At the banquet of 1888, the President, Sir Frederick Leighton, after the toast of "The Queen," in proposing "The Prince and Princess of Wales and the rest of the Royal Family," referred to this year being the "Silver Wedding," and also alluded to the anxiety then darkening the home of "the Princess Royal of England," the Empress of Germany.
The Prince, in reply, said:—
"Mr. President, my Lords, and Gentlemen,—This toast has been proposed in far too flattering terms, but the words which have fallen from Sir Frederick Leighton have not failed to touch me deeply, as they also will touch the Princess. I thank you, therefore, Mr. President, for the kind manner in which you have given the toast, and you, gentlemen, for the way in which you have received it. My coming here this evening marks, as it were, a double anniversary. This is not only the year of my silver wedding, which your President has kindly referred to, but it is now just a quarter of a century ago since I first had the pleasure and gratification of accepting the kind hospitality of this great Academy. There have, no doubt, been many changes during that interval in this body. Many illustrious and distinguished members of the Academy have passed away; but, while we cannot but regret them, we know that there has been no lack of others to fill their places. When one thinks of the old buildings in which we used to assemble, which are now devoted to the purposes of the National Gallery, and when one sees this new edifice, which has existed now for nineteen years, and the beautiful objects that adorn its walls, one can form some idea of the great progress that has been made in art in this country. It is a remarkable fact that, although many new galleries are constantly springing up, there appears to be no difficulty in adorning their walls and filling them with pictures and sculpture. In 1869, 3000 works of art were offered for acceptance by this Academy; but this year, I am told, no less than 9300 were sent in. Unfortunately, of that number upwards of 7000 had to be returned, because you have only room for 2000 odd. The responsibility which rests upon the President, and especially upon that most hard-working and perhaps I may say also best-abused body, the hanging committee, is very great, and their labours increase as years go on. They, of course, cannot give satisfaction to everybody; but those distinguished artists who must be disappointed at not seeing their works upon these walls may perhaps find some consolation in observing how very high is the general standard of excellence attained by their more fortunate brethren whose works have been accepted.
"Before sitting down I wish to acknowledge on behalf of my sister and her husband the kind sympathy which you, sir, have expressed to-night in such feeling words. I wish it were possible for me to give on this occasion greater hopes of the life of one so near and dear to me, of one of such value, not only to his own country, but, I maintain, to the world at large. The recent news which we have received has been rather more favourable, and God grant that such news may continue. At any rate, as long as there is life there is hope. I thank you once more, Mr. President, for the cordial terms in which you have proposed my health and the kind way in which you have alluded to the members of my family."
The Duke of Cambridge, who has the pleasurable duty every year of responding to the toast of the Army, must naturally feel increasing difficulty in varying the subject of his discourses. He was, however, never more happy in his remarks than at the banquet of 1888. "Every year that I come here," said the Duke, "I feel more at home among you, and for this reason, because I believe that there is great sympathy between artists and military men. It has been said that the services seem to some extent out of place in a company composed of artists, because artists are concerned with art and science and peaceful pursuits; but I believe, on the other hand, that artists derive a great advantage from observing our profession, because it supplies them with many subjects which they love to portray. And the military sentiment among artists is by no means to be considered as effaced. When I see what a splendid corps of Volunteers the artists supply, I think I may claim them as one of the elements of strength which we should use should any emergency arise. God forbid that it should ever arise; but, if it should, may the services be in a condition to prevent danger from approaching this country." These last words form the burden of most of the wise and patriotic speeches which the Duke of Cambridge delivers at the Academy and elsewhere.