CHAPTER XX

THE KING IN LONDON

Not long after the King’s accession, extensive alterations were ordered to fit Buckingham Palace, which had been for a long time only occupied occasionally, to be the town house of His Majesty and Queen Alexandra. It is probable that their Majesties would have preferred to remain at Marlborough House, which is endeared to them by the most intimate associations, both of joy and of sorrow; but in this, as in so many other instances, the King divined by quick intuition that his loyal subjects would wish that their Sovereign and his Consort should reside in the palace which is not less closely linked in the popular imagination with the British monarchy than Windsor Castle itself.

It is evident that in all that concerns State ceremonial and the _décor_ of a magnificent Court, King Edward is resolved to abate not a jot of his regal dignity. But so much of His Majesty’s life was passed at Marlborough House, and the beautiful old Georgian mansion was for so long the centre of his social, philanthropic, and official activities, that no biographical sketch of the King would be complete without some account of what went on there.

There is scarcely an object in the house which does not remind the King and Queen of some happy incident of their joint lives. The very carpet in the drawing-room was presented to them on the occasion of their wedding; and His Majesty’s great interest in everything that concerns the history of the country and of the Empire is strikingly shown in each of his homes, for the rooms of both Marlborough House and Sandringham are lined with fine paintings and engravings recalling great events of the Victorian era.

Although Marlborough House is the official residence of the Heir-Apparent, it is considered a private house for taxation purposes, and is rated at over £1000 a year.

The King’s study at Marlborough House, where none but his intimates are admitted, looks like the room of a hard-working man of business. He works at an old-fashioned pedestal desk-table, exactly resembling the one used by his father. The desk portion of the table shuts with a spring, and can only be opened with a golden key, which the King always wears on his watch chain.

When he was Prince of Wales the King only accomplished the immense amount of work he did by the most methodical organisation. Almost every hour of his day was mapped out for him. First came his private correspondence, which was very considerable. Then from ten to half-past ten was spent in talking over and dictating replies to the letters already sorted by Sir Francis Knollys. Immediately after, the Comptroller of the Household discussed with him the arrangements for the day. Often before lunch he had to receive a deputation, or to act as chairman of some committee, frequently held in Marlborough House. Luncheon was served at 2.30, and the King and Queen often entertained parties of their relations who were up in town for the day. Except when he was travelling, the King rarely had a free afternoon, for even on the rare occasions when he had not to visit some public institution, to lay a foundation-stone, or to declare a building open, and so on, there were endless social duties to which no one could attend but himself, such as weddings, race meetings, reviews, and receptions. Certain public functions were almost always attended by both the King and the Queen--for example, the Horse Show at Islington, the Royal Military Tournament, and the trooping of the colour.

No one can realise how much his merely social duties cost the King while he was Heir-Apparent. The invariable cheerfulness and courage with which he went through what must have soon become a terribly monotonous round, year after year, are the more admirable when it is remembered that it was actually made the basis for the assertion that he was excessively devoted to mere amusement. An American writer who had brought the charge but, having discovered his error, had had the honesty and manliness to admit it, was rewarded by receiving a letter from the Prince’s Secretary in which occurred the following:--

“The Prince cannot help feeling that you are a little hard and unjust upon him in your book; he says unjust because you evidently wrote about him without knowing his real character. There are many things which he is obliged to do which the outside world would call pleasures and amusements; they are, however, often anything but a source of amusement to him, though his position demands that he should every year go through a certain round of social duties which bore him to death. But, while duly regretting those social pleasures, you pass over very lightly all the more serious occupations of his life.”

As Heir-Apparent, the King gave each season a certain number of dinners which, though in no sense official functions, took the place of those which would in other circumstances be given at Court. Thus he very often entertained various members of the Opposition as well as of the Government. He also occasionally gave what might be called a diplomatic dinner, to which a number of the Foreign Ambassadors and Ministers were invited. On many occasions dinner-parties in honour of a foreign guest or Royal relation passing through town in semi-_incognito_ have given members of London society an opportunity of making the acquaintance of a great foreign personage. When the Shahzada was in England the Prince and Princess of Wales gave a banquet in his honour, at which covers were laid for forty. On this occasion the principal guest was not able to take any dish in the _menu_ save _riz à l’Impératrice_. Fortunately, however, he had brought with him his own provisions.

The dining-room in which these important dinners were served at Marlborough House is a very fine room containing a considerable number of their Majesties’ wedding presents. It is a curious fact that in no circumstances were two knives together given to any guest. A great many reasons have been assigned for this rule, but apparently no one ever adopted the simple plan of asking the Royal host or hostess. It has been asserted that the King has the old-fashioned dislike to seeing knives inadvertently crossed.

Here is a lively description of a dinner at Marlborough House on 6th May 1896, recorded by the late Archbishop Benson in his diary:--

“Dined with the Prince of Wales. The most splendid company. All the Ambassadors but Russia, who is gone to the Coronation of the Czar. Duke of Connaught, Lord Wolseley, near whom I sat, with the Lord Chancellor between, two delightful, interesting talkers, and on my other side one still better, de Courcel, French Ambassador. Lucklessly after dinner the Turkish Ambassador asked to be presented, and he held me talking innocently about the Greek Bishops whom I knew, but for his red-handed tyrant’s sake he was the last person I wished for, and Harcourt came up and said, ‘What a picture we have been enjoying--you and the Turk in close alliance!’ Then Harcourt went on about our old Cambridge days, and in heart he is the greatest Conservative. At the Prince of Wales’s instigation I did my best to make Duke of Connaught see it was good for Church and State that Bishop of Peterborough should go for us, and perhaps I succeeded a little; he promised to do his best to make him welcome there. Chamberlain, Morley, Balfour, two Directors of British Museum, Asquith, very pleasant after his dangerous but not damaging assault on the Education Bill, Rosebery, Herschell, Salisbury of course, looking a very great man, among the Ambassadors.”

The journey of the Bishop of Peterborough (Dr. Creighton, afterwards Bishop of London), to which the Archbishop refers, was to Russia to represent the Church of England at the Tsar’s Coronation.

The King has never concealed his dislike of the immensely long, fatiguing banquets which were in his youth the rule rather than the exception; indeed, he may be said to have revolutionised the British dinner-party. At Marlborough House dinner was never allowed to last much over an hour. Occasionally during dinner soft music was played. Every course served was prepared under the direct supervision of the _chef_ (the famous Ménager).

Some years ago the King was rarely seen, even at dinner at a private house, without his favourite valet Macdonald, the son of the Prince Consort’s _jager_; and later, whenever the King dined out, one of his own servants invariably accompanied him and attended to him through the dinner, whether it was a public banquet or a private dinner-party. Indeed, the King very rarely enjoyed the luxury of being alone; even when walking up St. James’s Street, or turning into the Marlborough Club, he was almost invariably accompanied by one of his equerries; and it need hardly be said that the most trustworthy detectives in the London police force were charged with the task of watching over his personal safety, for the appearance of no public personage was better known to the man in the street than that of the Prince of Wales.

The King has always been an enthusiastic admirer of the stage, and his tastes are so catholic that they range from melodrama at the Adelphi to grand opera at Covent Garden. When His Majesty had made up his mind that he would like to go to the theatre, the Royal box was booked in the ordinary way of business, and charged to the Marlborough House account, the price not being increased from the ordinary library tariff. The only difference made in honour of the Royal family is that, if any other patron of the theatre has already engaged the Royal box, he is requested to waive his right. The King, however, is always reluctant that this should be done, and he generally requests his secretary to send a special note of thanks in his name.

Both the King and the Queen always desired to be treated exactly as if they belonged to the ordinary audience, and nothing annoyed them more than that attention should be drawn to them by the playing of the National Anthem or “God bless the Prince of Wales.” At one time the managers used to keep the curtain down till the Royal party arrived. The King heard of this, and was so greatly troubled at the thought of the inconvenience thus caused to the public that he gave strict orders that the curtain was never to be kept down beyond the advertised time on his account. On the other hand, he always makes a point of waiting till the final curtain has come down before rising to leave. The only occasions on which he ever breaks this courteous rule is when he goes to a theatre which has no private entrance. Then the King and Queen always anticipate the final curtain by two or three minutes, so that their departure may not disturb the carriage arrangements of the rest of the audience.

London managers have reason to be grateful to the King, for whenever he has visited a theatre the booking sensibly increases, the more so that when he likes a play he goes again and again, and recommends it to all his friends. Even when he finds it impossible himself to attend the benefit of some well-known actor or actress, he always puts his name down for stalls or boxes to a substantial amount.

At the opera the King occupied an “omnibus,” a double box on the ground tier, the Royal box itself being on the tier above; while Queen Alexandra had a box all to herself, where she was usually accompanied by one of her daughters. The King is a great music-lover, and, unlike many _habitués_, attends appreciatively throughout the performance. He was often attended at the opera by his old friend, the late Earl of Lathom, but he never had ladies in his box, although during the _entr’actes_ he would often visit the Princess and his daughters in their box.

The King’s interest in the dramatic profession is unaffected and sincere. Some years ago a very interesting theatrical dinner took place at Marlborough House, Sir Henry Irving, Sir Squire Bancroft, Mr. Hare, Mr. Kendal, Mr. Toole, Mr. Wyndham, Mr. Beerbohm Tree, Mr. Alexander, Mr. David James, Mr. Arthur Cecil, and Mr. William Farren being asked to meet the Duke of Fife, Sir Christopher Teesdale, Mr. Sala, Mr. Burnand, and Mr. Pinero.

His Majesty has always patronised the French plays when performed in London, and he is as popular with the French theatrical world as he is with the dramatic profession in London.

A separate chapter might almost be written about the King as a smoker. At Sandringham he has a large number of cigar-cases and tobacco-boxes, presented to him at various times by relatives and friends, and at Marlborough House he has an immense collection of silver cigar-lighters. His Majesty is as generous in the matter of cigars as he is in the more important affairs of life, and in this connection a story is told which, if it is not true, certainly ought to be. It is said that on one occasion, before his accession, when attending a big fire, His Majesty asked a reporter for some details, which were instantly given. At the conclusion of the conversation, the King offered his informant a cigar, which the latter immediately wrapped up in a page of his note-book and placed in his pocket. “Don’t you smoke?” asked the King. “Oh yes,” said the reporter; “but I am not likely ever to get another cigar from the Prince of Wales.” His Majesty laughed, and once more producing his cigar-case said, “You had better have another one, this time to smoke.”

The King was at one time very fond of taking a hansom in the streets of London, just like an ordinary person, and it is said that he always paid the driver half a sovereign whether the distance was long or short. His Majesty is patron of the Cabdrivers’ Benevolent Association, and he takes a marked interest in these hard-worked and deserving servants of the public, seldom missing the annual meeting, at which, indeed, some of his best speeches have been delivered.

It is hardly necessary to say that the King need never take a hansom except for his own amusement. The stables of Marlborough House are, from every point of view, models of what town stables ought to be. In the coach-houses are some interesting carriages. The State Coach, which was practically never used, is almost exactly like that which is kept at Buckingham Palace. A Russian sociable, lined with dark-blue morocco, was a gift from the late Tsar of Russia to Queen Alexandra, but it was considered too showy for the London streets, and Her Majesty preferred a light victoria, which was generally drawn by her two greys, Chelsea and Brief.

The greatest care had to be taken both by the King and by the Queen in selecting the tradesmen upon whom to confer the undoubted advantage of their custom. Sir Dighton Probyn, who was Comptroller of the Prince of Wales’s Household, and has since been appointed Extra Equerry to His Majesty, was entrusted with the duty of seeing that the Warrants were only given to those who were worthy of them. A Royal Warrant is naturally considered a great honour by the recipient, and any firm aspiring to be a Warrant-Holder must supply the Household for one year in a satisfactory manner before becoming eligible; and should the firm become bankrupt, or even change its name, the Warrant must be returned to the Comptroller of the Household.

On the King’s birthday the Warrant-Holders were wont to dine together, and on the _menu_ always figured some venison contributed both by Queen Victoria and by King Edward, who each sent a fine buck. On all Royal occasions of rejoicing the Warrant-Holders are considered to have a special right to present a gift accompanied by their congratulations.

Every monetary transaction was not only recorded, but indexed at Marlborough House, and any tradesman who sent in an account twice over was never again patronised.

The King does not confine his custom to any one London tailor; on the contrary, he is careful to distribute his patronage, and it is a mistake to fancy that His Majesty pays very much more for his clothes than do other people. His wardrobe is necessarily larger and more varied than that of a private individual. It need hardly be said that he dresses in perfect taste, and it is well known that he has no sympathy with the revolutionists who would abolish the frock-coat. He is, however, also understood to have a special fondness for the old-fashioned “bowler” hat. It would be difficult to overestimate the King’s influence as an arbiter of fashion, especially in America, where every trifling change in his costume is faithfully reported and imitated, and also on the Continent. On the whole, his influence in matters of dress is strongly conservative. He has none of the Continental love of displaying uniforms, and his dress is always the acme of good taste, because it is always absolutely suitable to the occasion on which it is worn.

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.