The Sun 42 WYNDHAM STREET, AUCKLAND TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 27, 1928 “THE KING IS CHEERFUL”

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 522, 27 November 1928, Page 8

The Sun 42 WYNDHAM STREET, AUCKLAND TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 27, 1928 “THE KING IS CHEERFUL ”

MOST happily there appears to be no cause for any thought or mood, more serious among a loyal people Than a transient depression of spirit over King George’s sharp illness. Behind the official bulletins as to varying, conditions under the feverish temperature associated with the trouble, there is a steady note of expert confidence in the prospect of his Majesty’s complete recovery. Moreover, and by far the best message of all to an anxious and intensely sympathetic nation throughout the realms of the vast Empire, the patient is neither depressed nor dismayed ; indeed, “the King is very cheerful.” Loyal subjects of a beloved monarch everywhere will find cheer in the utter lack of despondency in a quiet sick-room tvhich has become the centre of an Empire’s solicitude. Inspired by the King’s fortitude in sickness, they will hasten in hope and with honest affection to send waves of healing thought to the magnetic palace in the heart of mighty London. ■ And the crowd of anxious folk at the palace gate represents under a grey, wintry sky the same sympathy that stirs in the hearts of its kith and kin in the sunshine of the King’s far, but not forgetful, Dominions. If wishes could heal, his Majesty would again be hale and hearty on the instant. Sympathetic observers from other lands, foreign in geography, friends in sentiment and chivalry, have noted with expressions of pleasure the spontaneity of the British nation’s love for its King. This may occasion some surprise among people who look upon the British as a race without demonstrative sentiment, but it will cause no wonder at all among the peoples of the world’s greatest Commonwealth of Nations. The reason for the demonstration of solicitude for their King in the grip of illness is simple as well as natural and even beautiful. Throughout the long march of the British Monarchy across the years of wide history no ruler has been nearer to the nation than King George has been in the course of a reign marked with abnormal difficulties and supreme tests of regal and national character. His Majesty, in most intimate loyalty and determined unity of purpose, has with his people passed through fires of war worse than the fires of Moloch. He has suffered with them in times when there seemed to be nothing else than suffering. With them, too, he has known the poignancy of grief as the flower of the nation’s young manhood fell gallantly in conflict, making no barter of sacrifice, and he has borne the wearing strain of unparalleled anxiety. The King also has rejoiced with the multitude of his subjects in the great days of their gladness and gratitude, and he has mourned with them in the unseen presence of their’million dead. When King George, with his gracious Consort, who in these anxious days hides the worry that gnaws the heart and bravely honours the responsibilities of the Throne, made a pilgrimage to the war cemeteries in France, he abdicated his kingship in spirit and became the comrade of his heroic soldiers. Kecall and remember his noble message to all of his people on that" occasion: “I fervently pray that, both as nations and individuals, we may so order our lives after the ideals for which our brethren died that we may be able to meet their gallant souls once more, humbly, hut unashamed.” There spoke the man who, as a monarch, commands loyal affeetiojj. Is there reason for any wonder at the Empire’s demonstration of tender and hopeful sympathy with its King in the bleak days of his illness? As one of the people all the time, and because of that relationship, he is the greatest of them, worthy of their love and loyalty. There need he no sharp anxiety over the fact that the King’s youngest son has been summoned to his father’s bedside. It so happens that the sailor l’rinee George is only four days’ fast travel distant from London. Against the call to him must be set the happier fact in significance that the Prince of Wales and the Duke of Gloucester have not been summoned home from Africa. Meanwhile, the nation’s best thought will hover over the Royal Palace, ready at the news of recovery to swell into “the chorus of thanksgiving and of prayer that tolls for ever like a golden bell.”