So we British beg of the American people not to suggest taking our king from us. It is difficult to explain this patriotism which produces such results; but go to New Zealand and you will find that it is the boast, and the proud boast of many, that they have seen the king. Go to Australia, where the working man rules the country, and hear the national anthem played, or watch the flag being saluted in the schools, and if you are courageous pass a rude remark about the king. Go to any part of the empire, and you will find something inexplicable, something unexplainable, which always points to Buckingham Palace and the little man there. Americans look upon this with good-natured condescension. I wonder why? It is not far to Canada, but you will find it there, too, where they ought to be more enlightened since they live next to the greatest republic. Always is it the empire, and always is "God save the King" the prayer of the people. Perhaps we are a little bit mad, we British, but I daresay we will continue being mad, since madness binds together a mighty throng of people who in perhaps a poor sort of way stand for fairness and decency. We all know how much of the child remains in us, even when we are old. We look back to the days when we believed in fairies, and sometimes when we are telling stories to our children we let our imagination have full play, and gnomes and fairies and even kings and princesses once more people our minds.
Is there anything more obnoxious than a child who refuses to believe in fairies or who is not thrilled at Christmas time at the approaching visit of Santa Claus? He misses so much. He hasn't got that foundation to his mind that will make life bearable when responsibility brings its attendant troubles. Take away our monarchy and we Britons become like children who don't believe in fairies. We won't know what to do. The monarchy supplies a wonderful need to us.
There is also a more practical reason for the retention of the monarchy. We hold that a constitutional monarch is necessary to a properly decentralized form of government. Party politics reign supreme in England. The government passes a bill amidst the howls of the opposition party and the opposition press. Then the bill is taken to the King and he has the right to veto it. He knows, however, that he must rule in accordance with the wishes of his people, and so the bill receives the royal signature and becomes law. A subtle change occurs. The press, wonderfully powerful in England, becomes less bitter and the opposition ceases to rage a little. Soon the law settles down into its right place. So the king's signature is effective in that it makes the issuing of a new law gentler and sweeter.
Is it not true that a king of great personality can have tremendous power for good? Most people recognize now the power of our late King Edward, some know the influence of our present monarch. All through this present war we feel that the king is sharing our troubles and suffering. You know we are suffering awfully in Great Britain. Even our insular snobbishness does not help us a bit. It seems to have gone somehow.
The king is a gentleman, and can't possibly advertise himself, but it is true that very little goes on without his knowing all about it. He has been working hard reviewing troops, visiting the sick and wounded, helping in a thousand ways. Then he is so fine in his encouragement of individuals. A few words from him to a keen officer helps that officer for the rest of his life.
And so the king sweetens our national life. We love him; of course we do, and we can't help it. Possibly we are fools, but we glory in our foolishness.
A young English officer received the D. S. O. and the Military Cross and finally died at Loos, getting the V. C. He, of course, went to the palace to receive both the D. S. O. and the Military Cross. His father, an old man with snowy white hair, went to get the V. C. The king gave him the medal with a few conventional words, and then, while shaking hands, whispered to the old man to remain. The king, upon finishing the distribution of medals, took the father into an anteroom and then said very quietly: "I say, Mr. K——, I am awfully sorry for you! I've been interested in this boy of ours and remember him well." Then the old man sat down and told the king all about his son, and went away comforted greatly and very proud of his son.
This is just a little thing, but it is the kind of thing that supplies our need.
You know we don't want a republic. Why should we have one? We have a king.
If American people want to understand us they must take this into account. When they talk in terms of good-natured deprecation of our king it hurts. I once spent a week-end with one of the greatest men in this country and was surprised to hear him praising the monarchy merely from a business point of view, and he knew what he was talking about. He had wandered around London listening to the people talk and had studied the whole thing from the coldly commercial side. Perhaps I am talking from an idealistic point of view, and yet my life spent in many parts of the world has been a practical one. It is, of course, quite possible that the world's civilization may collapse and fall to pieces for a season. Human passions are queer things; the cruel spirit of the mob still exists, and it only becomes rampant where the things of the flesh have become greater than the things of the spirit. This war has made us suffer so much that in spite of cheery optimism we are almost benumbed in Great Britain. I was in a large division that was reviewed by the king on Salisbury Plain the day before embarkation, and as we marched past the king on his pretty black Arab he looked at each one of us with that humble expression of a father looking upon his son, and through many weary months in France and Flanders that look was with us, and it helped and encouraged. Even my big charger seemed to know that the king was inspecting him, for he kept time to the march from "Scipio," and we gave the very best salute we could muster up. Possibly none of the men of that division are together to-day.