There’s no point pretending otherwise - I have used this date (on which the future King Edward VII, then performing as the Prince of Wales, was appointed to the Grand Cordon of the Order of the Chrysanthemum on the instructions of Emperor Meiji the Great of Japan) purely out of a need to somehow shoehorn Edward into this newsletter. I had to, you see, because this story is too good to miss. Even if it isn’t true.
In 1862, the Prince of Wales bought Sandringham House, in Norfolk, along with 8,000 acres of land, to serve as his weekend cottage. This meant that the nearest railway station, Wolferton, became one of the most famous stops in the country. Not only the British royal family, but politicians and heads of state from around the world regularly alighted there from specially chartered trains bringing them from London for a weekend’s fun and diplomacy. Sandringham was only a few minutes away by horse and carriage. The tiny station even had a luxuriously-appointed royal “retiring room.”
Wolferton closed in the 1960s, as did so many small stations, but it has been meticulously preserved for the nation by enthusiasts, and today exists as a free museum.
As for the story … well, Rebel Britannia includes rebels, reluctant rebels, unlikely rebels, and here (apocryphally or not) is an unwitting rebel.
According to local legend, there came a day in about 1914 when Tsar Nicholas II of Russia was staying at Sandringham with his cousin King Edward VII of the United Kingdom to discuss the war they were then fighting against their mutual cousin, Kaiser Wilhelm II of Germany.
After a day’s shooting (birds rather than Germans, presumably), the two emperors decided to give their bodyguards the slip and walk home. What larks! They got lost on the way, but eventually stumbled across a railway station. They had settled themselves into a carriage, when an inspector came along and demanded to see their tickets. Which they didn’t possess. “I, sir,” explained the king, “am the King of England, and this gentleman is the Tsar of Russia.”
“Very pleased to meet you, gents,” replied the inspector. “I’m the Archbishop of Canterbury. Now where’s those tickets?”
Sources:
https://morningstaronline.co.uk/article/britain%E2%80%99s-most-dangerous-estate
www.wolfertonroyalstation.co.uk/monarchs-line/
www.edp24.co.uk/things-to-do/days-out/staycation-sandringham-snettisham-and-wolterton-8551374
A reader kindly points out that Edward VII died in 1910! Which, at the very least, reduces the likelihood of his having been arguing with ticket inspectors in 1914 ... Those of us who want to believe the story must therefore conclude that it took place earlier, or that it involved a different Eddie; there were, to be fair, quite a lot of them.
- Mat