Last week George VI and Queen Elizabeth became the first ruling British monarchs to set foot on the New World. As it happened, the first foot each set down when they left the gangplank of the Empress of Australia at Quebec was the left foot. This ill omen was somewhat reflected in the reserved manner in which Quebec's French-speaking citizenry received them, causing New York Timesman John MacCormac to observe: "Canadian crowds are given to taking their pleasures silently, if not sadly." But the farther west Their Majesties went on their 26-day Canadian trip, the more English and enthusiasm they ran into, until, at Ottawa, the crowd went crazy and somebody actually slapped George on the back. At that point the Royal visit—whose chief purpose was to bring Canada as close as possible into the arms of the war-scared mother country—could be said to have achieved its effect 100%.
First Day. In a big, maroon, convertible sedan with the top down and the bullet-proof windows up, the King & Queen, having greeted Prime Minister William Lyon Mackenzie King and notables at the dockside, were whisked up the winding road from Wolfe's Cove to the old city over a circuitous route past battlefields, through cobblestoned alleys and over bedecked streets to the Provincial House of Parliament. Over the route Quebec's 140,000 inhabitants stretched thinly but politely, regarding the King curiously, but whispering of the Queen: "Qu'elle est charmante¡" "Qu'elle est chic!" In point of fact, the Queen, who has never ranked among Europe's ten best dressed women had never looked smarter. U. S. fashion experts, noting her clothes from news photographs, were pleasantly surprised at the Queen's style.
In the Parliament Red Room, seated in two thrones under a huge wooden crucifix, they heard Provincial Premier Maurice Duplessis read a speech of welcome in both English and French, since Canada is officially bilingual under its Constitution. When presentations began, in a room packed with Dominion officials, grand dames, colorful monsignori and sandaled monks, the first man to be presented was Rodrigue Cardinal Villeneuve, the spiritual head of 89% of Quebec's people. The Cardinal gave the King's hand a lingering, fatherly patting.
After this function the King and Queen retired to the Citadel apartment surrendered to them by Governor General Lord Tweedsmuir, who is benched while the King is in Canada. There the King changed from his Admiral's rig to cutaway and silk topper (the Queen not bothering to change) for the first of a long & indigestible series of official luncheons and dinners. This one, at the Château Frontenac, served up lobster tails, grilled breast of chicken and a Grand Marnier soufflé which neither the King nor the Queen accepted. This instance of royal distaste had the mimicking lunchers floored for the moment, but the King's personal, scarlet-clad footmen signaled to the Château's blue-uniformed corps (one for every two guests) that the rest might partake of the soufflé without offense.