THE MARRIAGE OF THE PRINCESS ROYAL.
In the end of 1857 there were many preparations for the marriage of
the Princess Royal in the month of January in the coming year. In the
interval a calamity occurred at Claremont which revived the
recollection of the great disaster in the early years of the century,
and was deeply felt by the Queen and the Prince Consort. The pretty
and gentle Victoire, Duchesse de Nemours, the Queen and the Prince
Consort's cousin, and his early playfellow, had given birth to a
princess, and appeared to be recovering, in spite of her presentiment
to the contrary. The Queen had gone to see and congratulate her. The
old Queen Amélie and the Duc de Nemours had been at Windsor full of
thankfulness for the happy event. The Duchess was sitting up in bed,
looking cheerfully at the new dress in which she was to rejoin the
family circle next day, when in a second she fell back dead.
Another shock was the news of the Orsini bomb, which exploded close to
the Emperor and Empress of the French as they were about to enter the
opera-house.
The marriage of the Princess Royal was fixed for the 25th of January,
1858. On the 15th the Court left Windsor for Buckingham Palace, when
the Queen's diary records the sorrow with which the young bride
relinquished many of the scenes and habits of her youth. One sentence
recalls vividly the kindly family ties which united the royal
children. Her Majesty writes, "She slept for the last time in the same
room with Alice." In the course of the next few days all the guests
had assembled, including, King Leopold and his sons, the Prince and
Princess of Prussia, the Duke of Saxe Coburg, with minor princes and
princesses, to the number of nearly thirty, so that even Buckingham
Palace was hardly large enough to hold the guests and their suites. At
the nightly dinner party from eighty to ninety covers were laid. But
one old friend was absent, to the regret of all, and not least so of
the bride. Baron Stockmar was too ill to accept the invitation to be
present at the ceremony. One of his sons was to accompany the Princess
to Berlin as her treasurer.
"Such bustle and excitement," wrote the Queen, and then she describes
an evening party with a "very gay and pretty dance" on the 18th, when
Ernest, Duke of Coburg, said, "It seemed like a dream to him to see
Vicky dance as a bride, just as I did eighteen years ago, and I am
still (so he said) looking very young. In 1840 poor dear papa (late
Duke of Coburg) danced with me, as Ernest danced with Vicky." In
truth, neither the father nor the mother of the bride of seventeen had
reached the age of forty.
The first of the public festivities were three of the four State
visits to Her Majesty's Theatre, "when the whole of the boxes on one
side of the grand tier had been thrown into one" for the royal company
gracing the brilliant audience--which, as on a former occasion, filled
the back of the stage as well as the rest of the house. The plays and
operas were, _Macbeth_, in which Helen Faucit acted, [Footnote:
Another great actress had just passed away in her prime. Mademoiselle
Rachel had died in the beginning of this month, near Cannes.] _Twice
Killed, The Rose of Castille, Somnambula_. At the first
performance, the Queen sat between the King of the Belgians and the
Prince of Prussia. After the play, "God save the Queen" was sung with
much enthusiasm.
As when her own marriage had occurred, all the nation sympathised with
Her Majesty. It was as if from every house a cherished young daughter
was being sent with honour and blessing. The Princess Royal, always
much liked, appealed especially to the popular imagination at this
time because of her extreme youth, her position as a bride, and the
circumstance that she was the first of the Queen's children thus to
quit the home-roof. But, indeed, we cannot read the published passages
in the Queen's journal that refer to the marriage without a lively
realisation of the touch of nature which makes the whole world kin,
without a sense that good true hearts beat alike everywhere, and that
strong family affection--an elixir of life--is the same in the palace
as in the cottage.
In fine frosty weather, on Saturday, the 23rd, the Prince Consort,
after a walk in Buckingham Palace Gardens with the Queen and the child
so soon to be parted from them, started to bring the bridegroom, who
had landed in England that morning. He arrived in the middle of the
day, and was received in the presence of the Court. The Queen found
him looking pale and nervous, but no doubt alive to her warm greeting,
at the bottom of the grand staircase. At the top a still sweeter
reward awaited him, for the Princess Royal, with her fifteen years'
old sister, Princess Alice, to keep her company, stood there.
On the 24th, all the gifts to the young couple, which the Queen calls
"splendid," were shown in the large drawing-room--the Queen's, the
Prince Consort's, the Duchess of Kent's, &c., on one table; the
Prussian and other foreign gifts on another. Of the bride-groom's
gift--a single string of large pearls, said to have been worth five
thousand pounds, her Majesty remarks that they were the largest she
ever saw. The Queen gave a necklace of diamonds, the Prince Consort a
set of diamonds and emeralds, the Prince of Wales a set of diamonds
and opals, the King and Queen of Prussia a diamond tiara, the Prince
of Prussia a diamond and turquoise necklace, King Leopold a Brussels
lace dress, valued at a thousand pounds. On a third table were the
candelabra which the Queen and the Prince gave to their son-in-law.
The near relations of the bride and bridegroom brought the young
couple into the room, and witnessed their pleasure at the magnificent
sight. Before the Sunday service the Princess Royal gave the Queen a
brooch with the Princess's hair, clasping her mother in her arms as
she did so, and telling her--precious words for such a mother to hear,
nobly fulfilled in the days to come--that she hoped to be worthy to be
her child.
Wilberforce, Bishop of Oxford, preached an eloquent sermon.
"Very busy, interrupted and disturbed every instant," the record runs
on. Many can enter into the feelings which prompted the Queen and the
Prince, after the duties of hospitality were discharged, to accompany
their child to her room for the last time, and to kiss and bless her
while she clung to them. It is necessary to remember that every rank
has its privations. Not the least penalty of such a station as that
which the Princess Royal was to occupy arose from the fact that its
many and weighty obligations precluded the hope of her returning
frequently or for any length of time to the home where she had been so
happy, which she was so grieved to quit, though social customs have
improved in this respect, and royal marriages no longer mean, as a
matter of course, banishment for life from the bride's native country.
On the wedding morning, the Queen declared very naturally that she
felt as if she were being married over again herself, "only much more
nervous," since now it was for another, and a dearer than herself,
that her heart was throbbing. Besides, she said, she had not "that
blessed feeling, elevating and supporting, of giving herself up for
life to him whom she loved and worshipped--then and ever." She was
comforted by her daughter's coming to her while the Queen was
dressing, showing herself quiet and composed. The day was fine, with a
winter sun shining brightly, as all England, especially all London
knew, for many a pleasure-seeker was abroad betimes to enjoy the
holiday. The marriage was to take place, like the Queen's marriage, in
the little Chapel Royal of St. James's. Before setting out, a final
daguerreotype was taken of the family group, father, mother, and
daughter, "but I trembled so," the Queen writes, "my likeness has come
out indistinct."
In the drive from Buckingham Palace to St James's, the Princess Royal
in her wedding dress was in the carriage with her Majesty, sitting
opposite to her, when "the flourish of trumpets and the cheering of
thousands" made the Queen's motherly heart sink. In the bride's
dressing-room, fitted up for the day, to which the Queen took the
Princess, were the Prince Consort and King Leopold, both in field-
marshals' uniform, and carrying batons, and the eight bridesmaids,
"looking charming in white tulle, with wreaths and bouquets of pink
roses and white heather."
Her Majesty left the bride and repaired to the royal closet, where she
found the Duchess of Kent and the Duchess of Cambridge with her son
and daughter. Old and new relations were claiming the Queen at the
same time. Her thoughts were perpetually straying back to that former
wedding-day. She spared attention from her daughter to bestow it on
her mother, "looking so handsome in violet velvet, trimmed with ermine
and white silk and violets." And as the processions were formed, her
Majesty exclaimed, perhaps with a vague pang, referring to the good
old Duchess still with her, and still able to play her part in the
joyful ceremony, "How small the _old_ royal family has become!"
Indeed, there were but two representatives--the Duchesses of Kent and
Cambridge. The Princess Mary of Cambridge, the farthest removed from
the throne, walked first of the English royal family, her train borne
by Lady Arabella Sackville West; then the Duke of Cambridge; the
Duchess of Cambridge followed, her train borne by Lady Geraldine
Somerset. The Duchess of Kent, with her train borne the Lady Anna
Maria Dawson, walked next to the present royal family. They were
preceded by Lord Palmerston, bearing the sword of state. The Prince of
Wales, and Prince Alfred, fresh from his naval studies, lads of
sixteen and fourteen, in Highland costumes, were immediately before
the Queen, who walked between Prince Arthur and Prince Leopold,
children of eight and five years of age. Her Majesty's train was of
lilac velvet, petticoat of lilac and silver moiré--antique, with a
flounce of Honiton lace; corsage ornamented with diamonds, the Koh-i-
noor as a brooch; head-dress, a magnificent diadem of diamonds and
pearls. The three younger princesses--Alice, Helena, and Louise, girls
of fifteen, twelve, and ten--went hand-in-hand behind their mother.
They wore white lace over pink satin, with daisies and blue
cornflowers in their hair.
Most of the foreign princes were already in the chapel, which was full
of noble company, about three hundred peers and peeresses being
accommodated there. White and blue prevailed in the colours of the
ladies dresses, blue in compliment to Prussia. At the altar, set out
with gold plate of Queen Anne's reign, were the Archbishop of
Canterbury, the Bishops of London, Oxford, and Chester, and the Dean
of Windsor. As the Queen entered, she and the Princess of Prussia
exchanged profound obeisances. Near her Majesty were her young princes
and princesses; behind her the Duchess of Kent; opposite her the
Princess of Prussia, with the foreign princes behind her.
The drums and trumpets and the organ played as the bridegroom's and
the bride's processions approached, and the Queen describes the
thrilling effect of the music drawing nearer and nearer. The
bridegroom entered between his supporters, his father and brother-in-
law, the Prince of Prussia and Prince William of Baden. Prince
Frederick William, soldierly and stately, wore the blue uniform of a
Prussian general, with the insignia of the Black Eagle, and carried in
his hand his polished silver helmet. He looked pale and agitated, but
was quite master of himself. He bowed low to the Queen and to his
mother, then knelt with a devotion which attracted attention. The
bride walked as at her confirmation, between her father and godfather--
her grand-uncle King Leopold. Her blooming colour was gone, and she
was pale almost as her white dress of moiré and Honiton lace, with
wreaths of orange and myrtle blossoms. Her train was borne by eight
bridesmaids--daughters of dukes, marquises, and earls--Lady Susan
Clinton, Lady Emma Stanley, Lady Susan Murray, Lady Victoria Noel,
Lady Cecilia Gordon Lennox, Lady Katherine Hamilton, Lady Constance
Villiers, and Lady Cecilia Molyneux.
One can well conceive that the young princess looked "very touching
and lovely, with such an innocent, confiding, and serious expression,
her veil hanging back over her shoulders."
As the Princess advanced to the altar, she paused and made a deep
obeisance to her mother, colouring high as she did so, and the same to
the Princess of Prussia. The bridegroom when he took the bride's hand
bent one knee.
Once more as the Prince Consort gave her daughter away, her Majesty
had a bright vision of her own happy marriage on that very spot; again
she was comforted by her daughter's self-control, and she could
realise that it was beautiful to see the couple kneeling there with
hands joined, the bridesmaids "like a cloud of maidens hovering near
her (the bride) as they knelt."
When the ring was placed on the Princess's finger cannon were fired,
and a telegram was sent off to Berlin that the same compliment might
be paid to the pair there. The close of the "Hallelujah Chorus" was
sung at the end of the ceremony.
The usual congratulations followed. The bride flung herself into her
mother's arms and was embraced by her again and again, then by her
bridegroom and her father. Prince Frederick William kissed first the
hand and then the cheek of his father and mother, saluted the Prince
Consort and King Leopold foreign fashion, and was embraced by the
Queen. Princess Frederick William would have kissed her father-in-
law's hand, but was prevented by his kissing her cheek. The bride and
bridegroom left the chapel hand-in-hand to the sound of Mendelssohn's
"Wedding March." The register was signed in the Throne-room first by
the young couple, then by their parents, and afterwards by all the
princes and princesses--including the Maharajah Duleep Singh
"resplendent in pearls."
The newly wedded pair drove to Buckingham Palace, to which the Queen
and the Prince Consort followed, with the Prince and Princess of
Prussia, through an immense multitude, amidst ringing cheers. The
whole party showed themselves on the balcony before the window over
the grand archway, where the Queen had appeared on so many memorable
occasions. First her Majesty with her children came out, then the
Queen led forward the bride, who stood hand-in-hand with her
bridegroom; afterwards the rest of the circle joined them. It was a
matter of lively satisfaction to her Majesty and the Prince Consort to
witness the loyal, affectionate interest which the people took in
their daughter, and the Queen and the Prince were ready to gratify the
multitude by what is dear to every wedding crowd, "a sight of the
bride and bridegroom."
The wedding cake was six feet high. The departure of the couple for
Windsor, where they were to spend their honeymoon, was no more than a
foreshadowing of that worse departure a week later. The Queen and the
Princess of Prussia accompanied their children to the grand entrance;
the Prince Consort escorted his daughter to her carriage. The bride
wore a while _épinglé_ dress and mantle trimmed with grebe, a
white bonnet with orange blossoms, and a Brussel's lace veil.
At the family dinner after the excitement and fatigue of the day were
over, the Queen felt "lost" without her eldest daughter. In the
evening a messenger arrived from Windsor, bringing a letter from the
bride telling how the Eton boys had dragged the carriage from the
station to the castle, though she might not know that they, had flung
up their hats in the air, many of them beyond recovery, the wearers
returning bareheaded to their college. When the Queen and the Prince
read this letter all London was illuminated, and its streets filled
with huzzaing spectators. At the palace the evening closed quietly
with a State concert of classic music.
The Princess Royal's honeymoon so far as a period of privacy was
concerned, did not last longer than the Queen's. Two days after the
marriage the Court followed the young couple to Windsor, where a
chapter of the Order of the Garter was held, and Prince Frederick
William was created a knight, a banquet being held in the Waterloo
Gallery. On the 29th of January, the Court-including the newly married
pair-returned to Buckingham Palace, and in the evening the fourth
state visit was paid to Her Majesty's Theatre, when _The Rivals_
and _The Spitalfields Weaver_ were given. The bride was in blue
and white, the Prussian colours, and wore a wreath of sweet peas on
her hair.
On the 30th of January, the addresses from the City of London and
other cities and towns of the Empire, many of them accompanied by
wedding gifts, were received, and there was a great and of course
specially brilliant Drawing-room, which lasted for four hours. On
Sunday the thought of the coming separation pressed heavily on those
loving hearts, "but God will carry us through, as He did on the 25th,"
wrote the Queen reverently, "and we have the comfort of seeing the
dear young people so perfectly happy."
On Monday, the Queen in noting that it was the last day of their dear
child's being with them, admitted she was sick at heart, and the poor
young bride confided to her mother, "I think it will kill me to take
leave of dear papa."
Tuesday, the 2nd of February, was dark and cold, with snow beginning
to fall, unpropitious weather for a long journey, unless in the Scotch
saying which declares that a bride is happy who goes "a white gate"
(road:) All were assembled in the hall, not a dry eye among them, the
Queen believed. "I clasped her in my arms, and blessed her, and knew
not what to say." The royal mother shared all good mother's burdens.
"I kissed good Fritz, and pressed his hand again and again. He was
unable to speak, and the tears were in his eyes." One more embrace of
her daughter at the door of the open carriage, into which the Prince
Consort and the Prince of Wales went along with the Prince and
Princess Frederick William, the band struck up, and they were gone.
The embarkation was at Gravesend. The Londoners assembled in crowds to
see the last of their Princess on her route to the coast by the
Strand, Cheap, and London Bridge. Many persons recall to this day the
sorrowful scene in the cheerless snowy weather. This was the reverse
side of all the splendid wedding festivities-the bride of seventeen
quitting family, home, and native country, sitting grave and sad
beside her equally pale, and silent father--the couple so tenderly
attached, on the eve of the final parting. At Gravesend, where young
girls, in spite of the snow, strewed flowers before the bride's steps,
the Prince waited to see the ship sail--not without risk in the
snowstorm--for Antwerp. But no daughter appeared for a last look; the
passionate sorrow of youth hid itself from view.
Away at Buckingham Palace the Queen could not bear to look at the
familiar objects--all linked with one vanished presence. The very baby
princess, so great a darling in the household, only brought the
thought of how fond her elder sister had been of her; how but
yesterday the two had played together.
The Princess wrote home from the steamer, and every telegram and
letter, together with the personal testimony of Lady Churchill and
Lord Sydney, who had accompanied the travellers to Berlin, conveyed
the most gratifying and consoling intelligence of the warm welcome the
stranger had met with, and how well she bore herself in difficult
circumstances. "Quiet and dignified, but with a kind word to say of
everybody; on the night of her public entry into Berlin and reception
at Court, when she polonaised with twenty-two princes in succession."
[Footnote: Lady Bloomfield.] The Princess Frederick William continued
to write "almost daily, sometimes twice a day," to her mother, and
regularly once a week to her father. And another fair young daughter
was almost ready to take the Princess Royal's place at the Queen's
side. From the date of her sister's marriage, the Prince Consort's
letters and the Queen's journal tell that the Princess Alice, with her
fine good sense and unselfishness, almost precocious at her age, was a
great help and comfort in the royal circle.