Jubilee (Cont'd)

At his coronation years ago, George V's Cousin Nicholas II, Tsar of all the Russias went out to a parade ground near Moscow to watch a distribution of gifts to the peasants. Because the spectacular bearded Cossacks were totally unable to cope with the crowd, more than 3,000 terrified hysterical people were trampled to death. Since then police in every land have learned that a crowd, no matter what its temper, is a dangerous thing.

British hospitals and police knew the lesson well last week. Hours before it was announced that King George and Queen Mary would make their last appearance of the week on the floodlit balcony of Buckingham Palace, dozens of ambulances rolled up to the ornate Victoria Memorial, opposite the Palace gates. White jacketed internes puffed cigarets and waited. Swallowing his after-dinner coffee, King George put on a bowler and a black overcoat. Queen Mary donned an ermine wrap, and the two of them stepped to the balcony. The ambulance men threw away their cigarets.

Roaring devoted enthusiasm, the crowd swept up to the spiked Palace fence. A few went down, then others. King George waved a paternal hand. Across the graveled court it was impossible to tell screams from cheers. Ambulance men worked like beavers. With their own machines overcrowded, taxicabs were pressed into service. Somebody found a woman with her ribs crushed in. Like a gracious white-haired automaton the tiny figure of Queen Mary continued to smile and bow. At the end of seven minutes over 500 people had been injured, twelve of them rushed to hospitals.

P: Spreading the Jubilee as far as possible. Edward of Wales went to his nameland, the Duke of York made a State entry into Edinburgh, and the Duke of Gloucester, only just back from Australia, went to Northern Ireland. At Cardiff, Wales, a group of 500 sad-eyed miners' wives trudged over the mountains with their babies in their arms to protest against the Government's spending money for armaments that might have gone for relief. Police stopped them at Pontypridd before they ever got within sight of the Prince of Wales. In Belfast excitable Robert Ferguson, 34 and unemployed, shied a bottle of Guiness' Stout at H. R. H. the Duke of Gloucester. It cost him $4.85. In London Charing Cross Railway Bridge caught fire, tied up all suburban trains, forced thousands to spend the night in the parks.

P: Plumes and gold lace that had bedizened the whole week were noticeably absent when George V rode through the chilly streets in an open carriage to receive the official congratulations of both Houses of Parliament in drafty Gothic Westminster Hall where Britain's early Parliaments assembled. King George and his sons wore sombre morning coats. There were no decorations in the hall, trumpets and drums were the only music, and as a symbol of the equality of the Commons, it was King George who stood to address the Speaker and Lord Chancellor. Members of Parliament too remained seated through his address, which was notable in that he chose the U. S., alone of foreign countries, for special mention.

"This, my palace of Westminster," said he, "is the very cradle of our envied parliamentary institutions. Here is the anvil on which our common law was forged to become the joint inheritance of the United States of America and our own community of peoples."

Once his voice broke: "I have been blessed these five and twenty years in having ever beside me my dear wife, of whom you have spoken so kindly." King George took a sip of water and finished his speech unmoved.

P: U. S, correspondents trumped up a story that the King had asked his eldest son not to dance the rhumba or carioca at the State Ball this week in Buckingham Palace. On the program, however, were only polkas, waltzes and fox trots, including Sweetie Pie, I'm on a See-Saw, and An Old Lullaby, rendered from 10 p. m. to 1 a. m. by the Royal Artillery Band.

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