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[265] 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[266] 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 Pe?a, 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[267] 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[268] 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[269] 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.
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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,[271] 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[272] 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[273] 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.
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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.[275] 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.
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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, Fore............