conciliate the many different races with which he was going to be brought in contact when passing through the various Indian States.

There were many points to be considered about the tour. The rules and regulations which had sufficed for the Prince in Canada and the Colonies were inapplicable to India. One notable feature of Oriental manners is the exchange of presents between visitors and hosts, and it was early arranged that King Edward’s luggage should contain £40,000 worth of presents to be distributed among the great feudatory and other potentates who would have the honour of entertaining or at any rate of meeting him.

It was also arranged that he was to be the guest of the Viceroy, Lord Northbrook, from the moment he landed on Indian soil; and, roughly speaking, it was estimated that the expenses of the reception alone would probably come to about £30,000. The estimate made by the Admiralty for the expenses of the voyage to and from India, and the movements of the fleet in connection with the Royal visit, came to £52,000; while for the personal expenses of the visit a vote of £60,000 was included in the estimate submitted to the House of Commons when in Committee of Supply. However, here again this suggestion did not meet with universal approval when the necessary resolution was brought forward in the House. Mr. Fawcett, afterwards Postmaster-General, raised a discussion, basing his objections to the vote partly on sentimental and partly on economic grounds. However, he only found thirty-three members to agree with him, and the vote was passed. During the debate, Mr. Disraeli, who was then Prime Minister, drew a very remarkable picture of the extraordinary pomp and circumstance with which King Edward was about to be surrounded.

It was felt better that he should go as Heir-Apparent of the Crown, and not as the representative of Her Majesty, but, as might have been expected, these fine distinctions were not understood in India, and he was expected to do just as much as he would have done in a more directly official capacity.

Before starting on his tour he thoroughly studied the subject of India and her peoples, and he even made himself acquainted with the peculiarities of every one of the large Indian cities where he would be expected to receive and answer addresses.

The question of the suite was, as may be imagined, very important. It was early decided that Sir Bartle Frere, whose name was familiar to millions of the inhabitants of India, should accompany King Edward, and the Duke of Sutherland was also asked to join the party. Of his private friends, the Earl of Aylesford, Lord (now Earl) Carrington, Colonel (now General) Owen Williams, and Lieutenant (now Admiral) Lord Charles Beresford, also accepted an invitation to be of the party. Then came the official Household, consisting of Lord Suffield; Colonel Ellis, the Prince’s equerry, to whom was confided the delicate question of the giving and receiving of presents; General (now Sir Dighton) Probyn, to whom were left the arrangements for horses, travelling, and shooting parties; and Mr. (now Sir Francis) Knollys, the Prince’s private secretary. Canon Duckworth went as chaplain, and Dr. (now Sir Joseph) Fayrer as medical man. Mr. Albert Grey (now Earl Grey) went as private secretary to Sir Bartle Frere, Mr. S. P. Hall accompanied the party in order to sketch the incidents of the tour, while Lord Alfred Paget was specially commissioned by Queen Victoria to join the suite. Dr. W. H. (now Sir William) Russell, the famous war correspondent, who was temporarily attached to the suite as honorary private secretary, wrote on his return a very interesting account of the tour, entitled “The Prince of Wales’s Tour in India,” which has remained the standard authority on the subject.

On the day that King Edward left Sandringham, amid many demonstrations of goodwill and wishings of God-speed from his country neighbours, he presented his Consort with a team of Corsican ponies and a miniature drag. He spent the last few days of his stay in England with Queen Alexandra and their children at Marlborough House. On the Sunday before his departure they were all present at divine service in Westminster Abbey, and the next day the King went to say good-bye to his old friend Dean Stanley, who, in a letter to an intimate correspondent, gave the following vivid description of the visit:—

“On the Sunday night we had a message to say that the Prince and Princess of Wales would come to take leave of us at 3.30 P.M. the next day. They came about 4 P.M., having been detained by the members of the family coming to Marlborough House.

“They brought all the five children, wishing, the Prince said, to have them all with him as long as possible.

“They all came up, and remained about twenty minutes. Fanny was in the back library, and the children, after being for a few minutes with Augusta, who was delighted to see them, went to her.

“The Prince and Princess remained with Augusta and me. A. talked with all her usual animation. They were both extremely kind. The Princess looked inexpressibly sad. There was nothing much said of interest, chiefly talking of the voyage, etc. As I took him downstairs, he spoke of the dangers—but calmly and rationally, saying that, of course the precautions must be left to those about him. I said to him, ‘I gave you my parting benediction in the Abbey yesterday.’ ‘Yes,’ he replied, ‘I saw it. Thank you.’

“Later on in the evening Augusta wished me to telegraph our renewed thanks and renewed good wishes to the Castalia at Dover. I did so, and at 11 P.M. there came back a telegram from him: ‘Many thanks for your kind message. God bless both of you! Just off for Calais!’”

King Edward started from London on 11th October, immense popular interest being taken in the event. Huge crowds assembled long before the departure of the special train from Charing Cross, and the King and Queen Alexandra were wildly cheered. The Queen accompanied her husband as far as Calais, and then the King travelled across the Continent incognito, meeting his suite, who had started a few days previously, at Brindisi.

The eventful journey was made in the Serapis, one of the old large Indian troopships, and the voyage was very successful from every point of view. The Royal party spent a few days at Athens, where the King was entertained by his brother-in-law, the King of Greece, to whom he had brought a number of gifts from Sandringham, including an Alderney bull and cow, a ram and sheep, several British pigs, and a number of horses.

From the Piræus the Serapis proceeded to Egypt, and King Edward invested Prince Tewfik, the Khedive’s eldest son, with the Order of the Star of India.

As the Serapis steamed onwards the various programmes of the Royal progress through India were submitted to the King, and even the addresses which were to be presented to him were shown and his answers were carefully prepared; in fact, before he left Aden, His Majesty knew with what words the Corporation of Bombay, for instance, would receive him.

As may be easily imagined, all India was by now in a ferment of excitement, and the official world were very much concerned at the immense responsibility placed upon them by the mother-country. Four officers, of whom two had obtained the Victoria Cross, were carefully selected and commissioned to look after the comfort and the safety of the King and of his suite, Major Bradford (afterwards Sir E. R. C. Bradford, Chief Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police) being entrusted with the responsible task of attending to the safety of the Royal visitor’s own person.

The question as to how King Edward was to make his first appearance in Bombay was keenly discussed, and at one time it was thought that splendidly caparisoned elephants would form the most fitting mode of transport from the landing-stage to Government House, but finally the party went in carriages. Among the cargo of the Serapis were three valuable horses, specially chosen from the Marlborough House stables, which had been regularly taken to the Zoo, in order to be accustomed to the sight of the wild beasts and reptiles which they were likely to meet with in India.

At last it was noised abroad that the Serapis had been sighted, and the Viceroy, Lord Northbrook (afterwards Earl of Northbrook), went out to meet King Edward, returning to Bombay in order to receive him on landing. There was a good deal of discreet curiosity as to which of them would give precedence to the other, for of course the Viceroy represents Her Majesty, and so was entitled to take precedence, but Lord Northbrook, with considerable tact, unobtrusively gave his Royal guest the first place.

The moment the King emerged from the dockyard a salute was fired, and at every station in India, whether important or obscure, the signal was given by telegraph for a Royal salute wherever there were guns to fire it.

While actually in Bombay King Edward and his suite became the guests of the Governor, Sir Philip Woodhouse, and it was there that two days after his arrival in India the King celebrated his thirty-fourth birthday, the first object which met his eyes in the morning being a charming portrait of Queen Alexandra, who had specially entrusted it to Sir Bartle Frere. On this eventful day the glories and the fatigues of the King’s Indian tour may be said to have begun.

The Royal birthday was duly honoured all over Hindustan at noon, and although the heat, even at 8 A.M., had been very considerable, the King was compelled to hold a great reception in full dress, that is to say, in a uniform of English cloth loaded with lace and buttoned up to the throat. The scene was very impressive. The King during the reception was seated on a silver throne, and everything was done to invest the affair with the greatest pomp and circumstance. His suite all stood round him in full uniform; behind the throne was a portrait of Queen Victoria; and although the King was not supposed to hold durbars, the ceremony being simply styled a private visit or reception, it was in every way as impressive and remarkable as if it had carried full official significance.

An immense number of native Princes and Rajahs paid their respects in person to their future Sovereign. The first potentate to be presented was the Rajah of Kholapur, a child of twelve years old, the ruler of nearly a million people. The little Rajah was attired in purple velvet and white muslin encrusted with gems, his turban containing a King’s ransom of pearls and rubies. In spite of his extreme youth the Indian Prince remained perfectly serious, and went through the somewhat complicated ceremonies with absolute self-possession.

After the last Rajah had departed, King Edward had a long talk with the Viceroy, and then made his way to the Serapis, where he had the pleasure of seeing the crew enjoying the birthday dinner provided by himself. He also cut a birthday cake, and looked over the telegrams just received from Sandringham. That same evening was held a great reception, to which naturally the British officials and residents came in great force.

The next few days were also equally well filled. King Edward had to pay elaborate return visits to the chiefs and Rajahs who had attended his reception, and it was then that he was enabled to show his tact and the extraordinary knowledge he had acquired of their complicated ranks and genealogies; indeed, he greatly pleased several important Rajahs by showing that he had heard of the antiquity of their families, and by graciously alluding to the gallant deeds of their ancestors. The British people of Bombay had organised a great dinner for the sailors of the fleet, and, much to their gratification, the King consented to attend the banquet. Not content with a mere formal glance at the proceedings, he mounted a plank, and with a glass in his hand, exclaimed to the delighted men, of whom there were over two thousand present, “My lads, I am glad to meet you all. I drink your good health, and a happy voyage home.”

King Edward took the opportunity of laying the foundation-stone of the Elphinstone Docks, the ceremony being carried out with Masonic honours, and it was considered very interesting and significant that among members of the craft present were Parsees, Mahomedans, and Hindus.

During the month of November the King visited Poona, where he held a review, and visited the Court of the Gaikwar of Baroda. There a fine elephant was prepared for his use. The animal was of extraordinary size, and the howdah on which the King rode was said to have cost four lakhs of rupees. He held a reception at the Residency, and had his first sight of Indian sport, for he attended a cheetah hunt, himself killing a fine buck, and much enjoying his day’s sport. About the same time he also joined a pig-sticking expedition, a very popular Indian sport, and at last, to his great satisfaction, had the opportunity of “getting his spear,” in other words, of killing a wild boar.

Then, returning to Bombay, the Royal party once more took up their quarters on the Serapis, where the King spent Queen Alexandra’s birthday. From Bombay he found time to visit the Portuguese settlement of Goa, and thence went on to Ceylon, where he inspected a tea plantation, and where the peepul planted by him in commemoration of his visit is still proudly shown to the ubiquitous globe-trotter.

At Madras the King had a splendid reception, spending, however, 14th December, the anniversary of his father’s death, in retirement at Guindy Park, the country seat of the Governor, eight miles from the city.

Christmas Day was spent in Calcutta, where an immense programme was gone through, including a considerable number of public ceremonies, the holding of audiences, and last, but not least, a levée, at which both natives and Europeans were present. After the King and the Viceroy had attended divine service in the Cathedral, His Majesty entertained a large party at lunch in the Serapis. His health was drunk with Highland honours, and many messages were exchanged between himself and “home.” On the afternoon of the same day the Royal party drove out to the Viceregal Lodge at Barrackpur.

The most important ceremony attended by King Edward in India, namely, a Chapter of the Order of the Star of India, at which he acted as High Commissioner for his Royal mother, was held on New Year’s Day 1876. His Majesty wore a field-marshal’s uniform, almost concealed beneath the folds of his sky-blue satin mantle, the train of which was carried by two naval cadets, who wore cocked hats over their powdered wigs, blue satin cloaks, trunk hose, and shoes with rosettes. The Chapter tent was carpeted with cloth of gold with the Royal Arms emblazoned in the centre. An immense number of the Companions of the Order attended, forming a most impressive procession, walking two and two, one half native and the other European. The Begum of Bhopal, the first Knight Grand Commander, had a procession all to herself. She was veiled and swathed in brocades and silks, over which was folded the light blue satin robe of the Order.

The King took his seat on the daïs, and after the roll of the Order had been read, each member standing up as his name was called, the Chapter was declared open, and His Majesty directed the investiture to proceed. Never had such a gathering been seen in India. Among those present were Lord Napier of Magdala, “Political” Maitland, the Maharajah of Kashmir, and the Rajah of Patiala, who wore the great Sancy diamond in his turban.

As each investiture took place, seventeen guns were fired, and the secretary proclaimed aloud the titles of the newly-made Knight Grand Commander or Companion as the case might be. The pageant was incomparably splendid, the close of the ceremony being quite as fine as the beginning, for the Knights Grand Cross, the Knights Grand Commanders, and the Companions all formed once more in a procession in the reverse order of their entry.

At the close of the King’s visit to Calcutta he began his journeys by rail. At Benares he visited the famous Temples, and the Golden Pool, going from thence by steamer to the old port of Rammagar, where he and his suite were splendidly received by the Maharajah, who presented him with some very costly shawls and brocades, together with what is to an Indian the very highest proof of regard, namely his own walking-stick, a thick staff mounted with gold.

At Lucknow the King laid the foundation-stone of a memorial to the natives who fell in the defence of the Residency. On this occasion he took the opportunity of paying a well-deserved tribute to the faithful soldiers of the native army. Some of the veterans were presented to him, and they were not allowed to be hurried by, ragged, squalid, or unclean; indeed, His Majesty insisted on exchanging a few words with several of them.

While at Lucknow he took part in a pig-sticking expedition, at which Lord Carrington’s left collar-bone was broken, and curiously enough, Lord Napier of Magdala met with a precisely similar accident on the same day.

From Delhi the King proceeded to Cawnpore, a spot he had been extremely anxious to visit, in common with many less illustrious tourists. His Majesty, after a drive to the site of the old cantonments, where the heroic defence took place, made his way to the Memorial Church, where he stopped close to the gateway which no native may pass through. There he alighted, and, with signs of deep emotion, walked to the spot which marks the place of the fatal well. There was deep silence as he read aloud in a low voice the touching words, “To the memory of a great company of Christian people, principally women and children, who were cruelly slaughtered here.”

On returning to Delhi the King held a levée, attended by hundreds of British officers, at the close of which several notabilities of the native army were presented. The next day a great review was held, Lord Napier of Magdala entertaining His Majesty at his own camp. Delhi was illuminated, and no trouble was spared in showing what was once the capital city of India to the Royal visitor.

Some interesting hours were spent at Agra, where the King went to see the Taj illuminated, the beautiful marble “Queen of Sorrow” erected by the Shah Jehan in memory of his much-loved wife, Moomtaz i Mahul, who died at the birth of her eighth child. The King was so greatly charmed with the beauty of the Taj, lit up by myriad lights, that he would not return to the city till nearly midnight. All through the journeys and expeditions which immediately followed, His Majesty could not forget what he had seen, and before finally leaving the district he paid one more visit to the famous tomb, seeing it this time not illuminated, but by the beautiful full Indian moonlight.

The King shot his first tiger on 5th February in the neighbourhood of Jeypur, but it was by no means the last, for it is recorded that he shot six tigers in one day when hunting in Nepaul with Sir Jung Bahadur. Then he returned through Lucknow, Cawnpore, and Allahabad. At Jubbulpur His Majesty went through the prison, and had some talk with seven Thugs who had been thirty-five years in confinement, and whose life in the first instance had only been spared because they had turned Queen’s evidence. The King questioned them as to their hideous trade, and one man, a villainous-looking individual, answered proudly, in reply to the question as to how many people he had murdered, “Sixty-seven.”

King Edward and his suite left Bombay for home on 13th March, just seventeen weeks after the Serapis had first dropped anchor in Bombay harbour. During those four months he had travelled close on 8000 miles by land and 2500 miles by sea, and during that time he had become acquainted with more Rajahs than had all the Viceroys who had ever reigned over India, and he had seen more of the country than had any living Englishman.

The intelligence that Queen Victoria was about to assume the title of Empress of India had become known before the Serapis left Bombay, and caused her son great gratification. Curiously enough, the King met Lord Lytton, who was on his way out to Hindustan to succeed Lord Northbrook as Viceroy, when the Serapis was going through the Suez Canal.

The Royal party spent five days in Egypt. By 6th April Malta was in sight, and the King was received there with great enthusiasm, as was also the case at Gibraltar, where he had the pleasure of meeting his brother, the Duke of Connaught. From there the Serapis proceeded by easy stages round Spain, the King taking the opportunity of visiting Seville, Cordova, Madrid, the Escurial, Lisbon, and Cintra. At Madrid King Alfonso came to meet the King at the station, and they drove together to the Palace, going from there to Toledo in order that the Royal visitor might inspect the famous manufactory of Toledo blades.

As the Serapis anchored near Yarmouth the King was informed that Queen Alexandra and the Royal children had come to meet him on board the Enchantress. He immediately went on board their ship, bringing Her Majesty and their children back with him a little later on board the Serapis.

It need hardly be pointed out that King Edward received a very remarkable number of gifts during his tour in India. The cost of a gift made to him by a native Prince was supposed to be strictly limited to £2000 in value, but in many cases this restriction was evaded by the present being priced at a nominal sum, the real value being anything from £5000 to £30,000. As an actual fact the splendid collection brought home by His Majesty, which is his own personal property, is said to be worth half a million sterling.

Some time after his return home the King kindly allowed his Indian gifts to be exhibited to the public. They were afterwards distributed between Marlborough House and Sandringham, a considerable portion of them finding a resting-place in the Indian room of Marlborough House. There also were carefully stored away in solid silver cylinders all the addresses received by the King during his eventful Indian tour.

King Edward, who takes the very keenest interest in live animals, brought back quite a menagerie with him from India, and the quarters in the Serapis assigned to his pets was for the time being a veritable Zoo, for there were tigers, elephants, ostriches, leopards, birds, ponies, cattle, monkeys, dogs and horses, some of which spent a peaceful old age at Sandringham.

There can be no doubt that from a political point of view the tour was a great success, doing much indirectly to consolidate the British power in India. It is also a curious commentary on the objections raised by the economy party to the visit that no less a sum than £250,000 was spent in London alone by native Princes in buying presents for His Majesty.

The principal incident of the voyage home had been a farewell dinner given by the officers of the Serapis to the King and his suite when the vessel was nearing harbour.

The table was laid for forty on the main deck (called the Windsor Long Walk), which was decorated with flags, trophies of arms, and ornaments. After Queen Victoria had been duly honoured, Captain Glyn proposed King Edward’s health, and begged him to accept an album as a keepsake from himself and his officers. It contained, besides a large photograph of every officer, photographed groups of the men and the Guard of Honour, views of different parts of the ship, and photographs of a few favourite animals.

The real popularity of the King’s visit to India was significantly proved by the popular demonstrations which awaited him on his return. Enthusiastic greetings of welcome hailed him in the evening both at Victoria Station and in his drive round by Grosvenor Place, Piccadilly, and St. James’s Street to meet the Queen at Buckingham Palace. The appearance of the King and Queen at the Royal Italian Opera in the evening, within two hours of their reaching home, was a particularly graceful act of consideration. Nothing could surpass the enthusiasm with which they were greeted when they were seen in the Royal box.

During the days that followed, their Majesties received congratulatory visits from all the members of the Royal Family then in England, and from many distinguished personages. On the Sunday after his return, King Edward, accompanied by his Consort, the Duke of Edinburgh, and the Duke of Connaught, attended divine service at Westminster Abbey in the afternoon, when special thanksgivings were offered up for His Majesty’s safe return from India.

Soon afterwards the King was entertained at a banquet and ball given by the Corporation of the City of London at the Guildhall. The temporary building erected for this brilliant assembly, to which over five thousand were invited, occupied the whole of Guildhall Yard. The reception hall was on the basement floor, the ballroom being built above it, and was beautifully decorated and draped with Oriental hangings. A daïs had been erected for their Majesties; and the scene is described as a combination of quaintly mediæval magnificence with modern luxury and elegance. The reception ceremony took place in the new library of the Guildhall, where an address of welcome, in a golden casket of Indian design, was presented to the King by the Lord Mayor. His Majesty, in a brief reply, said that it was his highest reward and his greatest pride to have received from the citizens of London and his countrymen such a welcome at the termination of a visit which had been undertaken with the view to strengthening the ties that bound India to our common country. The invitation tickets for this brilliant function were both beautiful and appropriate, the Star of India and the Taj Mahal at Agra figuring prominently in the design.

Among the other entertainments given in honour of the King’s return may be mentioned a concert at the Albert Hall. King Edward and Queen Alexandra on their arrival were received by a Guard of Honour of 120 bluejackets from the Serapis, the Raleigh, and the Osborne, under the command of Captain Carr Glyn, and in the vestibule were all the Council of the Albert Hall, wearing the Windsor uniform. At their head was the Duke of Edinburgh in naval uniform. The vast hall was crowded with a distinguished audience.

CHAPTER XIII
QUIET YEARS OF PUBLIC WORK, 1876-1887—VISIT TO IRELAND—QUEEN VICTORIA’S GOLDEN JUBILEE

The year 1876 was marked, in addition to King Edward’s return from India, by a curious example of His Majesty’s tact and courage. He consented to preside at the special Jubilee Festival of the Licensed Victuallers’ Asylum, and this action aroused an extraordinary amount of feeling in temperance circles. Before the day of the festival he had received more than 200 petitions from all over the kingdom begging him to withdraw his consent. His Majesty, however, attended the festival, and in his speech pointedly referred to his critics, observing that he was there, not to encourage the consumption of alcoholic liquors, but to support an excellent charity, which had enjoyed the patronage of his honoured father.

It is interesting to note the manner in which King Edward always refers to his father, with whom he undoubtedly has far more in common than is generally supposed. Perhaps the most conspicuous taste shared by the father and the son is a really keen and personal interest in exhibitions of all kinds. This was probably first realised by those about him twenty years ago, when the King accepted the onerous duties of Executive President of the British Commission of the Paris Exhibition of 1878. He threw himself with ardour into this work almost immediately after his return from India, and during a short visit which he paid to France in that spring he received a considerable number of official personages connected with the approaching exhibition.

The King, accompanied by Queen Alexandra, unveiled in the following July a statue of Alfred the Great at Wantage, the birthplace of the famous King. The statue was the gift of Colonel Lloyd-Lindsay (afterwards Lord Wantage), the sculptor being Count Gleichen (Prince Victor of Hohenlohe-Langenburg). King Edward is a lineal descendant of King Alfred by the intermarriage of the Saxon with the Norman reigning houses in the eleventh century, and it was most appropriate that he should have been invited to perform the ceremony.

In January 1878 King Edward, accompanied by Prince Louis Napoleon, visited the late Duke of Hamilton at Hamilton Palace, in Lanarkshire. The Crown Prince of Austria was also a guest of the Duke at the time. The King greatly enjoyed this visit to the premier Peer of Scotland, who is of the ancient lineage of Scottish Royalty. The Royal visitors enjoyed some excellent sport in the historic Cadzow Forest—Cadyow having been granted by King Robert the Bruce after the battle of Bannockburn to Sir Gilbert Hamilton, the ancestor of the present Duke. Here still remain the few old oaks of the once great Caledonian Forest, immortalised by Sir Walter Scott in his ballad of “Cadyow Castle”; and here are also the wild white bulls of the same breed as preserved at Chillingham, and the famous Cadzow herd of wild cattle.

This year of 1878, so brilliant in Paris, brought to the British Royal family a bereavement which can only be compared for its suddenness and bitterness with the death of the Prince Consort. The Grand Duchess of Hesse (Princess Alice), after nursing her children through a malignant diphtheria, herself fell a victim to the same dread disease on the very anniversary of her father’s death. The blow fell with peculiar severity on the King and Queen Alexandra, with whom Princess Alice had been united in the bonds of the closest affection, especially since the King’s illness, in which she had proved herself so devoted a nurse. The link between the Royal brother and sister is significantly shown by the fact that Princess Alice never visited England without paying long visits at Sandringham or at Marlborough House. The King was one of the chief mourners at the funeral in Darmstadt.