At Kensington, in
my earlier years, I often saw Queen Victoria and the Prince Consort with
their children, notably the Princess Royal (Empress Frederick) and the
Prince of Wales (Edward VII). When the last-named married the "Sea-King's
daughter from over the sea"--since then our admired and gracious Queen
Alexandra--and they drove together through the crowded streets of London
on their way to Windsor, I came specially from Eastbourne to witness that
triumphal progress, and even now I can picture the young prince with his
round chubby face and little side-whiskers, and the vision of almost
tearfully-smiling beauty, in blue and white, which swept past my eager
boyish eyes.
During the Easter holidays of 1864 Garibaldi came to England. My uncle,
Frank Vizetelly, was the chief war-artist of that period, the predecessor,
in fact, of the late Melton Prior. He knew Garibaldi well, having first
met him during the war of 1859, and having subsequently accompanied him
during his campaign through Sicily and then on to Naples--afterwards,
moreover, staying with him at Caprera. And so my uncle carried me and his
son, my cousin Albert, to Stafford House (where he had the _entree_), and
the grave-looking Liberator patted us on the head, called us his children,
and at Frank Vizetelly's request gave us photographs of himself.
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