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.
[Illustration: SIR FRANCIS KNOLLYS
_From a Photograph by Russell_]
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.