During his wonderful progress this afternoon from Charing Cross Station to Buckingham Palace. President Wilson did not see much of London. The expressive countenance of our streets was hidden under a brilliant mask of flags. There has not been such a show of colour or such genuine lightheartedness in the crowd since Coronation days in the world before the war.
In a long memory of London street scenes one cannot recall anything quite like this welcome in its mass and impressiveness, its spontaneous cordiality. All the gaiety pent up through the cruel four and a half years seemed to be released in the great noise of cheering that rose round the leader of the world's peace. Londoners flocked by the tens of thousands into the narrow two miles of street to see him. There was not nearly room for all and multitudes would know that the President had come only by hearing the boom of the saluting guns. Twenty thousand soldiers with bayonets bright in the December sunshine
lined the route, guards in war khaki rode before the carriage. But this was not a military show. The plain citizen raising a tall hat in response to the cheers was the centre of all. When the cavalry escort came jingling out of the sanded courtyard at Charing Cross, preceding the carriage in which the President and King George sat side by side, a roar of cheers went up. It gathered volume all the way round the West End to the Palace. The station had disguised its dinginess in all the colours of the Allies. The President's first glimpse of London was of a space packed with a crowd blended of black and khaki yellow, all showing him jolly red faces and glistening with delight, He would see soldiers curling their bodies perilously round lamp-posts, and when he glanced up to the roof-line there was another fringe of cheering people.
The President's smile
The Charing Cross crowd took to President Wilson at first sight. It did not see the grim austere figure of the photographs and cartoons. The wrinkled ascetic is a legend. This President Wilson who sat very erect beside the King was a man with a powerful head and a full, fresh-coloured face - a face irradiated by the famous smile. The smile positively shone. The President was clearly genuinely pleased and moved by the good fellowship and hero worship of the crowd, He raised his silk hat - women remarked that it was brand new - and waved it with a generous gesture. The cavalcade went away past St Martin's Church. The bells rang out joyously, ringing a sharp note with the long soft murmur of cheers.
In the clear sky at this moment there appeared a flight of aeroplanes in arrowhead formation; it seemed to follow the procession as an aerial escort. The shine from the big red sun caught the planes and turned them into silver. A band played the President along into the wide pool of humanity collected in Trafalgar Square. As the carriages went by the pavement had appreciative eyes for the President's wife, who sat in a carriage with our Queen and Princess Mary. Mrs Wilson appeared to be thoroughly alive to every detail of the scene; her black eyes sparkled.
The scene in Trafalgar Square
And it was an extraordinary scene that was unfolded in the Square - the solidest. most varied crowd that has gathered there for many years. A big shout went up from the mixed mass of soldiers, men, women, and shrill-voiced children. The President took it all in with one long, searching gaze, and he turned to the King and made some animated remark. He pointed out something in the gay decorations that had taken his eye. The soldiers swarming on every inch of the Square's statuary caused amusement in the Royal carriage.
Pall Mall, the polite streets of clubs, had broken out into bunting. Things were quieter in this region. Graye clubmen gazed gazed without visible emotion at the procession through the enormous plate windows. The mellow Tudor brickwork of St James's Palace was hidden in an heraldic display of Stars and Stripes and Union Jacks, and round the corner in St James's Street the President found himself passing underneath a roof of huge American flags. The American community had put forth its brightest effort here.
Just before this point the President received the salutation of Queen Alexandra, who came out on the pavement in front of Marlborough House with the Queen of Norway and little Prince Olaf. The crowd, unbidden, fell back and left a clear space for the Queen Mother and her party. When the carriage was passing, the King drew the President's attention to his mother, and he rose, waved his hat, and bowed. Queen Alexandra responded by waving a little Stars and Stripes flag. Mrs Wilson waved her bouquet of orchids in greeting to queen Alexandra.
An American demonstration
In Piccadilly the procession went under a gaudy blue and gold banner, and more bands crashed out. The American Naval and Military Missions had organised a great demonstration at the Berkeley Hotel. American women threw sprigs of laurel and flowers into the carriage. The St James's Club window was crowded with foreign diplomatists. All along Piccadilly to Hyde Park Corner the President passed along an avenue of soldiers with fixed bayonets standing in double ranks. At the top of Constitution Hill this grim array was relieved by hundreds of WAAC's, "Wrens", and WRAF's - the first time women have lined the streets of London at a big show of this kind. There were soldiers in hospital blue here also. The President's smile, which had already passed through the positive and comparative degrees, become superlative when he caught sight of the women.
America provided the strongest flavour in Constitution Hill near the Palace. Here were soldiers in khaki who proclaimed themselves on a board as "Americans in British uniforms", also a cheerful group of sailors with a ragtime band. All down the road innumerable little flags fluttered in men's caps. Queer American yells drowned stolid British cheers. An American airman appeared overhead and did various stunts. He threw himself about in the sky like an urchin turning Catherine wheels.
On the Palace balcony
British bluejackets were on guard at the Palace gates. The wide space round the Victoria Memorial was jammed. There was an Australian soldier perched on the head of one of the calm white statues - he was envied by thousands. Australian and every other kind of soldier started the rhythmic shout "We want Wilson" the moment the party had gone inside. A scarlet cloth was spread over the balcony, and everyone knew the President would appear. Soon after three he gratified the multitude by coming out. with his wife and the King and Queen.
In the gathering dusk the President could be only dimly seen except by the Americans perched on the tall railings of the courtyard. He stood there tall, imposing, bareheaded. Queen Mary handed him a Union Jack, which he waved. His smile gleamed in the dusk. He addressed a few words expressing his gratitude and pleasure, but they were heard by very few. He disappeared. Darkness fell on the frozen park, and the crowd poured way down the Mall past the captured German guns.