People, the King has signalized his reign by the careful solicitude with which he has insisted upon two other entities, too often ignored in Royal speeches. The first is the family, the second is the Empire. The latter in his eyes is but the magnificent world-wide fruitage of the former. When he acknowledges the sympathy of the nation, he does not speak for himself alone. These "voices of affection and of loving kindness have profoundly touched me and my whole family." When he assured his Council of his high resolve to discharge the arduous duties of his exalted station, he felt constrained to add:

I am encouraged by the knowledge that I have in my dear wife one who will be a constant helpmate in every endeavor for our people's good.

The recognition of the unity of the whole of his people at home and oversea is a still more distinctive note of the King's mind. George V. is the first British Sovereign who has realized the Empire over which he reigns. This is not, perhaps, unnatural. He is the first King who has ever seen it. But he not only realizes it; he realizes that his own mission in regard to it is to make its ocean-sundered members realize their essential unity. He gratefully recognizes "the affectionate loyalty which holds together many lands and diverse peoples in one glorious fellowship," and he has frankly declared it to be the mission of his reign to promote and establish upon impregnable foundations the fraternal union of all parts of his world-wide Empire.

It may be objected that all this is only a matter of words. To judge a King it is necessary to ignore words and to look to deeds. Agreed; but when words are followed by deeds, it is lawful to quote the pledges that have given us a key to the acts by which these promises have been fulfilled. The King has only been a year upon

his throne, but he has already given earnest of the sincerity of his devotion to those ideals which he has so eloquently described.

To begin with small things first. What can be more significant of the King's sound instinct as to the importance of the children of the nation than his decision to signalize his Coronation by the innovation of inviting 100,000 children from the elementary schools of London to celebrate his crowning by a happy family party at the Crystal Palace? It was but a small thing, but it was a new thing. It was due entirely to the King's own initiative, and it betokens not only the true father's heart, but a just sense of the importance of putting the child first. It was said by One of old time, "A little child shall lead them," and there is no maxim more pregnant with the latest lessons of modern political and social wisdom.

Another small, apparently small, matter may be mentioned, before proceeding to consider the King's action in the weightier matters of State. Everyone must have been impressed by the prominence given by the King to the bestowal of the Albert and Edward medals on those men and women who have given signal evidence of their heroism, self-sacrifice and courage. The heroes of the mine, the factory and the sea, have been summoned to the Palace to hear from the King's own lips high commendation of their gallantry, and their medals have been conferred upon them at the same investiture at which the King invested with the insignia of their Order the most distinguished statesmen, soldiers, sailors and civil servants of the Empire. The Albert medal has thus been raised in essence, although not in degree, to that of the Order of the Star of India or the Order of the Bath. And as his speech in giving the Edward medal to the survivors of the White

haven disaster showed, the King was much more deeply touched and much more pleased to decorate the simple heroes of the pit than to bestow knighthoods, or to invest nobles with the insignia of far more distinguished Orders. It is a recognition on his part of the fact that in human society nothing is so important as personal character. The individual, after all, even in the most socialized State, is the ultimate unit.

From these comparatively humble although vital questions, we now pass to the region of high policy, at home and abroad, beginning with foreign affairs. King George at the very beginning of his reign recognized that it was not for him to emulate the exploits of his father, who had won so unexampled a position as the first diplomatist in Europe. That was not his métier. But if the truth must be said, King Edward, who is called the Peacemaker, was quite unintentionally the cause of a considerable increase in the war fever of Europe. Rightly or wrongly, he was credited by the Germans with having as his first aim the ringing round of Germany by an iron girdle of hostile States. King George is no less a friend of peace than his father, but he felt that he must pursue it in a less conspicuous, not to say a less obtrusive fashion. He would not admit that his father ever sought to hem in Germany. He told the Society of Friends: "I know that I may count upon the steadfast support of the Society of Friends in carrying on King Edward's labors for the establishment of friendship and mutual sympathy among the peoples of the Empire, and the nations of the world."

To the Dean and Canons of St. George's Chapel, Windsor, he spoke in like fashion:

It is my earnest desire that I may follow in my father's footsteps, and.

by the help of God, may be enabled to promote trust and tranquility among the nations, to sustain a spirit of true religion, and to widen the opportunities, and to fortify the welfare of my people.

Modestly disclaiming any ambition to play a rôle in European diplomacy, he nevertheless set himself to do what in him lay to lessen the friction between Germany and Britain. It was a spontaneous impulse, springing from the sound instincts of a warm heart which led him to embrace the German Emperor in Westminster Hall as the two monarchs stood before the bier of King Edward; but if it had been carefully planned it could not have been better done. Witnessed by all the world, it was at once and rightly interpreted in Germany that so far as England's King was concerned, the sword had been sheathed. Even if this had stood alone, it would have been significant. But it did not stand alone. When the memorial to Queen Victoria was to be unveiled, King George, again acting on his own initiative, wrote to the Kaiser a most cordial and affectionate letter, inviting him alone among his brother monarchs to be present at the ceremony. King has never forgotten the long vigil of the Kaiser before Queen Victoria's bier, and the invitation-accepted with the same cordiality with which it was tendered-has helped to revive the kinder memories of that memorable time.

The

That is satisfactory enough so far as words go. But history is full of the solemn pledges of Sovereigns to respect constitutions, which they have shown no compunction in overturning. Besides, it may be asked, what is the King's idea of the Constitution to which he vows his fidelity?

The answer to the latter question is simple and obvious. King George's conception of the Constitution is the conception with which Queen Victoria has familiarized the world. Queen Victoria was a Constitutional monarch, who revived the Monarchy, and restored it to its proper place in the British Constitution. She established on the decaying wreck of the Monarchy of Authority, the solid fabric of the Monarchy of Influence.

The Victorian theory of the place of the Crown in the Constitution was accepted by Edward VII., but his brief reign afforded but few opportunities of showing how the Monarchy of Influence would fare under so genial a man of pleasure as the late Sovereign. George the Fifth will apply the Victorian theory-nay, has already applied it-on strictly Victorian lines. He is himself a Victorian. He has revived the simplicity of the early Victorian Court, and he faithfully observes the traditions of the great Queen.

Victoria, although the most Constitutional of Sovereigns, was one of the most punctilious of monarchs. Ready to yield to her Ministers when she had no alternative, she never hesitated to maintain her own opinions, and to strive to give effect to her own convictions, whenever opportunity offered. But she always observed the rules of the great game.

What are these rules? The British Sovereign may use his influence to the uttermost to persuade his Ministers to adopt a policy which he favors, but which they dislike. But if persuasion, argument, and all the potent influences

that can be put in motion fail to overcome the resistance of his Ministers, the Sovereign must, if confronted by a unanimous Cabinet, obey as an automaton the counsels which they tender him. From this submission there is only one way of escape. If the Sovereign is advised to do what he considers pernicious to the realm by one set of Ministers, he can dispense with their services, and summon another Ministry, who will advise him to follow the policy on which his heart is set. He cannot summon any Tom, Dick and Harry to the Council board. It is a condition absolute that the new Ministry must be able to obtain from the existing House of Commons the supplies necessary for the service of the State, or, if this be impossible, that they have a reasonable chance of obtaining a majority in a new House of Commons, which must be immediately brought into being. Failing the possibility of securing an alternative Ministry, with a majority in the actual or a prospective House of Commons, the Sovereign becomes, for the moment and for the immediate purpose in hand, an irresponsible automaton, registering without volition the decree of his indispensable irreplaceable Ministers.

That is the Victorian theory as Victoria worked it. Loyally abiding by the rules of the great game, she contended valiantly for her own views, opinions, and prejudices, so long as she had a fighting chance of getting her own way. But when the game was up, she accepted her defeat like a good sportswoman, acquiesced, if not gladly yet loyally, in the automatic registration of her people's will, and was ready for a new struggle on a fresh issue next day. As Victoria was, so George V. is. He will be not less stubborn, not less argumentative, not less keen to press his own views and to promote the policy which he deems

best for the realm; but he will abide by the rules of the game, of which the dominant is this: "The Sovereign becomes an automatic registration machine when he is unable to find an alternative Ministry."

The King succeeded to the throne when the two Houses of Parliament were in collision. He had to deal with a Liberal Ministry fresh from a General Election, pledged to reduce the Peers to the position of subordination in the legislature which they had held in fact for the last eighty years. The lists were open, and the combat was raging, when Death imposed a truce. The King was therefore confronted at the very threshold of his reign with a great opportunity. Would he seize it or would he not? The opportunity was that of proposing to the leaders of the two opposing parties that they should meet for the purpose of ascertaining whether it was possible to compose their differences and settle the Constitutional crisis on no-party lines. The secrets of the Royal Chamber are well kept; but it was believed, probably with truth. that the King had determined to advise his advisers to take such a step. That conviction probably precipitated the resolution of Mr. Asquith to anticipate the Royal counsel, and to meet the King with an announcement that he had himself taken the initiative, and that a Round Table Conference had been arranged. The King had therefore no need to intervene. His wish had been obeyed before it had been formally expressed.

During the prolonged sittings of the abortive Conference the King had no opportunity to express his opinion. It was well known that he sincerely desired a successful issue to its deliberations, and that no one was more grieved than his Majesty when the irreconcilable attitude of the Peers rendered agreement impossible.

But although all hope of compromise

was impossible, the King desired that the Peers should have a full opportunity of formally placing on record their final decision on the matter. If the Hereditary House was to disappear the thing should be done decently and in order. The Peers did not avail themselves of their respite, and the crisis came to a head.

Then Mr. Asquith approached the King and demanded the dissolution of Parliament, in order that the electors might finally decide between the two parties on the great issue. No public statement has been made as to what passed on that momentous interview. But it needs no seer to describe the nature of the communications which passed between the King and his Prime Minister. Mr. Asquith had declared in the most explicit manner that he would not ask for a dissolution except on the clear and distinct understanding that if the nation gave a verdict in his favor, the will of the people must be carried into effect. In plain English, this meant that if the Liberals came back with a sufficient majority, the Royal prerogative would be exercised automatically in overriding the resistance of the Peers.

For King George this was the crucial moment. It was within his right to dismiss Mr. Asquith and to call Mr. Balfour to his counsels. He did not exercise that right. Why he did not do so has never been stated. But whether it was because he had ascertained that Mr. Balfour would not take the responsibility of attempting to carry on the Government, even for the few weeks before the dissolution, in face of a hostile majority, or whether he thought that under the Constitution he would have been straining the prerogative had he refused the request of his Ministers to refer the question at issue to the decision of the electors, or whether other considerations may have dictated his decision, the fact is