Farewell to an "all round King"

In what reality Edward the Seventh will be with us still, it is for the years to show.

Meanwhile let the able editors and the responsible critics hold inquest on his qualities, judge his work, assign his place in our national Valhalla.

Provisionally, I may sum up the King for them in a word.

He was an all-round man.

Horace's "teres atque rotundus".

In his youth he may have been a Prince Hal, junketing with Poins and Falstaff, hearing the chimes at midnight with Master Shallow.

I do not know, and rumour is a lying jade.

But the fact, if so, would only bring him the nearer to us and help his all-roundedness.

Myself, I have robbed orchards in my time; yes, and twisted off door-knockers.

"My salad days, when I was green in judgement!" These things are forgiven to us all.

What chiefly impresses me is the versatility of the King's later time.

Also its symmetrical balance.

He was a statesman, and he was a farmer.

In la haute politique there was no Chancellor in Europe that could stand up to him; and he was just as good in judging prize bullocks at a show.

Typically British, he was nevertheless the cherished guest, almost the idol, of the French.

He neglected no amusement, and on the fatal Friday, unsuspicious of death, though mortally ill, he would have had his wife go to the opera.

Equally, he neglected no duty, and the same day left his sick room to give audience to the Queensland Agent-General and our new Governor, leaving for New Zealand.

He was the head of English society, and a very perfect gentleman.

He kept a racing stable, and he had his favourite hymns; he went to church on Sundays, and he never missed a Derby.

Saturday's cables, that brought the heavy news of his death, brought also this item:London, May 6: The King's filly Witch of the Air won the Spring Plate at the Kempton meeting today, and her victory evoked tremendous enthusiasm, the cheering of the crowds lasting several minutes.

Saturday evening, the King lying dead, a detachment of the Salvation Army filed into the Palace yard and sang beneath the windows of their old friend and patron, "Abide with me".

The Army people would not have gone to the races; the racing people would have had no truck with the Army; the King had been at ease with both.

He has left us a son and successor trained in his school, King George the Fifth, whom may God preserve.

But hardly may we hope to look upon his like again.

- Civis, ODT, 14.5.1910.

 

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