In the spring of 1903 I was one of the suite in attendance on the occasion of King Edward’s official visits to the Capitals of France, Portugal and Italy. The sea route having been selected, His Majesty took the opportunity of visiting Gibraltar and Malta at the same time.

There are not wanting those who are of opinion that this expedition was what Sir Sidney Lee, in his biographical notice, calls a “vacation exercise.” Others, including a humble spectator, such as myself, think, on the other hand, that our subsequent happy relations with France are mainly due to the personal characteristics and influence of King Edward himself. At any rate every man is entitled to his own opinion, and, having expressed mine, I go on to say that those five weeks,—more especially the days of them that were passed in Paris,—were among the most interesting of my life. Under these circumstances I think it worth while to give the names of those who were in attendance during the trip.

The King embarked on board the Royal Yacht, Victoria and Albert, on March 30th. The Marquis de Soveral, Portuguese Minister in London, was a guest on board, as far as Lisbon, and the suite in attendance were as follows:—

The Hon. Charles Hardinge (now Lord Hardinge of Penshurst), Minister Plenipotentiary.

The late Major-General Sir Stanley Clarke, Equerry and Acting Master of the Household.

Rear-Admiral the Hon. Hedworth Lambton (now Admiral of the Fleet Sir Hedworth Meux), Extra Equerry and in command of the Royal Yacht.

The late Sir Francis Laking, Physician in Ordinary.

Captain Frederick Ponsonby (now Colonel Sir Frederick Ponsonby), Equerry and Acting Private Secretary.

The late Cavaliere de Martino, Marine Painter to His Majesty.

And another Equerry in the person of myself.

On the following day the Royal Yacht proceeded on her journey to Lisbon, escorted by the cruisers Venus and Minerva; and not encountering the best of weather, rolled very heavily on her passage across the Bay. When approaching the entrance to the Tagus on April 2nd, our escort was reinforced by four Portuguese ships of war, which made the procession up the river quite an imposing spectacle.

As soon as the Royal Yacht had taken up her moorings she was boarded by King Carlos and his brother, the Duke of Oporto, and their Suites. They arrived in a procession of Royal Barges, the leading boat being certainly one of the most curious and beautiful craft that I have ever seen afloat. She was built in the eighteenth century, with a huge dragon, the arms of Braganza, as a figure-head, and pulled twenty oars a side, each oar being double manned, which made up a crew of over eighty, all dressed in scarlet caps and jackets. Never have I seen such a smart turn-out afloat. The coaches, too, which conveyed the King to the Necessidades Palace, where he took up his abode, were mainly about two hundred years old, and magnificently horsed,—or rather, to be accurate, “muled.” Nearly all the Royal carriage work at Lisbon used to be done by splendid mules well over sixteen hands high.

The two monarchs landed together in the forty-oared boat, and processed through the streets of Lisbon with the usual ceremonies to the Palace, where King Edward was received by the Dowager Queen Maria Pia. The usual addresses inevitable on those occasions were presented, and responded to, during the course of the visit; there was the customary State banquet, and every hour of the day was occupied. But there was time for a short visit to the Royal Palace of PeÑa, situated at the very summit of the mountain of Cintra, which I have attempted to describe before; and on the Sunday, after Service at the English Church, the King took luncheon at the Legation, with the British Minister, Sir Martin Gosselin, and his wife.

The afternoon before the Royal Yacht sailed was given up to what was looked upon (anyhow by the people of Lisbon) as the most important part of the whole visit, namely a bull-fight. A Portuguese bull-fight is an extraordinarily beautiful spectacle. The bull has his horns padded, and so good are the horses and so well are they handled that, as a general rule, not a horse is ever touched by the bull, and the bull is only irritated by pin pricks in the literal sense, the lances used by the picadors having nothing more formidable at their points than a useful-sized pin. So neither man, horse, nor bull is any the worse, and when the latter is getting tired he is man-handled by some of the under-strappers of the ring and taken back to his stall. But the beauty of the spectacle really consists in its details and surroundings.

The bull-fighters arrive at the arena in a procession of delightful old coaches, with six horses apiece and endless outriders, from which they slowly descend with great pomp. They are all beautifully turned out, the picadors in particular being gorgeously apparelled and splendidly mounted. The surroundings consist in the huge amphitheatre, packed with people, (the women being all in bright colours), and a cloudless blue sky. When the performance begins, what with the bull charging, and the horsemen worrying him, the cries of the spectators, and the clanging of bands,—even the most callous spectator finds himself being carried away, and becomes gradually roused to some slight measure of enthusiasm.

On the 7th April the visit to Lisbon terminated, and the Royal Yacht was once more under way en route to Gibraltar.

And now for the practical outcome of the visit.

Just before the King started from England a very mischievous article had been published in a newspaper, hinting that the object of the visit to Lisbon was the acquisition of Delagoa Bay; indeed, vague rumours to that effect had been in circulation for some time. This canard was at once seized upon by the Anglophobe journals of the Portuguese and foreign Press, and great capital was being made of it. In the course of his speech, when accepting an address from the Commercial Association of Portugal, the King took the opportunity of saying that “Our respective countries and colonies, the integrity and preservation of which is one of my dearest aims and objects.” This announcement absolutely put an end to all the mischief at once. The Prime Minister of Portugal expressed his gratification to Sir Martin Gosselin, who happened to be standing near him, for what he described as “those golden words.” In fact, in a few seconds more was done to remove a cause of friction between two countries than could have been accomplished in the same number of months by official correspondence.

In lovely weather the Royal Yacht made her way to Gibraltar, where she arrived on the following day. An address of welcome was presented by a deputation from the Chamber of Commerce, to which a reply was duly given. There was an official dinner at the Convent given by the Governor, who was then the late Sir George White, the stout-hearted soldier who had so resolutely defended Ladysmith. The King, in responding to the toast of his health, took the opportunity of announcing his intention of promoting General Sir George White to the rank of Field-Marshal. No announcement could have been better received, as Sir George White, a very gallant man, and a loyal and capable soldier, was exceedingly popular, not only in Gibraltar but throughout the Army.

It was during the King’s visit that I first had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of Sir Arthur Nicolson, then Minister at Tangier (since then so well known as our Ambassador in Russia, and subsequently as Permanent Under-Secretary for Foreign Affairs. He recently became Lord Carnock). He came over to present the Envoy of the Sultan of Morocco, and bore a letter from His Shereefian Majesty to King Edward. This Envoy rejoiced in a name so gorgeous that it is well worth while to print it—Cid Abderrahman ben Abdelsadok! The Governor of Algeciras also paid an official visit, arriving in a Spanish gunboat; but with the exception of a review of the troops of the garrison there was no other official function. The King was, of course, shown all the newest work in connection with the defences of the fortress and the developments of the dockyard, where he laid the first stone of a new dry dock. Personally, having spent a good deal of my youth there in frequent short visits, I was delighted to have a look at Gib. (as we all used to call it) again.

During the Royal Yacht’s stay at Gibraltar, it had been arranged that a squadron of battleships of the Channel Fleet should be there under the command of Rear-Admiral Curzon-Howe, but with King Edward’s usual genius for doing the right and gracious thing, at his suggestion the squadron was ordered to Algiers in order to salute the French President, Monsieur Loubet, on his arrival there, in connection with some official function.

On the morning of April 13th, the Royal Yacht with her escort, which had been reinforced by four more cruisers belonging to the Mediterranean Station, left for Malta. En route we passed near enough to Algiers to be saluted by the shore batteries and by the Russian, Spanish and Italian ships that were there in compliment to the French President, and on the 16th the Royal Yacht steamed into the Grand Harbour, Valetta.

Never have I seen that most picturesque of harbours looking better. It was a day of brilliant sunshine; all the ships in the harbour were dressed; there seemed to me to be more of those gaily painted dhaisas than ever, and as for the old knight’s fortifications, they were almost black with the crowds that came to see, and acclaim, the first British Sovereign who had ever visited their historic island.

On landing, the King was received by the Governor-General, Sir Mansfield Clarke, and the Naval Commander-in-Chief, Admiral Sir Compton Domville, and drove with the Governor to the palace. During the afternoon endless deputations were received, and later in the day the King held a levÉe, which was attended by the officers of the Fleet and Garrison and the Government officials. There were the usual official dinners at the Palace, and on board Sir Compton Domville’s flagship the Bulwark; a review of the troops of the Garrison, and the day before the visit ended a review of the seamen and marines of the Fleet at the Marsa, where I had so often played polo and raced ponies in the days of my youth. It was a good show. Eight thousand bluejackets and marines duly marched past, and I believe it was the first time that Aides-de-Camp had ever been mounted on bicycles,—the “gallopers,” consisting of a number of midshipmen on wheels. What I confess interested me most was to see again the beautiful Gobelin tapestries that are hung on all great occasions round the whole of the interior of St. John’s Cathedral. It is very seldom that they are all produced, but of course for the King’s visit they were very much in evidence.

The last evening at Malta was given up to a water carnival and illuminations that had been organised by the Fleet. The feature of the carnival was a procession of miniature ships, twelve in number, ranging from Noak’s Ark to H.M.S. Edward VII, which was then our latest battleship. Some of the twelve I can remember: there was a Greek Galley, a Chinese War Junk, a Roman Trireme, the Revenge (Grenville’s flagship at the Azores), and the immortal Victory. Every unit of this quaint fleet, with the crews dressed in the supposed costumes of the various periods represented, passed by the Royal Yacht either under oars or under their miniature sails. Evidently the details had been carefully studied, and much loving care had been bestowed on the white dove that flew in and out of the Ark!

And now for the practical value of this Royal visit to Malta,—and considering the many years that I have passed, on and off, as man and boy, in that little island, I think I may venture to claim some slight knowledge of its inhabitants. To begin with, I like the Maltese; even now, if I were to go back to Valetta, I am sure I should find some old boatman, tradesman, club-servant, or horse-coper, who would still remember, and be glad to see me. It must be realised that Malta literally swarms with priests: indeed one of its few drawbacks as a winter residence is the never-ending clanging of bells in the multitudinous churches there. Small wonder, then, that there is a strong clerical party of very extreme views, and, as usual, this party consists not only of the members of the priesthood themselves, but also of a large section of the Maltese nobility. These gentry,—I expect in humble imitation of what are known as the “Papalini” in Rome,—are violently pro-Italian and anti-English, just as the afore-mentioned “Papalini” were, and, for all I know, are, almost to a man, pro-German and opposed to their own Government. The result of this is, that trouble is apt to be stirred up at Malta by the local Press. Everything English is reviled, and an immense amount of mud is thrown at us. But I am convinced that all the best of the Maltese upper classes, and the entire peasantry and working classes, when not too severely priest-ridden, are thoroughly conscious that they are extremely well off under the Union Jack, and have not really the smallest desire to become Italian subjects. They like, however, to flirt with the idea. As the Irishman said when comparing Home Rule to Heaven, “Every one wants to go there eventually, but no one had ever been met with who was ready to go there next day.”

The effect of the King’s visit and his remarkable personality was immediate. The minority, who are always there striving to stir up disaffection, were reduced at any rate to comparative silence for some considerable time, owing to the remarkable demonstration of loyalty and affection that was shown towards the King by the bulk of the population.

On April 21st the Royal Yacht, escorted by the Mediterranean Fleet, passed through the Straits of Messina and proceeded to Naples. The Fleet must have given the tourists at Taormina a fine show, consisting, as it did, of eight battleships and four cruisers, to say nothing of the small craft in the shape of destroyers, with the Royal Yacht flying the standard, leading between the two lines of battleships. I have passed up and down those same Straits many scores of times, during my service in the Navy, and on every occasion that I have seen it I have been more and more obsessed by its beauty. The loveliness of the surroundings there never palls, and one of the only advantages of getting old is that one becomes more and more appreciative of both artistic and natural beauties. I have stood outside the temple at Taormina in brilliant sunshine, when a slight rain squall in the Straits has bridged Sicily and the mainland with a perfect rainbow, and the difficulty is then to decide whether the view of the Straits from the land on either coast, or the view of both coasts from the sea, when passing through the Straits, is the more magnificent. Meanwhile, the last is generally the best, and my last passage through, up to the time of writing, was on this particular occasion.

After having left the Straits behind us, as there were two or three hours to spare, the Yacht and Fleet steamed slowly through the Lipari Islands. The small volcano that exists on the crest of the Island of Stromboli really behaved remarkably well on the occasion. Just at dusk, when only a few hundred yards off the island, the Royal Yacht was indulged with three successive and very considerable explosions, formidable enough to send up clouds of flame and smoke, to say nothing of stones, that fell hissing into the sea. Whether a volcano can be treated in a medical way I know not, but at the time, I had a strong personal suspicion that the leading inhabitants must have administered some sort of emetic to the mountain to produce these happily-timed explosions. On the other hand, it might only have been an instance of extreme tact on the part of Dame Nature. Anyhow, it made a very beautiful spectacle, and was at once immortalised by my friend Martino, who made a very lovely water-colour sketch of it.

Naples was reached on April 23rd in abominable weather. This, mercifully, did not last long, as it was the King’s intention to stay there for three or four days before proceeding on his official visit to Rome. The Royal Yacht accordingly was berthed inside the Mole, and four very pleasant days were spent—a welcome relaxation to all concerned, after the continual functions.

A very old friend of mine, then Sir Francis Bertie (who, alas! as Lord Bertie, died very recently), was then Ambassador in Rome, and he and the late Mr. Rolfe, then still Consul at Naples—another very old friend—were speedily on board to pay their respects. There were a number of yachts at Naples at the time, with owners obviously lying in wait for the King’s arrival, and soon there was a considerable influx of visitors. Queen Amelie, then Queen of Portugal, was with her son, the present ex-King Manoel, on board her yacht. A cutter belonging to the Duke of the Abruzzi, an enthusiastic yachtsman, and also an old Cowes acquaintance and friend of the King’s, was in the port, as were also the yachts of the German Crown Prince, with Prince Eitel Friedrich, and of Mr. and Mrs. Cornelius Vanderbilt. Though it was announced that the King’s visit was entirely private and unofficial, he was most warmly greeted by the Neapolitans wherever he landed, and, as a concession to the wish expressed by the Mayor, consented to be present at a gala performance at the Opera.

During the next three or four days various excursions were made, one to the Royal Palace of Caserta, which I had not seen since I was a small midshipman, another to Posilipo, where Lord Rosebery was in residence at his charming villa (now made over by him to the country as a summer residence for our Ambassador in Rome). So what with excursions, and sight-seeing, the days passed like a flash.

On the 27th the King left Naples for Rome. Admiral Lambton, who had just been relieved of his command (of the Royal Yachts) by his successor, Sir Berkeley Milne, travelled on with us, in attendance on His Majesty as extra Equerry-in-Waiting.

The Royal train arrived at Rome in the early afternoon, and the King, after being received at the station by the King of Italy, who was accompanied by the Royal Dukes of Genoa, of Aosta, of the Abruzzi, and the Count of Turin, proceeded to the Quirinal Palace where His Majesty and the whole of his suite were lodged.

As always, during the three days that the official visit lasted, there was no rest for the King, every hour of the day and evening being fully occupied. Official visits had to be paid, a deputation of the British Community was received at the British Embassy, Foreign Ambassadors and Chefs de Mission were received; there was a gala dinner at the palace, a gala performance at the Opera, and the review of a large number of Italian troops. In reality, far the most interesting incident was the visit the King paid to the Pope. I regretted at the time, and I regret still, that I was not one of the suite present on that occasion. Though I am not particularly wrapped up, in what the French call la calotte, Pope Leo XIII was such a very remarkable personality, as well as such a great Pope, that I should like to have the recollection of having seen him, and his royal guest, together at the Vatican. The visit was, naturally, rather a delicate matter. The Government of England, in their eternal terror of the Nonconformist conscience, and their natural love of the line of least resistance, were of course against it. There were also difficulties of etiquette as to His Majesty visiting the Vatican whilst a guest at the Quirinal Palace. Moreover, the King was anxious that, though his visit should be considered private and informal, it should be made on the initiative of the Pope, to the extent of a letter being sent to the Ambassador acquainting him with the fact, that the Holy Father expressed a desire to see the King, if it were His Majesty’s pleasure to pay him a visit. All the details were settled, I believe, at an interview between Cardinal Rampolla and Mr. Hardinge, and any awkwardness that might arise from being in residence at the Quirinal, was got over by starting from the Embassy in Sir Frank Bertie’s private carriage. As usual, the King was right. His visit to the Pope was accepted by the King of Italy and the Italian Government as a matter of course. It was popular in Italy and, naturally, with all King Edward’s Catholic subjects, and the entire Italian Press, of all shades, commented most favourably on it.

And so ended the Italian visit. It was a complete success and gave pleasure to all classes in Italy from the King and Pope down to the small tradesmen and contadini.

The Royal train left Rome on the morning of April 30th on its way to Paris. The only feature of interest on the journey was that at Pisa, where the train made a short stop, the Duchesse d’Aosta took advantage of this delay to board the train and pay a short farewell visit to the King. As Princesse HÉlene d’Orleans she had, of course, lived a great deal in England before her marriage, and was extremely intimate with our Royal Family.

At Dijon next morning the official visit to France really commenced, for there the train took up, as additional passengers, Sir Edmund Monson, British Ambassador in Paris, who was accompanied by the Naval and Military AttachÉs of the Embassy, Captain Charles Ottley, R.N., now so well known as Sir Charles Ottley, who served for some time as Secretary of the Defence Committee, and the present General the Hon. Edward Stuart Wortley, then a Lieutenant-Colonel. With them arrived the French officers who were attached to the King during his visit—le Vice-Admiral Fournier, le GÉnÉral de Lacroix, and an old friend of mine, and a very popular personage in Paris Society, le Commandant Chabaud, belonging to the Military household of the President.

After leaving Dijon, the Royal train ran straight through to the station of the Bois de Boulogne in Paris, where the King was met by the President of the Republic, (Monsieur Loubet), the Presidents of the two Chambers, and all the highest Military and Civil Authorities of the Capital. The customary presentations having been made, His Majesty and Monsieur Loubet entered the President’s state carriage and, followed by the carriages conveying the suite, the personnel of the British Embassy and the French Ministers, moved off in a procession to the British Embassy in the Rue du Faubourg St. HonorÉ, that beautiful house, formerly the residence of the great Napoleon’s sister, Pauline Borghese, which was acquired for our nation by the first Duke of Wellington.

The streets were lined with troops, and there was a large escort of Cuirassiers of the Garde Republicaine. An immense crowd had collected in the streets, and the windows and balconies of the houses on the route were crammed with spectators, but, in the interests of truth, I am compelled to state that, though not unfriendly, the reception was distinctly chilly.

There was not room in the Embassy for the whole of the suite, so a portion of it, of which I was one, was quartered at the HÔtel Bristol in the Place VendÔme, which was conveniently near our “Headquarters.”

After the usual ceremonial visit to the President at the ÉlysÉe, the next official function was the reception of the President and a Deputation of the British Chamber of Commerce in Paris by the King, and in his reply to the address presented by the Deputation, one of the first steps forward was taken towards the establishment of an Entente between England and France. In the course of his speech the King made use of these words:—

“A Divine Providence has designed that France should be our near neighbour, and, I hope, always a dear friend. There are no two countries in the world whose mutual prosperity is more dependent on each other. There may have been misunderstandings and causes of dissension in the past, but all such differences are, I believe, happily removed and forgotten, and I trust that the friendship and admiration which we all feel for the French nation and their glorious traditions may in the near future develop into a sentiment of the warmest affection and attachment between the peoples of the two countries. The achievement of this aim is my constant desire, and, gentlemen, I count upon your institution, and each of its members severally, who reside in this beautiful city and enjoy the hospitality of the French Republic, to aid and assist me in the attainment of this object.”

The most favourable impression was made in Paris, by the immediate publication of the King’s speech.

The first evening in Paris was a comparatively quiet one, but after a small private dinner at the Embassy, the King and his suite went to the ThÉÂtre FranÇais to see Maurice Donnay’s play, l’Autre Danger, the President and Madame Loubet being also present.

Next morning the President came round to the Embassy at nine, and the King left in the President’s carriage in his company for Vincennes, where the review was held. The greeting he received from the crowd was noticeably far warmer than on his arrival the previous day. The review was admirably conducted. There was an unusually large force of cavalry on the ground, and I, personally, was much impressed with the quality of the horses, and the admirable horsemanship of the men. A very few years later I happened to be present at a large manoeuvre review of troops near Breslau, and, to my mind, there was no comparison between the cavalry of the two nations, France and Germany. In every way, the French, except no doubt in point of numbers, were infinitely superior. As an instance of the way in which some of the crack cavalry corps were mounted, I noticed at Vincennes that the same man, was riding the same horse, in that part of the escort that was close to the carriage of which I was an occupant. For a troop-horse to carry a heavy man (probably in his full kit putting up some eighteen stone) at a fast trot for the best part of eighteen miles, even with a good interval of rest while the review was taking place, will, I am sure, be acknowledged by any English cavalry officer as being no inconsiderable performance, testifying, as it does, alike to excellence and good condition.

On his return journey to the Embassy, after the termination of the review, the King stopped for a few minutes at the HÔtel de Ville, where he was received by M. Deville, the President of the Municipal Council. In answer to the toast of his health, the King replied in the following words, which merit being quoted in full, the concluding sentence doing more, perhaps, to complete the success of his visit than any other utterance that was made in Paris:—

“Je dÉsire vous exprimer combien je suis vivement touchÉ de vos bonnes paroles. Il aurait ÉtÉ fÂcheux, en passant par votre belle ville, de ne pouvoir m’arrÊter a l’HÔtel de Ville. Bien sincÈrement, je vous remercie de l’accueil que vous m’avez fait aujourd’hui.

“Je n’oublierai jamais ma visite À votre charmante ville, et je puis vous assurer que c’est avec le plus grand plaisir que je reviens À Paris, oÙ je me trouve toujours comme si j’Étais chez moi.”

After the return to the Embassy, the President took leave of the King, and His Majesty entertained a few of his old friends at luncheon, before attending a race-meeting that was to take place at Longchamps in the afternoon.

Amongst some of those present at the luncheon were Prince d’Arenberg, Duc de la Force, GÉnÉral le Marquis de Gallifet, the Marquis and Marquise de Jaucourt, Mr. and Mrs. Standish, Admiral DuperrÉ, Prince Mohamed Ali, and the Marquis de Soveral, who was on a private visit to Paris.

The race-meeting was an enormous success. It was a lovely day and all Paris was there. The King’s reception, instead of being chilly, was enthusiastic. The races were all named after some of the King’s most famous horses, and for one of them, the Persimmon Stakes of £1000, he had offered a splendid gold cup as an additional prize. The greater part of the time was spent by him in the Presidential box, with his official host and hostess; but towards the end of the afternoon he passed a few minutes with some of his old friends in the Jockey Club stand.

Rarely have I witnessed such friendliness and enthusiasm as was evinced by this huge crowd, and, moreover, there were not a few Frenchmen present who were secretly delighted at being able to shout “Vive le Roi” without being arrested by a policeman!

The evening was given up to the official dinner at the ÉlysÉe, followed by a gala performance at the Opera.

Once more the best possible impression was conveyed by the King’s speech in answer to the toast of his health, and in toasting the President of the Republic and drinking to the prosperity and grandeur of France.

In the course of his speech he touched his audience by a phrase he used: “Je connais Paris depuis mon enfance; j’y suis revenu bien des fois, et j’ai toujours admireÉ la beautÉ de cette ville unique et l’esprit de ses habitants,”—while, later on, he used the words: “Notre grand dÉsir est que nous marchions ensemble, dans la voie de la civilisation et de la paix.”

There was a very representative company at the banquet. I heard that there were over 130 guests present,—amongst numberless other celebrities an old acquaintance of mine, M. Victorien Sardou, the dramatist, was there; M. Carolus Duran and M. Saint-SaËns were also pointed out to me.

In connection with the King’s speech on this occasion, I remember that two or three of the leading representatives of the Press came to see Fritz Ponsonby and myself after our return from the races, and asked us kindly to supply them with the King’s speech in writing, as it was very important that, having to be published broadcast, and telegraphed all over the world, it should be absolutely word perfect. We could only tell them in answer to their request that it was quite impossible. We had no knowledge whatever of what the King was going to say; that, probably, he would not even write it himself, as he habitually spoke without notes unless he had to deal with a mass of figures. Polite incredulity was visibly expressed in their faces, but obviously there was nothing more to be done for the present, so they withdrew. After the gala they came round again, and this time we had to produce something. By appealing to the King himself, and by pooling our joint memories we succeeded in evolving what was probably quite an accurate version, but a copy was impossible, for the speech had never been written. The astonishment of those worthies was prodigious; they were really ÉpatÉ—to use their own expression—at the King’s nerve and confidence in himself, in being able to make one of the most important speeches of his life, (except for the careful thought that no doubt preceded it), in this extempore fashion.

The next day was Sunday. The King and his suite, and the personnel of the Embassy, duly attended Divine Service at the little English Church in the Rue d’Aguesseau, that stands almost opposite the Embassy.

After Church there was a huge luncheon at the Ministry for Foreign Affairs. All the Foreign Ambassadors and Ministers were present, and altogether there were something like a hundred guests. After luncheon I remember that the King had a long conversation with M. Waldeck Rousseau; but I have no further knowledge of anything else that happened on that afternoon, for Prince d’Arenberg, one of the leading racing men in France (I think he was the President of the Jockey Club), came up to Hedworth Lambton and myself and suggested that, if we could decently slip away, he would drive us down to Longchamps where there was a good day’s racing on. The King, with his usual good nature, readily assented, so away we went, and spent a very pleasant afternoon with our many French racing friends. It was delightful to hear the enthusiasm with which they, one and all, spoke of our King, and of the wonderful success of his visit.

The last evening was spent at the Embassy, where the King gave a great dinner to the President and Madame Loubet, to the members of the French Government and their wives, and the heads of Foreign Missions. After dinner there was a concert, the music being provided by some of the artists of the Opera, and this, practically brought the Paris visit to a conclusion.

The next morning the King started for home via Cherbourg. The train left, after a very cordial leave-taking with the President, at eleven o’clock, and arrived at its destination in the evening. There was the usual official reception on arrival, and subsequently the King entertained all the principal Naval, Military, and Civil Authorities at dinner on board the Royal Yacht, and left the next morning for Portsmouth.

As so ended this journey of five weeks.

I have already commented on what I believe to have been the useful work done at the other Capitals that were visited. To my mind, the visit to France was infinitely the most important, and the most fruitful, of them all. For many preceding years I had spent weeks, if not months, of every year in France, and I knew well, since Fashoda, how strained the relations between the two countries had become;—naturally, I am only speaking from the point of view of a very ordinary spectator. It was evident to me that, though not actually uncivil, one’s old friends in Paris, and on the Riviera, were anxious to avoid one, when they could decently do so. Probably the estrangement there was between individuals was also existing quite as strongly amongst the officials of the two countries; but from the time of the King’s visit onwards, there has certainly been steady improvement, culminating in the alliance that has held together during the years of the lately finished war. I venture to maintain that, though this same result might have been brought about gradually by the politicians of the two countries, only one man in the world, and that man was King Edward, could have established, what was almost an immediate rapprochement, between our two great nations. The difference between the civil, but chilly, welcome that was extended to him on his arrival, and the enthusiastic reception that he received everywhere, in an increasing measure, during the last days of his visit was due to his personality, charm, and tact. As an instance of the change in the feeling of Parisians for Englishmen that took place during those few days, I can give a personal experience. Owing to some oversight in the giving of an order, on the evening of our arrival, those of us who were lodged at the Bristol found ourselves later on, standing outside the hotel, waiting impatiently for a carriage in which to drive round to the Embassy. There was a huge crowd in the Place VendÔme, and the neighbouring streets, and to walk round was impossible. Meanwhile, those of the crowd who were in our vicinity, quickly realising our embarrassment, manifested the greatest delight, and almost openly jeered at us. Eventually the carriage arrived, and while it was forcing its way slowly through the crowd, some of them put their heads close to the windows and raised the cry of “Vivent les Boers.” I am afraid I could not resist the very obvious repartee, “Vivent les Boers, pourquoi pas? ce sont nos sujets maintenant.”

Three days later there was again some delay about the carriage, and we were once more waiting outside the hotel. If anything the crowd was even denser, but instead of being treated with discourtesy, we met, on the other hand, with the greatest kindness. A French gentleman detached himself from the crowd, and said that he had noticed our difficulty, but fortunately he could come to our assistance, and begged us to make use of his own carriage, which was waiting round the corner. When the hour arrived for the King to leave the French Capital I shall never forget the enthusiasm of the French crowds that lined the streets to bid him farewell before his journey home. That he had always been popular in Paris from his youth up, is quite true; but at no time was he more so, than when this official visit came to an end on the 10th of May, 1903.

Mr. Charles Hardinge, who acted as Minister Potentiary in attendance on His Majesty during the trip, wrote an admirable little book in the shape of a Short Record of the King’s Journey, March 30th-May 5th, 1903. This little work was completed by June 5th of the same year, and so was written when everything that occurred was fresh in the memory of the writer.

With his kind permission, I will, while thanking him for the assistance his book has been to me in writing my recollections of that time, quote the sentence with which he concludes:—

“Honour to whom honour is due. It only remains for the writer of this record to respectfully state his conviction that the success of the King’s journey and the happy results which may be confidently anticipated therefrom, are entirely due to his Majesty’s own personality, to his courteous tact, to his frank and genial manner, and to his unrivalled knowledge of men and of the world.”