The King has an ever-increasing number of uniforms, military and other, which are worth quite £15,000, and are, of course, fully insured. It need hardly be said that the King has almost every Order in existence. The mere enumeration of them fills up a large space in Debrett.
The King’s own favourite among his Orders used to be that of Malta, the Sovereign Order of St. John of Jerusalem, of which the badge is the well-known Maltese cross suspended from a black ribbon.
CHAPTER XXI
THE KING AND STATE POLICY
The King has on several occasions, notably in his Message to his People, published on his accession, expressed his resolve to follow in the footsteps of his late deeply-lamented mother in fulfilling the great and sacred responsibilities which at her death he was summoned to undertake. The chief of these responsibilities is that which relates to high State policy, and especially to the intricate and delicate problems arising out of our relations with foreign Powers.
Now, not the least service which Queen Victoria rendered to her people, as Lord Salisbury said in the eloquent tribute which he paid to her memory in the House of Lords, was her constant and rigorous supervision over public affairs. The people saw only the result, the finished policy, associated in their minds with the personality of some popular Minister. What they did not know was how far that policy had been modified, perhaps even completely recast, by the sagacious counsels of their Sovereign, or what pitfalls had been avoided by her warnings, frankly offered, yet never obstinately pressed upon the chosen representatives of her beloved subjects. “Let us have the Queen’s opinion,” said Lord Clarendon, one of the shrewdest of her Foreign Ministers. “It is always worth hearing, even if you do not agree with it.” And Lord Kimberley confessed that when he was at the Foreign Office he had a difference of opinion with Queen Victoria in regard to an important matter. After discussion Her Majesty, though unconvinced, yielded to her Minister; but the event proved that she was right and the Minister wrong.
Such glimpses of the inner working of the great machine of Government illustrate for us the path which King Edward has marked out for himself. Our polity has been called a crowned Republic—a phrase which, in spite of its exaggeration, expresses tersely the fact that the constitutional Sovereign of this realm has constantly to reconcile duties which seem far apart, and even sometimes inconsistent. King Edward succeeds to a Monarchy possessing great theoretical powers, which, however, have been by the slow growth of custom practically restricted to the exercise of an indirect, advisory influence on State affairs, though, as Mr. Balfour said in the House of Commons, this influence shows a tendency to increase rather than to diminish. Queen Victoria was once compared to a Permanent Under-Secretary of State, who sees Ministers come and go, succeed and fail, but himself remains. The comparison is not a bad one, except that the work of a permanent Under-Secretary is confined to one department, whereas the Sovereign is concerned, not only with every branch of the public service, but also with many matters of importance which cannot pass through the hands of any State department.
It is easy to see the great responsibilities, as well as the great opportunities, which are inseparable from the British Crown, and perhaps it is not impertinent to point out how well King Edward VII. is fitted to meet them. The extraordinary tact which characterises His Majesty is most clearly illustrated when we consider his relations towards the policy of the State. There was a time in the history of England when the Prince of Wales allied himself with one of the political parties in the country, and that not the one in which his father had confidence. The tradition of constitutional monarchy established by our late beloved Queen necessarily inaugurated a different régime. No political party was ever able honestly to claim the Prince of Wales as an adherent, or even as a platonic sympathiser. On the other hand, not his severest critics ever accused him of apathy to British interests. In that higher sphere of patriotism which rises superior to the din of party politics he thoroughly earned the title of the typical Englishman.
All through the years which succeeded the death of the Prince Consort the Prince of Wales discharged the duties of his position in such a way as to win the confidence of every section of the nation. He included among his friends the principal men of both the great political parties, and with such delicacy of feeling was this done that no one could justly say which he really preferred. Indeed, so nice was his feeling that he was accustomed to distinguish—if he made any distinction at all—those statesmen who happened to be in Opposition at the moment, rather than those who were enjoying the sweets of office.