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- Herausgeber: DigiCat
- Kategorie: Sachliteratur, Reportagen, Biografien
- Sprache: Englisch
In "King Edward VII," Marie Belloc Lowndes presents a meticulously crafted biographical account that highlights the complexities of Edward VII's life and reign. This authoritative work combines engaging narrative prose with keen historical analysis, drawing upon a rich tapestry of primary sources, including letters, memoirs, and official records. Lowndes situates Edward's story within the broader context of 19th and early 20th-century European politics, deftly analyzing how his personal relationships and public persona contributed to significant sociopolitical changes of the era, such as the evolution of monarchy and shifts in British diplomacy. Marie Belloc Lowndes, an accomplished novelist and biographer, was deeply influenced by her familial connections to the late Victorian and Edwardian periods, particularly her interactions with prominent societal figures. Her extensive knowledge of British history, combined with her literary talents, allows her to illuminate the paradoxical nature of Edward VII as a king who straddled tradition and modernity, epitomizing both indulgence and reform. This book is an essential read for anyone interested in royal history, British politics, or the social dynamics of the early 20th century. Lowndes' engaging narrative style and insightful commentary offer readers not only a profound understanding of King Edward VII himself but also the significant sociopolitical landscape of his time. In this enriched edition, we have carefully created added value for your reading experience: - A succinct Introduction situates the work's timeless appeal and themes. - The Synopsis outlines the central plot, highlighting key developments without spoiling critical twists. - A detailed Historical Context immerses you in the era's events and influences that shaped the writing. - A thorough Analysis dissects symbols, motifs, and character arcs to unearth underlying meanings. - Reflection questions prompt you to engage personally with the work's messages, connecting them to modern life. - Hand‐picked Memorable Quotes shine a spotlight on moments of literary brilliance. - Interactive footnotes clarify unusual references, historical allusions, and archaic phrases for an effortless, more informed read.
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022
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King Edward VII
Table of Contents
Introduction
At once a portrait of a sovereign and a study of a man navigating ceremony, expectation, and change, Marie Belloc Lowndes’s King Edward VII traces the delicate equilibrium between the visible theater of monarchy and the private self that must give it life, observing how power constrained by constitutional limits can still shape a nation’s mood, how public image both shields and exposes, and how an era eager for novelty demands steadiness without stagnation, so that the figure at its center becomes not only a symbol of continuity but also a living participant in the restless transformations surrounding the throne.
Lowndes presents a work of nonfiction biography focused on the world of late Victorian and Edwardian Britain, charting the public life of the heir who became monarch and the milieu that framed his reign. Written by a British novelist and biographer whose career spanned the early twentieth century, the book belongs to the tradition of accessible historical life-writing that addressed a wide readership interested in the personalities of the age. Its setting encompasses court, capital, and continent, following the rhythms of public duty and society, without straying into novelistic invention, and maintaining a perspective attentive to ceremony and change.
The narrative favors clarity over flourish, with a composed, observant tone that balances sympathy and reserve, allowing character to emerge through actions, occasions, and the measured accumulation of detail. Rather than pursue sensational revelation, Lowndes emphasizes the interplay between position and personality, tracing how habits, friendships, and obligations shape a sovereign’s public presence. The pacing alternates between panoramic scenes—processions, seasons, and rituals—and close focus on moments that reveal judgement, tact, or restraint. Readers encounter a voice that is attentive to social nuance and the limits of constitutional power, offering an inviting, steady guide through a densely peopled period.
Among its central themes is the tension between visibility and privacy: the necessity of being seen and the cost of constant observation. Lowndes treats monarchy as a vocation defined less by decree than by example, a craft of presence, courtesy, and continuity practiced under public scrutiny. The book considers how reputation is built, maintained, and sometimes revised, and how influence operates when formal authority is restrained. It also explores the social choreography of court and capital, where personal inclination meets institutional expectation, and where tradition must accommodate a society grappling with rapid change in technology, taste, and international outlook.
Set against the passing of the long Victorian shadow and the emergence of a distinctly Edwardian tone, the book situates its subject within a Europe of salons, press galleries, and formal visits, where gestures could signal as much as policies. Lowndes attends to the culture of sociability and hospitality that animated public life, showing how conversation, travel, and ceremony mediated relationships between institutions and individuals. The gaze is outward as well as inward, attentive to the atmosphere surrounding the throne—fashion, leisure, philanthropy, and spectacle—while remaining clear about the constitutional mechanics that determine what a modern sovereign can endorse, encourage, or simply symbolize.
Contemporary readers will recognize enduring questions threaded through the narrative: how leaders cultivate trust without overstepping their remit; how institutions adapt to cultural shifts; how media attention amplifies, distorts, and fixes a public figure in the imagination. By presenting character in relation to office, Lowndes invites reflection on responsibility exercised through example rather than decree. The portrait’s emphasis on civility, continuity, and tact speaks to plural societies negotiating identity and change, while its attentiveness to spectacle anticipates modern debates about visibility and service. The result is a study of symbolic power that remains instructive amid today’s mediated, expectation-laden public life.
Approached as a carefully shaped narrative rather than a compendium of anecdotes, King Edward VII offers steady illumination rather than surprise, inviting readers to consider the lived texture of constitutional rule and the character that sustains it. Lowndes’s measured cadence, preference for proportion, and eye for revealing detail make the book an approachable entry point for those seeking context for the Edwardian era and its figurehead. Without presuming prior expertise, it frames a life within its institutions and social currents, and in doing so, clarifies what example can accomplish when authority is bounded—an insight that lends the biography continuing resonance.
Synopsis
Marie Belloc Lowndes’s King Edward VII presents a measured portrait of the monarch’s life and times, following his passage from heir apparent to sovereign while situating him in the transition from the Victorian to the Edwardian age. The narrative proceeds chronologically, interweaving public milestones with the shaping influences of family, education, and court ritual. Lowndes emphasizes the demands placed upon a prince raised under exacting standards, and the gradual emergence of a public figure whose personality mattered to national life. The book introduces the central questions it will pursue: how Edward learned his role, how he exercised it, and why his example mattered.
It opens with his childhood as the eldest son of Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, an upbringing designed to shape character through discipline, study, and carefully supervised experience. Lowndes sketches the tension between private inclination and public duty, showing how a sensitive, sociable temperament encountered rules that defined imperial respectability. Tutors, travel within Britain, and controlled exposure to ceremony serve as preparation for future tasks. The portrait underscores family influence, especially the moral seriousness of his parents, without losing sight of the young prince’s search for independence. The groundwork is laid for a life in which scrutiny and service would be constant.
As he enters adulthood, the biography follows his public apprenticeship, including journeys that extended his visibility at home and abroad and a marriage that anchored his household. Lowndes recounts how union with Princess Alexandra of Denmark contributed to his stability and popularity, while the couple’s family life intersected with expectations of representation. The Prince of Wales emerges as a figure at ease in society, cultivating patronage of charities, the arts, and sport. Against this, the narrative notes episodes that tested judgment and image, using them to illustrate the pressures of celebrity before the term existed and the resilience demanded by it.
The long wait for the throne becomes a central thread, portrayed less as idleness than as continuous rehearsal for constitutional responsibility. Lowndes depicts a man learning institutions from the edges: attending ceremonies, opening hospitals, hosting gatherings where ministers, diplomats, and notables met under informal auspices. The account stresses how social ease became a political instrument, aligning the monarchy with polite sociability that could smooth tensions and build goodwill. At the same time, it acknowledges constraints imposed by the reigning sovereign, which kept the heir’s influence indirect. The result is a study of preparation—practical, public, and personal—that would inform a later, shorter reign.
Upon accession, the book traces adjustments in tone and practice that mark the Edwardian court, presenting a monarch determined to be visible, cosmopolitan, and punctual in ceremonial duty. Attention falls on the crown’s symbolic diplomacy, with journeys and receptions that projected reassurance at home and cordiality abroad. Lowndes highlights the king’s facility with European relationships and his role in fostering a climate conducive to improved understanding with key partners, while carefully distinguishing this influence from formal policymaking. Administrative changes in court life, etiquette, and patronage illustrate an effort to modernize without rupture, stabilizing traditions while meeting the expectations of a new century.
Domestic scenes place the reign within a society coping with industrial dynamism, imperial complexity, and debates over constitutional prerogative. Lowndes presents a sovereign who works within limits, using presence, tact, and continuity rather than direct intervention. Parliament, cabinet, and press supply the arena for public contention; the throne provides continuity and a stage for national ceremony. The biography follows set-piece moments of representation, charitable engagement, and seasonal rhythms, showing how the household reinforced stability through routine. In the background are conflicts that belong properly to elected leaders, yet the narrative suggests how the monarch’s conduct could calm passions and frame debate.
In closing, Lowndes offers a considered appraisal that treats Edward VII as both an individual personality and a bridge between eras. The book’s enduring interest lies in its depiction of kingship as practice rather than theory: a craft of appearances, audiences, and relationships through which continuity is maintained and goodwill cultivated. By tracing the evolution of a once-constrained heir into a confident symbol of national life, it illuminates the adaptation of the British monarchy to modern pressures without relying on melodrama or revelation. The study remains valuable for readers seeking to understand how character and circumstance combine to shape constitutional figureheads.
Historical Context
Marie Belloc Lowndes's study of King Edward VII is set against the passage from late Victorian to Edwardian Britain. When Edward acceded in 1901, the United Kingdom presided over a vast empire administered through a mature system of constitutional monarchy, Cabinet government, and a professional civil service. London functioned as an imperial financial center, while heavy industry and new technologies reshaped urban life. Victoria's death ended an unusually long reign, focusing attention on continuity, ceremonial, and the monarchy's symbolic role. Lowndes writes within a culture that treated royal biography as a lens on public institutions, diplomatic style, and social change.
Before his accession, Edward spent nearly six decades as Prince of Wales, undertaking public engagements across Britain and the empire without exercising executive power. He cultivated links with European courts, the military, and the arts, using sociability as a form of soft diplomacy compatible with constitutional limits. Patronage of racing, fashion, and hospitality at Sandringham shaped a court culture distinct from his mother's. The expanding popular press amplified both ceremony and personality, turning royal appearances into mass events. This long apprenticeship informs portrayals of Edward as a seasoned public figure whose influence flowed through example, conversation, and carefully staged visibility.
European politics dominated his reign's backdrop. Anglo-French tensions over colonial questions eased after Edward's high-profile 1903 visit to Paris and the Entente Cordiale of 1904, which settled disputes in Egypt and Morocco. Relations with Germany grew cooler amid a naval arms race and crises such as Morocco in 1905–06. Britain's understandings with France and Russia matured into the so-called Triple Entente by 1907, framing a new balance of power. As a constitutional monarch, Edward did not set policy, yet his court diplomacy and public travels supported rapprochement, earning him the contemporary epithet "Peacemaker" in sections of the British and French press.
The empire's military and administrative strains were equally central. The Second Boer War (1899–1902) concluded at the outset of Edward's reign, prompting reforms and debates over imperial methods. Edward's coronation in 1902, delayed by an emergency appendicitis operation, showcased imperial loyalty through large-scale ceremonies. The period saw dominion status consolidated: Australia federated in 1901; New Zealand and Newfoundland became dominions in 1907; the Union of South Africa formed in 1910. In India, the 1905 partition of Bengal provoked organized protest and boycott campaigns. Colonial and dominion conferences sought coordination while revealing diverging interests, a theme visible in contemporaneous commentary.
At home, the 1906 Liberal landslide ushered in reforms associated with new social policy and the rise of Labour. Measures such as trade disputes protections and the 1908 Old Age Pensions Act broadened the state's role in welfare. Organized labor and the Labour Party gained parliamentary footing, while the women's suffrage movement—galvanized by organizations like the Women's Social and Political Union, founded in 1903—intensified agitation. Edward remained publicly nonpartisan, operating through audiences and ritual rather than political initiative. His prime ministers included Arthur Balfour, Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman, and H. H. Asquith, each navigating shifting alliances, press scrutiny, and emergent mass politics.
The constitutional question sharpened after Chancellor David Lloyd George's "People's Budget" of 1909 proposed land and income taxes to fund social measures and naval expansion. The House of Lords' unprecedented rejection precipitated a constitutional crisis and the January 1910 general election. Negotiations over limiting the Lords' veto occupied the closing months of Edward's life; he died in May 1910 before a settlement was reached. The struggle culminated in the Parliament Act of 1911 under George V, but the confrontation defined the late Edwardian climate in which royal representation, party conflict, and the democratic mandate were publicly weighed and contested.
Contemporary society combined opulent display with rapid modernization. Motorcars, wireless telegraphy, early aviation, and cinema transformed pace and perception; the halfpenny press and illustrated weeklies expanded audiences for royal ceremony and political debate. The period's arts and design—often labeled "Edwardian" within the broader Belle Époque—favored elegance, theatricality, and new leisure habits. City rebuilding, commercial advertising, and department stores reframed public space. Royal rituals such as state openings, fleet reviews, and funerals were calibrated for spectacle and national cohesion. Biographical portraits of the sovereign inevitably register this media-rich environment, tracing how image management and protocol underwrote constitutional monarchy's public legitimacy.
Marie Belloc Lowndes (1868–1947), an Anglo-French novelist and journalist, brought a reporter's eye for detail and social milieu to nonfiction subjects. Known later for The Lodger (1913), she also wrote character studies and historical sketches that drew on contemporary press sources and public records. Her perspective, formed amid Franco-British literary networks, was well suited to interpreting Edward's ceremonious diplomacy and the Entente's cultural resonance. A portrait of Edward VII from her hand typically emphasizes conduct, ritual, and atmosphere over policy-making, mirroring the monarchy's constitutional position. It reflects its era's fascination with personality, ceremony, and soft power, while acknowledging accelerating political and social change.
King Edward VII
Chapter I. An Appreciation
On the Sunday following that eventful 9th of November on which His Most Gracious Majesty King Edward VII. first saw the light, the Rev. Sydney Smith[1] preached at St. Paul’s, and made the following interesting addition to the Bidding Prayer:—
“We pray also for that infant of the Royal race whom in Thy good providence Thou hast given us for our future King. We beseech Thee so to mould his heart and fashion his spirit that he may be a blessing and not an evil to the land of his birth. May he grow in favour with man by leaving to its own force and direction the energy of a free people. May he grow in favour with God by holding the faith in Christ fervently and feelingly, without feebleness, without fanaticism, without folly. As he will be the first man in these realms, so may he be the best, disdaining to hide bad actions by high station, and endeavouring always by the example of a strict and moral life to repay those gifts which a loyal people are so willing to spare from their own necessities to a good King.”
It must be remembered that this prayer was uttered in 1841, and some of the phrases which the great wit used reflect rather the Holland House view of the monarchy entertained at that time. Nevertheless, the prayer is noteworthy because in spirit, if not in the letter, it has been so completely answered. The manner of King Edward’s accession exhibits to a contemplative mind the eternal contrast between East and West. In an Oriental State a new Sovereign is as a rule unknown even in his outward appearance to his subjects, and is generally tossed up on to the throne by the angry waves of some palace intrigue of which he himself knows nothing. But it is the peculiar happiness of the British people that, in the midst of their bitter grief at the loss of Queen Victoria, there came to them the swift thought that one whom they had known and approved from his youth up was her successor, and would assuredly walk in her footsteps.
The accession of a Prince so universally beloved to the throne of his ancestors amid the deeply-felt joy of a great and free people is an inspiring spectacle. Perhaps, however, it is not fully realised how much King Edward, in the years of his public life as Prince of Wales, shared in the duties of the British Crown. The following pages will, it is hoped, show how completely His Majesty and his lamented mother agreed in their conception of the position of ruler of the British Empire. It is known that the death of the Prince Consort drew even closer the ties of affection which subsisted between the late Sovereign and her eldest son, and it would seem as if King Edward from that day forward had set both his parents before himself as exemplars, and had endeavoured to approve himself to his future subjects as a worthy son, not only of Victoria the Wise but also of Albert the Good. It is certainly significant how many of the qualities of both his parents His Majesty possesses.
In those admirable messages to his people, and to India and the Colonies, as well as to his Navy and Army, the King wrote absolutely as his mother would have wished him to write. There is in these documents the same keen personal sympathy, the same human touch, so notable in all Her late Majesty’s letters to her people, the same unerring perception, the same insight which demonstrated how completely the heart of the monarch was beating in unison with that of his people.
Although the British people realised and appreciated the Prince Consort’s great qualities some time before his death, it is, nevertheless, true to say that they never came to regard him with quite the same feeling of affection as that in which other members of the Royal Family were held. This was in no sense the fault of Prince Albert, but is rather attributable to that national prejudice against everything and everybody not originally and completely British which was especially strong in the middle years of the nineteenth century. Certainly we have become more cosmopolitan since those days; we have come to see that the manners and customs of foreign nations are not perhaps always so absurd as our forefathers, at any rate, supposed, and may even in some few respects be worthy of adoption and imitation.
In this salutary process of national illumination King Edward VII. undoubtedly played a considerable part. From the beginning of his public career he endeared himself to his future subjects by his natural bonhomie, his tact, and a certain indefinable touch of human sympathy which characterised all his actions and speeches. He was therefore able to carry on and to develop with extraordinary success his father’s work in promoting, not only the higher pursuits of science and art, but also the more immediately practical application of scientific principles to industries and manufactures. Few people realise how much England’s industrial prosperity was advanced both by the father and the son, and how much greater that prosperity would have been if Prince Albert’s foresight had been better understood and appreciated by his contemporaries.
Prince Albert will also ever be remembered with gratitude by the British people for the unremitting care which he devoted to the education of all his children, and especially to that of his eldest son. Of course the seed must be sown in good ground, and we know that the ground was good; the effect of that early education is seen in the admirable tact with which King Edward filled a most difficult and delicate position for many years. This position was rendered additionally onerous by the sometimes ridiculous, sometimes malevolent, stories which used to be circulated about his private affairs. It is one of the great penalties of Royalty that practically no reply can be made to the voice of calumny and detraction. The increase of the means of communication, and the growth of the newspaper press, have tended to heighten the glare of publicity in which Royalty is compelled to live. But this bright light of publicity does not at all resemble that dry light of reason which Bacon regarded as so essential to the investigations of science; its rays are refracted and distorted by ignorance and clumsiness, if not by actual malevolence. Mr. Balfour’s quiet announcement in the House of Commons soon after the King’s Accession, that on the resettlement of the Civil List no question of debts will arise for consideration—as was the case, for instance, on the Accession of George IV.—is an impressive reply to rumours regrettably current of late years.
It must have required no common discipline and self-control to bear such penalties as those, inflicted by the tongue of scandal, and at the same time to exercise that invariable discretion in reference to the great interests of State which we all admired so much in His Majesty when he was Prince of Wales. We should all regard as extraordinary, were it not that we have become so used to it, the way in which His Majesty contrived over so many years to be in politics and yet not of them; to educate himself in State affairs, while preserving that rigorous impartiality which our constitutional monarchy demands from the Heir to the throne. The sentiments with which he takes up his great task as King, not only of the United Kingdom but also of our vast Colonial Empire beyond the seas, added to the great dependency of India, is significantly shown in a sentence which His Majesty uttered in a speech long ago—that his great wish was that every man born in the Colonies should feel himself as English as if he had been born in Kent or Sussex.
Chapter II. Birth and Early Years
King Edward VII. was born on 9th November 1841, at Buckingham Palace[1q]. The Duke of Wellington, who was in the Palace at the time, is said to have asked the nurse, Mrs. Lily, “Is it a boy?” “It’s a Prince, your Grace,” answered the justly offended woman.
The news was received with great enthusiasm throughout the country, and Queen Victoria and Prince Albert had thousands of letters and telegrams of congratulation not only through official sources at home and abroad but from many of Her Majesty’s humblest subjects all over the world. Punch celebrated the event in some verses beginning—
Huzza! we’ve a little Prince at last, A roaring Royal boy; And all day long the booming bells Have rung their peals of joy.
And the little park guns have blazed away, And made a tremendous noise, Whilst the air has been filled since eleven o’clock With the shouts of little boys.
At the moment of his birth the eldest son of the Sovereign became Duke of Cornwall. This dukedom was the first created in England. It was created by King Edward III. by charter, wherein his son, Edward the Black Prince, was declared Duke of Cornwall, to hold to himself and his heirs, Kings of England, and to their first-born sons; and it is in virtue of that charter that the eldest son of the Sovereign is by law acknowledged Duke of Cornwall the instant he is born.
At the same time King Edward III. granted by patent certain provision for the support of the dukedom, including the Stannaries[2], in Cornwall, together with the coinage of tin, and various lands, manors, and tenements, some of which lay outside the county of Cornwall, but were nevertheless deemed to be part of the duchy. From these rents and royalties King Edward VII. derived, when he was Duke of Cornwall, a revenue of about £60,000 a year.
The little prince also became at his birth Duke of Rothesay, Earl of Carrick, Baron of Renfrew, Lord of the Isles, and Great Steward of Scotland (by act of the Scottish Parliament in 1469), but he was not born Prince of Wales. King George IV. was only a week old when he was created Prince of Wales and Earl of Chester by letters patent, but King Edward VII. had to wait nearly a month—till 4th December 1841—for these dignities.
The picturesque origin of the title of Prince of Wales is well known—how King Edward I. promised the turbulent Welsh barons to appoint them a prince of their own, one who was born in Wales and could not speak a word of English, and on whose life and conversation there was no stain at all. Having engaged the consent of the barons beforehand, he showed them his infant son, Prince Edward, who had been born in Carnarvon Castle but a few days before, and who was thereupon acclaimed as the first Prince of Wales. The dignity thus became established as personal, not hereditary, which could be granted or withheld at the pleasure of the Sovereign.
The Earldom of Chester was an early creation which was annexed to the Crown for ever by letters patent in the thirty-first year of King Henry III., when Prince Edward, his eldest son, was immediately granted the dignity. Edward the Black Prince received the Earldom of Chester when he was only three years old, before he was created Duke of Cornwall.
Queen Victoria’s recovery was rapid, as will be seen from the following entry in Her Majesty’s Journal on 21st November, the birthday of the Empress Frederick (Princess Royal of England):—
“Albert brought in dearest little Pussy (the Princess Royal) in such a smart white merino dress trimmed with blue, which Mama (the Duchess of Kent) had given her, and a pretty cap, and placed her on my bed, seating himself next to her, and she was very dear and good. And as my precious, invaluable Albert sat there, and our little Love between us, I felt quite moved with happiness and gratitude to God.”
A little less than a month after the birth of her eldest son, Queen Victoria wrote to her uncle, Leopold I., King of the Belgians:—
“I wonder very much who my little boy will be like. You will understand how fervent are my prayers, and I am sure everybody’s must be, to see him resemble his Father in every, every respect, both in body and mind.”
Christmas with its Christmas tree brought a new fund of delight to the Royal parents. “To think,” wrote the Queen in her Journal, “that we have two children now, and one who enjoys the sight already, is like a dream!” Prince Albert also wrote to his father:—“To-day I have two children of my own to give presents to, who, they know not why, are full of happy wonder at the German Christmas tree and its radiant candles.”
The christening of the Prince of Wales took place on 25th January 1842, in St. George’s Chapel, Windsor, for although Royal baptisms had hitherto been celebrated within the Palace, both the Queen and Prince Albert felt it to be more in harmony with the religious sentiments of the country that the future King should be christened within a consecrated building.
As can be easily understood, the choice of sponsors for the Prince of Wales was a matter of considerable delicacy. Finally the King of Prussia was asked to undertake the office, and Baron Stockmar gives the following interesting account of how His Majesty brushed aside the intrigues which were immediately set on foot:—
“Politicians, as their habit is, attached an exaggerated political importance to the affair. The King, who foresaw this, wrote to Metternich, and in a manner asked for his advice. The answer was evasive; and on this the King determined not to give himself any concern about the political intrigues which were set on foot against the journey. Certain it is, that the Russians, Austrians, and even the French, in the person of Bresson (their Ambassador at Berlin) manœuvred against it. They were backed up by a Court party, who were persuaded that the King would avail himself of the opportunity to promote, along with Bunsen and the Archbishop of Canterbury, his pet idea of Anglicanizing the Prussian Church. When the King’s decision to go became known, Bresson begged that he would at least go through France, and give the Royal Family a meeting; but this was declined.”
The King of Prussia arrived on the 22nd, and was met by Prince Albert at Greenwich and conducted to Windsor.
King Edward’s other sponsors were his step-grandmother, the Duchess of Saxe-Coburg, represented by the Duchess of Kent; the Duke of Cambridge; the young Duchess of Saxe-Coburg (Queen Victoria’s sister-in-law), represented by the Duchess of Cambridge; Princess Sophia, represented by the Princess Augusta of Cambridge; and Prince Ferdinand of Saxe-Coburg.
Nothing was omitted to make the Prince of Wales’s christening a magnificent and impressive ceremony. There was a full choral service, and a special anthem had been composed by Mr. (afterwards Sir) George Elvey for the occasion. When Prince Albert was told of this, and asked when it should be sung, he answered, “Not at all. No anthem. If the service ends by an anthem, we shall all go out criticising the music. We will have something we all know—something in which we can all join—something devotional. The Hallelujah Chorus[3]; we shall all join in that, with our hearts.” The Hallelujah Chorus ended the ceremony accordingly.
“It is impossible,” wrote Queen Victoria in her Journal, “to describe how beautiful and imposing the effect of the whole scene was in the fine old chapel, with the banners, the music, and the light shining on the altar.” It was significant of the young Queen’s native simplicity that the Prince was only christened Albert, after his father, and Edward, after his grandfather, the Duke of Kent.
Both Queen Victoria and Prince Albert soon showed that they were determined to allow nothing like publicity to come near their nurseries, and the public obtained but few glimpses of the Prince of Wales as a child. Prince Albert’s intimate friend and adviser, Baron Stockmar, wrote a year after his birth to one of his friends:—
“The Prince, although a little plagued with his teeth, is strong upon his legs, with a calm, clear, bright expression of face.” Before he was eighteen months old His Royal Highness had already sat for his portrait several times.
King Edward VII. was barely four months old when Baron Stockmar drew up a very long memorandum on the education of the Royal children. In this document he laid down that the beginning of education must be directed to the regulation of the child’s natural instincts, to give them the right direction, and above all to keep the mind pure. “This,” he went on, “is only to be effected by placing about children only those who are good and pure, who will teach not only by precept but by living example, for children are close observers, and prone to imitate whatever they see or hear, whether good or evil.” In the frankest manner the shrewd old German physician proceeded to point out that the irregularities of three of George III.’s sons—George IV., the Duke of York, and William IV.—had weakened the respect and influence of Royalty in this country, although the nation ultimately forgave them, because, “whatever the faults of those Princes were, they were considered by the public as true English faults”; whereas the faults of some of their brothers, who had been brought up on the Continent, though not at all worse, were not condoned, owing to the power of national prejudice.
The conclusion at which Baron Stockmar consequently arrived was, “that the education of the Royal infants ought to be from its earliest beginning a truly moral and a truly English one.” It ought therefore to be entrusted from the beginning only to persons who were themselves morally good, intelligent, well informed, and experienced, who should enjoy the full and implicit confidence of the Royal parents. The Baron did not mince matters with regard to “the malignant insinuations, cavillings, and calumnies of ignorant or intriguing people, who are more or less to be found at every Court, and who invariably try to destroy the parents’ confidence in the tutor.”
These principles commended themselves to Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, and Her Majesty wrote the following interesting letter to Lord Melbourne on the subject:—
“Windsor Castle, 24th March 1842.
“We are much occupied in considering the future management of our nursery establishment, and naturally find considerable difficulties in it. As one of the Queen’s kindest and most impartial friends, the Queen wishes to have Lord Melbourne’s opinion upon it. The present system will not do, and must be changed; and now how it is to be arranged is the great question and difficulty.… Stockmar says, and very justly, that our occupations prevent us from managing these affairs as much our own selves as other parents can, and therefore that we must have some one in whom to place implicit confidence. He says, a lady of rank and title with a sub-governess would be the best. But where to find a person so situated, fit for the place, and, if fit, one who will consent to shut herself up in the nursery, and entirely from society, as she must, if she is really to superintend the whole, and not accept the office, as in my case, Princess Charlotte’s, and my aunts’, merely for title, which would be only a source of annoyance and dispute?
“My fear is, that even if such a woman were to be found, she would consider herself not as only responsible to the Prince and Queen, but more to the country, and nation, and public, and I feel she ought to be responsible only to us, and we to the country and nation. A person of less high rank, the Queen thinks, would be less likely to do that, but would wish to be responsible only to the parents. Naturally, too, we are anxious to have the education as simple and domestic as possible. Then again, a person of lower rank is less likely to be looked up to and obeyed, than one of some name and rank. What does Lord Melbourne think?”
In his reply Lord Melbourne fully concurred in Baron Stockmar’s suggestion that a lady of rank should be appointed, and the choice of the Royal parents fell upon Lady Lyttelton, who had been a lady-in-waiting from 1838, and who appeared to possess the precise qualifications which the post demanded. The daughter of George John, second Earl Spencer, and his wife Lavinia, daughter of the first Earl of Lucan, she was born in 1787, married, in 1813, William Henry, afterwards third Lord Lyttelton, and died in 1870. Lady Lyttelton was installed as governess to the Royal children in April 1842, and discharged her duties with equal ability and devotion. Early in 1851 she laid down her office. Her young charges parted from her with sad hearts and tearful eyes, as Sir Theodore Martin records in the Life of the Prince Consort, while from the Queen and Prince Albert she received marked proofs of the deep gratitude which they felt for all that she had done.
In 1846 King Edward accompanied his parents on two yachting excursions, in August and September, on board the Royal yacht Victoria and Albert. Writing in her Journal on 2nd September, Queen Victoria says, with a pretty touch of maternal pride:—
“After passing the Alderney Race it became quite smooth; and then Bertie put on his sailor’s dress, which was beautifully made by the man on board who makes for our sailors. When he appeared, the officers and sailors, who were all assembled on deck to see him, cheered, and seemed delighted with him.”
Then, when the yacht arrived at Mounts Bay, Cornwall, Her Majesty records on 5th September that “when Bertie showed himself the people shouted ‘Three cheers for the Duke of Cornwall.’”
Again, at Falmouth, on 7th September, the Queen says:—
“The Corporation of Penryn were on board, and very anxious to see ‘The Duke of Cornwall,’ so I stepped out of the pavilion on deck with Bertie, and Lord Palmerston told them that that was ‘The Duke of Cornwall’; and the old Mayor of Penryn said that ‘he hoped he would grow up a blessing to his parents and to his country.’”
At Sunny Corner, just below Truro, the whole population “cheered, and were enchanted when Bertie was held up for them to see. It was a very pretty, gratifying sight.”
Princess Mary of Cambridge, afterwards the much-loved and lamented Duchess of Teck, gives a delightful picture of the Royal children in a letter written in 1847 to Miss Draper, her governess. Princess Mary was then about fourteen, and King Edward was rather more than five years old:—
“We paid a visit to the Queen at Windsor on New Year’s Eve, and left there on the 2nd. The Queen gave me a bracelet with her hair, and was very kind to me. The little Royal children are sweet darlings; the Princess Royal is my pet, because she is remarkably clever. The Prince of Wales is a very pretty boy, but he does not talk as much as his sister. Little Alfred, the fourth child, is a beautiful fatty, with lovely hair. Alice is rather older than him; she is very modest and quiet, but very good-natured. Helena, the baby, is a very fine child, and very healthy, which, however, they all are.”
In August 1847, Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, with the Queen’s half-brother, the Prince of Leiningen, went for a tour round the west coast of Scotland, taking with them their two eldest children, the Prince of Wales and the Princess Royal. This is notable as King Edward’s first visit to Scotland, for he was too young to accompany his parents on their first tour in Scotland in 1842; while when the Queen and Prince Albert visited Blair-Atholl in 1844 they only took with them the little Princess Royal.
Of this tour round the west coast of Scotland we obtain some delightful details in the late Queen’s Leaves from the Journal of Our Life in the Highlands. The Royal party started from Osborne in the Royal yacht Victoria and Albert, and they took the opportunity, after leaving Dartmouth, of visiting the Scilly Islands. The Queen writes:—
“Albert (who, as well as Charles, has not been unwell, while I suffered very much) went with Charles and Bertie to see one of the islands. The children recover from their sea-sickness directly.” By “Charles,” it should be explained, is meant the Prince of Leiningen. Naturally, when the Royal yacht arrived in Welsh waters, there was the greatest enthusiasm among the inhabitants at the sight of their little Prince. It must be remembered that at that time practically nothing was known by the general public about the Royal children, for their parents had very wisely resolved that they should as far as possible enjoy a natural, happy childhood, that being the best possible preparation for the public life that awaited them. However, evidently no harm was done by the notice which was taken of the Royal children on this tour. At Milford Haven their loving mother writes:—
“Numbers of boats came out, with Welshwomen in their curious high-crowned men’s hats, and Bertie was much cheered, for the people seemed greatly pleased to see the ‘Prince of Wales.’” Then again at Rothesay, when the yacht had passed up the Clyde:—
“The children enjoy everything extremely, and bear the novelty and excitement wonderfully. The people cheered the ‘Duke of Rothesay’ very much, and also called for a cheer for the ‘Princess of Great Britain.’ Everywhere the good Highlanders are very enthusiastic.”
With regard to her son’s title of Duke of Rothesay, Queen Victoria appends the following interesting note:—
“A title belonging to the eldest son of the Sovereign of Scotland, and therefore held by the Prince of Wales as eldest son of the Queen, the representative of the ancient Kings of Scotland.”
At Inveraray, which was next visited, the little Prince first met his future brother-in-law, the Marquis of Lorne, whom the Queen describes, in words which have often been quoted but will bear repetition, as “just two years old, a dear, white, fat, fair little fellow with reddish hair, but very delicate features, like both his father and mother: he is such a merry, independent little child. He had a black velvet dress and jacket, with a ‘sporran,’ scarf, and Highland bonnet.”
Naturally a good deal of interest was taken in the little Prince of Wales by those who had an opportunity of seeing him. When the great geologist, Sir Charles Lyell, went to Balmoral, the Queen’s eldest son, “a pleasing, lively boy,” gave him an account of the conjuring of Anderson, the “Wizard of the North,” who had just then shown the Court some marvellous tricks. Said the Prince in an awestruck tone:—
“He cut to pieces Mamma’s pocket-handkerchief, then darned it and ironed it so that it was as entire as ever; he then fired a pistol, and caused five or six watches to go through Gibbs’s head; but Papa knows how all these things are done, and had the watches really gone through Gibbs’s head he could hardly have looked so well, though he was confounded.”
Gibbs, it should be mentioned, was a footman.
The late Archbishop Benson, before he went up to Cambridge, was tutor to the sons of Mr. Wicksted, then tenant of Abergeldie Castle. Writing to his mother on 15th September 1848, young Mr. Benson gives the following interesting description of a glimpse which he had of the King as a little boy:—
