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NATIONAL SECULAR SOCIETY
GOD SAVE THE KING
AND OTHER
Coronation Articles
AN
ENGLISH
REPUBLICAN
( G. W. FOOTE)
“ God save the King ! ” It is a large economy
In God to save the like ; but if he will
Be saving, all the better ; for not one am I
Of those who think damnation better still.
Byron, Vision of Judgment.
PBIGE
TWOPENCE
London:
THE PIONEER PRESS,
2
Newcastle Street, Farringdon Street, E,C,
1903
�PRINTED BY THE PIONEER PRESS
AT
3 NEWCASTLE-STREET, FARRINGDON-STREET, LONDON, E.C,
�And, when you hear historians talk of thrones,
And those that sate upon them, let it be
As we now gaze upon the mammoth’s bones,
And wonder what old world such things could see,
Or hieroglyphics on Egyptian stones,
The pleasant riddles of futurity—
Guessing at what shall happily be hid,
As the real purpose of a pyramid.
—Byron, Don Juan.
Where kings first leagued against the rights of men,
And priests first traded with the name of God.
—Shelley, Queen Mab.
And thou, whom sea-walls sever
From lands unwalled with seas,
Wilt thou endure for ever,
O Milton’s England, these?
Thou that wast his Republic, wilt thou clasp their knees ?
These royalties rust eaten,
These worm-corroded lies,
That keep thine head stornubeaten
And sunlike strength of eyes
From the open heaven and air of intercepted skies ;
These princelets with gauze winglets
That buzz in the air unfurled,
These summer-swarming kinglets,
These thin worms crowned and curled,
That bask and blink and warm themselves about the world.
—Swinburne, A Marehing Song (“ Songs Before Sunrise ”/
�INTRODUCTION.
The articles in this little collection were all written between
June and October, 1902, and were published in a journal which
I have the honor and pleasure to edit. They all relate in some
way or other to the illness and Coronation of Edward VII.
Whatever else they lack, there is one merit I am sure they
possess. They are honest. Probably these are the only honest
articles that were penned and printed on their subject matter.
For that reason alone, if for no other, it is well that they should
be republished in a more permanent form. Generations or ages
hence—for who knows what will float down the stream of time ?
—this little pamphlet may assure the historian that all did not
bend the knee to the Baal of monarchy in England at the
beginning of the twentieth century ; that one voice, at any rate,
was raised, not only in protest, but in mockery, against a most
contemptible superstition.
When I call this superstition “contemptible” I am not speaking
in temper or haste, but calmly and deliberately. There is some
thing to be said for the worship of Mumbo Jumbo; he is
supposed to be able to make it very hot for those who offend him.
There is something to be said for the worship of the Sun; it is
an undoubted benefactor. But what is to be said for the worship
of the “ hereditary nothing ” who happens at any time to sit upon
the constitutional throne of Great Britain and Ireland ? A passion
for genius, for moral excellence,or personal beauty, is intelligible ;
but how is one to explain a passion for the incarnation of
mediocrity to which this nation has long been accustomed in its
sovereigns ? It is not merely a case of inherited folly, for the
loyal fever was less acute in the early years of Queen Victoria.
It seems, in truth, that loyalism is a form of religion ; and it has
all the common characteristics of religion—blind faith, headlong
zeal, and a hatred of heresy.
�V,
When I walked home after the Jubilee procession in London
in 1897, I remarked to a friend who was with me that 'we had
not seen the last of that incomparable circus-show. It was
designed to dazzle the multitude, and it succeeded. It was a
huge “imperialism” advertisement. It appealed to the fighting
and dominating instincts of the people. It was an evocation of
barbaric sentiment. And as the plain little stout old ladybrought up the rear the shouts that acclaimed her had a peculiar
ring. It was the applause of deification. . What the mob saw in
that royal carriage was not the real person who occupied it, but
a fictitious creature of their own imaginations.
On the death of Queen Victoria, Albert Edward Prince of
Wales became King Edward VII. He was just the same man as
before, but the mob (of all classes) felt there was a change.
Jocularities at his expense had been common; from that moment
they became blasphemies. It was another case of deification.
One saw a new divinity created under one’s very nose. And
now when the King speaks “ it is the voice of a god I ”
There is no need to blame the King for the superstition of
which he is the symbol. He probably smiles at it in private.
He was born to his lot like the rest of us ; and one may feel
contempt for the institution without ill-will for the man. One
may even be pleased to see from his jolly countenance that he
does not take his absurd position too seriously.
Having, avowed myself a Republican, I have also to warn the
reader that I am an Atheist. He must expect to find both earthly
and celestial superstitions laughed at in the following pages. My
ideal includes Reason and Humanity; it has no room for the
Ridiculous and the Barbaric.
April, 1903.
�God Save the King.
Believers in Special Providence—and there is no other
kind of Providence either honest or really conceivable—are
naturally concerned about the King’s illness and the post
ponement of the Coronation. What does it all mean ? What
is God particularly angry about ? What lesson does he intend
to convey ? Surely there is something more than meets the
eye in this startling calamity. See how Providence worked
up to it, like a cunning and well-practised dramatist. For a
long time it was feared that the cold damp weather would
be prolonged, and the Coronation be spoiled in that manner.
But the weather improved just in the nick of time. The
three Coronation days—Thursday, Friday, and Saturday—
were simply splendid. The sun shone gloriously in a grand
blue sky, yet the sudden great heat was tempered by a
delicious breeze. Yes, the weather was all right, but the
King was all wrong. Only a few hours (so to speak) before
the great event which all his life led up to, he was cast down
on a bed of sickness, the doctors were cutting him open and
operating on his internals, his very existence was imperilled,
and his subjects dreaded that the next bulletin would sound
the sad note of preparation, not for his crowning, but for his
funeral.
Fortunately the King seems likely to weather this worst
storm of his life. To use an American phrase, we take no
�7
stock in kings; but as Edward the Seventh is a man, and
we happen to know of his illness, we hope he will recover.
We extend the same sympathy to every sick person in this
metropolis. As the Queen is a wife and a mother, we respect
her sorrow, and wish her a happy issue out of this affliction.
Death is so great a fact that when it comes it dwarfs all
surroundings into insignificance. Whether it be in a cottage
or in a palace, the first cry of a widow’s grief has the same
tragic note, and the anguish of bereavement scorns the com
forts that money can purchase. But afterwards how much
harder it is for the poor widow 1 To the grief of the wife is
added the grief of the mother as the children pine for the
lack of bread, and a nameless horror broods on every day’shorizon, and the dear young faces lose their gladness, and
the dear little feet go wearily, as though walking to th’eir
graves.
But to return to the King. One would think that, as he is
the principal sufferer in this visitation of Providence, he is
also the principal offender. Has the Lord heard the voice
of the Nonconformist! Conscience protesting against King Edward’s visit to Epsom racecourse ? Have all the sins of
his younger days made so big a heap that the Lord cannot
overlook it ? Has he gazed too much upon the wine when
it was red? Have pretty women thrown themselves too
much in his way ? Has he smoked too many cigars ?—for
even smoking is a sin with the Salvation Army. Anyhow,
this illness seems a direct challenge to his Majesty; and,
indeed, the pious folk who got up the first big prayer-meeting
at St. Paul’s Cathedral were pretty much of that opinion, for
they hoped the King would be spared, and that the residue
of his life might be devoted to the Lord’s service—which was
a plain hint that so much of his life as had already expired
had been devoted to the service of some other personage.
Cardinal Vaughan is too much of a courtier to point in the
Lord’s name at the King. Still, he sees in this calamity the
finger of God. He should have said the hand of God. The
finger of God is an unfortunate expression. It is associated
�8
with the most disgusting miracle in the annals of supersti
tion. When the magicians of Egypt saw all the dust of their
country turned into lice, they declined to compete any further
with Moses and Aaron. They felt that one miracle of that
sort was quite sufficient. “ This,” they said, “ is the finger
of God.”
“ The finger of God,” Cardinal Vaughan says to his clergy,
“ has appeared in the midst of national rejoicing, and on the
eve of what promised to be one of the most splendid
pageants in English history. This is in order to call the
thoughts of all men to Himself.” King Edward, therefore,
is a sort of vicarious sacrifice. He is laid low and tortured
in order that careless people might be made to think of the
Lord.
Danton said in the French National Assembly, “ The
coalesced kings threaten us, and as our gage of battle we
fling before them the head of a king.” And poor, stupid
Louis the Sixteenth’s head was cut off by the guillotine.'
Cardinal Vaughan makes the Lord throw the hacked and
bleeding body of a King before the British people as his
(the Lord’s) challenge to their attention.
“ May it not be ?” all the men of God were asking on
Sunday. Every one of them had his “ tip ” with respect to
the Lord’s meaning in the King’s illness. The Bishop of
Winchester came up to London to let out his secret. “ May
it not be,” he said, “ that just because as a people we were
too light-hearted, too superficial, too formal about it all, God
solemnly laid his hand upon us and bade us stop ?” Of course
it may have been, and of course it may have been otherwise.
The Bishop of Winchester is only guessing. He is in the
guessing business.
The Bishop of Stepney gave his “tip” at St Paul’s
Cathedral. His idea was that we were too much excited
by outward show to discern the deeper lessons ; so the Lord
tripped up the King’s heels and set us all thinking. Still
more professional was the view of that burning and shining
Nonconformist light, the Rev. F. B. Meyer. “ God wanted
�9
the British nation to know,” he said, “' that when next he
gives it victory over its enemies, and grants peace from a war
that tried its resources, it should not celebrate it by the blow
ing of fog-horns and whistles, but by thronging the temples
of God and singing his praises.” Dr. Meyer keeps one of
these “temples”—and it keepshim. No wonder he wants
the “ temples ” to be thronged.
Pastor Spurgeon, of the famous Tabernacle, said the
nation had passed through a wonderful week, an awful
week. God’s hand had been stretched out—“ He had made
the nation to understand that he was supreme.” It does not
seem to have occurred to the preacher that this method of
proving the Lord is boss was rather rough on poor King
Edward.
We expected to find Mr. Sims (of the Referee) in fine form
over the Coronation postponement, and we were not dis
appointed. “We are suddenly hurled,” he said, “ from the
highest pinnacle of joy to the deepest abyss of gloom.”
How the great “ Dagonet ” must have thrust his tongue in
his cheek as he penned that sentence! The London crowd
has been enjoying itself as well as looked civil in the circum
stances ; “ Dagonet ” has also been doing the same thing,
judging from the later parts of “ Mustard and Cress.” But
when the royal bulletin is stuck up he says, “ Let us all look
unhappy ”—And as soon as he is round the corner he dances
a jig and makes all the bells ring in his jester’s cap.
“ Perhaps God put it off because the seats were so damp.”
So said a little girl who heard some groWn-up people discuss
ing what Providence meant by arresting the Coronation.
Mr. Sims, who tells the story, does not appear to think that
Providence had anything to do with the matter. “ Yet it is
quite within the bounds of reasonable argument,” he says,
“that the postponement of the Coronation has saved thou
sands of people from the evils that would have resulted from
sitting for many hours on saturated wood.” Probably there
is truth in this. It is as good a justification of the ways of
God to men as we have seen lately. King Edward had to
�10
undergo an operation for appendicitis in order to save crowds
of his subjects from stricture. We understand it now.
A very different explanation is given in a Radical news
paper :—
“It seems as if some calamitous Destiny overhung this
nation since our quarrel with the Boer States. That war
killed the Queen ; its anxieties, no doubt, fostered the illness
of the present monarch. The mills of God grind slowly, but
they grind exceeding small.”
Now if God is angry with this nation for quarrelling with
the Boer States, why did he not give them the victory?
What sense is there in letting us beat them and take away
their independence, and then killing members of our royal
family to punish us for our sin ? How did the war kill
Queen Victoria ? Is it the last straw that breaks the camel’s
back ? Very old people must die of something. And why
should God go for poor King Edward on account of the South
African war ? He had no more to do with it than any infant
in arms. It is commonly reported that he played the part of
a pacificator, and helped to bring about a settlement of that
unhappy quarrel. Thus the God of the Radical journal is no
wiser than the God of the clergy. Instead of going for King
Edward he should have gone for (say) Mr. Joseph Chamberlain. What justice is there in carving the King’s stomach
with operating knives, while the Colonial Secretary wears a
monocle in one eye and a smile in the other ?
And now for a few words on the “ intercession ” business.
When the present King was Prince of Wales he nearly lost
his life by typhoid fever. The nation prayed for his recovery,
and afterwards held a great thanksgiving service in St. Paul’s
Cathedral. God Almighty was publicly thanked for his kind
ness in saving the Prince’s life. But the doctors were not
forgotten ; two of them were knighted, and all were hand
somely rewarded. Now the Prince has become King, and is
again in danger, the doctors are judiciously associated with
the Lord in the work of his recovery. To leave his life in
the hands of the Lord exclusively would be too perilous ; the
doctors are there to supplement his efforts, and see that
�11
nothing is neglected. They keep an eye on Providence; and
everybody, including the King, feels that their vigilance is
requisite. With six doctors and one God all may yet
be well.
The Next Move.
The daily bulletins concerning the King’s health continue to
be so favorable that sanguine persons are already prophe
sying that the Coronation will take place very shortly. But
the case is one of great uncertainty. There is many a slip
twixt the cup and the lip, and there may be yet another slip
twixt the King and the Coronation. Not that we wish for
it; we are only reproving a certain rashness on the part of
the public vaticinators.
Whether the Coronation comes early or late, the clergy
will surely not let it be taken without a preparatory Thanks
giving. That is the next item on the program. King Edward
will have to go to St. Paul’s Cathedral and participate in a
service of thanks to God for his recovery. Nothing will be
said on that occasion about the doctors. They will have
done their work and received their rewards. It will then be
the Lord’s turn, and the clergy will see that he gets all the
credit. For his reputation, like their existence, is parasitical.
He takes all the glory of other persons’ successes. The
failures he leaves to their own account. It is, indeed, on this
very plan that Christianity is constructed. Man is left to
share all his sins with the Devil; but all the good in him is
�12
ascribed to the grace of God. Every time it is heads poor
man loses and tails the Deity wins.
We expect to find the clergy working that Thanksgiving
for all it is worth. It will give a much-needed lift to their
profession. They will receive a certificate of the efficacy of
prayer, signed by the King, and countersigned by the British
nation. And if they cannot trade profitably for a good while
on that basis, they must be very degenerate representatives
of the clerical interest.
Religion is worship, and worship is prayer. Piety is a
lively sense of favors to come. All over the world, and under
every form of faith, this is the everlasting verity. The old
story fold by Dr. Tylor goes to the root of the matter. A
missionary in Africa set up a little iron chapel, with a little
bell on the top. One day he was ringing the bell for the
morning service, and one of his “ converts ” came by at that
moment. “ Aren’t you coming in ?” asked the missionary.
“No,” said the convert, “ I don’t want anything just now.”
Someone has sent us a copy of a Roman Catholic organ,
the Irish Messenger of the Sacred Heart. It contains a
department headed “ Petitions,” and another headed “ Thanks
givings.” These are described as “ only a few ” out of the
“ thousands ” that reach the Editor. Not one of them is
accompanied by a name and address. The only place men
tioned is “ Tipperary,” and the petitioners and thanksgivers
sign themselves, “A Grateful Child of Mary,” “A Hopeful
One,” “ Hannah,” “ Three Orphans,” and so forth. We
suppose the registry of their names and addresses, with other
particulars, is kept in the beautiful land above. They pray
to the Sacred Heart of Jesus for some favor—a good situa
tion, or the recovery of a sick relative; and if their prayer
is answered they drop a “ thanksgiving ”—together, we sup
pose, with something more substantial—to the Messenger.
If their prayer is not answered they say nothing. And thus
the game goes on to the comfort of the faithful and the profit
of the Church.
Such victims as these are an easy prey. Even the King is
�13
not a difficult one. He cannot help himself. If he were to
pooh-pooh the clergy, and refuse to take part in a Thanks
giving, he would only be fighting against the common interests
of imposture and privilege—in which his own interest is
included. But there is nobler game to be run down. We
may instance Mr. Chamberlain. He meets with a cab
accident, and spends his sixty-sixth birthday in hospital.
Now the accident might have been a good deal worse; it
might even have been fatal. We may look upon it as a
“ mercy ” that the Colonial Secretary is still alive. True,
his wound is described as “ not dangerous,” but who can be
sure of such things ? There is clearly room for prayer; yea,
and for thanksgiving afterwards. We suggest, then, that the
clergy should try to tackle Mr. Chamberlain. He would be a
splendid catch if they could only land him. And now that
he has lost a lot of blood he may be amenable. Perhaps the
Archbishop of Canterbury is too old for an enterprise like
this, but the Bishop of London is younger and more
ambitious. He might take Mr. Chamberlain in hand, induce
him to show at least a little connivance, get up a special
service of prayer for his perfect recovery, and, finally, drive
him in triumph to the Cathedral. It would be a splendid
stroke for dear old Mother Church, and it should really be
attempted.
Mr. Chamberlain’s thanksgiving service should precede the
King’s. It would serve as a rehearsal. The royal affair
might then go through without a hitch.
Meanwhile it is to be noted that illnesses and calamities
are a golden harvest for the clergy. They live upon other
men’s misfortunes. The happy do not need them. That is
why they preach the religion of sorrow. Every man’s misery
is their opportunity. They work upon man’s mortality, and
trade upon his fear of death. Were he immortal he would
laugh at them. As it is they can afford to laugh at him.
The King’s illness, in particular, has been a god-send to
the soul-savers of every denomination, though especially to
the parsons of the State Church. By voicing the general
�14
desire for his recovery, by battering the ears of the Almighty
•with their loud petitions, by representing every improvement
in his condition as the result of divine intervention, and,
finally, by securing that he shall publicly return thanks to
God in one of their joss-houses, they have shown themselves
what we always said they were—past-masters in the art of
deception^and imposture.
The King’s Dinner.
We do not wish to depreciate the King’s generous intention
in providing a Coronation dinner for half a million poor
people. It is something that he thinks of the destitute in
the midst of his plenty. But it is very certain that the
money—some ^£30,000—could be more profitably invested.
A dinner is eaten, digested, and assimilated; and when the
force it gives is expended it disappears for ever. What
advantage has been gained if there is no dinner on the
morrow ? If a man has to die of hunger, he may as well
die one day as the next. Evidently, then, the King’s Dinner
—however well meant—is like a dab of ointment on a running
ulcer, springing from a chronic corruption of the blood. What
is wanted is the prevention of poverty—in the sense of desti
tution of the necessaries and decencies of life. Giving dinners
will not promote that object. On the contrary, the very fact
that one person is able to pay for thirty thousand dinners,
while another person is unable to pay for one, is in itself a
sufficient proof that our civilisation rests upon an absurd and
precarious basis. Luxury at one extreme balances poverty
at the other. The too-much involves the too-little. The
�15
pride of the prince is the other side of the wretchedness of
the pauper.
Fancy half a million people in the richest city in the
world, the capital of the greatest empire on earth, to whom
a dinner is an event 1 Something to be looked forward to,
schemed for, and almost fought for. What a satire on our
boasted civilisation 1 What a scandal to Christianity ! Was
it to this end that Christ brought salvation ? After nearly
two thousand years of the gospel of redemption the world is
still so unredeemed ! Myriads who have the “ bread of life ’'
offered to them by rich soul-saving societies look around in
despair for a crust to appease their bodily hunger; and little
children cry for food, though “ of such is the kingdom of
heaven.”
But if a dinner is an event to half a million people in one
city, how many more are there to whom a dinner is an un
certainty ? And what kind of civilisation is it when the
cravings of animal appetite bar the road to intellectual and
moral progress ?
But for all the homilies of social science the King’s Dinner
will be eaten by ravenous thousands. Well-fed people are
interesting themselves in the matter. Some of them have
the ethical and religious interests of the King’s Dinner
eaters so much at heart that they insist on the meal being a
dry one. No drinks, not even a mug^of small beer. And
this in the name of Jesus Christ, who turned seventy-five
gallons of water into wine to keep a spree going ! Was there
ever greater hypocrisy ? Surely ^in the case of these poor
wretches, the square meal of a lifetime might be washed
down with something palatable. Surely, in their case, the
Bible text might be quoted, “ Let him drink and forget his
poverty, and remember his misery no more.”
It is a pity, for their own sake, that the clergy did not
squash the proposal of a Coronation Dinner. It was a grave
mistake, from their own point of view, to emphasize the con
trasting luxury and poverty of London. Nor is it reasonable
to suppose that the poor will feel grateful. They will feel
�16
nothing of the kind. They know very well that there is
“ something rotten in the state of Denmark,” though they
don’t exactly know how to set it right, and dread jumping
out of the frying-pan into the fire.
Christianity has no message for the poor except that of
kingdom-come. It contemplates the perpetual existence of
poverty. “ The poor ye have always with you.” Its gospel
is not justice, but charity. Private charity there may well
be over and beyond justice. But the one is no substitute for
the other.
It is the boast of the New Testament that “ the poor have
the gospel preached unto them.” This is all they can ever
expect from Christianity. “ Blessed be ye poor,” said Jesus
Christ, “for yours is the kingdom of heaven.” A poor
kingdom! like Sancho Panza’s governorship of that
imaginary island. It is the kingdom of earth that really
matters. The wealthy and privileged classes keep it to
themselves, and they pay a lot of tragi-comic fellows in black
to preach the kingdom of heaven to the disinherited masses.
This is the moral of the King’s Dinner.
�17
Coronation Day.
Coronation Day has come and gone at last. - It was fixed for
the end of June, but “ Providence ” played the deuce with the
arrangements. Splendid weather was turned on, and the King
knocked over. It was a nasty sarcasm on the part of that said
<c
Providence,” and a postponement was inevitable. Fortu
nately the King was taken in hand by a strong detachment
of the best doctors in the nation. Everything that skill and
care could do was done for him ; everything that money could
command was available. It is not miraculous, therefore, that
His Majesty pulled through the worst of the trouble with more
than usual celerity ; nor is it quite astonishing that his con
valescence has been remarkably rapid, for a magnificent yacht
in the Solent is certainly an ideal hospital. Science has saved
the King. But it would never do for him to say so. He has
to play his part as head of the Church as well as head of the
' State. Accordingly, in his message “ To My People ” he
gives Science the go by. Not so much as an allusion is
made to the doctors or the nurses. They will get their
rewards, of course; but they must not be thanked publicly.
Thanks have to be rendered elsewhere. The clergy must be
recognised. They got up prayers for the King’s recovery,
and they expect to receive all the credit. They are so exact
ing in these matters that the King was obliged to humor
them. “ The prayers of my people for my recovery,” he
says, “ were heard, and I now offer up my deepest gratitude
to Divine Providence.” Perhaps the King half believes this ;
he can hardly be such a fool as to believe it altogether. It is
a discreet mixture; a big sop to the clergy, and a little blague
on his own account.
We have asked this question before, and we ask it again:
Why should God save the King more than any other man in
this nation ? Monarchs are no longer indispensable. Queen
Victoria’s loss was “ irreparable,” but it was found that the
�18
earth still turned on its axis. After the lapse of a year and
a-half she is almost forgotten. King Edward’s death would
equally have left no unfillable void. The Prince of Wales
would have mounted the throne, and the loyalists would have
worshipped a new God. For loyalism is really a form of
religion. When the Prince of Wales becomes King we can
see a deity created under our very eyes. He is sanctified by
“ the divinity that doth hedge a king.” He becomes a totally
new being in the twinkling of an eye. Before, he could even
be chaffed ; now, to speak lightly of him is a species of blas
phemy. This is all nonsense, however, to the eye of reason.
Klings are but men. However high your seat, as old Mon
taigne says, you actually sit on your own posteriors. Nor,
we repeat, are kings in any way indispensable. One king
disappears—and another takes his place—“ The King is
dead—Long live the King.” And what difference is there,
from the point of view of the Infinite, between the greatest
king and the meanest of his subjects ? A dead lord, as Gray
said, ranks with commoners ; and a dead king ranks with the
mob of “ the illustrious obscure.” Unless, indeed, he is some
thing more than a king. But how few monarchs have been
able to claim the title of great men; Most of them are small
enough—except in their own estimation, or in the flattery of
their parasites. It was this truth that made Byron exclaim,
in reference to “ God save the King ” in connection with
George the Third, that it was “ a great economy in God to
save the like.” Poor men, working men, breadwinners of
families, die every day, and many of them prematurely.
They have no troop of doctors round their sick beds, no
crowd of nurses to attend to all their wants. They have to
fight death alone, and they succumb. Why does not God
save them ? Why save the father of princes and princesses,
and not the father whose death leaves his children to penury
or destitution ?
Whatever be the reason of the King’s recovery, he has
recovered, and gone through his Coronation. The Arch
bishop of Canterbury has dabbed His Majesty’s bald head>
�19
his breast, and the palms of his hands with holy oil, and
thus “ consecrated ” him in the name of the Lord. He is
now a full-blown sovereign, King in the sight of God, as well
as in the sight of men. The one thing wanting is added.
Edward the Seventh was King de facto already, but the
Church has made him King by the grace of God. He is now
both crowned and anointed—and much good may it do him !
The men and women who “assisted” at the Coronation in
Westminster Abbey were not the British nation. Neither did
they represent the British nation. Most of them were drones
or parasites. Some of them had attained to their positions by
hard work, of a kind, but these were a very small minority.
As for the idle crowd outside, one need not speak of it with
the slightest respect. There is more loyalism—perhaps we
should say royalism—to-day than ever. There is also, more
rowdyism. Forty years ago it was not common to hear lads
swearing in the streets ; it is common enough now ; and these
lads doff their hats with grotesque reverence at the sound of
“the King!” Various “odes” have appeared in the more
“ respectable ” papers. Mr. John Davidson even has joined
in the melancholy chorus. But the popular Coronation poet
laureate is the author of a tipsy song which has been shouted
on the music-hall stages, and shouted still more lustily in the
public thoroughfares :—
Drinking whisky, wine, and sherry,
We’ll all be merry
On Coronation Day.
The sentiment and poetry of these lines are worthy of the
occasion; the humbug at one end is matched by the vulgarity
at the other; and one is tempted to say that to be King over
such a mob is not an honor for which any man should thank
God too vigorously.
Humbug and vulgarity! These are the chief characteristics
of present-day loyalism. There is not a note of sincerity in
it. Journalists who should know better, and do know better,
are swept along by the popular flood. The Daily News, the
organ of the Nonconformist Conscience, put on one of its best
�20
homilectic scribes to write on “ The King’s Thanksgiving.”
There were many blunders in his article, but nothing quite
so bad as the reference to that great and noble Emperor
whose very name is music to the students of humanity.
“ The burden of Marcus Aurelius,” the Writer said, “ was not
so heavy as the burden of the ruler who presides over the
destinies of the British Empire.” - What a prostitution of
scholarship on the altar of political superstition ! Marcus
Aurelius was not a sham ruler, but a real one; the actual
burden of empire rested upon his shoulders. He governed in
fact, notin theory ; lie wielded power and bore responsibility ;•
and in all serious fighting he went through the oampaign at
the head of its army, sharing its hardships no less than, its
dangers. Such a man needed no hocus-pocus of anointing to
make him a true Emperor. The finest head and the noblest
heart in the Roman Empire, resting on the bare ground of
the tented field, wrapped in a cloak whose only distinction
was that its color was the imperial purple, and thinking out.
some point in moral philosophy before falling off into a sleep
well earned by the day-long cares of a mighty rulership,
ought not to be mentioned in the same breath with a common
place “ constitutional ” monarch, who is not the helm, but the
gilded figure-head, of the ship of State. Christendom has
never produced such rulers as the great Pagan Emperors.
The throne shed no lustre on them : they shed lustre on the
throne. They were eminent and conspicuous not only by
station, but by intellect, and character, and public ’ service.
And now, after the lapse of nearly two thousand years, and
all the pretended uplifting influence of Christianity upon the
Western world, we have nothing but “ Edward, R. and I.” to
set beside Marcus Aurelius 1 It is really too absurd. We
drop our pen in amazement at human folly.
�21
The King’s Chaplain.
This title is an Hibernicism. It should really be “the
King’s no chaplain.” But that looks and sounds odd, and
we have sacrificed strict accuracy to appearance and euphony.
The case is this. A gentleman—probably in the soul-saving
business himself—has been writing to the newspapers, com
plaining that King- Edward does not keep a chaplain on
board the royal yacht. There is a doctor to look after the
crew’s bodies, if anything goes wrong with them, but no
priest, minister, preacher, or man of God of any description,
to look after the salvation of their immortal souls. The
result is that Captain Lambton actually takes charge of
divine service when it has to be celebrated. No doubt he
gets through the job with all the proverbial dexterity of a
“handy man.” Yet he is only an amateur, after all; and
the -job requires the services of a professional. Captain
Lambton has never been consecrated. He is not endowed
with the Holy Ghost. Probably, being a sailor, he swears as
often as he prays—perhaps oftener. There is something in
the salt water, or the open sea, or the atmosphere of a ship,
or whatever it is, that encourages the use of superlative
epithets and other striking forms of expression. All the
greater, therefore, is the need of a tame Christian on board,
to dilute the nautical language down to the proper strength
for a set interview with the Almighty. Besides, a parson is
as necessary as a doctor. Not only is he required as a soul
saver, but he has his living to get, and an opening should be
made for him somewhere. It is a sad. spectacle to see a lean
curate looking longingly at the royal yacht from a distance,
when he might be pursuing his trade on board of her, and
enjoying a fine opportunity of becoming both fat and useful.
It is clear, therefore, at least from the clerical point of view,
that the King is acting improperly in sailing about without
the company of a clergyman. Nevertheless, it is conceivable
�22
that the King is acting quite properly from his own point of
view. Not that we have any right to speak for him ; only
we think that something could be said if we had the right
to say it.
Let us venture to suggest a few considerations. It will be
conceded, we imagine, that after all that Coronation ceremony
(or tomfoolery) in Westminster Abbey, following so soon upon
his severe and well-nigh fatal illness, the King is very much
in need of rest. Now a doctor is more conducive to his rest
than a clergyman. The former would say “ Take your ease,
eat and drink well, keep on deck all you can, and sleep sound
at nights.” The latter would say, “ Prepare to meet thy
God.” But we may be sure that the King is not at all
anxious to meet his God, or to spend a superfluous amount
of time in getting ready for the encounter. He was quite
near enough to meeting his God a couple of months ago. A
very distant acquaintance will do for the next ten years.
Any man, even a king, who has just narrowly escaped death,
will object to being pestered with reminders of his mortality.
In the next place, it must be admitted that the King has
been to church a good many times already, that he has
listened to a lot of sermons, and that he has heard plenty of
lessons, prayers, and hymns. He has had enough to last him
for a while. What he wants now is a holiday. He should
leave his land-life entirely behind him; and, as the parson is
a part of it, the parson is rightly told to stop on shore. When
a man is seeking new health and strength, after a very trying
illness, he does not want a soul-worrier constantly at his
elbow; but may very well say, with the gentleman in the
Acts of the Apostles, I will hear thee at a more convenient
season.
In the third place, it can hardly be assumed that the King
is in love with clergymen. As a man of the world, he must
be pretty well aware of what they are driving at. He must
know that they pursue their profession (or “ calling ”) for
ordinary business reasons. He must recognise that they
preach heaven in order to live on earth. He must have a
�23
poor opinion of them as a class, and in all probability he
loves them so that he dotes upon their very absence.
Why, in the fourth place, should the King have a chaplain
on the royal yacht for the sake of the crew ? Sailors are
seldom enamored of clergymen. They think it unlucky to
have a clergyman on board. They have an idea that it
means bad weather. We do not know why, but such is the
fact. Perhaps it is a tradition that has come down from the
days of Jonah. There was no peace till the prophet was
thrown overboard. And it may be that sailors are still of
opinion that the proper place for a chaplain is the belly of
any fish that will entertain him.
The advocates of the clergy may object that the King has
shown himself in other respects a friend of religion. Did
he not declare that it was to his people’s prayers that he
owed his recovery ? Did he not express his gratitude in con
sequence to Almighty God? Did he not “hurry up” his
Coronation, and give the clergy a chance of signalising their
services to the throne and the nation ? Did he not show his
opinion that he was only half a king until he had received
the Church’s blessing ? Yes, he did so; but it must be
remembered that he has a part to play as head of the Church
as well as head of the State. It is a very rash assumption
that his heart speaks every time he goes through a bit of
public hocus-pocus with the clergy. They play the panto
mime, and so does he ; it is a part of the “ business ” of both
their professions. They dispense the grace of God, and he
reigns by the grace of God; but when the pantomime is over
it is not surprising that he prefers their room to their company.
For our part, we commend the King’s common sense in
taking his sea-trip without a ghostly companion—a person
who habitually wears black to suggest a funeral, and occa
sionally puts on a cassock to suggest a shroud. It will be
time enough to resume touch with the mystery-mongers
when his holiday is over. Sufficient unto the day is the evil
thereof.
�24
The Thanksgiving Comedy.
The great Coronation farce is drawing to a close. Soon
after this article meets the readers’ eyes the curtain will be
rung down, the .performers will be disrobing, and the spec
tators will be streaming home. What the performers think
of the spectators, and what the spectators think of the
performers, will not appear in the newspapers. The con
ventional platitudes and unctuosities will be printed. No
body will talk sense or truth. It will be all fireworks and
“ God save the King.”
On Saturday the King and Queen will drive into the City
and home again by way of South London. Those who wish
to bask in the sunshine of the royal countenance will enjoy
their opportunity. They will find it cheap this time. Seats
can now be had for the price of an old song. The first fine
careless rapture is gone. It is impossible to bring back the
loyal ecstacy of June. The psychological moment went by,
and the psychological moment never returns.
On Sunday the King will take another drive. Accom
panied by the Queen and other members of the Royal
Family (capitals, please), he will attend a Thanksgiving
Service (more capitals, please) at St. Paul’s Cathedral.
There is to be a “ small procession,” but nothing very “loud.”
For did not “ Providence ” humble the King’s or the nation’s
pride in June ? And is it safe to offer another provocation ?
His Majesty, however, will be met at the west door, at the
top of the great flight of steps, by the Bishop, the Dean, and
the Canons Residentiary; a procession will then be formed
by the Lord Mayor, bearing the pearl sword, immediately
preceding the King and Queen; and the whole troupe will
appear before the Lord in a highly distinguished and effective
manner.
The two Psalms selected for the service are the thirtieth
and the hundred and eighth. The former opens as follows:—
�25
“ I will extol thee, 0 Lord ; for thou hast lifted me up, and
hast not made my foes to rejoice over me. 0 Lord, my God,
I cried unto thee, and thou hast healed me. 0 Lord, thou
hast brought up my soul from the grave : thou hast kept me
alive, that I should not go down to the pit.”
We presume this will be regarded as the King’s address
Jehovah. Certainly he has been spared from the “ grave ”
and the “ pit,” which mean precisely the same thing. In
other words, he has had his trip to heaven postponed. He
would rather not take it while the royal yacht holds out for
better excursions. He has a good taste in personal enjoy
ment. “ If you want a good thing keep near me,” might be
his motto. But he is obliged to adopt something more
“respectable.” So absurd is the divinity that doth hedge a
King.
It must be admitted that the Lord has let a good many go
down into the pit since he reprieved King Edward. Some of
them, too, were of much more importance to the world.
Zola, for instance—a great writer and a noble man—might
have been saved from that absurd death by suffocation, and
allowed to complete the work of his genius. Nor should
humbler instances be overlooked. How many a bread
winner’s life has been cut short disastrously since the month
of June. How many widows and orphans have been cast
amongst the wreckage of society. Why, O why, should the
Lord be careful of kings and careless of poor working men ?
We thought he was no respecter of persons. Yes, that is
the text; and the flunkey Thanksgiving Service is the com
mentary.
The Bishop of London is to bo the preacher at this
Thanksgiving Service. He was done—by “ Providence ”—
out of the five minutes that he was to have had for a sermon
at the Coronation. But now he is to have his revenge.
“ Providence ” will have to put up with it, and the King will
have to listen. It is to be presumed, however, that Dr.
Ingram is courtier enough to “ cut it short.” God will think
twice, a French lady said, before he damns a gentleman of
�26
quality; and the Bishop of London will think twice before
he inflicts a long sermon upon his King.
We read of provision to be made at St. Paul’s Cathedral
for all sorts of persons, including pressmen, who are all sorts
in themselves. But we see nothing about provision for the
King’s doctors. It was they, and not the ghost behind the
curtain, who kept him out of the “ pit.” Everybody with a
grain of common sense knows that if it had not been for
their skill and attention, backed up by the finest nursing and
other adjuncts that could be had for love or money, all the
prayers in the world would never have saved King Edward
from becoming a corpse. An operation was absolutely
necessary, and that particular operation has only been prac
tised for a few years. Not so long ago, even the doctors and
the parsons together could not have saved the King’s life.
And prayer was just as efficacious then as it is now. It is
science that has improved.
Probably the King himself knows why he is still alive.
But his position is an awkward one. He must satisfy the
clergy or make them his implacable enemies. The per
formance at St. Paul’s Cathedral must therefore be gone
through. But we dare say no one will be happier than him
self when it is all over.
�27
The “ D.T.’s.”
The Daily Telegraph was once said to be run by a Jew in
the interest of Christianity. The original Hebrew of the
tribe of Levi who got hold of it traded a good deal on the
eheap, shallow, popular writing of George Augustus Sala.
And thereby hangs a tale. Mr. Sala (it is said) in the early
days of the connection was instructed to write a rousing
article on the Crucifixion. It was to appear the day before
Good Friday, and the great G. A. S. wrote it at home, and
took it down to Fleet-street himself—which was the cause of
all the trouble. For on the way down Mr. Sala, who was
not, a teetotaller, met several friends, and the journey was
broken by the usual adjournments. When he arrived at the
D. T. office he was eagerly received by the aforesaid Hebrew
gentleman of the tribe of Levi, who had begun to despair of
that particular contribution. “Ah, Mr. Sala,” he said, “I’m
very glad to see you. Have you brought the article ? ”
f Yes,” replied the welcome contributor, and he held it out.
But just at that moment he was seized with a fit of maudlin
compunction. “You sha’n’t have it,” he stammered; “it
was you----- Jews who crucified the Savior. You shan’t
have it! You shan’t have it I ” And he reeled over and
dropped the article into the fire. There was consternation
in the editorial office, and weeping and wailing and gnashing
of teeth on the part of the self-disgusted contributor, when
he was able to realise the terrible sacrifice he had made on
the altar of a too-well stimulated piety.
Many, many years have rolled by since the probable,
possible, or mythical date of that touching incident. But the
Daily Telegrph still maintains its pious reputation. Was it
not the D. I7., in the early seventies of last century, when
Albert Edward Prince of Wales was down with typhoid
fever,, that invited us all to watch the great national wave
of prayer surging against the throne of Grace ? Was it not
�28
the D. T. that almost told God he would forget himself if he
let the Prince die ? And was it not the D. T., when the
Prince recovered, that sang the loudest in the Thanksgiving
Chorus ? The D. T. “ caught on ” to British piety on that
occasion, and it has held on ever since.
Our Jew-Christian or Christian-Jew contemporary came
out on Monday with a magnificent article on the Thanks
giving Service at St. Paul’s Cathedral. It was written in
the fine bold style that Matthew Arnold so much admired,
and so celebrated in the Dedicatory Letter of Friendship's
Garland. Yes, Adolescens Leo, Esq., is still the same.
Time has not impaired his youthful vigor. It has not even
mellowed him. He roars with the same robust music. He
displays the same unction in his moments of piety. The
voice breaks, the tears fall; and a large admiring public
gazes spellbound at the pathetic spectacle.
“ If the King’s life,” our contemporary said, “ was pre
cious to his people before his grave illness, it is doubly so
now, in that his subjects throughout the world devoutly
believe that he was restored to health in direct answer to
their supplications and intercessions.”
We doubt if the writer believes a word of this. Probably
he had his tongue in his cheek from the beginning to the
end of the sentence. Anyhow it is not true that all the
King’s subjects “ devoutly believe ” in the supernatural
character of his recovery. Many of them believe they could
have recovered themselves—with or without prayer—in the
same circumstances. With a number of the first doctors in
the land, with the best nursing skill obtainable for love or
money, and with every other conceivable advantage that
ample wealth and lofty position could afford, it is very diffi
cult to see much room for divine assistance in the King’s
case. When there are six doctors and one God, will some
one tell us how the celestial share in the patient’s treatment
is to be calculated ?
According to the Bible, the doctors are a sort of interlopers
in any kind of illness. But upon this point our contemporary
�29
is discreetly silent. There is no reason, however, why we
should practise the same hypocrisy. We beg to observe,
therefore, that the Bible persistently sneers at doctors. In
.the Old Testament we read that things went wrong with
King Asa because in his sickness he sought unto the physi
cians instead of unto the Lord. In the New Testament we
read of the woman who had “ suffered much of many physi
cians,” and was made worse rather than better, until at last
she was healed by the power of faith. Definite directions
also are given about what should be done by believers in
time of sickness. There is the calling in of elders, the
anointing of the sick, and the praying over them ; but there
is no reference to calling in a doctor. Indeed, it is expressly
said that “the prayer of faith shall recover the sick,” so that
all the other proceedings are purely formal. Such is the
teaching of the Bible-—the book which both Church and
Chapel force into the hands of the children in our public
schools ; yet no one has the honesty to admit it except Free
thinkers and a handful of Peculiar People—so called, per
haps, beeause they have the peculiarity of squaring their
practice with their profession.
Let us ask- our, contemporary a question. If it be true
•that the King’s restoration to health is owing to the prayers
of his people, is it honest to send poor parents to prison for
■relying upon prayer to save their sick children? If the
doctrine of the efficacy of prayer be true at Buckingham
Palace, how does it become false at Barking ? And if it be
right to thank God in a Cathedral for saving the life of a
King, how is it wrong to trust the same God to save the life
of a little child in a poor man’s cottage ?
So much for the Daily Telegraph. And now a few words
on the Bishop of London. This right reverend Father-inthe-Lord was allowed five minutes for his Thanksgiving
Sermon. That was all the King could spare him. But the
Bishop made good use of the time. Never was there a worse
exhibition of flunkeyism. Dr. Ingram expressed no end of
astonishment that King Edward had twice—yes, actually,
�30
twice—been near death. Such things, of course, are never
heard of in the case of ordinary men. God meant some
thing by saving the King’s life a second time; yes, it
was to be thought that “ God had some plan for that life
of special service and usefulness and strength.” Altogether,
if we may judge by the rest of the preacher’s observations
on this head, the Almighty has been thinking of little else of
late but the respectable, though not very brilliant, gentleman
who happens to occupy the throne of Great Britain and
Ireland. All the rest of the world has presumably to look
on and wonder—and wait for its share of divine attention.
Dr. Ingram thought it necessary to refer to “ the instru
ments God used.” Courtier-like he mentioned first “the noble
lady who was constantly by the patient’s side ”—just as
though it were an uncommon thing for wives to tend their
husbands. Then came “the surgeons and physicians, whose
untiring skill and care were of so great avail,” and last “ the
nurses who were so faithful in their service.” Yet the
object of the Thanksgiving Service was not to sing their
praises, but to “ honor God.” For without his spoken word
“ all skill and all nursing is unavailing.” Now what is the
legitimate inference from these expressions ? Why, this.
Doctors and nurses must attend the sick; it is not safe to
leave a patient entirely in the Lord’s hands; God can do
nothing without instruments; but, on the other hand, if the
doctors and nurses pull the patient through his trouble, it is
really not their doing, for all their skill and attention is
useless if God does not give the word for the patient’s
recovery. Such is the mental muddle in which we find a
Bishop and a most “ distinguished ” congregation at the
beginning of the twentieth contury.
�SOME WORKS BY G. W. FOOTE
A Defence of Free Speech. Three Hours’ Address
to the Jury before Lord Coleridge.
4d._
Bible Handbook for Freethinkers and Inquiring
Christians. New edition, revised. Cloth, 2s. 6d.; paper,
Is. 6d.
Bible Heroes. New edition. Cloth, 2s. 6d.
Bible Romances. New edition, revised. Cloth, 2s.
Book of God in the Light of the Higher Criticism.
Cloth, 2s. ; paper, Is.
Christianity and Secularism. Four Nights’ Public
Debate with the Rev. Dr. James McCann. Cloth Is. 6d.
paper, Is.
Crimes of Christianity. Cloth, 2s. 6d.
Flowers of Freethought. First series, cloth, 2s. 6d. ;
Second series, cloth, 2s. 6d.
Grand Old Book, The.
A Reply to the Grand Old
Cloth, Is. 6d.; paper, Is.
Is Socialism Sound ? Four Nights’ Public Debate
with Annie Besant. Cloth 2s.; paper, Is.
Man.
Letters to the Clergy. Is.
Theism or Atheism. Public Debate between G. W
Foote and the Rev. W. T. Lee. Neatly bound, Is.
Letters to Jesus Christ. 4d.
Peculiar People. An Open Letter to Mr. Justice
Wills.
Id.
Philosophy of Secularism. 3d.
Royal Paupers. 2d.
Sign of the Cross, The. A Candid Criticism of Mr
Wilson Barrett’s Play.
6d.
Christianity and Progress. A Reply to the Rt. Hon
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Id.
Comic Sermons and Other Fantasias. Paper, 8d.
Darwin on God. 6d.
Dropping the Devil. 2d.
The Passing of Jesus. 2d.
What is Agnosticism ? 3d,
�Progressive People should read
THE FREETHINKER
(EDITED BY G. W. FOOTE )
The Oldest and Liveliest Freethought Paper in England
Established in 1881
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY.
PRICE TWOPENCE
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The Pioneer Press, 2 Newcastle-street, Farringdon-street, London, E.C:
�
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Victorian Blogging
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A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
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Conway Hall Ethical Society
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God save the king, and other coronation articles, by an English Republican (G.W. Foote)
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Foote, G. W. (George William) [1850-1915]
Description
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Place of publication: London
Collation: v, [6]-30, [2] p. ; 19 cm.
Notes: Publisher's advertisements ("Some works by G.W. Foote") on unnumbered pages at the end. First published in The Freethinker, June-October 1902. Part of the NSS pamphlet collection.
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The Pioneer Press
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1903
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N241
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Republicanism
Monarchy
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<a href="http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/"><img src="http://i.creativecommons.org/p/mark/1.0/88x31.png" alt="Public Domain Mark" /></a><span> </span><br /><span>This work (God save the king, and other coronation articles, by an English Republican (G.W. Foote)), identified by </span><a href="https://conwayhallcollections.omeka.net/items/show/www.conwayhall.org.uk"><span>Humanist Library and Archives</span></a><span>, is free of known copyright restrictions.</span>
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Text
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English
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Republicanism-England