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 painteddhaisasthan 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 theBulwark; 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, theRevenge(Grenville’s flagship at the Azores), and the immortalVictory. 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 Ishould 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 arealways 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 callla 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 andcontadini.
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 Francereally 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. Theachievement 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 manœuvre 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 escortthat 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 theRepublic 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 thegala 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 reallyépaté—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, soaway 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 veryordinary 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 immediaterapprochement, 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 realisingour 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 aShort 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.”
In July 1903 President Loubet arrived in England on a return visit to the one I have attempted to describe in my last chapter. He arrived in London on the 6th and was lodged at York House, St. James’s Palace, as the guest of the King.
The English Mission attached to him during his visit consisted of Lord Howe, then a Lord-in-Waiting to the King, as Chef de Mission, General Sir Reginald Talbot, at one time Military Attaché in Paris, Admiral Sir Lewis Beaumont, Captain Ottley and Lieutenant-Colonel Stuart Wortley, the Naval and Military Attachés in Paris, and myself.
One official visit is very like another. Apparently the necessary procedure is that every hour of the visiting Potentate’s day, from 8 a.m. until past midnight, should be filled up; a somewhat exhausting process for all concerned, but as the official visit only lasts from three to four days, as a general rule, no harm to life or health ensues. There is always a banquet, and a review of troops, and the illustrious visitor, be he King or President, invariably receives the resident Corps Diplomatique, as well as a deputation of his own countrymen, in what is theoretically aportion of his own fatherland, namely at the Embassy of his own country. The principal duty of the officers of the Mission, is to see that their illustrious charge and his suite, are produced punctually for all the unending functions, and, generally, to look after their comfort. Though there is a great sameness about these visits, there is nearly always something of interest to remember about them, and President Loubet’s was no exception.
To begin with, it was the first time in history that a French President had been the guest of an English Monarch,—an event in itself,—furthermore, following as quickly as it did on the King’s successful visit to Paris, the arrival of the President in London gave proof of the wish of the French nation to live on better terms with ourselves, and, indeed, from that time onwards, the bitterness and bad feeling between the two countries, that arrived at its culminating point during the time of the Fashoda incident, may be said to have vanished, I hope for ever. In fact, the hatchet was buried.
Though contemporary history is not the subject with which I am dealing, it is interesting to remember that in October of the same year, an arbitration treaty was signed by the Governments of England and France, and, in the following April, what was known as the Anglo-French Agreement, was concluded.
Personally, I was very pleased to have been selected to be in attendance on the President. To begin with, I like Frenchmen. Monsieur Loubet, though of extremely humble origin, was a gentleman. Hisperfect naturalness and simplicity invested him with a sort of dignity, that was enhanced by the way in which he received every attention and compliment paid him during his visit. He never lost an opportunity of emphasising the fact that every attention he received, was addressed to the “President of the French Republic,” and had nothing to do with “Monsieur Loubet.”
Another reason I was glad to be of the Mission was that it gave me the opportunity of making the acquaintance, however slightly, of M. Delcassé, then French Minister of Foreign Affairs, who had accompanied the President to England. I remember one afternoon, when there were some few hours of interval between the unending functions, I accompanied M. Delcassé and a number of the French gentlemen, on a hurried visit they paid to Windsor. It was typical of Frenchmen, and of their extraordinary quickness of artistic sense, that these very busy public men, who probably had little time to study art, at once rushed at all the best of the many beautiful things in Windsor. What I had often heard of before, was, on that afternoon, brought home to me practically, namely, the great admiration the French have for the work of Sir Thomas Lawrence. It is true that the Lawrences at Windsor are exceptionally fine; though I have the profoundest respect for French taste, I am not sure that they are right in their inclination to prefer Lawrence to Gainsborough and Reynolds, in English Art.
I was present at the great State dinner given by the King at Buckingham Palace, and a very beautiful sightit was. Orchids, and the Windsor gold plate go very well together; but far more beautiful, to my mind, are those splendid family portraits by the three great artists just mentioned, that adorn the walls.
In proposing the toast of the President of the French Republic and the French Nation, King Edward, an admirable after-dinner speaker, was at his very happiest. In the course of his speech he pointed out to the President that he was about to drink his health, out of the beautiful cup, that had been given him at the Hôtel de Ville, during his never-to-be-forgotten, and delightful visit to Paris. This little attention might not make any great impression on Englishmen, but Frenchmen are particularly susceptible to any graceful act or word. I happened to be sitting next to M. Mollard, the Ministre du Protocol, who always accompanies the President on his official journeys. He was genuinely delighted and whispered to me:—“Dieu! quel homme que votre Roi! Comme il a la parole heureuse, et comme il montre de l’esprit, et de la finesse!” And Monsieur Mollard, was no mean judge of that important kind of after-dinner speech that is connected with official visits. In the course of M. Loubet’s visit, I once ventured to hope that Monsieur le President was not being completely worn out by the strenuous days he was living. With a typical Frenchman’s shrug of the shoulders, he answered, “Mon Dieu! Commandant, je résiste toujours!”
At the termination of the visit, the English Mission accompanied the President and his Staff as far as Dover, and there my companions and I took leave of the verycourteous, and nice old gentleman, that was Monsieur Loubet. I was to see him again before very long, for, during the semi-private visit that the King and Queen paid to Paris a few years later, during which they lived at the British Embassy, Monsieur and Madame Loubet, then living very simplyen bourgeois, after the expiration of his term of office as President, came to the Embassy to take tea with his late hosts, and former guest.
In the autumn of 1903 I was in attendance when the King went to Marienbad for a cure, and for the next few years I was nearly always there for a portion of August and September, sometimes of my own accord, but more generally in waiting, and moreover for a succession of spring seasons, during his customary visits to Biarritz, I was nearly always on duty, at any rate for a part of his stay there.
I used greatly to like doing my turn of duty abroad, especially at those two very pleasant health resorts, the more so as it was evident that his visits to them really did King Edward a great deal of good. Like his mother, Queen Victoria, before him, he revelled in the strong air that can be breathed in mountainous countries and at the seaside. Moreover, the waters of Marienbad were good without being too strong, and during those last years of his life I think he was never better than after his Marienbad cure. He had been there once or twice as Prince of Wales, but, as far as I can recollect, after he came to the Throne, except for the year of his illness before his Coronation, I do not think that he ever missed a season there, but regarded his annual visit as a necessary sequel to the London season.
A certain number of English people have always patronised Marienbad, notably the late Sir Henry and Lady Campbell-Bannerman, and the late Mr. Labouchere. Of course, as soon as the King made a practice of going there for his cure, quite a number of English people suddenly discovered the extraordinarily healing properties of these Bohemian Springs, and the little “Kur Ort” became quite as fashionable with English people as with foreigners. It really had many good points. I cannot speak with any authority on the efficacy of the waters from a personal point of view, for I only drank them for one season, when the outstanding effect I noticed, was, that such little memory as I ever possessed vanished entirely, a most inconvenient symptom for an Equerry-in-Waiting. During all my subsequent visits I contented myself with an “air” cure, and some parts of Marienbad being upwards of 2000 feet above the sea-level, the air is of the most approved quality, and all meals being taken practically out of doors, and long walks forming part of the cure, every one is in the open air all day long. After the early morning walk, during which time most of the water-drinking was done, the whole community, from the King downwards, used to eat their solitary egg and drink the best coffee in the world, at one of the numerous open-air cafés that lay in all directions. After breakfast, there was generally more drinking and walking, and three or four times a week, some sort of Marienbad bath. Some patients, I fancy, wallowed in mud. Personally, I escaped with some delightful baths, in which some pine extract was mixed up, and most agreeable they were. Then, afterluncheon, there were delightful walks and drives to be taken, to say nothing of golf.
A SHOOTING PARTY AT MARIENBADSir S. MacdonellHon. E. StoneCapt. Hon. S. FortesqueCol F. PonsonbyH.H. Prince Philip of CoburgThe Abbot of TeplH.M. King Edward
A SHOOTING PARTY AT MARIENBADSir S. MacdonellHon. E. StoneCapt. Hon. S. FortesqueCol F. PonsonbyH.H. Prince Philip of CoburgThe Abbot of TeplH.M. King Edward
A SHOOTING PARTY AT MARIENBAD
But the golf-course at Marienbad needs further mention. To begin with, it owed its very existence to King Edward. It was he who “squared” the authorities, from the Abbot of Tepl downwards, to give the necessary ground, and, moreover, he gave it his generous patronage, by constantly stopping for tea there, on his return from his afternoon drives, and in a still more practical form, by giving the most beautiful prizes for competitors of both sexes.
Having mentioned the Abbot of Tepl, and being on the subject of Marienbad amusements, I must go on to say a little more about the Religious Community of which he is the head, and the sport to be had in the neighbourhood, and I feel that I cannot do this better than to quote from an Introduction I once wrote for a book of the Badminton Series:—
“As an amusing specimen of a somewhat peculiar ‘branch’ of the sport in question (the shooting of driven birds), I remember well King Edward accepting an invitation from the Abbot of Tepl to a partridge-drive on the Tepl estates, which surround the famous old Monastery of that name. For those who have never ‘made a cure’ at Marienbad, I must explain that the Religious Order in question owns not only the Springs and Baths of Marienbad, but also a vast tract of agricultural land, which is farmed by the monks and their tenants. The Abbot himself is a great dignitary of the Roman Catholic Church; he has a seat in the Austrian House of Lords, and his principal duty is to administer the vast properties belonging to the Monastery, which has existed without intermission from the thirteenth century to our own time.“Bohemia in general, and the Böhmischer Wald,—above which Marienbad is situated,—in particular, is famous for itspartridges; but driving them was a new form of sport as far as the monks themselves were concerned. It had been their practice from time immemorial to have them shot by any obliging man who happened to own a gun, for the purpose of supplying their table. However, for so distinguished a guest as King Edward an exception had to be made, so the Abbot, with the assistance of a travelling Englishman, arranged a partridge-drive on the most approved pattern. The performance began with a Gargantuan luncheon in the refectory of the Monastery, at which repast the whole of the King’s party, which included several ladies, was present. So long was the bill of fare, and, it may be added, so excellent were its items, that it was well past two in the afternoon before the guns were posted. On arriving at the butts, which had been beautifully constructed for the occasion, it was evident that the services of the whole population of the neighbourhood for miles round had been called into requisition. Those employed as drivers and flankers were under the immediate command of some of the more venerable members of the fraternity; those who came as spectators, unfortunately for the bag, wandered about at their own sweet will. The Abbot himself, in a very short shooting-coat over his white cassock, a most rakish wide-awake hat on his head, and an enormous cigar in his mouth, took up a commanding position in the King’s butt, various horns sounded, and the fun began. Partridges there were in plenty; but, unfortunately, the monks had felt inspired to fly two gigantic kites, with the laudable desire of concentrating the birds and driving them over the King’s butt. The desired result of concentration was undoubtedly obtained, but the general effect of the kites was to cause the birds to run down the furrows instead of flying over the guns, and this, combined with the intense caution and self-restraint that had to be exercised by the shooters, in order to avoid hitting either a flanker, or one of the numerous spectators before alluded to, resulted in a remarkably small bag. However, it was all excellent fun, and no one was more amused at the incongruity of the wholechasse, than the King himself.“Shortly afterwards King Edward had a very different experience in the same neighbourhood, when partridge-driving with Count Trautmansdorff. In a short day’s shooting theparty bagged 500 brace of partridge, the King himself accounting for 100 brace to his own gun. Though it hardly comes under the province of sport, perhaps I may be permitted to mention that the following winter Count Trautmansdorff was one of the guests at Sandringham during the best shooting week there, and also that not long afterwards the Abbot of Tepl was invited to Windsor, and found himself being taken round the Castle and shown its treasures by the King himself.”
“As an amusing specimen of a somewhat peculiar ‘branch’ of the sport in question (the shooting of driven birds), I remember well King Edward accepting an invitation from the Abbot of Tepl to a partridge-drive on the Tepl estates, which surround the famous old Monastery of that name. For those who have never ‘made a cure’ at Marienbad, I must explain that the Religious Order in question owns not only the Springs and Baths of Marienbad, but also a vast tract of agricultural land, which is farmed by the monks and their tenants. The Abbot himself is a great dignitary of the Roman Catholic Church; he has a seat in the Austrian House of Lords, and his principal duty is to administer the vast properties belonging to the Monastery, which has existed without intermission from the thirteenth century to our own time.
“Bohemia in general, and the Böhmischer Wald,—above which Marienbad is situated,—in particular, is famous for itspartridges; but driving them was a new form of sport as far as the monks themselves were concerned. It had been their practice from time immemorial to have them shot by any obliging man who happened to own a gun, for the purpose of supplying their table. However, for so distinguished a guest as King Edward an exception had to be made, so the Abbot, with the assistance of a travelling Englishman, arranged a partridge-drive on the most approved pattern. The performance began with a Gargantuan luncheon in the refectory of the Monastery, at which repast the whole of the King’s party, which included several ladies, was present. So long was the bill of fare, and, it may be added, so excellent were its items, that it was well past two in the afternoon before the guns were posted. On arriving at the butts, which had been beautifully constructed for the occasion, it was evident that the services of the whole population of the neighbourhood for miles round had been called into requisition. Those employed as drivers and flankers were under the immediate command of some of the more venerable members of the fraternity; those who came as spectators, unfortunately for the bag, wandered about at their own sweet will. The Abbot himself, in a very short shooting-coat over his white cassock, a most rakish wide-awake hat on his head, and an enormous cigar in his mouth, took up a commanding position in the King’s butt, various horns sounded, and the fun began. Partridges there were in plenty; but, unfortunately, the monks had felt inspired to fly two gigantic kites, with the laudable desire of concentrating the birds and driving them over the King’s butt. The desired result of concentration was undoubtedly obtained, but the general effect of the kites was to cause the birds to run down the furrows instead of flying over the guns, and this, combined with the intense caution and self-restraint that had to be exercised by the shooters, in order to avoid hitting either a flanker, or one of the numerous spectators before alluded to, resulted in a remarkably small bag. However, it was all excellent fun, and no one was more amused at the incongruity of the wholechasse, than the King himself.
“Shortly afterwards King Edward had a very different experience in the same neighbourhood, when partridge-driving with Count Trautmansdorff. In a short day’s shooting theparty bagged 500 brace of partridge, the King himself accounting for 100 brace to his own gun. Though it hardly comes under the province of sport, perhaps I may be permitted to mention that the following winter Count Trautmansdorff was one of the guests at Sandringham during the best shooting week there, and also that not long afterwards the Abbot of Tepl was invited to Windsor, and found himself being taken round the Castle and shown its treasures by the King himself.”
Another distraction at Marienbad was the comparative proximity of Karlsbad. Karlsbad was by way of being far gayer, and more fashionable, than its humbler neighbour, and certainly the hotels and shops were on a more luxurious scale. The King generally went over there for the day, once or twice in the season. One of the constant Cure guests there in those days, used to be Monsieur Clemenceau, and, as a general rule, the late Grand Duke Alexis, and several other members of the Imperial Family, were to be found at Karlsbad. Indeed, it was greatly patronised by Russians in general.
On looking back on those seasons at Marienbad, it is curious to remember what a kaleidoscope of people of all countries, and some of considerable distinction, are associated with the place. To begin with, in early times there were Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman, Mr. Henry Labouchere, and Miss Maxine Elliott—I was going to write, then at the height of her beauty, but she is always beautiful—her sister, Lady Forbes Robertson, in those days, if I may dare use the expression, a flapper. Another marvellously beautiful woman, Princess Mirko of Montenegro, was there for a season with her husband, who was one of the numerousprogeny of the old Prince Nicholas of that curious little principality. Prince Mirko died (so I heard) in Vienna, having disowned his country, during the War. The lady in question was, I believe, the daughter of some Serbian General, and was certainly one of the most lovely women I have ever met in my life. Another constant visitor was that remarkably astute, and still more remarkably antipathetic personage, who was then Prince Ferdinand of Bulgaria. The late Prince Kinsky, Slatin Pasha, and Count Tassito Festitics, with his wife and daughter, were occasional visitors; Count Szapary was another Hungarian who occasionally indulged in a cure, and on one occasion he arrived at Marienbad with his own Tzigane band, so one night, after dining at a restaurant, he gave us a regular concert, conducting his band himself on the cymballen. Amongst the more regular visitors were a host of friends of mine, such as Sir Charles Mathews, Mr. Charles Gill, and Mr. Charles Hawtrey, the latter, mimicking his doctor, the celebrated Dr. Ott, to his (perfectly unconscious) face, was as good as he ever was, on any stage.
Other friends who were apt to do a Marienbad Season were, the late General Sir Lawrence Oliphant, one of the most amusing and quick-witted of men, Mr. Henry Chaplin, Colonel Mark Lockwood, and Sir John Fisher—now known respectively as Lords Chaplin, Lambourne, and Fisher; then amongst well-known Parisians I may quote Princesse Murat, the Marquise de Ganay, Comtesse de Chevigné, M. and Madame Jean de Reszke, Count Boni de Castellane,and Count Joseph de Gontaut-Biron, and I must not forget the British Ambassadors at Vienna, Sir Edward Goschen and Sir Fairfax Cartwright, who invariably settled down at Marienbad during the King’s stay there, accompanied by one or two Secretaries of their Embassy.
In the course of his earlier visits, the King generally went over once or twice in the Season to the seat of the late Count Metternich. Metternichs of sorts used to, and I suppose still, swarm in both Germany and Austria; but this particular Metternich was the direct descendant of the great man of that name who flourished during the Napoleonic era. Amongst his other properties was the celebrated Johannisberg Vineyard on the Rhine, and I must say, that a glass or two of real Johannisberg Cabinet of one of the great vintage years, at luncheon made a man take a very roseate view of life, even of that dullest of so-called sports,—a deer-drive in the woods, which generally used to follow the Metternich luncheon parties.
An annual fête that was regularly celebrated at Marienbad during King Edward’s sojourn there, was the birthday of the late Emperor Franz Josef of Austria. The King made a practice of entertaining the various officials of the neighbourhood, in honour of the occasion. The guests consisted mainly of the officers commanding the troops of the district, anyhoch geborenAustrians who might happen to be there, the principal municipal authorities, and last, but by no means least, our friend the Abbot of Tepl.
Almost the pleasantest memory of Marienbad thatremains to me, is that, of our breakfasts under the trees at one of the outdoor cafés, where a number of us met after the morning drink. Sir Edward Goschen, Colonel Mark Lockwood, Mr. Charles Gill, Mr. Charles Hawtrey, and generally about the same number of ladies, used to assemble round, what was really a very festive board, and consume coffee and eggs with the appetite that follows a two-hours’ walk in keen mountain air, and the good spirits engendered by the consciousness, that the greater part of the water-drinking business was over for the day.
As I have already mentioned, I was generally in attendance on the late King during, anyhow, a portion of his yearly stay at Biarritz, and, being very fond of the little place, I have also frequented it a good deal when not on duty. Biarritz was eminently social, as not only were there a good many charming villas in the neighbourhood, owned by French residents, but in what was called the English Season, English visitors abounded. A great deal of entertaining was done first and last, principally by my previously mentioned friend, Consuelo Duchess of Manchester, who often took a villa there, and also by an extraordinarily hospitable American lady, who, I regret to say, died not long ago, Mrs. Moore by name. She had practically lived in France all her life, and her apartment in Paris had always a lighted candle, for she loved entertaining, and was an excellent hostess. She talked the most impossible French, with a strong American accent, and mixed her metaphors to such an extent that she became a sort of Mrs. Malaprop, tothe huge delight of her French friends. I never quite believed in the authenticity of the numerous malapropisms for which she was made responsible; I verily believe that she could speak French extremely well, and that she really was only amusing herself, when she spoke in the extraordinary jargon that she affected. Anyhow, her parties were the greatest fun, and not only all Biarritz, but all Paris went to them.
The King was very fond of making excursions by motor-car after he had finished off his morning business, and lovely drives could be taken to St. Sebastian, Fuentarabia, and in the Pyrenees. On one occasion he motored over, with a large party of friends, to Pau, to see what was then the greatest wonder of the age, namely, Mr. Wilbur Wright and his brother actually flying in the air.
But as far as I was personally concerned when not on duty there, my greatest amusement was to play golf on that sporting little course, part of which lies on top of the cliffs, and part at their feet, close to the sea. There was also a pack of fox-hounds, but if anybody was keen about hunting, and could not manage to hunt in England, Pau was, on the whole, infinitely preferable to Biarritz, as there was much less woodland, and in some parts quite a fine grass country. For the fortunate people who always winter away from England, and are fond of creature comforts and easy journeys, there is nothing like the South of France; the difficulty was to choose between the two French Departments, the Alpes-Maritimes and the Basses-Pyrénées. I have listened to endless arguments as to their respectivemerits, and, as usual, there is a great deal to be said on both sides.
Both at Pau and Biarritz there was a great deal of very fair sport to be obtained, as between them they could produce two packs of fox-hounds, a certain amount of wild shooting, excellent fishing, for in some of the valleys in the neighbourhood of Pau there are first-class trout streams, and some good salmon are to be taken occasionally. Moreover, both towns rejoice in a Club, that of Pau being one of the most comfortable establishments of the sort I have ever come across, and there is plenty of golf. But, mild as is the climate, it is, nevertheless, a grey Northern winter. On the Riviera, it is the genuine South, with its brilliant sunshine and colour, and masses of flowers, and, moreover, that general air of gaiety that seems to spring naturally from sunshine and colour. Then, again, the Riviera is wonderfully beautiful. A stroll round the promontory of Monaco on a fine morning at Christmas time, is one of the most satisfactory promenades in the world, and there were few pleasanter places than Monte Carlo until it became spoiled, as Venice and Florence, and, indeed, as all the pleasantest and most beautiful places in the world were, in recent years, by the invasion of that most atrocious sample, of a very odious race,—I mean the low-class German tourist. Swarms of these detestable people used to be let loose in Monte Carlo, arriving in cheap trains from Germany, and spoiling everything by their horrible manners, and general shoddiness. The normal population of Monte Carlo may have consisted of scamps, male and female,but, at any rate, until the wholesale arrival of the Germans they were well-mannered and well-dressed scamps, and were not eyesores to the surrounding scenery.
There have always been numerous legendary suicides connected with Monte Carlo. In old days, these scandals used to be freely invented by some of the local newspapers, until a decent subsidy was obtained from the Casino Company, when they invariably and unaccountably (?) ceased. I do not suppose that in reality there have been more suicides at Monte Carlo than in any other place where there is a constantly shifting and cosmopolitan population, but, oddly enough, I witnessed one once, and without any particular feeling of regret. There had been a particularly vile specimen of the German tourist, playing a very small game at a table I had been patronising in the afternoon, who made himself odious to every one in his vicinity by his noise and bad manners. That evening, I happened to be dining early and alone in the Restaurant of the Hôtel de Paris before going to the Opera. I had just begun my dinner, and was seated close to the windows that look out on the Rond Point, just outside the steps of the Casino. It was about the hour that most people would be dressing for dinner, so the little “Place” was quite deserted. Suddenly I saw a figure come hurrying down the steps, and when it reached the Rond Point I recognised the man who had made himself so objectionable in the rooms during the afternoon. Just as he arrived opposite the window he produced a revolver and shot himself. Andthen what interested me, was the intervention of the Police. The “Place,” which before had seemed quite deserted, swarmed with them; they appeared to come out of the ground. In a trice the suicide,—for the man, I am sure, was dead,—was seated in a victoria, with an agent de police by his side, and driven rapidly away. The last I saw was Monsieur l’Agent putting the man’s hat on with a sort of fatherly air, as if saying, “It is all right; you are not the least hurt, only a little frightened.” The local newspaper subsidies must have been in full blast just then, for I never heard nor read any mention of the incident.