Meanwhile, the King had been winning golden opinions from all sorts and conditions of men. His plucky conduct at the beginning of the illness, his thoughtful consideration for others through every stage of its continuance, his evidently strong place in the hearts of his subjects, combined to increase the personal popularity of the Sovereign at home while enhancing or promoting respect for him abroad. As the New York Tribune put it on the day before the Coronation: "The King is showing himself 'every inch a King' in some of those respects which are most prized and cherished by all men of his race, and which unfailingly command admiration among all men and all races. Those are the qualities of unselfishness, and indomitable and uncomplaining pluck." He had struggled long and earnestly against the malady—not for his own sake, because safety and ease would have early been found in surrender to its natural course. When that became finally necessary, and recovery then succeeded the period of suspense, his whole desire seemed to be the re-assuring of the popular mind and the relieving of public inconvenience. On August 6th the King and Queen Alexandra had landed at Portsmouth from the Royal yacht and proceeded to London. The stations were profusely decorated, and dense crowds were awaiting their arrival in the capital. At the Metropolitan station the King walked easily to the end of the platform and to his carriage, helped the Queen to enter, and followed himself without any apparent difficulty. The route to Buckingham Palace was lined with great throngs of people, and His Majesty acknowledged the continuous cheering with a most cheerful expression and by frequently raising his hat. He was described as looking better than for a long time past—while the Queen appeared positively radiant. On the evening of August 8th, the King issued an autograph message of thanks and appreciation to the nation, through the Home Secretary, couched in the following terms:
"To My People:—On the eve of my Coronation, an event which I look upon as one of the most solemn and most important in my life, I am anxious to express to my people at home and in the Colonies and India, my heartfelt appreciation of the deep sympathy they have manifested towards me during the time my life was in such imminent danger.
"The postponement of the ceremony, owing to my illness, caused, I fear, much inconvenience and trouble to all those who intended to celebrate it, but their disappointment was borne by them with admirable patience and temper.
"The prayers of my people for my recovery were heard, and I now offer up my deepest gratitude to Divine Providence for having preserved my life and given me strength to fulfil the important duties which devolve upon me as Sovereign of this great Empire.
EDWARD R. I."
While this tactful and sympathetic letter was being written by the Sovereign, his people in London were preparing for the great event of the morrow. The streets were crowded with moving masses of people; the decorations, though not as numerous or imposing as in June, were nevertheless effective; the streets were illuminated to a considerable extent, and the stands were nearly all sold out of their seating capacity. During the afternoon the King walked in the grounds of Buckingham Palace and held an Investiture, at which he gave the Order of the Garter to the Dukes of Wellington and Sutherland and of the Thistle to the Duke of Roxburghe and the Earl of Haddington. A little later, he received in audience Ras MaRonnen, the Abyssinian Envoy. Two interesting announcements were also made at this time—that Lord Salisbury was unwell and would be unable to attend the Coronation, and that Bramwell Booth had been granted special permission by the King to appear at Westminster Abbey in Salvation Army garb. The first incident marked the closing of an era of statecraft; of an age marked by the name and fame of Queen Victoria and her Ministers. The other illustrated the tact of the Sovereign as it proved the existence of a religious toleration and equality characteristic of the new period in which the new reign was commencing.
On August 9th the great ceremony finally took place. Though shorn of some of the International splendour of the first arrangements and without some of the military and naval glory which would have then surrounded the event its Imperial significance was in some respects enhanced and there was a deeper note in the festivities and an even more enthusiastic tone in the cheering than would have been possible on the 26th of June. The solemn ceremony in the ancient Abbey—which had not been used or opened to the public since that final practice of the choir—was brilliant in all the colours and shadings and dresses and gems and uniforms of a Royal function while it presented that other and more sacred side which all the traditions and forms of the Coronation ceremony so clearly illustrate. The enthusiasm of the people in the streets can hardly be described but the spirit and thought and feeling were well summed up in the words of a Canadian poet—Jean Blewett:
"Long live the King!
Long live the King who hath for his own
The strongest sceptre the world has known,
The richest Crown and the highest Throne,
The staunchest hearts, and the heritage
Of a glorious past, whose every page
Reads—loyalty, greatness, valour, might."
The day opened with brilliant promise and bright sunshine, but became overcast and gloomy by the time the Royal progress from the Palace had commenced. The crowds gathered early, and soon every seat in the many stands were filled with expectant and interested people who numbered in the end fully half a million. Picked troops, chiefly Household Cavalry and Colonial and Indian soldiers of the King, to the number of 30,000, guarded the route, with a picturesque line of white, black, brown and yellow men of many countries and varied uniforms. When the King and Queen appeared in their gorgeous state coach from out the gates of Buckingham Palace they were greeted with tremendous cheers from the multitude, and these cheers continued all along the way to the Abbey. In the Royal procession were the Prince and Princess of Wales with thirty-one other members of the Royal family. The Princess was beautiful in a long Court mantle of purple velvet trimmed with bands of gold and a minever cape fastened with hooks of gold over a dress of white satin embroidered in gold and jewelled with diamonds and pearls. Then followed Lord Knollys and Lord Wolseley and Admiral Seymour, Lord Kitchener and General Gaselee and Lord Roberts, with many other notabilities. The Indian Maharajahs, who acted as Aides-de-Camp to the King, were brilliant in red and white and brown and blue and gold and jewels. Immediately in front of the King was the Royal escort of Princes and Equerries with a body of Colonial and Indian troops. The arrival at the Abbey was marked by great enthusiasm in the massed multitudes surrounding the famous building and seated in the crimson-covered stands which had been built on every side.
The scene in the interior was indescribable. The blend of many colours in costume mixed with the time-mellowed harmonies of shade and substance in the mighty structure, while the air was permeated with the solemn sounds of the recently sung Litany and the slowly pealing bells of loyal welcome. Around were the greatest men and noblest and most beautiful women of Great Britain, and in the stalls was a veritable roll-call of fame in a world-wide Empire. Lord Salisbury was practically the only British personage of historic repute who was not present while the veteran Duke of Cambridge appeared as one of the two living links present between the Coronation which had marked the beginning of the Victorian era and that which was now to illustrate the birth of a new period. Into this scene of splendour and revel of colour came the King and the state officials of his realm.