In the reception of Lord Roberts the King took a prominent part. Accompanied by Queen Alexandra, and their son and daughter-in-law and Princess Victoria, His Majesty, as representing his Royal Mother, presided at the State luncheon at Buckingham Palace in honour of the Commander-in-Chief, while only a few days before Queen Victoria’s death the King took the chair at the great banquet at which the United Service Club entertained Lord Roberts.

The services of the Colonial contingents in South Africa made a profound impression on the King’s mind. He showed this in the most significant manner when, brushing aside all antiquated War Office precedents, he not only inspected Strathcona’s Horse in the garden of Buckingham Palace and gave them the South African Medal in advance before its general issue, but actually presented the regiment with a colour. That such honour should be conferred on a corps of irregulars doubtless shocked military pedants, but it caused intense pride and gratification to the gallant Canadians, who in their modesty refused to believe that their services had been anything out of the common.

CHAPTER XXIII
THE KING AND FREEMASONRY

After the King’s accession His Majesty reluctantly decided that he could not hope to find time to fulfil the duties of the high offices in Masonry to which he had been called as Prince of Wales, namely Grand Master of English Freemasons and Grand Master of the Mark Degree. At the same time King Edward was unwilling to cut short his long official connection with Masonry. Accordingly, His Majesty graciously intimated, in a letter read at Grand Lodge on 15th February 1901, that, following the precedent of King George IV., he would, on his retirement from the office of Grand Master, take the title of “Protector of English Freemasons.” Similarly, at a Grand Lodge of Mark Master Masons held four days later, it was announced that His Majesty would assume the title of “Patron of Freemasons of the Mark Degree.”

The King was succeeded in both his Grand Masterships by his brother, the Duke of Connaught, whose consent to serve gave great satisfaction to the brethren of the craft.

Undoubtedly Freemasonry has been one of the most absorbing interests of the King’s life. Yet very few foreign princes are Masons; and though the Duke of Kent was one, the Prince Consort always refused to associate himself with the craft. Of course it must be remembered that British Freemasonry is a very different thing from what the term is supposed to imply on the Continent, where it is associated in the public mind with atheism and even anarchism.

As far back as March 1870 the King presided at the anniversary festival of the Royal Masonic Institution for Boys. This was not very long after his initiation, and in his speech he expressed his pride at being so heartily received by the company as a brother Mason, and his determination to follow in the footsteps of his grand-uncles, who were so long connected with the craft. The King continued:—

“Much has been said against Freemasonry by those who do not know what it is. People naturally say they do not approve of secret societies; but I maintain that the craft is free from the reproach of being either disloyal or irreligious.… I desire to remind you that when, about seventy years ago, it became necessary for the Government of that day to put down secret societies, my relative, the late Duke of Sussex, urged in his place in Parliament that Freemasons’ lodges ought to be exempt from such a law, and the force of his appeal was acknowledged. From that time Freemasonry has been devoid of politics, its only object being the pure and Christian one of charity.”

In May of the following year the King presided at the annual festival of the Royal Masonic Institution for Girls, and announced that Queen Alexandra had consented to become the Patroness of the institution. His Majesty also expressed his thanks to the brethren for their sympathy with him on the death of his infant son in the preceding month.

It is interesting to record, in view of the King’s present title of Patron of Freemasons of the Mark Degree, that His Majesty, who was already Patron of the Order in Scotland, was installed as Patron of Free and Accepted Masons in Ireland on the occasion of his visit to that country in August 1871. The installation was attended with great ceremony, and in the course of his reply to the address of welcome presented to him the King said:—

“It was a source of considerable satisfaction to me when I was elected a member of the craft, and I think I may, without presumption, point to the different Masonic meetings which, since my initiation, I have fraternally attended. As a proof of the interest I take in all that relates to Freemasonry, I can assure you that it has afforded me great gratification to become the Patron of the Most Ancient and Honourable Society of Free and Accepted Masons in Ireland, and that an opportunity has been given to me by my visit to Ireland of being installed here to-day.”

The Grand Master then clothed the King with the collar, apron, and jewel as Patron. The brethren, according to ancient custom, saluted him as Patron of the Order in Ireland, the Grand Master himself giving the word, and His Majesty then said:—

“I have now to thank you heartily and cordially for your fraternal reception, and for the honour you have done me, and I beg to assure you of the pleasure I feel on having been invited to become the Patron of the Order of Freemasons in Ireland. It is a source of considerable satisfaction to me to know that my visit to this country has afforded this opportunity of meeting you, brethren, in Lodge, and so interchanging these frank and hearty greetings. It is true I have not been a Mason very long. I was initiated, as you perhaps know, in London, a few years ago, after which I visited the Grand Original Lodge of Denmark, and a short time afterwards I had the signal satisfaction of being elected a Past Grand Master of the United Grand Lodge of England. Last year I had the honour of being elected Patron of the Order in Scotland; and, brethren, though last, not least, comes the special honour you have conferred on me. I thank you for it from the bottom of my heart. I may, I think, refer with some pride to the number of Masonic meetings I have attended in England since my initiation as a proof of my deep attachment to your Order.

“I know—we all know—how good and holy a thing Freemasonry is, how excellent are its principles, and how perfect the doctrine it sets forth; but forgive me if I remind you that some of our friends outside are not as well acquainted with its merits as we are ourselves, and that a most mistaken idea prevails in some minds that, because we are a secret society, we meet for political purposes, or have a political bias in what we do. I am delighted, brethren, to have this opportunity of proclaiming what I am satisfied you will agree with me in—that we have, as Masons, no politics; that the great object of our Order is to strengthen the bonds of fraternal affection, and to make us live in pure and Christian love with all men; that though a secret, we are not a political body; and that our Masonic principles and hopes are essential parts of our attachment to the Constitution and loyalty to the Crown.”

No doubt the most impressive Masonic ceremony ever attended by the King was his installation as Grand Master of English Freemasons in the Royal Albert Hall on 28th April 1875, to which office he was elected on the resignation of the Marquis of Ripon. The scene was striking in the extreme. The platform usually occupied by the choir was transformed into a daïs, on which the throne was placed, the space around being large enough for four or five hundred Provincial Grand Masters, Past Grand Officers, and visitors of distinction. The throne was the one in which King George IV. was installed when he was Prince of Wales. It was covered with rich purple velvet, and the floor was laid with a magnificent Oriental carpet, a century old, lent for the occasion by a member of the Westminster and Keystone Lodge. Behind the throne the banner of Grand Lodge and other flags were placed; in front a wide aisle was formed right across the area to the Royal entrance. This was laid with a rich carpet of velvet pile, woven expressly for the occasion. The ground was blue, enriched alternately with the arms of Grand Lodge and Prince of Wales’s feathers.

It is recorded that when the King entered the hall the enthusiasm of the brethren was so great that the proper order of the ceremonial was forgotten, and the Grand Master Elect was greeted with extraordinarily vehement, but quite irregular plaudits.

In returning thanks after his installation, His Majesty delivered an appropriate speech, in the course of which he said:—

“It is difficult for me to find words adequate to express my deep thanks for the honour which has already been bestowed upon me—an honour which has, as history bears testimony, been bestowed upon several members of my family, my predecessors; and, brethren, it will always be my most sincere and ardent wish to walk in the footsteps of good men who have preceded me, and, with God’s help, to fulfil the duties which I have been called upon to occupy to-day. The various duties which I have to perform will frequently, I am afraid, not permit me to attend so much to the duties of the craft as I should desire; but you may be assured that when I have the time I shall do the utmost to maintain this high position, and do my duty by the craft and by you on every possible occasion. Every Englishman knows that the two great watchwords of the craft are Loyalty and Charity. These are their watchwords, and as long as Freemasons do not, as Freemasons, mix themselves up in politics, so long I am sure this high and noble Order will flourish, and will maintain the integrity of our great Empire. I thank you once more, brethren, for your cordial reception of me to-day, and I thank you for having come such immense distances to welcome me on this occasion. I assure you I shall never forget to-day—never!”

The last sentence, obviously an impromptu, was uttered with much emphasis and evidently deep feeling.

At the banquet which followed in the evening the King, in proposing the health of the King of Sweden and Norway, said:—

“It affords me especial pleasure to propose this toast, as seven years ago I became a member of this craft, initiated by the late King, the brother of the present one. Thereby I consider I have a more special interest in Sweden.”

As a matter of fact, in spite of his numerous other duties, the new Grand Master did find time to attend a considerable number of Masonic functions. Not the least interesting of these was his laying the foundation stone of Truro Cathedral on 20th May 1880, of which the late Archbishop Benson, then Bishop of Truro, wrote the following vivid description, quoted in that prelate’s Life:—

“The ceremonial of the Freemasons, which some regarded with suspicion and dislike, was satisfactory and refreshing from its simple exposition of symbolism as an element in life, quite apart from ecclesiasticism. I had, upon the first mooting of the question by the Prince, taken the opinion of the Rural Deans as representative of the clergy, and their unanimous opinion was that it was even desirable to use an old guild in this way, provided that the Church Service and order were in no way interfered with. And the Prince, both through Lord Mount Edgcumbe, and at Marlborough House himself, said that nothing should be done except in full accord with my own arrangements as Bishop and the usual forms.… The dignity and the simplicity and naturalness with which the Prince poured the corn and wine and oil over the stone added much to the ceremony, and the force and clearness with which he delivered the impressive little sermon, ending with an excellent passage of Ezra, chosen by Lord Mount Edgcumbe, rang out of a really serious spirit.… The colours of the Masons, which look quaint on the individual, looked very soft in the mass.

“The most striking moment was when the procession of military and naval authorities and deputy lieutenants came sweeping in with a great curve, leading the Princess and her boys. She was received by our tall Mayor in his stately new furred gown and me, and taken up to her throne. At the end she was led to the newly-laid stone and seated by it, while a long train of girls brought their purses and laid them before her, after the little Princes had each presented £250 in behalf of Miss Goldsworthy Gurney, who wished thus to memorialise her father’s invention of the steam jet. The Prince of Wales was timidly asked whether he would approve of this, and said, ‘Oh, why not? The boys would stand on their heads if she wished!’ The younger of the boys is a bright-coloured, cheery lad, but the elder, on whom so much may depend, is pale, long-faced, and I can’t help thinking, for a child, like Charles the First—it is a very feeling face. At night when they were sent to bed between 12 and 1, having been allowed to sit up as a special privilege to the ball, the Princess said to me as they pleaded for a little longer, ‘I do wish to keep them children as long as I can, and they do want so to be men all at once.’ May she prevail!”

The mallet which was used by His Majesty on this occasion was the one with which King Charles II. laid the foundation-stone of St. Paul’s Cathedral. It was presented to the old lodge of St. Paul by Sir Christopher Wren, who was a member.

The King, who was of course then Duke of Cornwall, was also present at the consecration of Truro Cathedral on 3rd November 1887, and Archbishop Benson records an instance of His Majesty’s religious feeling:—

“There was a nice incident in the consecration. Just as the Bishop was signing the sentence of consecration, Bishop of Salisbury whispered to me, ‘Shouldn’t the Prince of Wales be asked to sign it?’ I sent him to Bishop of Truro to suggest it, who sent him on to the Prince’s daïs. The Prince assented, but instead of waiting for the parchment to be brought up, instantly came down from his place and went up the altar steps and signed it there on the little table set in front of the altar—a real little bit of reverence.”

Another interesting ceremony was His Majesty’s consecration, in his official capacity as Grand Master of England, of the Chancery Bar Lodge of Freemasons in Lincoln’s Inn Hall. The King sat in the Grand Master’s chair, wearing the full regalia of his office; at his left sat the Earl of Lathom, Pro-Grand Master, and at his right, the Earl of Mount-Edgcumbe, Deputy Grand Master.

Many curious incidents have occurred in connection with the King’s interest in Freemasonry. At one dinner at which the King of Sweden was present, the list of subscriptions announced amounted to the enormous sum of £51,000, probably the largest amount ever raised at a festival dinner in the history of the world.

On two occasions the King has presided as Grand Master of English Freemasons over remarkable assemblies in the Royal Albert Hall. The first was in celebration of Queen Victoria’s Golden Jubilee in 1887, when the tickets for admission produced £6000, a sum which was divided among the three great Masonic charities. Very similar was the Diamond Jubilee assembly of Freemasons, at which eight thousand members were present. The King spoke admirably, the Duke of Connaught moved the adoption of the address to Queen Victoria, while Earl Amherst aroused unbounded enthusiasm when he alluded to Her Majesty as “the daughter of a Freemason, the mother of Freemasons, and the patron and benefactress of our Order.”

CHAPTER XXIV
THE KING AS A PHILANTHROPIST

One of the first occasions on which King Edward and Queen Alexandra appeared in support of a charitable institution was on 24th June 1863, when their Majesties opened the new buildings of the British Orphan Asylum at Slough. From that day forward both the King and Queen have unceasingly demonstrated their keen personal interest in every genuine form of charitable endeavour. It would be impossible to estimate the total sum of human misery and suffering which has been relieved as the direct result, not only of their Majesties’ own exertions, but also of the powerful example which they have consistently set before the wealthy and leisured classes. The mere catalogue of the charitable meetings and dinners at which the King has presided would occupy many pages of this book.

But His Majesty has never contented himself, as he might so easily have done, with allowing his own subscription and the fact of his patronage to open the purse-strings of the charitable public. The word “genuine” has been used above advisedly. The King has no sort of admiration for careless, slovenly charity, which often does more harm than good. Long ago he realised that to give money is not enough, but that it is a sacred duty to see that the money is expended to the best advantage and really reaches the persons for whom it is intended. Hence it is not surprising to find that His Majesty was from the first a strong supporter of the old Mendicity Society, and has continued to give his countenance to the Charity Organisation Society, which, in return, has been of the greatest service to him.

It will readily be understood that it is not so much the actual sums subscribed by His Majesty and his gracious Consort to a particular charity which are valued—though the aggregate amount which they have given away since their marriage represents a very large sum—but it is the guarantee afforded by the mere fact that their Majesties have subscribed at all. Great precautions are taken to prevent a Royal subscription from being given to a fraudulent or unworthy object, and that is no doubt why a comparatively small sum, perhaps only £50 or £100 from the King or Queen Alexandra, stimulates the generosity of the public to the extent of many thousands.

Charitable work, however, as those who have engaged in it know only too well, is only a palliative. By his active interest in the problem of the housing of the poor, which has been described in a previous chapter, the King has endeavoured to strike at one of the chief causes of vice and crime. We have seen that on various occasions His Majesty has made pointed observations regarding the provision of decent cottages for agricultural labourers, and there can be no doubt that the example he has set on his Sandringham estate has been of the greatest value. The King took the earliest opportunity after his accession, in his reply to the address presented by the London County Council, of emphasising his interest in the housing of urban populations also. It must not be forgotten that the question is, at any rate in some of its aspects, a political one, and the King has therefore been obliged to exercise all his well-known tact and discretion in dealing with it.

With regard to medical charities, the precise value of which is fortunately not a subject of political difference, the King has enjoyed practically a free hand. Twice in his life His Majesty has realised in his own person the incalculable benefits of skilled medical and surgical treatment and trained nursing, being indeed on the first occasion literally snatched from the jaws of death. Though the King’s active support of hospitals dates from an earlier time in his life, these experiences doubtless strengthened his keen desire to render the benefits which he had himself enjoyed available for the poorest classes of the community. Perhaps His Majesty’s interest in medical science dates from a visit which he paid when quite a boy to the great school, mainly for doctors’ sons, at Epsom. At any rate there can be no doubt about the steady development of that interest, which may be said to have culminated in “The Prince of Wales’s Hospital Fund for London,” established as a memorial of Queen Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee.

Probably only those who are concerned in the practical working of this fund have an adequate idea of the good which it has already done and will do in the future. It is not merely, as was erroneously supposed at first, a machine for collecting money which might as well be sent direct to individual hospitals. No one who appreciates the practical bent of the King’s mind could ever have believed that he would give his name to such a scheme as that.

The fundamental idea of the fund is the giving of personal service, the money collected being used as a means of raising the standard of work done in the various hospitals. Before the fund existed there was no regular systematic inspection of the London hospitals, which in consequence presented very varying degrees of efficiency, some institutions being admirably conducted, while in others the funds were to a greater or less extent frittered away owing to the lack of good business management. It never occurred to the great majority of business men to associate themselves in the practical work of hospital administration, though they subscribed most generously to the hospital funds. The King’s plan was to enlist the personal service of the most competent and representative business men, who should form, in conjunction with certain eminent physicians and surgeons, and a number of peers and members of Parliament of tried ability, a visiting committee to inspect thoroughly every London hospital. On the reports of this committee, grants from the fund were to be made immediately, or promised subject to conditions, or in extreme cases altogether withheld.

The moral effect of this ingenious scheme has been extraordinary. Not only have weak hospitals been brought into line, but the better-managed institutions have been improved, while as regards individuals the effect has been to encourage every competent hospital official and to minimise as far as possible the harm done by the incompetent. At first it was thought that the investigations of the visiting committee, which are necessarily extremely thorough, might be resented as inquisitorial and un-English, but the visiting committee found that the authorities of almost every institution were eager to afford all possible information. The income of the fund and the amount annually distributed show a steady increase, which has been greatly fostered by the Order of the League of Mercy instituted by the King in 1899. This decoration is bestowed only as a reward for special personal service in the cause of the hospitals. The hospital stamp, too, which brought in so much money to the fund, was, if not actually designed, at any rate suggested by His Majesty, the central figure being Sir Joshua Reynolds’s “Charity,” which is to be seen in the famous Reynolds window at New College, Oxford.

Perhaps the most often quoted observation ever uttered by the King is his famous saying about preventible diseases—“If preventible, why not prevented?” His Majesty is an eager supporter of every properly authorised medical discovery which promises to be of value to humanity in the alleviation of disease. For example, both the King and Queen Alexandra have taken the greatest interest in the “light treatment” for lupus introduced by Dr. Finsen, a Danish savant, which Her Majesty had installed at the London Hospital, and as we have seen His Majesty experienced in his own person the value of the Röntgen rays for purposes of diagnosis.

The King has long been deeply impressed with the ravages of consumption and other forms of tuberculosis, and when, comparatively recently, an association for the prevention of this terrible scourge was established, he not only became its president, but took an active part in its deliberations. Moreover, not long before the death of Queen Victoria he consented to preside at a great National Congress on Tuberculosis to be held in London in the course of 1901, and to be attended by delegates from all parts of the British Empire.

As far back as 1863 the King became a patron of the Brompton Hospital for Consumption, and in 1879 he laid the foundation-stone of the new wing by which its accommodation was largely increased. A few years afterwards he showed his continued interest in the same subject by presiding at a festival dinner in aid of the Royal Hospital for Diseases of the Chest, in the City Road, which brought in nearly £5000 to the funds of the hospital. Until comparatively lately, consumption was regarded as practically incurable, and it says much for the King’s clearheadedness and insight that he unhesitatingly placed himself at the head of the crusade against the disease. The historian of the future will reckon this as not the least of the services he has rendered to his people.

As may be imagined from the diversity of his interests, the King’s correspondence of late years rivalled that of Queen Victoria, and His Majesty is always eager to acknowledge the debt he owes to his private secretary, Sir Francis Knollys. The correspondence is reduced by the private secretary to three distinct sections—the private letters, the business letters, and the miscellaneous letters. Among the latter are those written by lunatics, begging-letter writers, and so on. The private letters are sent up to the King unopened, the others are all read through by Sir Francis and again subdivided, the larger section to be replied to in a formal and official way, the others to be submitted to the King before they are dealt with.

Some of His Majesty’s correspondents evidently have a touching belief in his power of righting wrong. They implore him to take up their cause when they are injured, and it may be stated that no bona fida epistle was ever sent to the King without being answered, often with marvellous celerity, and ever with the greatest courtesy and kindness.

At Sandringham there is a post office inside the house for the use of the Royal Household, but at Marlborough House the huge letter-bags are sent over to the St. James’s Street post office at regular intervals throughout the day.

The King has long been a subscriber to the National Telephone Company, and he is said to spend over £1000 a year in telegrams alone, for the popular idea that Royalty’s letters are franked, and that parcels sent by them are forwarded free of cost, is a delusion.

Sir Francis Knollys’s duties as secretary are not confined to what are generally called secretarial duties. He has to act as his Royal master’s supplementary memory. He keeps the list of all the King’s engagements, and, what is a more arduous task, arranges every item of the Royal journeys. Princess Charles of Denmark is said to have once observed that she felt sure that if Sir Francis were suddenly awakened in the middle of the night and asked what were the King’s engagements eight days forward, he would immediately begin to recite the entire list.

Be that as it may, the position of Sir Francis Knollys is a very responsible one, and even his most intimate friends marvel how he can get through the enormous amount of work he has to do. Occasionally his labours are enormously increased, especially at times of public calamity or Royal mourning. During the Tranby Croft case well-intentioned folk all over the British Empire sent books and pamphlets pointing out the evils of gambling, and in most cases these were courteously and kindly acknowledged.

Sir Francis writes every important letter with his own hand, for typewriters have, so far, never been used in Royal correspondence. He has two assistant secretaries, who attend to the routine work, but even then many of the letters written by them are signed by him, and in all cases he looks them over and sees that they are as he would wish them to be. There is also a staff of clerks.

In 1865 His Majesty attended his first public dinner in his capacity as president of the Royal Literary Fund, and ever since he has taken the greatest interest in the unobtrusive work done by this institution in relieving distressing cases among those men and women of letters who have fallen on evil days.

The King is a warm friend of the coffee palace movement; in this connection it is interesting to recall the Alexandra Trust, founded by Sir Thomas Lipton at the instance of Queen Alexandra, for the purpose of supplying well-cooked and nourishing food to the populace at an inclusive charge of 4½d. It will be remembered that the King and Queen paid a surprise visit to the Alexandra Trust Restaurant in St. Luke’s, in the East End of London, on which occasion the various London papers circulated the most amusingly inconsistent stories of what their Majesties really ate. As a matter of fact they were satisfied with the ordinary poor man’s dinner, and were not entertained—as was alleged—by Sir Thomas Lipton with “chicken and champagne.” It was their Majesties’ great desire to be treated exactly as ordinary diners. But the Queen did break one rule—that which ordains that the metal check, received on payment of the 4½d., should be given up on leaving. The Queen insisted on keeping the disc, as she said to Sir Thomas Lipton, “as a memento of a delightful visit and a most enjoyable lunch.” Their Majesties remained for nearly two hours; they spoke to large numbers of working men and girls, and carefully inspected all the cooking arrangements, and it is recorded that the King chatted with the men’s bootblack in the basement. Sir Thomas Lipton’s comment was: “It was deeply touching to see the men’s devotion to the Princess; they almost worshipped her.”

The public are aware that, like his father, the late Prince Consort, the King takes a keen personal interest in exhibitions of all kinds, but it is not generally known that he himself suggested the Fisheries Exhibition, which was visited by 2,750,000 people, and which brought in £10,000 for the families of drowned or disabled fishermen. Altogether 16,000,000 people visited the four exhibitions over which His Majesty presided—the Fisheries, the Healtheries, the Inventories, and the Colinderies.

His Majesty has always been a great ally of the London cabby. Although the stables at Marlborough House are magnificently appointed, he frequently takes a hansom for his own amusement, always over-paying the driver. For years he has been patron of the Cabdrivers’ Benevolent Association, the funds of which he has done much to increase.

The King’s exertions in the cause of public philanthropy are so great and widespread that it might be supposed that he would have no time for private acts of benevolence. But this is by no means the case, and an example which is not generally known may be given here. An officer of the Grenadier Guards, a regiment in which the King is particularly interested, fell into serious money troubles and had to leave the service, ultimately becoming almost destitute. The Prince, as he then was, heard of the case, and soon the poor ex-officer received a letter from a firm of solicitors asking him to call on them. He did so, and was given, to his amazement, a considerable sum of money, together with the offer of a good appointment abroad. The Prince’s name was not disclosed, by His Royal Highness’s express command, but a plausible story was told of an old comrade who wished thus anonymously to recompense former acts of kindness.

Better known, perhaps, is the story of a large silver inkstand which Queen Alexandra particularly values, though it does not belong to her, but to the King. It bears the inscription: “To the Prince of Wales. From one who saw him conduct a blind beggar across the street. In memory of a kind and Christian action.” The incident occurred in Pall Mall at a busy time of the day, and the beggar, with his dog, was vainly trying to cross in safety when the King, who chanced to be passing at the moment, took the poor fellow by the arm and guided him to the other side. A few days afterwards the inkstand arrived at Marlborough House, with no card or letter or other clue to the donor’s identity, which, indeed, has never been revealed to this day.

In conclusion it may be mentioned that His Majesty’s large-hearted philanthropy includes even those often unfortunate people who are expiating in prison the crimes they have committed against society. On one occasion His Majesty visited Portland, spent a long time in inspecting the infirmary, and tasted the food supplied to the convicts.

CHAPTER XXV
THE KING AS A SPORTSMAN

An account of the King as a sportsman begins, appropriately enough, with the sport of kings, though this is by no means the only pastime with which His Majesty has identified himself. Still, at any rate during his later years as Prince of Wales, he was chiefly associated in the public mind with racing, and his colours—purple, gold band, scarlet sleeves, and black velvet cap with gold fringe—were familiar at all the principal meetings. After his accession His Majesty leased his horses to the Duke of Devonshire for the season of 1901, but it was understood that, following the example of several of his predecessors, the King intended to resume his active connection with the Turf later on. Although His Majesty has been a member of the Jockey Club for over thirty years, his personal interest in racing is a matter of later growth, for it was not till July 1877 that Queen Alexandra honoured Newmarket with her presence to see her husband’s colours carried for the first time. On that occasion the King had no luck, his horse Alep, a pure-bred Arab, which started favourite, being beaten by Lord Strathnairn’s Arab Avowal by twenty or thirty lengths. Five years later the King won the Household Brigade Cup at Sandown with Fairplay.

The King is generally agreed to be a very good judge of a horse. When at Newmarket he makes it a point to watch the early morning gallops, and at one time he was very fond of attending sales. His Majesty has also given a great impetus to horse-breeding in the United Kingdom. Many years ago he started a thorough-bred stud, a half-bred stud, and a shire-horse stud—works of real public utility, which can only be undertaken, be it remembered, by those who have wealth and leisure, combined with intelligence and a real desire to forward the interests of the British farmer.

The King’s great successes on the Turf during recent years, including two famous Derbys, have been due to the introduction to the Sandringham stables of Perdita II., bought by Mr. John Porter for £900. The union of this mare with St. Simon produced Florizel II., and from that time the King’s fame as an owner and breeder increased until it became second to none.

It was in 1890 that His Majesty put his racers under John Porter, but his total winnings were only £624. The next year, however, the King won £4148; in 1892, £190; in 1893, £372; in 1894, £3499; and in 1895, £8281; and in the last-named year His Majesty’s name stood tenth in the list of winning owners. This satisfactory result was undoubtedly greatly owing to Lord Marcus Beresford, who was entrusted with the management of the King’s racing stable in 1890. The King’s horses were removed from Kingsclere to Egerton House, Newmarket, in 1892, and since then they have been under Marsh’s care. Persimmon was sent there as a yearling from Sandringham in 1894.

The King’s most memorable triumph was his first Derby in 1896, when Persimmon won. This fine horse is a bay by St. Simon, and own brother to Florizel II., who was, by the way, the first really good horse that ever carried the Royal colours, and is the sire of several very promising animals. Persimmon was never beaten by any horse except his own half-brother, St. Frusquin, who twice defeated him, and Omladina, who finished in front of him in the Middle Park Plate. He was bred by the King and trained by Marsh at Newmarket. He made his first appearance in the Coventry Stakes at Ascot as a two-year-old, and, starting favourite, won the race. On the occasion of his next appearance, in the Richmond Stakes at Goodwood, he was again favourite, and again won by a length. In the Middle Park Plate, though favourite, he was beaten by St. Frusquin, but in the Derby of 1896 he beat his half-brother by a neck. At the Newmarket First July Meeting he gave 3 lb. to St. Frusquin, and was beaten in the Princess of Wales’s Stakes. He won the St. Leger by a length and a half; and in the Jockey Club Stakes at Newmarket on the 1st October he won by two lengths from Sir Visto, the Derby winner of 1897.

Persimmon was ridden to victory in the Derby of 1896 by John Watts. The race was witnessed by an extraordinarily large concourse of all classes, including a considerable number of distinguished foreigners. Never was there a more popular victory, and the enthusiasm all over the country was almost as great as at Epsom. It was the fourth time in the history of the Turf that the race had been won by a Royal owner. In 1788, eight years after its foundation, the Prince Regent won with Sir Thomas; and the Duke of York won with Prince Leopold in 1816, and with Moses in 1822.

Altogether, in 1896, nearly £27,000 in stake money was won by horses from the Royal stables at Newmarket. Among the King’s notable successes in that year may be mentioned the One Thousand Guineas, won by Thais, by St. Serf out of Poetry, which also ran second to Canterbury Pilgrim in the Oaks.

The King won the Derby again in 1900 with Diamond Jubilee, which, like Persimmon, is by St. Simon—Perdita II. It is an extraordinary thing for a mare to produce two Derby winners, but that they should be by the same sire is believed to be a record in the annals of the Turf. Perdita II. died soon after her very promising filly Nadejda—also by St. Simon—was foaled.

The Derby-Day dinner is certainly one of the most important functions held at Marlborough House during the year, and it is now difficult to believe that it was only inaugurated comparatively few years ago. Something like fifty invitations are sent out, and the guests, who are all men, are expected to wear evening dress, not uniform. The great silver dinner-service ordered by the King on his marriage, which cost some £20,000, is always used on this occasion, and on the side buffet are to be seen His Majesty’s racing cups, hunting trophies, and gold and silver salvers, for everything in the strong rooms which is associated with sport is brought out.

In addition to the Derby, Diamond Jubilee also won in 1900 the Two Thousand Guineas, the Newmarket Stakes, the Eclipse Stakes, and the St. Leger, and was second in the Princess of Wales’s Stakes. Giving 12 lb. to Disguise II., Diamond Jubilee was unplaced in the Jockey Club Stakes. In his five great victories Diamond Jubilee won £27,985 in stakes, and so placed the King at the head of the list of winning owners.

In 1900 also the King won the Grand National with Ambush II., and so carried off the biggest flat-race and the biggest steeplechase—double honours which no other owner had ever before gained, much less in the same year.

From the sport of kings we pass by a natural transition to the Royal and ancient game of golf. It is well known that golf was the favourite pastime of some of the Stuart kings of Scotland, and Mary Queen of Scots, her son, James I. of England, Charles I., and James II. all played. But from the death of James II. to the accession of Edward VII. none of our sovereigns were themselves golfers, though William IV. and the lamented Queen Victoria gave their patronage to the game.

The King learnt to play on the Musselburgh Links years ago when he was pursuing his scientific studies at Edinburgh, and Tom Brown, who had the honour of being His Majesty’s caddie, still lives in hale old age. In 1863 the King became Patron and then Captain of the Royal and Ancient Golf Club of St. Andrews, and in 1882 he accepted the office of President of the Royal Wimbledon Golf Club, to which the late Queen had granted the title “Royal.” His Majesty has played several times at Cannes and on the private links of the Grand Duke Michael, and his love of the game is notably shared by the Duke of Cornwall and York, the Duchess of Fife, and the Duke of Connaught.

The King has lived to see the extraordinary development of cricket, and its promotion to the rank of the typically national game which Englishmen take with them to the ends of the earth. We may be sure that the indirect political influence of the great contests between England and Australia, for example, and of the tours of Indian, South African, and West Indian teams, did not escape his quick intelligence. Certainly His Majesty has always supported cricket, though he never became so keen a player as the late Prince Christian Victor, for instance.

The King played at Oxford, and occasionally for I. Zingari. In 1866, at the Park House, Sandringham, His Majesty played against the Gentlemen of Norfolk for the Sandringham Household. He has frequently visited Lord’s to see the Eton and Harrow matches, and in 1899 he went there with the Duke of Cornwall and York when the M.C.C., of which club His Majesty is patron, played the Australians. He has also seen the Australians play at Sheffield Park. Kennington Oval being on the London estate of the Duchy of Cornwall, the King, when he was Prince of Wales, was ground landlord, and allowed the Surrey Club the use of the ground at a nominal rental. The Surrey Club has benefited greatly through the King’s generosity in this matter, and recently the Duchy of Cornwall granted the club a thirty years’ lease at a very low rent, considering the value of the property.

The King was for many years patron of both the Rugby Union and the Football Association, and after his Accession he was approached by both bodies with a view to his graciously continuing to grant them his patronage. The game under neither code was played much until the King had reached middle life, but he showed his interest in the popular winter pastime by visiting the Oval in March 1886 on the first occasion of a charity festival organised by the Rugby Union and Football Association.

There can be no doubt that the King owes his remarkable bodily vigour and healthy appearance to his love of all outdoor sports, for he was never so content as when enjoying a long day’s tramp over the stubble at Sandringham, or when deer-stalking in a soft Highland mist. His Majesty’s life as a sportsman began early. When he was quite a child he used to accompany Prince Albert on deer-stalking expeditions round Balmoral; somewhat later he hunted with the harriers, and when he was fifteen he could claim to be the best shot in his family.

Although the King has been a plucky and fearless rider from early childhood, he has not been so fond of hunting as of some other sports, and during the last few years he has seldom been seen following the hounds. When an undergraduate at Christ Church, he constantly hunted with Lord Macclesfield’s pack, and was then considered a very hard rider; and it need scarcely be said that the meets which take place at Sandringham are the most popular in Norfolk, and give both the King and Queen many opportunities of showing gracious and kindly hospitality, both to their wealthy and to their humble neighbours. The King is a firm friend to the hunting of the fox, and it is understood that a pack of fox-hounds is to be established in place of the Royal Buckhounds. In 1888 the members of the West Norfolk Hunt presented to the King and Queen Alexandra a beautiful silver model of a fox in full gallop as a memorial of their Majesties’ silver wedding, and in returning thanks the King said:—

“I can assure you that no present which has been offered for our acceptance has been received by us with more pleasure than the one which you have given us to-day—a model of the wily animal that we are all so fond of following. Norfolk has always been considered to be a shooting county; that may be so to a great extent, but I feel convinced that the hunting is quite as popular, and I sincerely hope that it will long remain so. There may be difficulties in preserving foxes, but I feel sure that where there’s a will there’s a way. For twenty-five years we have enjoyed hunting with the West Norfolk Hunt, both the Princess and myself; and our children have been brought up to follow that Hunt. I sincerely hope that for many long years we may be able to continue to do so.”

Before the King had been at Sandringham six months he made it quite clear that his country home should be in every sense a good sporting estate, and it has been one of his chief pleasures to entertain parties of keen sportsmen each autumn in Norfolk. Perhaps the best shooting season Sandringham has ever seen was that of 1885-86. The total bag was 16,131 head, including 7252 pheasants. The best day of that season was the last day of the year 1885, when ten guns killed 2835 head, including 1275 pheasants. The rabbit-shooting at Sandringham is also first-rate, and it need hardly be said that the foxes are watched over with the most tender anxiety.