The saddle-room is not the least fascinating portion of the stable-yard. Much of the harness is silver and gold-plated. Queen Alexandra has always preferred brown harness to black, and all that used by her is made in tan leather, with brass mounts.

There are a number of interesting photographs and paintings, including a picture in oils of a very beautiful chestnut mare, Victoria, long ridden by the Queen, and given to her when she was a bride by Queen Victoria. Below this portrait of a departed favourite is one of her hoofs mounted in silver, with the name of the owner written across. There are some valuable prints of celebrated trainers and jockeys, with some of the latter’s whips, spurs, and caps. A “Vanity Fair” cartoon of the King, surrounded by a number of his friends at Newmarket, is also given a prominent place in the Sandringham saddle-room; and not the least interesting memento now there is Mr. John Porter’s silver-wedding gift to his Royal patrons. In a silver frame, surmounted by the Prince of Wales’s feathers, is a white velvet tablet with the name “Ormonde” woven from the famous race-horse’s hair. The border contains pieces of the hair of thirty-three famous winners, the name of each being in silver letters beneath. Close by is to be seen the racing-saddle generally used by Fred Archer.

Parallel with the stables runs the building known as the kennels. At one time, in the paddock between the stables and the kennels, there was a bear-pit, but the occupant thereof was sent to the Zoo after the King’s valued head-keeper, Mr. Jackson, had been hunted by Bruin just when he was about to feed him with some peculiarly bearish delicacy. This corner of Sandringham is by no means confined to horses and dogs. Here also were kept some of Queen Alexandra’s pet cats; a number of doves descended from the single pair presented to Her Majesty during her first visit to Ireland; her Australian pigeons, quite unlike the more humble home variety; a Barbary dove belonging to the Duchess of Cornwall and York; and some very fine water-fowl, to say nothing of “Cockie,” the Princess of Wales’s cockatoo, who was said to be over a hundred years old.

The kennels are, in their way, quite as fine as the stables. They are very cleverly arranged, all fitted with hot-water pipes, and admirably ventilated. The dogs are exercised in the park, in three paddocks in front of the kennels, or in a large yard paved with red, blue, and brick tiles. All the food consumed in the kennels comes from special kitchens attached to the building. There is also a dog hospital and a nursery, always occupied by one or more litters.

The King and Queen are both keen dog-fanciers, and they possess some of the very finest animals in the world. They both exhibit at the leading shows, and Her Majesty is the Patron of the Ladies’ Kennel Association.

This chapter must not be concluded without reference to a curious little book, published some years ago by one who must be regarded as absolutely unique—namely, an aggrieved tenant at Sandringham. This lady had differences with the agent of the estate, and to revenge herself for her supposed grievances she wrote this obviously prejudiced account of her late landlord at his country home.

The following extracts from the book written by this hostile witness are therefore significant indeed of the tenour of our King’s life in Norfolk:—

“Whenever I went (to Sandringham) I never failed to spend a pleasant evening, and received more courtesy from my illustrious host and hostess than from any house I ever was in. The Prince is noted for his powers of entertainment and exertion to make every one enjoy themselves. When a ‘house-party’ is expected he superintends the arrangements and remembers their particular tastes and pursuits. A gouty squire who once grumbled at having to go, was completely mollified at finding a room prepared for him on the ground floor, the Prince thinking he would prefer it. The effect of a visit to Sandringham upon a certain order of Radicals, who are treated with the greatest deference, is perfectly astounding. It acts as a patent conjuring machine—a Republican stuffed in at one end, a Courtier squeezed out at the other.

“The Sandringham festivities were so arranged that all classes could share in them; and what with County, farmers’, and servants’ balls, labourers’ dinners, visits to country houses, meets of the hounds, and other sociabilities, everybody from far and near had the opportunity of making acquaintance with their Royal Highnesses.”

Of the servants’ parties at Sandringham she says:—

“The house party, equerries, ladies-in-waiting, and all invited from the neighbourhood, were ordered to join in, no shirking or sitting out allowed, and when the sides had been made up, the Prince and Princess set off with their partners, round and round, down the middle and up again, and so on to the end, the Prince the jolliest of the jolly and the life of the party, as he is wherever he goes. I never saw such amazing vitality. His own Master of the Ceremonies, signalling and sending messages to the band, arranging every dance, and when to begin and when to leave off, noticing the smallest mistake in the figures, and putting the people in their places. In the ‘Triumph,’ which is such an exhausting dance, he looked as if he could have gone on all night and into the middle of next week without stopping, and I really believe he could.… Almost before one dance was ended the Prince started another, and suddenly the Scotch Pipers would screech out and the Prince would fold his arms and fling himself into a Highland fling, and so on fast and furious until far into the small hours of the morning.”

CHAPTER XX
THE KING IN LONDON

Not long after the King’s accession, extensive alterations were ordered to fit Buckingham Palace, which had been for a long time only occupied occasionally, to be the town house of His Majesty and Queen Alexandra. It is probable that their Majesties would have preferred to remain at Marlborough House, which is endeared to them by the most intimate associations, both of joy and of sorrow; but in this, as in so many other instances, the King divined by quick intuition that his loyal subjects would wish that their Sovereign and his Consort should reside in the palace which is not less closely linked in the popular imagination with the British monarchy than Windsor Castle itself.

It is evident that in all that concerns State ceremonial and the décor of a magnificent Court, King Edward is resolved to abate not a jot of his regal dignity. But so much of His Majesty’s life was passed at Marlborough House, and the beautiful old Georgian mansion was for so long the centre of his social, philanthropic, and official activities, that no biographical sketch of the King would be complete without some account of what went on there.

There is scarcely an object in the house which does not remind the King and Queen of some happy incident of their joint lives. The very carpet in the drawing-room was presented to them on the occasion of their wedding; and His Majesty’s great interest in everything that concerns the history of the country and of the Empire is strikingly shown in each of his homes, for the rooms of both Marlborough House and Sandringham are lined with fine paintings and engravings recalling great events of the Victorian era.

Although Marlborough House is the official residence of the Heir-Apparent, it is considered a private house for taxation purposes, and is rated at over £1000 a year.

The King’s study at Marlborough House, where none but his intimates are admitted, looks like the room of a hard-working man of business. He works at an old-fashioned pedestal desk-table, exactly resembling the one used by his father. The desk portion of the table shuts with a spring, and can only be opened with a golden key, which the King always wears on his watch chain.

When he was Prince of Wales the King only accomplished the immense amount of work he did by the most methodical organisation. Almost every hour of his day was mapped out for him. First came his private correspondence, which was very considerable. Then from ten to half-past ten was spent in talking over and dictating replies to the letters already sorted by Sir Francis Knollys. Immediately after, the Comptroller of the Household discussed with him the arrangements for the day. Often before lunch he had to receive a deputation, or to act as chairman of some committee, frequently held in Marlborough House. Luncheon was served at 2.30, and the King and Queen often entertained parties of their relations who were up in town for the day. Except when he was travelling, the King rarely had a free afternoon, for even on the rare occasions when he had not to visit some public institution, to lay a foundation-stone, or to declare a building open, and so on, there were endless social duties to which no one could attend but himself, such as weddings, race meetings, reviews, and receptions. Certain public functions were almost always attended by both the King and the Queen—for example, the Horse Show at Islington, the Royal Military Tournament, and the trooping of the colour.

No one can realise how much his merely social duties cost the King while he was Heir-Apparent. The invariable cheerfulness and courage with which he went through what must have soon become a terribly monotonous round, year after year, are the more admirable when it is remembered that it was actually made the basis for the assertion that he was excessively devoted to mere amusement. An American writer who had brought the charge but, having discovered his error, had had the honesty and manliness to admit it, was rewarded by receiving a letter from the Prince’s Secretary in which occurred the following:—

“The Prince cannot help feeling that you are a little hard and unjust upon him in your book; he says unjust because you evidently wrote about him without knowing his real character. There are many things which he is obliged to do which the outside world would call pleasures and amusements; they are, however, often anything but a source of amusement to him, though his position demands that he should every year go through a certain round of social duties which bore him to death. But, while duly regretting those social pleasures, you pass over very lightly all the more serious occupations of his life.”

As Heir-Apparent, the King gave each season a certain number of dinners which, though in no sense official functions, took the place of those which would in other circumstances be given at Court. Thus he very often entertained various members of the Opposition as well as of the Government. He also occasionally gave what might be called a diplomatic dinner, to which a number of the Foreign Ambassadors and Ministers were invited. On many occasions dinner-parties in honour of a foreign guest or Royal relation passing through town in semi-incognito have given members of London society an opportunity of making the acquaintance of a great foreign personage. When the Shahzada was in England the Prince and Princess of Wales gave a banquet in his honour, at which covers were laid for forty. On this occasion the principal guest was not able to take any dish in the menu save riz à l’Impératrice. Fortunately, however, he had brought with him his own provisions.

The dining-room in which these important dinners were served at Marlborough House is a very fine room containing a considerable number of their Majesties’ wedding presents. It is a curious fact that in no circumstances were two knives together given to any guest. A great many reasons have been assigned for this rule, but apparently no one ever adopted the simple plan of asking the Royal host or hostess. It has been asserted that the King has the old-fashioned dislike to seeing knives inadvertently crossed.

Here is a lively description of a dinner at Marlborough House on 6th May 1896, recorded by the late Archbishop Benson in his diary:—

“Dined with the Prince of Wales. The most splendid company. All the Ambassadors but Russia, who is gone to the Coronation of the Czar. Duke of Connaught, Lord Wolseley, near whom I sat, with the Lord Chancellor between, two delightful, interesting talkers, and on my other side one still better, de Courcel, French Ambassador. Lucklessly after dinner the Turkish Ambassador asked to be presented, and he held me talking innocently about the Greek Bishops whom I knew, but for his red-handed tyrant’s sake he was the last person I wished for, and Harcourt came up and said, ‘What a picture we have been enjoying—you and the Turk in close alliance!’ Then Harcourt went on about our old Cambridge days, and in heart he is the greatest Conservative. At the Prince of Wales’s instigation I did my best to make Duke of Connaught see it was good for Church and State that Bishop of Peterborough should go for us, and perhaps I succeeded a little; he promised to do his best to make him welcome there. Chamberlain, Morley, Balfour, two Directors of British Museum, Asquith, very pleasant after his dangerous but not damaging assault on the Education Bill, Rosebery, Herschell, Salisbury of course, looking a very great man, among the Ambassadors.”

The journey of the Bishop of Peterborough (Dr. Creighton, afterwards Bishop of London), to which the Archbishop refers, was to Russia to represent the Church of England at the Tsar’s Coronation.

The King has never concealed his dislike of the immensely long, fatiguing banquets which were in his youth the rule rather than the exception; indeed, he may be said to have revolutionised the British dinner-party. At Marlborough House dinner was never allowed to last much over an hour. Occasionally during dinner soft music was played. Every course served was prepared under the direct supervision of the chef (the famous Ménager).

Some years ago the King was rarely seen, even at dinner at a private house, without his favourite valet Macdonald, the son of the Prince Consort’s jager; and later, whenever the King dined out, one of his own servants invariably accompanied him and attended to him through the dinner, whether it was a public banquet or a private dinner-party. Indeed, the King very rarely enjoyed the luxury of being alone; even when walking up St. James’s Street, or turning into the Marlborough Club, he was almost invariably accompanied by one of his equerries; and it need hardly be said that the most trustworthy detectives in the London police force were charged with the task of watching over his personal safety, for the appearance of no public personage was better known to the man in the street than that of the Prince of Wales.

The King has always been an enthusiastic admirer of the stage, and his tastes are so catholic that they range from melodrama at the Adelphi to grand opera at Covent Garden. When His Majesty had made up his mind that he would like to go to the theatre, the Royal box was booked in the ordinary way of business, and charged to the Marlborough House account, the price not being increased from the ordinary library tariff. The only difference made in honour of the Royal family is that, if any other patron of the theatre has already engaged the Royal box, he is requested to waive his right. The King, however, is always reluctant that this should be done, and he generally requests his secretary to send a special note of thanks in his name.

Both the King and the Queen always desired to be treated exactly as if they belonged to the ordinary audience, and nothing annoyed them more than that attention should be drawn to them by the playing of the National Anthem or “God bless the Prince of Wales.” At one time the managers used to keep the curtain down till the Royal party arrived. The King heard of this, and was so greatly troubled at the thought of the inconvenience thus caused to the public that he gave strict orders that the curtain was never to be kept down beyond the advertised time on his account. On the other hand, he always makes a point of waiting till the final curtain has come down before rising to leave. The only occasions on which he ever breaks this courteous rule is when he goes to a theatre which has no private entrance. Then the King and Queen always anticipate the final curtain by two or three minutes, so that their departure may not disturb the carriage arrangements of the rest of the audience.

London managers have reason to be grateful to the King, for whenever he has visited a theatre the booking sensibly increases, the more so that when he likes a play he goes again and again, and recommends it to all his friends. Even when he finds it impossible himself to attend the benefit of some well-known actor or actress, he always puts his name down for stalls or boxes to a substantial amount.

At the opera the King occupied an “omnibus,” a double box on the ground tier, the Royal box itself being on the tier above; while Queen Alexandra had a box all to herself, where she was usually accompanied by one of her daughters. The King is a great music-lover, and, unlike many habitués, attends appreciatively throughout the performance. He was often attended at the opera by his old friend, the late Earl of Lathom, but he never had ladies in his box, although during the entr’actes he would often visit the Princess and his daughters in their box.

The King’s interest in the dramatic profession is unaffected and sincere. Some years ago a very interesting theatrical dinner took place at Marlborough House, Sir Henry Irving, Sir Squire Bancroft, Mr. Hare, Mr. Kendal, Mr. Toole, Mr. Wyndham, Mr. Beerbohm Tree, Mr. Alexander, Mr. David James, Mr. Arthur Cecil, and Mr. William Farren being asked to meet the Duke of Fife, Sir Christopher Teesdale, Mr. Sala, Mr. Burnand, and Mr. Pinero.

His Majesty has always patronised the French plays when performed in London, and he is as popular with the French theatrical world as he is with the dramatic profession in London.

A separate chapter might almost be written about the King as a smoker. At Sandringham he has a large number of cigar-cases and tobacco-boxes, presented to him at various times by relatives and friends, and at Marlborough House he has an immense collection of silver cigar-lighters. His Majesty is as generous in the matter of cigars as he is in the more important affairs of life, and in this connection a story is told which, if it is not true, certainly ought to be. It is said that on one occasion, before his accession, when attending a big fire, His Majesty asked a reporter for some details, which were instantly given. At the conclusion of the conversation, the King offered his informant a cigar, which the latter immediately wrapped up in a page of his note-book and placed in his pocket. “Don’t you smoke?” asked the King. “Oh yes,” said the reporter; “but I am not likely ever to get another cigar from the Prince of Wales.” His Majesty laughed, and once more producing his cigar-case said, “You had better have another one, this time to smoke.”

The King was at one time very fond of taking a hansom in the streets of London, just like an ordinary person, and it is said that he always paid the driver half a sovereign whether the distance was long or short. His Majesty is patron of the Cabdrivers’ Benevolent Association, and he takes a marked interest in these hard-worked and deserving servants of the public, seldom missing the annual meeting, at which, indeed, some of his best speeches have been delivered.

It is hardly necessary to say that the King need never take a hansom except for his own amusement. The stables of Marlborough House are, from every point of view, models of what town stables ought to be. In the coach-houses are some interesting carriages. The State Coach, which was practically never used, is almost exactly like that which is kept at Buckingham Palace. A Russian sociable, lined with dark-blue morocco, was a gift from the late Tsar of Russia to Queen Alexandra, but it was considered too showy for the London streets, and Her Majesty preferred a light victoria, which was generally drawn by her two greys, Chelsea and Brief.

The greatest care had to be taken both by the King and by the Queen in selecting the tradesmen upon whom to confer the undoubted advantage of their custom. Sir Dighton Probyn, who was Comptroller of the Prince of Wales’s Household, and has since been appointed Extra Equerry to His Majesty, was entrusted with the duty of seeing that the Warrants were only given to those who were worthy of them. A Royal Warrant is naturally considered a great honour by the recipient, and any firm aspiring to be a Warrant-Holder must supply the Household for one year in a satisfactory manner before becoming eligible; and should the firm become bankrupt, or even change its name, the Warrant must be returned to the Comptroller of the Household.

On the King’s birthday the Warrant-Holders were wont to dine together, and on the menu always figured some venison contributed both by Queen Victoria and by King Edward, who each sent a fine buck. On all Royal occasions of rejoicing the Warrant-Holders are considered to have a special right to present a gift accompanied by their congratulations.

Every monetary transaction was not only recorded, but indexed at Marlborough House, and any tradesman who sent in an account twice over was never again patronised.

The King does not confine his custom to any one London tailor; on the contrary, he is careful to distribute his patronage, and it is a mistake to fancy that His Majesty pays very much more for his clothes than do other people. His wardrobe is necessarily larger and more varied than that of a private individual. It need hardly be said that he dresses in perfect taste, and it is well known that he has no sympathy with the revolutionists who would abolish the frock-coat. He is, however, also understood to have a special fondness for the old-fashioned “bowler” hat. It would be difficult to overestimate the King’s influence as an arbiter of fashion, especially in America, where every trifling change in his costume is faithfully reported and imitated, and also on the Continent. On the whole, his influence in matters of dress is strongly conservative. He has none of the Continental love of displaying uniforms, and his dress is always the acme of good taste, because it is always absolutely suitable to the occasion on which it is worn.

The King has an ever-increasing number of uniforms, military and other, which are worth quite £15,000, and are, of course, fully insured. It need hardly be said that the King has almost every Order in existence. The mere enumeration of them fills up a large space in Debrett.

The King’s own favourite among his Orders used to be that of Malta, the Sovereign Order of St. John of Jerusalem, of which the badge is the well-known Maltese cross suspended from a black ribbon.

CHAPTER XXI
THE KING AND STATE POLICY

The King has on several occasions, notably in his Message to his People, published on his accession, expressed his resolve to follow in the footsteps of his late deeply-lamented mother in fulfilling the great and sacred responsibilities which at her death he was summoned to undertake. The chief of these responsibilities is that which relates to high State policy, and especially to the intricate and delicate problems arising out of our relations with foreign Powers.

Now, not the least service which Queen Victoria rendered to her people, as Lord Salisbury said in the eloquent tribute which he paid to her memory in the House of Lords, was her constant and rigorous supervision over public affairs. The people saw only the result, the finished policy, associated in their minds with the personality of some popular Minister. What they did not know was how far that policy had been modified, perhaps even completely recast, by the sagacious counsels of their Sovereign, or what pitfalls had been avoided by her warnings, frankly offered, yet never obstinately pressed upon the chosen representatives of her beloved subjects. “Let us have the Queen’s opinion,” said Lord Clarendon, one of the shrewdest of her Foreign Ministers. “It is always worth hearing, even if you do not agree with it.” And Lord Kimberley confessed that when he was at the Foreign Office he had a difference of opinion with Queen Victoria in regard to an important matter. After discussion Her Majesty, though unconvinced, yielded to her Minister; but the event proved that she was right and the Minister wrong.

Such glimpses of the inner working of the great machine of Government illustrate for us the path which King Edward has marked out for himself. Our polity has been called a crowned Republic—a phrase which, in spite of its exaggeration, expresses tersely the fact that the constitutional Sovereign of this realm has constantly to reconcile duties which seem far apart, and even sometimes inconsistent. King Edward succeeds to a Monarchy possessing great theoretical powers, which, however, have been by the slow growth of custom practically restricted to the exercise of an indirect, advisory influence on State affairs, though, as Mr. Balfour said in the House of Commons, this influence shows a tendency to increase rather than to diminish. Queen Victoria was once compared to a Permanent Under-Secretary of State, who sees Ministers come and go, succeed and fail, but himself remains. The comparison is not a bad one, except that the work of a permanent Under-Secretary is confined to one department, whereas the Sovereign is concerned, not only with every branch of the public service, but also with many matters of importance which cannot pass through the hands of any State department.

It is easy to see the great responsibilities, as well as the great opportunities, which are inseparable from the British Crown, and perhaps it is not impertinent to point out how well King Edward VII. is fitted to meet them. The extraordinary tact which characterises His Majesty is most clearly illustrated when we consider his relations towards the policy of the State. There was a time in the history of England when the Prince of Wales allied himself with one of the political parties in the country, and that not the one in which his father had confidence. The tradition of constitutional monarchy established by our late beloved Queen necessarily inaugurated a different régime. No political party was ever able honestly to claim the Prince of Wales as an adherent, or even as a platonic sympathiser. On the other hand, not his severest critics ever accused him of apathy to British interests. In that higher sphere of patriotism which rises superior to the din of party politics he thoroughly earned the title of the typical Englishman.

All through the years which succeeded the death of the Prince Consort the Prince of Wales discharged the duties of his position in such a way as to win the confidence of every section of the nation. He included among his friends the principal men of both the great political parties, and with such delicacy of feeling was this done that no one could justly say which he really preferred. Indeed, so nice was his feeling that he was accustomed to distinguish—if he made any distinction at all—those statesmen who happened to be in Opposition at the moment, rather than those who were enjoying the sweets of office.

The King did not escape the penalty of irresponsible gossip. He undoubtedly displayed a great liking for Ireland, and for the Irish people, but it would be absurd to call him on that account a Home Ruler. Similarly, it is an interesting fact that both His Majesty and Queen Alexandra distinguished Mr. and Mrs. Gladstone by some special tokens of friendship, but it is not justifiable on that account to assert that their Majesties are Liberals. The truth is that throughout his career His Majesty has succeeded, while deeply interesting himself in politics, in steering steadily clear of party politics.

It would be wearisome to enumerate all the statesmen and politicians on whom His Majesty has conferred various marks of his favour. Mention may, however, be made of Mr. Cecil Rhodes, for whom he entertains a strong admiration which he has never cared to conceal. Indeed, he removed his own name from the Travellers’ Club when Mr. Rhodes was blackballed—a course which he has never seen fit to take in any other instance.

The political emancipation of the Jews in England evidently had the King’s warm sympathy. It now seems a long time ago since his presence at the marriage of Mr. Leopold de Rothschild caused much satisfaction and some sensation in Jewish circles, for no British prince had visited a synagogue since 1809, when three of the Royal dukes were present at a Jewish service. The Rothschild family have long been among His Majesty’s personal friends, both in England and on the Continent, and among his intimates was the late Baron Hirsch, with whom he stayed in Austria, notwithstanding the intense anti-Semitic prejudices of the Austrian Court. The King has thoroughly studied the question of the Russian Jews, and has interested himself on their behalf in such a way as should earn for him the gratitude of every Jew in Europe and America. Nevertheless His Majesty’s liking for the Chosen People has been sometimes misinterpreted, and ascribed to not very creditable motives. People were at one time fond of saying that the King was up to the neck in debt, but, when the question was directly asked, Sir Francis Knollys replied that the King had no debts worth speaking of, and that he could pay any moment every farthing he owed; also, that there was not a word of truth in the oft-repeated tales of the mortgage on Sandringham, and that the whole story was a fabrication and was on a par with similar tales representing the King as being assisted by financiers of more or less doubtful honesty.

In the sphere of foreign relations His Majesty’s indirect influence has undoubtedly been considerable, though, of course, the time has gone by when dynastic considerations used to dictate the policy of empires. It is well known that his nephew, the Tsar, entertains for him a strong personal regard; while of the feelings which subsist between His Majesty and the Kaiser, the son of his favourite sister, the country has had the most significant illustrations. There can be no doubt, too, about the feelings of esteem which are entertained for His Majesty by the French nation as a whole. Furthermore, the King has always shown his desire to become personally acquainted with the principal statesmen of Europe; and it is probable that few of the men who now control international relations have not at one time or another fallen under the influence of His Majesty’s gracious and winning personality. The sum of all this must count for a good deal in facilitating the conduct of our foreign relations.

For Americans the King has shown a strong liking, but it is absurd to assert that his favour has been confined to those American men and women whose social position has been entirely purchased by their wealth. He has frequently gone out of his way to show special courtesy to distinguished American visitors, whether rich or poor; and the diplomatic representative of the United States in London has always found a specially cordial welcome at Marlborough House. This was particularly the case with James Russell Lowell and with T. F. Bayard. Indeed, it will be remembered that on Mr. Bayard’s giving up the post of American Ambassador, the King broke his rule and accepted Mr. Bayard’s invitation to dinner, thereby paying a signal compliment to the whole American people. The King’s telegram to the New York World, during the war-scare which followed President Cleveland’s Venezuelan Message, will be remembered as having done much to calm the public anxiety in both countries.

American women who have married Englishmen can rely on receiving from the King and Queen Alexandra the most tactful consideration and courtesy. This was conspicuously shown in the cases of Lady Harcourt, the daughter of Motley, the great American historian; of Mrs. Joseph Chamberlain; and of the young Duchess of Marlborough.

It is no slight testimony to His Majesty’s political insight that at a time when the Colonies were not fashionable, and when they were actually regarded as a source of weakness rather than of strength to the Mother Country, he did all that he could—so far as the traditional restrictions of his position would allow—to foster a different view of Britain’s relations with her daughter-States. Since those days he exerted himself to promote the success of the Colonial and Indian Exhibition; and his interest in the Empire was yet more strikingly demonstrated in the foundation of the Imperial Institute. His Majesty’s gracious Message to his People Beyond the Seas further illustrates his interest in his Colonial dominions, but assuredly the crowning testimony is his consent to part with his son and his daughter-in-law for many months that they might inaugurate the Australian Federal Parliament and visit the other important States of the Empire.

His Majesty’s interest in India, too, is strong, and his knowledge of Indian affairs is very wide. Every new book of any importance which is published on any Indian subject is added to His Majesty’s library, which is by this time extremely rich in works relating to the vast Eastern territories over which he is now Emperor. His Majesty’s visit to these great kingdoms and provinces, to which he made graceful allusion in his Message “to the Princes and Peoples of India,” was paid at the express wish of his mother, who saw with characteristic foresight how valuable it would be in promoting peace and conciliation among the various creeds and races of Hindustan.

CHAPTER XXII
THE KING AND THE SERVICES

Only three days after the irreparable loss of his much-loved mother, King Edward wrote Messages to the Navy and the Army, which demonstrated how great is his pride in both the services, and how deeply he has their interests at heart. The Message to the Navy, which was ordered by the Lords of the Admiralty to be read on the quarter-deck of every ship in commission, in the presence of the ship’s company, was as follows:—

On the publication of the official March Navy List—there was no issue for February 1901—it was seen that the words “The King” appeared at the head of the Service. This had been done before in lists published by private enterprise, but never before in the list published “by authority.” The circumstance that, while in the Army List Queen Victoria appeared as the head of the land forces, a similar course was not taken in the Navy List had always been regarded as curious, especially considering that the sea service is designated the “Royal” Navy, while the Army is not so described. When an official Navy List was first issued in January 1814 there was no indication in it of the monarch’s existence. The Duke of Clarence appeared as the only Admiral of the Fleet with a commission dated 27th December 1811, and he continued to appear in each list as it was issued quarterly up to March 1830. In the next list, dated in June of the same year, by which time he had succeeded as William IV., his name had disappeared, and for all the lists tell us he might have entirely severed his connection from the Navy.

The introduction of the King’s name into the official Navy List did not of course mean any diminution of the power and authority conferred on the Lords Commissioners for executing the office of the Lord High Admiral, but merely that His Majesty desired to associate himself personally with the Navy, of which he had become the head. The change simply emphasised the fact that the Royal Navy and the Royal Marines are the loyal and devoted servants of the King, and it is another instance of that gracious tact for which Edward VII. is renowned.

Debarred by the tradition of his House from himself entering our first line of defence, the King nevertheless—as indeed he says in his gracious Message—chose the Navy for the early education of both his sons. In other ways he has never failed to demonstrate in every possible way his love of the sea, of which indeed he has had a pretty wide experience. We have seen how often he took passage in various warships on his travels, and it will be remembered that the Hero, in which he returned from visiting Canada and the United States, was driven by a storm out of her course and the Royal party were reduced to salt fare. His Majesty thus early made acquaintance with the hardships as well as with the pleasant side of a sailor’s life.

King William IV. once said: “There is no place in the world for making an English gentleman like the quarter-deck of an English man-of-war,” and his great-nephew, King Edward, evidently took the same view. It was in 1877 that an important step was taken in regard to the education of the King’s two sons, which had long been the subject of anxious thought and care to both their parents. It had not hitherto been the custom to send Princes in the direct line of succession into the Navy, that service being no doubt considered too hazardous. But the strong affection subsisting between Prince Albert Victor and Prince George made their father unwilling to separate them, and so in June 1877 they entered the Britannia together as naval cadets. The decision significantly showed how highly His Majesty appreciated the naval service as a mental and moral training school.

It will be remembered that in that eventful year, 1887, His Majesty was appointed an Honorary Admiral of the Fleet; and later on, the marriage of his daughter, Princess Maud, to Prince Charles of Denmark, who was a Lieutenant in the Danish Navy, gave His Majesty peculiar gratification.

The King’s Message to the Army, contained in a special Army order, was as follows:—

A further honour was in store for the Army, for the London Gazette announced:—

This was felt by the whole Army to be a special honour, for the four regiments of Foot Guards had previously had only Colonels commanding, not Colonels-in-Chief. It will be remembered that the 10th Hussars was the regiment in which the late Duke of Clarence and Avondale served.

The connection of His Majesty with the Army has, in accordance with precedent, been extremely close and long continued. Among the earliest recollections of his childhood is the Crimean War, which undoubtedly made a deep and lasting impression on his mind. On attaining the age of eighteen His Majesty was gazetted a Colonel in the Army. Four years later he was promoted to be a General; and in 1875 he was created a Field-Marshal. The mere catalogue of his Colonelcies and Honorary Colonelcies would be tedious; but it may be mentioned that he is Colonel-in-Chief of the 1st and 2nd Life Guards, the Royal Horse Guards, and the Gordon Highlanders. His Majesty is also Colonel of a large number of distinguished foreign regiments. These latter, however, are naturally formal distinctions, which, in these days, are not of military so much as diplomatic significance. The interest which the King takes in military matters is undoubtedly chiefly centred in the British Army.

The King’s military service at the Curragh has been described in an earlier chapter. His mind was also undoubtedly influenced by the companions whom his parents selected to be with him when he set up a separate establishment. Of these, two were soldiers of conspicuous bravery—Major Teesdale, afterwards Sir Christopher Teesdale, who had greatly distinguished himself at Kars; and Major Lindsay, V.C., afterwards Lord Wantage. King Edward’s keen interest in all that concerns the art of war is well exemplified by his careful survey of the battlefields of the Crimea, and by his visiting, during his tour in India, the places rendered for ever memorable by the Mutiny.

The deep interest which His Majesty took in the Boer War will be fresh in the recollection of everybody. Accompanied by the Duke of Cambridge, he said good-bye, on 14th October 1899, to Sir Redvers Buller, departing to take up the command in South Africa. Later on, accompanied by his brother, the Duke of Connaught, he saw Lord Roberts off on that cold winter morning when the Commander-in-Chief, in the midst of his own bitter private grief, left for South Africa, sped by the deep sympathy and encouragement of His Majesty. It will be remembered, too, how frequently the King inspected battalions ordered to the front, encouraging them with his outspoken interest and admiration; and it will be remembered not less vividly how his gracious Consort cared for the wounded and invalided soldiers, whose sufferings are the inevitable price of victory. The Princess of Wales Hospital Ship will never be forgotten by a grateful nation.

The King and Queen Alexandra were among the earliest subscribers to the Mansion-House funds for the relief of the Transvaal refugees and of the sufferers from the war. The death of their nephew, Major Prince Christian Victor, who was stricken down by disease in October 1900 while on active service in South Africa, was a deep grief to their Majesties. The beginning of the year 1901 was signalised by the return of Lord Roberts and by Queen Alexandra’s special appeal on behalf of the Soldiers’ and Sailors’ Families Association, which brought relief to many a stricken family whose head had fallen at the front.