This column first appeared in the Victoria Daily Times on June 17, 1939.
In reading the newspapers of the last few weeks during the Royal tour, and listening to the announcers, there is one peculiar similarity. Even these fluent people, accustomed to speaking and writing, seemed lost for words.
They frankly said: “I do not feel like talking now. I feel like the people here, who forget to cheer. I want to be silent, too. It gets you — all this. It has a significance that cannot be expressed in words.”
Now that invisible, intangible element in the visit of Their Majesties is the thing which will remain, when the crowds are dispersed, the flags taken down and the grandstands returned to the lumber yard.
I got it over the radio before I saw them. I got it when I read that they had driven in the rain in Winnipeg, rather than disappoint the people. I got it still clearer when I read that Louis Riel’s relatives in St. Boniface, the whole family of Riels, came out to greet and cheer Their Majesties.
There is a power in simple goodness that disarms resentment and wins even hearts that are sore. The Riel family had reasons for bitterness. They know the trouble in 1885 should never have happened. A few wise men at Ottawa could have allayed the fears of the Métis in the northwest.
They would have answered the letters kindly and courteously. They would have sent someone out to assure the settlers that they were not in any danger of losing their land; but unfortunately uncivil servants in Ottawa, clothed with a little brief authority, treated the petitions of the Métis with cold disdain. Appeals were ignored, letters unanswered.
No one can think of these things today without sorrow. But that day in St. Boniface, when the King and Queen drove slowly through the tree-lined streets, the remembrance of these bitter things passed away in the presence of these two friendly messengers of good will. In that moment the Riel family may have felt the brushing of an angel’s wings on their faces. I know I felt it when I read about them, and I am glad a sympathetic reporter had gone to their home and talked with them.
I felt the same surge of thankfulness when I heard that the Queen drinks her toasts in water, thereby greatly helping the constructive forces of this Dominion, and making it easier for parents and teachers to lead the young generations in ways of temperance and self-control. It is a gracious act, in keeping with her queenly character. She knows it is always easy to lower standards, but hard indeed to build them.
It is strange how timely the Royal Visit has been. I cannot believe it has come by chance, that we have had the inspiration of the presence of our Sovereigns at a time when the affairs in Europe are at their lowest ebb.
Violence and force have done their worst, and the mistaken doctrine of appeasement has had to be abandoned. Some of us have held to it too long. We know that now, and the knowledge hurts. It did seem right.
Then came the great event which gave us release, for the time at least, from our fears and anxieties concerning the smouldering volcano which is Europe. From the moment that the King and Queen walked up the gangplank at Quebec a new spirit of unity seemed to come to the Dominion. French and English, labour and capital, east and west, rich and poor, young and old, have been drawn closer together. Prejudices have suddenly dried up and blown away.
We always knew that the Royal Visit would give Canada a new place of importance among the nations of the world. We knew it would stimulate trade, even among us, the common people who stand on the street, or sit on the improvised grandstands. Even we have taken money out of the teapot in honour of our Sovereigns, for new dresses and hats. Did not I, on the Saturday before the Royal Visit, deplete the household fund to buy a lunch basket with handles, a real one, because I felt that on that day of all days, May 30, we could not eat sandwiches out of a shoe box.
We knew the Royal Visit was a great stroke of business, but that is the least of its benefits. The psychological effect on this country cannot be estimated. We have been mellowed, cheered, harmonized. Family reunions have taken place. All the leaves have been put in the dining-room tables. Beds have been made in hay lofts and verandas. Visiting babies have been put to sleep in bureau drawers.
In Regina, the theatres gave accommodation to any who wished to sleep in their comfortable seats. All the resources of the country have been called out to accommodate the visitors, and it has all been done with a great spirit of comradeship and merriment. People, even small children, have walked to railway sidings in the hope of getting a glimpse of a face at a window, and it has been there, a smiling, friendly face.
School children all over the Dominion have been singing the rousing songs of Empire. Great songs, free from any taint of racial strife. Many of our American friends have come to rejoice with us, and in their honour the Stars and Stripes ride the breeze beside the Union Jacks.
The King, in his Empire broadcast, told us that love, honesty and service are the keynotes of Empire, and in this spirit, with humble hearts full of gratitude, the people of Canada have sent their voice around the world in a call for peace and understanding.
“May love alone for wrong atone. Lord of the lands, make all the world thine own!”
