On September 23, 1896, the queen surpassed King George
III as Britain’s longest-reigning monarch, but she
requested that celebrations of the milestone be delayed
until June 1897, the 60th anniversary of her accession
to the throne. Colonial Secretary Joseph Chamberlain
proposed that the Diamond Jubilee double as a “Festival
of the British Empire” to celebrate Britain’s true crown
jewels—its colonies.
Queen Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee began solemnly with a
family Thanksgiving service at Windsor Castle on Sunday,
June 20, 1897, the 60th anniversary of her inheritance
of the throne. The following day, the queen returned to
London to find a sea of color had washed over the city’s
soot-coated streets. Union Jacks draped from house
balconies. Festoons of flowers and rainbows of bunting
soared overhead. The explosion of hues reflected a
country bursting with patriotic pride. “The streets, the
windows, the roofs of the houses, were one mass of
beaming faces, and the cheers never ceased,” the queen
wrote in her journal. That night at Buckingham Palace,
Victoria sat next to Archduke Franz Ferdinand, whose
1914 assassination would spark the start of World War I,
at a state banquet. As a tired queen turned in for the
night, thousands of Britons, eager to watch the grand
royal procession to St. Paul’s Cathedral the next
morning, slept in the parks outside the palace walls.
As dawn broke on the overcast morning of Tuesday, June
22, 1897, which had been declared a public holiday,
hundreds of thousands of people crowded the London
sidewalks in anticipation of the royal parade. Vendors
hawked souvenir jubilee flags, mugs and programs. A
human fence of soldiers, their bayonets protruding like
pickets, walled off the route of the six-mile
procession.
Before the 17-carriage convoy carrying the royal family
and leaders of Britain’s dominions departed Buckingham
Palace, Queen Victoria, with a touch of a button, sent
an electronic message to her vast Empire. Her telegraph
message would have been tailor-made for today’s
Twittersphere: “From my heart I thank my beloved people.
May God bless them. V.R. & I.” At 11:15 a.m., a cannon
fired in Hyde Park to announce the monarch’s departure
from the palace. The roar of the cannon must have forced
the clouds into retreat as the sun suddenly began to
splash the streets of London.
Eight cream horses pulled the queen in an open carriage.
Despite the festive occasion, Victoria—in perpetual
mourning for her beloved husband, Albert, and two of her
children—was dressed in black. The colorful dress
uniforms of the colonial forces, however, more than
compensated for the monochrome monarch. The procession,
which included representatives of all Empire nations,
swept by many of London’s world-famous landmarks, such
as Trafalgar Square, the National Gallery, London Bridge
and Big Ben. The queen’s subjects, many of whom had
never known another monarch, cheered her along the
entire route and broke into spontaneous verses of “God
Save the Queen.” Deeply touched by the outpouring of
affection, Victoria occasionally wiped tears from her
eyes before arriving at St. Paul’s Cathedral for a
Thanksgiving service.
Since painful arthritis impeded the 78-year-old queen’s
ability to climb the cathedral steps, the decision had
been made in advance to hold the service outside at the
foot of St. Paul’s west steps. Crowds packed specially
erected bleachers on surrounding rooftops. The steps of
St. Paul’s were so crowded that choir members were
forced to stand on the massive pedestals flanking the
cathedral’s entrance. The queen, shading herself with a
parasol, remained in her coach for the 20-minute
ceremony. Following the brisk service, the procession
drove off as the Archbishop of Canterbury shouted out,
“Three cheers for the Queen!”
The queen continued her circuit through London and
returned to Buckingham Palace for a quiet luncheon
followed by a dinner banquet. When darkness fell, a
series of bonfires were set simultaneously on hills
throughout Victoria’s kingdom to light up the British
night. The cheering and singing continued well into the
night, no doubt aided by pubs remaining open until the
special time of 2:30 a.m.
In her journal, Queen Victoria called it “a never to be
forgotten day.” “No one ever I believe, has met with
such an ovation as was given to me, passing through
those six miles of streets,” she wrote. “The crowds were
quite indescribable and their enthusiasm truly marvelous
and deeply touching. The cheering was quite deafening,
and every face seemed to be filled with real joy. I was
much moved and gratified.” To Victoria and everyone in
London celebrating the Diamond Jubilee, it must have
seemed as if the sun would indeed never set on the
British Empire.
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