Champion of the People

Hawera Star, Volume LIV, 24 August 1935, Page 11

Champion of the People

A BOYISH-LOOKING- man, returned from a visit to Durham coalfields in Februai*y, 1929, flung himself into a chair, put his head in his hands and stayed like that for half an hour, writes Clement Fuller in the Weekly Dispatch. Other people were in the room. The man, undemonstrative by nature, was no hoy. He was forty-one on June 23, 1935. He could not help his distress. He was heart-broken. Suffering and poverty he had seen in the stricken areas, and the sight had moved him more than any other thing could. That is the true Prince of Wales. What made him break down, lie later explained to his friends, was the feeling of hopelessness and his own inability to help. There was so much to be done and so little one man eonld do. Yet no person has done as much as he to help the distressed, the poor. Love of the Poor and Needy. The poor have changed his life. But for them he might have enjoyed the ease and leisure of foreign princes. Their, problem and their love have made him set his face against ease; they have made him dedicate his life to their betterment.

Years ago when he was a youth he showed his inherent love of gaiety. He has never pretended a leaning toward learning, a particular liking for music or pictures or the arts. He has few indoor pursuits apart from the somewhat unusual one of knitting, and petit-point needlework. But what he has seen has set him to study social problems so that he can help and fulfil his destined role.

Dancing and laughter attract him, a jovial story, good wine, and “hot” rhythm. But he has given much of it up—because he is the Prince of Wales. If he were not he would, his friends think, enjoy every gaiety with the zest of the least conspicuous private citizen. Even years ago, when he was little more than a boy and had less appreciation of his responsibilities, his friends felt certain of one thing: when the day comes for him to rule this land he will drop with one movement all the trappings of youth and apply himself to his new duty with a determination and a driving force that could not be enlarged. Hatred of War. Already he is speaking with authority on social affairs, on housing, on diplomacy, on war. . . . That is the real Prince, not the one we see attending mere social functions. He has a horror and hatred of war and a horror of the hatred war breeds. Deep feeling was in his voice recently when he made his historic speech at Queen’s Hall, London, suggesting to the men of the British Legion that their representatives should visit Germany in friendship.

“I feel there could be no more suitable body of men,” he said, “to stretch forth the hand of friendship to the Germans that we exServicemen who fought them in the Great War and have now forgotten all about that.” Those who think of him only as a lover of sport and gaiety, a social “royalty,” are tempted to forget the true Prince of Wales. Tt was the true Prince who spoke to the men of the Legion. Will Always Be Shy. All his life, to Englishmen, he has been Prince Charming and Our Young Man. He is still and always will be that. For he has an extraordinary look and quality of youth. See him still, in the distance, and he might be 21— instead of 41. His hail* is thick and fair, and it grows in a boyish way. His spare iigure is athletically young. He will always be shy. .The Prince fingers his tie. His nervous movements and the way he never seems to know what to do with his hands, will always make him look a youth. When a remark really touches him a look of boyish feeling will enter his eyes.

Yet, see him near to, and a glance at his face will show you a man who has been through a lot. His cheeks are well lined. 'An unhappy, sometimes agonised, expression is on his face. Two things have caused this. The first he revealed, in spite of himself, when lie broke down after his visit to the stricken coalfields. The second he told to a woman sitting next to him at a Le Touquct supper party in 1924. He was staying incognito at Le Touquet as the Earl of Chester. It had been made clear to the whole town that he wished to be allowed to enjoy himself privately in the manner of any other person. Yet, wherever he went, crowds followed. He sat down to “the tables” or to dinner and crowds surroundedsdiim and stared and whispered in a way that would drive most men mad. “Life Is No Joke.” The Prince’s supper partner said to him. “I do think it’s monstrous the way these people behave and refuse to let you alone when you ask them.” The Prince fumbled with his tie and answered with feeling: “Yes, it’s frightful. The worst part for me is to feel that there’s no end to it, that for the rest of my life I will have no privacy, but will be followed, and stared at, and guarded, and have my private life made public to the world. It’s no joke being the Prince of Wales. . . .” To many men such a badgering might mean no great purgatory. To the Prince, with his shyness, it is agony. He has conquered the showing of his sensitive feelings in public. From being once an indifferent public speaker, he has made himself into an orator. I consider him to be now an excellent public speaker. And I have heard him

Prince of Wales Takes Life Seriously

often. His voice carries pleasantly, his diction is perfect; his tact and choice of words are faultless. He always says the right thing with apparent ease. Every sentence sounds simple and sincere. But as he rises to his feet he never smiles. In the last year the Prince has changed, in his habits and way of Hving. He is seeing less of some of his old friends. Often he used to go in parties of ten or twelve to London restaurants or the Embassy Club. In restaurants now he is nearly always in a sedate party of four. Rarely Joins Parties. I know be still loves dancing, particularly the tango, which lie popularised in England in the spring of 1931 on his return from his South American tour. Often then he would ask band leaders to play tango tunes. He still does. But he rarely joins big parties. At Biarritz last summer the Prince was most nights at dance clubs. He loves “hot” jazz; but he was often pulled pompously away by friends who thought he should go there less? often. But he has changed. For his last four holidays, during the past year or so, he has stayed at St. Austell Bay, in Cornwall. He has made the visit with three friends. He plays golf -there. The hotel has a Continental atmosphere he likes. He can demand dinner as late as 10 p.m. and be certain that the head waiter will not have a stroke. Because of his changed habits many of those who used to see him often now see little of him. Recently he went to a cocktail party given by Commander Dugdale in St. James’ Square. Commander Dugdale is his great friend. This was one of the few cocktail parties the Prince of Wales has ever attended. He thinks of the cocktail as a “mongrel drink.” In a bar he usually calls for a whisky-and-soda or brandy.

Physical Fitness. The Prince of Wales has changed in other ways. Physical fitness has always been one of his chief aims. On weighing himself at the Bath Club in May, 1924, he found himself two pounds heavier than his usual 9st. 41b. “This won’t do,” he cried. “Rumanian royalties will be in London next week and I’ve got to wear my uniform. I’ll never be able to get into it.” Daily before breakfast then he would take a ride round Hyde Park on his favourite Arab horse or a run in vest and shorts round Buckingham Palace grounds.

His Royal Highness used to play a great deal of squash rackets at the Bath and Marlborough Clubs. He would enter for the amateur championships for which the 60 or so best players in the country compete. He played in the championship in 1927, when Captain Chcyne, a very fine player, beat him. Before that he gave permission for the members of the Marlborough to use the squash court at Marlborough House and to park their ears in the yard there. The Prince rarely hunts. The days when he kept a full stable of hunters and went so daringly to hounds that his frequent falls alarmed the nation are gone for ever.

He is enthusiastic about flying. Until about nine months ago he flew whenever he could. He was a skilful pilot. Captain Baker, of Heston, took the responsibility of permitting the Heir Apparent to the throne to take an aeroplane solo into the air. But the King and Queen have always opposed the Prince’s flying much because of the danger of an accident. The Prince’s chief exercise to-day is golf. He has always had a great enthusiasm for the game. His handicap is 14. lie plays most often at Sunningdale. Outside the'Sunningdale Clubhouse I myself heard a conversation that threatens to pass into famous legend. A choleric colonel of the very Old School was sitting with a former colonial governor.

‘‘Ha!” said the colonel, pointing to a clothcapped figure playing an approach up to the last green, “don’t know what young people are coming to nowadays in the matter of clothes. Look at those disgraceful plus fours. Plus tens I’d call them. Can’t think why they are allowed.” It was only then that the ex-governor-general chuckled and drew his companion’s attention to the identity of the cloth-capped “plus-tenncd” player. The Princes of Wales; lover of gay clothes!! The colonel, I should add, at least had the grace to laugh at himself. Classic Story. One story of the Prince in South Africa will become a classic. He had danced with a pretty little shop girl and evidently enjoyed it. An old dame gently remonstrated with him, remarking on the unwisdom of his dancing with girls not of his class. The Prince raised an eyebrow, asking, “What is my class?” Already a classic is the story of his retort to King Edward when asked how he got a black eye in his first term at Osborne as a naval cadet. “Oh, one of the chaps ‘Royal Highnessed’ me, so I had to teach him a lesson,” said the cadet. “Sardine” they called the Prince of Wales at. Osborne.

It could not be doubted that his father and grandfather have bequeathed to the Prince of Wales the greatest qualities of kingship: courage and a driving determination. That the Prince is the world’s most popular young man, the Empire’s best salesman, has been said so often that it is unnecessary to repeat it.

My own admiration for him will always be mixed with an unenvying sympathy and a conviction that when the time comes for him to take a higher place he will play his new part with a courage and devotion that could only be thought of as magnificent.