On such occasions, when the attention of the world is centred upon a country, it seems to be the custom to publish startling rumors, to keep up the excitement.
The Jubilee has been no exception to this rule. The wildest reports have been circulated.
One account declared that the Queen was totally blind, and would not be able to enjoy any of the festivities prepared in her honor.
This was promptly contradicted, but was soon revived with the addition that the story was "strictly true," but that London was hushing it up until the Jubilee was over.
Following closely on the heels of this came a new story, that Queen Victoria was about to abdicate. This story stated that the Prince of Wales would not be crowned King while his mother lived, but would occupy the throne.
Abdication is the act of giving up or relinquishing the right to hold an office. It is the same as resigning, but the word is almost without exception used in the case of a sovereign or ruler of a country.
Abdication should be an act of free will on the part of the person who resigns.
Queen Liliuokalani claims that she is still the rightful Queen of Hawaii, because, though she signed an act of abdication, she says, she did not do it of her own free will, but was forced to sign by the present government of the islands.
As to the story of Queen Victoria's abdicating: she is now seventy-eight years old, and she may well be wearied with the cares of government, but she cannot abdicate unless Parliament is willing that she shall do so.
England has, in the past, had many troubles brought upon her by unwise, weak, or wicked kings, and when James II. fled to France the English people felt they had had enough ill treatment at the hands of kings, and determined to take away absolute power from future kings.
The people had some cause to be afraid of too much power in the hands of the king at that time, for James II. was the son of Charles I., who had so mismanaged the country that the people finally had him beheaded. He was also the brother of Charles II., who had been called to the throne after the death of Cromwell, and who had spent the years of his reign in every kind of folly and wickedness. The English people made up their minds to stand no nonsense from James; so, when he showed himself utterly incapable of ruling the country, the nobles invited William of Orange, the husband of James' daughter Mary, to occupy the throne.
When his last hope was gone, and he saw that he would be obliged to fly the country, James showed the people how wise they had been to get rid of him.
He had dissolved Parliament and disbanded the army, so that there was no form of government in the country, no army to preserve order, and, as he thought, no possibility of calling a government together, because he had thrown the Great Seal into the Thames River, without which and his signature, as he supposed, no acts would be legal.
James II., sworn to protect and preserve the rights of the English people, tried by these acts to hand them over to anarchy and mob-rule.
But Cromwell had given the people some lessons in governing without the help of kings, and so Parliament overcame these difficulties, as you will see if you read the history of England.
Because of the difficulties the King had caused, Parliament passed certain new laws, limiting the power of the sovereign.
The sovereign of England therefore rules subject to the will of the people, and it is said that the British government is one of the most perfect forms of republican government existing.
The Jubilee festivities began Sunday, June 20th, the actual sixtieth anniversary of the Queen's accession to the throne. This was celebrated by thanksgiving services throughout the entire kingdom and its colonies; the Queen and her family, the Members of Parliament, and the officials throughout the kingdom and the colonies, attending divine service.
On Monday Her Majesty went to Buckingham Palace, her London residence, and received the notable foreigners who had come to do her honor, and the officers of her various governments throughout the world.
Tuesday was the day of the great procession, when the Queen rode in state through London to take part in the public thanksgiving at St. Paul's Cathedral.
This service was held on the steps of the Cathedral, the Queen remaining in her carriage, surrounded by her family, her guests, and the soldiers--joining in the service of praise with her people.
It must have been an impressive ceremony--in the midst of a vast throng of princes, nobles, and soldiers in splendid uniforms, this quiet little old lady in black, listening with bowed head to the prayers, and then raising her face to smile on her people. The prayers being over, the crowds, that had silently watched the service, with one voice joined in the fine old anthem, "God Save the Queen."
The Queen was escorted to and from the cathedral by the most brilliant array of princes this century has seen. Thirty-six princes, representing nearly every monarch on earth, rode three by three to escort Victoria.
Before leaving Buckingham Palace to go to St. Paul's, the Queen sent a message of thanks to every part of her vast empire. Arrangements had been made that Her Majesty should personally despatch these telegrams; wires had been laid and everything arranged, so that when she pressed the button in the palace the telegrams were sent forth to her colonies, straight from the royal hand. In three hours replies had been received from all but three of the forty-three colonies to which her message had been despatched.
The Jubilee celebrations were continued through the week, with state dinners and concerts, and an address from the Parliament on Wednesday; a visit to Eton College, the royal school, on Thursday; a review of the fire brigades on Friday, and of the navy on Saturday. A pretty busy week for a person of seventy-eight years.
The celebration was considered very remarkable as a demonstration of naval and military strength.
Fifty thousand troops marched in line on Tuesday, and at the naval review England was represented by more war-vessels than any other power possesses.
Troops had been sent from British colonies in Asia, Africa, North and South America, and Oceanica. From all quarters of the globe people of many races, colors, and languages came together to acknowledge Victoria as their Queen.
The Jubilee week must have been a proud season for Englishmen--they had a fine opportunity to show the world the power of their great empire.
When it was proposed in the House of Commons that an address of congratulation be sent to the Queen, the Irish members made a scene.
They protested against any message being sent, unless it contained a statement that during the sixty years of Victoria's reign Ireland had been subject to much suffering and deprived of her rights, and that therefore the Irish members of Parliament were dissatisfied and unable to join in the celebrations.
The House of Commons would not entertain this, and a motion was passed that the address should be sent to the Queen.
The Irish members continued their protests after the vote had been taken, declaring it false and absurd to present the address when it did not express the sentiment of the House, but only of a portion of it.
Captain Boycott has just died. You are probably familiar with the name, and with the meaning of the word "boycott," but it may interest you to know what a very young word it is, only seventeen years old, having been coined in 1880, and that it derives its origin from this very Captain Boycott who has just passed away.
He was a captain in the English army. After a while he sold out his commission, and settled down as a farmer in Connemara, Ireland. He became the agent of an Irish landlord named Lord Erne, and it was his duty to manage the estate, see to the sowing and gathering of crops, keep the houses on the property in repair, and collect the rents from the tenants.
The Irish had long been complaining that their rents were too heavy, and that their landlords did nothing for them in return for the money collected. There was a good deal of truth in these complaints; the landlords hardly ever went near their estates, and seemed to care only for the money they got from the tenants. The whole conduct of affairs was left in the hands of the agents, who were obliged to grind the money out of the tenants to supply the wants of their masters.
It does not appear that Captain Boycott was more severe than other agents, but he does seem to have been less in sympathy with the peasants.
There had been a long period of bad harvests followed by a famine, and the tenants could not pay their rents. They begged that their back rent might be forgiven them, and their future rents lowered.
All over Ireland similar demands were being made. Irish agitators, as they were called, were holding meetings all over the country, advising the peasants to make these demands. Among the men who addressed the people were Charles Stewart Parnell, John Dillon, and Michael Davitt, all members of Parliament.
Excitement had run so high that the peasants had murdered several agents who refused their demands.