“Although my Cambridge boy was made a Freeman of the City of London the other day, I have never witnessed the ceremony,” I said.
“Would you like to see one of these public ones?” asked the ex-Lord Mayor.
“Immensely,” I replied.
“If it is possible to manage it, you shall have a seat,” he replied, and accordingly I was invited to see Mr. Roosevelt made free of the Ancient City of London, and enjoyed the privilege of hearing one of the most memorable speeches ever made within the Guildhall walls: certainly one of the most abused, admired, discussed.
Was Roosevelt playing to the gallery?
Was he angling for the Presidency of the United States? Or was he really trying to do England a good turn in correcting her stupidity in Egypt?
Anyway, it was a bold stroke, but done so skilfully that it did not seem so rude as it looked in cold print.
I had been much struck with Roosevelt’s personality when I spent that hour tête-à-tête with him in Washington—his rough-and-ready manner, his fearless, overflowing geniality—but I had never heard him speak in public.
The giving of the Freedom of the City of London is a great event, very old, very historic, very interesting, surrounded by ancient ritual.
As the Guildhall only holds about twelve hundred people, and that twelve hundred is mainly composed of Aldermen and aldermanic wives, sheriffs, ex-Lord Mayors, Masters of City Companies and burgesses, and a very business element, with a very business-like class of femininity, ordinary outsiders like myself are rare.