His Gracious Majesty King Edward VII. was several times in Paris during the earlier years of my chaplaincy, as Prince of Wales, but his first visit to the French Republic as King and Emperor was in May, 1903. The visit was official and unique. Those of us who had lived in Paris during the Boer war—when, to say the least, the English were not popular, and had so frequently heard “Vivent les Boers” as we passed along the streets, and even had newspapers flaunted before us which recorded reverses to our arms—were very anxious that the visit should pass off quietly. The English colony was much concerned, and so were the French police. I was advised by the latter to admit to the Church only by ticket, and to take the names and addresses of each applicant for them who might be unknown to me. The following was the text of the ticket I issued: “English Church, Rue d’Aguesseau. Divine Service 11 a.m. It is requested that all seat-holders will be in their places at 10 o’clock. After 10.30 all unoccupied seats will be filled.” The tickets were all numbered and signed with a special stamp marked “Basileus.” The issuing of these tickets gave us considerable work, as we only had 1,000, and some 1,500 to 2,000 people applied for them—many by letter. Nearly the whole of two days was occupied in the distribution.
The “Entente Cordiale” is now happily a “fait accompli”; but at the time of His Majesty’s first official visit there was no thought of it in the public mind, though we know now it was the gracious intention of our peace-loving King that it should come about. I give an excerpt from the “Patrie,” signed by M. L. Millevoye, which at this time gave us some concern, for the “Patrie,” while not a high-class paper, is one that is largely read by the man in the street:
“Parisiens! Le Roi des Anglais n’est pas votre hôte: ce n’est pas vous qui l’avez invité. Cet étranger, cet ennemi vous impose sa visite.… Parisiens, ce roi vous saluera, vous ne le saluerez pas.
“Mais des cris bien français, esclusivement français, peuvent sortir, sans provocations, de vos poitrines. Crier ‘Vive Marchand!’ c’est condamner Fachoda, c’est marquer la flètrissure d’une des plus hyprocrites d’une des plus odieuses brutalités diplomatiques que la France aie subies, Crier Vivent les Boers.… Crier Vive la Russie.… Votre silence même, s’il est général, absolu, aura sa grandeur. Devant vos fronts couverts, devant vos regards implacables, ce roi comprendra qu’on l’atrompé en lui parlant de votre soumission, &c., &c., &c.”
It seemed, however, as if the very presence of His Majesty in Paris at once dissipated any cloud that might have appeared in the sky. The French are remarkable for their readiness to swing round to an opposite opinion when they find reason for so doing. This was very striking in the Dreyfus affair, and, more recently, in the case of M. E. Zola, who, after having been condemned to imprisonment and a heavy fine for his defence of Dreyfus, received the “post mortem” honour of being removed from the cemetery of Montmatre to the Panthéon, that resting place of the illustrious French dead.
HIS MAJESTY ENTERING THE CHURCH, FOLLOWED BY SIR E. MONSON.
The visit of His Majesty to Paris extended from May 1st to 4th, and almost every hour was occupied with the usual official visits, lunches, dinners, and receptions. The English colony looked forward especially to the Sunday when they expected to see and worship with the King in their own Church. There was some anxiety as to whether His Majesty would sit in the Embassy gallery, or in the body of the Church, as in the former case he would hardly be seen by the congregation. I reported to our Ambassador, Sir E. Monson, the great desire that the King would sit with the congregation, and late on Saturday evening I received a message that he had kindly consented to do so. This gracious act gave much pleasure to the colony. There were many young people who had never seen their King before, and I fear his presence was rather distracting to their worship on this occasion.
The police were considerably scared when it was announced that His Majesty would not drive to the Church, but intended to walk. Although only a few yards it was felt to be more or less a danger; but every precaution being taken, all passed off safely. As the congregation was assembling, I was sent for to the door to interview a distinguished-looking man who desired to enter the Church, but had no ticket. I found, however, upon careful enquiry, that he was a detective from Scotland Yard, and required to examine the place where the King was to sit.
This quiet Sunday service, with the King-Emperor attending as an ordinary worshipper, very much impressed the French people. I will quote what was said by the “Figaro” and the “Daily Telegraph” at the time; the former giving the general French feeling much more accurately than the “Patrie,” although even the latter paper soon changed its tone.