THE MARRIAGE OF THE PRINCE OF WALES.
England in 1863--The Prince of Wales Summoned as a Peer of
Parliament--His Introduction to the House of Lords--Cession of the
Ionian Islands to Greece--Mr. Disraeli’s Policy--The Prince of
Wales’s Income--The Dowry of the Princess--Approaching Marriage of
the Prince of Wales--The Voyage of the “Sea-King’s
Daughter”--Reception of the Princess Alexandra at Gravesend--Her
Entry into London--The Scene in the City--The West End _en
fête_--Loyalty of Clubland--Accident to the Royal Party at
Slough--The High Churchmen and the Queen--Objections to a Royal
Marriage in Lent--The Dispensing Power of the Primate--A Visit to
Frogmore--The Queen at the Prince of Wales’s Marriage--The Scene in
St. George’s Chapel--The Wedding Presents--The Ceremony--The
Wedding Guests hustled by Roughs--Riots in Ireland--Illuminated
London--Foreign Policy--The Polish Question--The Russian Rebuff to
Lord Palmerston--Napoleon III. Proposes a Congress of
Sovereigns--Lord Russell Condemns the Proposal--The Death-Knell of
the Anglo-French Alliance--France and Mexico and the Archduke
Maximilian.
But for the controversy that was waged in the Press over the Civil War
in America, and the sufferings of Lancashire, where the people were
lying under the blight of the Cotton Famine, the year 1863 would have
presented a record of unruffled calm. The classes and the masses still
wrangled over the rights and wrongs of the Southern States; but the
leaders of political parties, adhering to the policy of neutrality,
discouraged all projects for interfering between the belligerents. The
organs of public opinion in the Northern States bitterly condemned
England because her aristocracy displayed strong Southern sympathies.
The organs of public opinion in the Southern States reviled the English
Government because Lord Russell refused to join the Emperor of the
French in recognising the Southern Confederacy. For some mysterious
reason France, whose policy was thus absolutely hostile to the Federal
Government, was not only popular in the South but in the North. Both
belligerents were, however, surprised to find that events falsified the
anticipations which they had based on the effect of the Cotton Famine.
So far from forcing England to interfere in the struggle, the
destruction of her cotton industry was seen to produce local suffering
rather than national disaster. The foundations of British trade, in
fact, had, by the fiscal policy of Sir Robert Peel and Mr. Gladstone,
been laid so broad and so deep, that the nation easily withstood the
shock from the ruin of its most productive branch of manufacture.
Losses in the cotton trade were more than balanced by increased gains in
other forms of commercial enterprise, and on New Year’s Day the revenue
had increased so unexpectedly, that Mr. Gladstone not only began to
dream of surpluses, but was busy hatching projects for a fresh reduction
of taxation. Indeed, the lavish subscriptions to the fund for relieving
distress in the cotton districts indicated how little the Cotton Famine
had affected the aggregate amount of disposable wealth in the country.
By the end of January this princely fund had reached three-quarters of a
million sterling--a sum which did not, of course, represent the
unestimated contributions of manufacturers who, like Mr. John Bright,
ran their mills on short time at a loss, rather than turn their
workpeople into the streets.
Parliament was opened by Commission on the 8th of February--the first
paragraph in the Queen’s Speech announcing the approaching marriage of
the Prince of Wales to the Princess Alexandra. The offer of the Crown of
Greece to Prince Alfred was alluded to, and the continuance of the Civil
War in America, with its attendant Cotton Famine in Lancashire,
deplored. But as to legislation, the Royal Speech said nothing definite.
All promises were conveyed in Lord Palmerston’s stereotyped formula,
that “various measures of public usefulness and improvement” would be
submitted for the consideration of Parliament. The debates on the
Address attracted less popular interest than the ceremonial proceedings
of the House of Lords, when, on the first day of the Session, the Prince
of Wales took his seat in that august Assembly. The scene on that
occasion was a memorable one. In the side galleries near the Throne the
Duchess of Cambridge, the Princess Mary of Cambridge, and a brilliant
array of Peeresses had secured places. The Foreign Ambassadors and
Ministers and Members of the House of Commons were also well
represented. After the Royal Speech was read the Commissioners retired,
and at about a quarter to four the Lord Chancellor, in his ordinary
black silk robe, wig, and three-cornered hat, entered the House,
preceded by the Great Seal, and seated himself on the woolsack. The
Bishop of Worcester having read the prayers, a brilliant procession of
Peers was then seen defiling from the Prince’s Chamber, and it marched
with slow and stately formality up the floor of the House, led by Sir
Augustus Clifford, Usher of the Black Rod, who was followed by Sir
Charles Young, arrayed in the robes of the Garter-King-at-Arms. He was
followed by an equerry carrying the coronet of the Prince of Wales on a
gorgeously embroidered cushion. Then came the Prince himself, wearing
the scarlet and ermine robes of a Duke over a general officer’s uniform,
and decorated with the insignia of the Garter, the Golden Fleece, and
the Star of India. Accompanying him were the Dukes of Cambridge and
Argyll, the Earls of Derby and Granville, Earl Spencer and Lord
Kingsdown, Lord Willoughby d’Eresby, Hereditary Grand Chamberlain, and
Lord Edmund Howard, representing the infant Duke of Norfolk, as
Hereditary Grand Marshal. As the procession entered the House, the
Peers rose and remained standing during the ceremony--the Lord
Chancellor alone retaining his seat, and wearing his cocked hat. The
Prince bowed, and advancing to the woolsack, delivered his patent of
nobility and writ of summons to the Lord Chancellor. He then returned to
the table where Sir J. Shaw-Lefevre, Clerk of the Parliaments,
administered the oath to him, as Duke of Cornwall and Rothesay, Earl of
Chester and Carrick, and Lord of the Isles. Having signed the roll, the
procession passed round behind the woolsack, till the Prince reached the
right-hand side of the Throne, where he took his seat formally on the
Chair of State reserved for the Heir-Apparent to the Crown. As he seated
himself he placed his hat on his head. Then uncovering he rose, advanced
to the woolsack, and shook hands with the Lord Chancellor, who very
slightly raised his hat as he went through the formal salutation. The
procession then left the House, and business was suspended till five
o’clock, when the Prince reappeared in ordinary walking-dress, with the
Duke of Cambridge, beside whom he sat on one of the cross-benches
throughout the debate on the Address.
In both Houses the Government was attacked, mainly on account of its
foreign policy. The Tories pretended to see in the proposed cession of
the Ionian Islands to Greece the premonitory sign of the fall of the
British Empire. Their argument turned on a strange misconception, not
only of the arrangements made at Vienna in 1815, but of the Queen’s
prerogative. The Ionian Islands were never British territory. They
formed an independent Republic, placed by the European Powers under the
protection of England.[147] But the primary aim of that protectorate was
to foster the spirit of Greek nationality, and not to give Corfu to
England as a place of arms. When the Ionians therefore desired
annexation to Greece, and Greece was able to protect them, England would
have been false to the trust she undertook in 1815, if she had
maintained her protectorate by force. Earl Grey clearly proved that it
was quite within the prerogative of the Queen to cede a protectorate
without consulting Parliament. In fact, as the magnificent island of
Java, which was a possession and not a protectorate, was given to the
Dutch without Parliament being consulted on the subject, it is difficult
to understand why the Opposition raised the question of prerogative in
this instance. Mr. Disraeli’s complaints that certain Ministers--of whom
Mr. Gladstone was one--had made speeches during the recess indicating a
[Illustration: THE VANDYKE ROOM, WINDSOR CASTLE.]
desire to recognise the Confederate Government in the United States,
were more difficult to meet. These speeches compromised the policy of
strict neutrality which had been accepted by the Cabinet, and on that
account they had caused considerable annoyance to the Queen. The absence
of legislative proposals from the Royal Speech naturally gave Lord Derby
a cue for some gibes, which, however, did not in the least affect Lord
Palmerston’s peace of mind. The position of the Tories at this time was
frankly avowed by Mr. Disraeli in a conversation with Count Vitzthum
just before Parliament met. “I have not, indeed,” said Mr. Disraeli,
“yet settled with my friends our plans for the coming Parliamentary
campaign; but I think I can tell you at once that there will be no
serious fighting. Something, of course, may turn up, but at present
there seems to be nothing that could force us to quit our waiting
attitude. We shall not form a weak Ministry a third time. We can wait,
and shall upset nothing. If we take the helm again, we shall do so with
the prospect of a longer and safer tenure. Whether this will happen or
not before Lord Palmerston dies I don’t know; for the present, at any
rate, the old man need fear no serious attack from us.” The change in
strategy here is obvious. In 1862 the policy of the Opposition was
adopted in deference to the general feeling that the Queen should,
during the first days of her widowhood, be spared the anxiety of party
conflicts, which possibly involved Ministerial crises. In 1863 the
Tories adopted the policy of patriotically supporting Lord Palmerston’s
Ministry simply because they were themselves unable to form a strong
Cabinet, and Mr. Disraeli had determined that they must not “form a weak
Ministry a third time.”[148]
But an event was approaching which diverted the minds of the nation from
politics, namely, the marriage of the Prince of Wales, which it was now
known would take place before Easter. The object of one of the first
proposals laid before Parliament was to make an adequate provision for
the future establishment of the Heir-Apparent. A message from the Queen
to both Houses on the subject evoked a loyal congratulatory Address, and
Palmerston himself moved the formal resolutions called for by the
occasion in the House of Commons. He said that the Government considered
that £100,000 a year would be a fair income to allow the Heir-Apparent,
and, as he derived £60,000 a year from the revenues of the Duchy of
Cornwall, the House would be asked to vote only £40,000 a year out of
the Consolidated Fund. For the Princess of Wales, it was proposed that a
separate allowance of £10,000 a year should be sanctioned, and, further,
that in the event of her surviving her husband, a jointure of £30,000
should be secured to her. No objection could be fairly made to an
arrangement which was at once moderate and business-like. Indeed, the
Radicals were agreeably surprised to find that Parliament was not called
on to vote anything approaching the enormous sum which was sanctioned by
the precedent of 1795.[149] As for the domestic arrangements relating to
the marriage, they were proceeding apace, and the nation was pleased to
know that the Queen was able to participate in them with ever-quickening
interest.
It has been said already that during the visit of the Queen to Brussels
in the autumn of 1862, the preliminaries of this marriage had been
arranged, and in November the Princess Alexandra had paid a brief visit
to the Queen at Osborne, where her winsome manners charmed all hearts.
In February, 1863, the King of Denmark and his subjects alike testified
their approval of her marriage by bestowing on her many valuable gifts.
On the 26th the Princess left Copenhagen with the good wishes of all
classes sounding in her ears. The day was kept as a public holiday, and
the crowded streets from the palace to the railway station were gay with
festal flags and garlands. From the windows of the houses the Princess,
who was escorted by her eldest brother, Prince Frederick, was pelted
with bouquets of flowers, and at the station she was met by all
the high functionaries of State, who took leave of her in formal
farewell addresses for which her father, Prince Christian of
Sleswig-Holstein-Glücksburg, Heir-Presumptive to the Danish throne,
returned thanks. The Royal party travelling by Kiel, Hamburg, Hanover,
and Coblentz, reached Brussels on the 2nd of March, where they were
received by the Duchess of Brabant, the Count de Flandres, and the
English and Danish Ambassadors. On the 5th they left for Antwerp, where
they embarked on board the _Victoria and Albert_ yacht and sailed for
Flushing, where Rear-Admiral Smart’s squadron of escort was waiting for
them. At eight in the evening the Royal yacht, which had passed
Flushing, was sighted by the two chief vessels of the escort. Royal
salutes from each awoke the echoes of the deep, yards were manned, and
rockets went hissing up into the air, falling round the Royal yacht in a
sparkling shower of stars. Without stopping for a moment, the bridal
party and their convoy sped on through the darkness, gliding over the
glassy surface of what might have been a summer sea. Before midnight the
_Victoria and Albert_ had anchored in Margate Roads. At eight o’clock in
the morning of the 6th the _Revenge_ and the _Warrior_ were dressed with
flags, and again a royal salute thundered over the waves. Admiral Smart,
by hurrying at racing speed across the North Sea, had earned the
gratitude of the Princess and her companions, for soon after the bridal
party entered English waters the German Ocean was swept by
south-westerly gales. At four o’clock in the afternoon the squadron was
sighted from Sheerness, whereupon the ships at the Nore manned their
yards and saluted. Bonfires blazed along the beach. The word “Welcome”
in letters ten feet high gleamed in the radiance of blue lights, and a
long line of torches glimmered along the sea-wall. Next morning the
Royal yacht, escorted by the _Warrior_, steamed up the Thames, arriving
at Gravesend at noon. Here the Prince of Wales met his bride, and they
landed amidst Royal salutes from the warships. The Mayoress presented
the Princess with a bouquet. The Mayor and municipal dignitaries
presented loyal addresses, but the prettiest part of the ceremony was
the procession from the landing-place to the Royal carriage. A band of
young ladies dressed in white--wearing red burnous cloaks and straw hats
decked with wreaths of oak-leaves--tripped gaily along in advance of the
Princess, strewing her path with flowers. At the railway station the
party was greeted by crowds whose cheers betokened their desire to
welcome the “Sea-King’s daughter.” When the Royal train reached London
it stopped at the Bricklayers’ Arms Station, which was gay with crimson
drapery, and here a boudoir and ante-chamber for the travellers had been
fitted up. Among the brilliant crowd of about 700 privileged persons who
were admitted to the station were the Duke of Cambridge, the Prince of
Prussia, the Duke of Saxe-Coburg, the Count de Flandres, Sir George
Grey, the Lord Mayor and Sheriffs of London, Sir Richard Mayne, Chief
Commissioner of Police, Mr. Layard, and others. Here the Royal party
partook of luncheon, received some congratulatory addresses, and left
the station at five minutes past two o’clock.
There was some fear lest the entry of the Princess into the capital
would not be an unalloyed triumph. The officials of the Court had
contrived to irritate the populace by several of their arrangements. The
people were at first annoyed because they had been told the procession
was to pass through the metropolis at a smart trot. Then the municipal
dignitaries were greatly affronted because in the original plan they
were to have no part in the procession. The reason given for this
prohibition was that the Lord Mayor would necessarily have headed the
pageant, but inasmuch as his unwieldy State coach must proceed at
walking pace, his presence would have prevented the Royal carriages
passing along at high speed. But when the Corporation met and expressed
their anger at this interference with their prerogative, the Court
officials yielded, and so it was arranged that the Lord Mayor and his
train should head the procession as far as Temple Bar. But the moment
the Princess appeared, her grace, her beauty, her charming simplicity of
manners, carried all hearts by storm, and London was quite delirious
with joyful excitement when she came on the scene. As the _cortège_ left
the station it was headed by the Lord Mayor and Sheriffs, and by the
High Bailiff of Southwark, escorted by Horse Guards. Loyal crowds lined
the _route_, which was decked with flags and triumphal arches. The
officials of Southwark left the procession at London Bridge, which had
been decorated in the most lavish manner by the Corporation. Venetian
masts, surmounted by the Danish arms, medallions of the Danish Kings,
tripods of incense, and banners innumerable were seen on all sides. Near
Fishmongers’ Hall, a huge triumphal arch, seventy feet high, spanned the
roadway. It was a gorgeous but somewhat confused mass of allegory and
symbolism, bearing statues of Saxo Grammaticus, Holberg, Thorwaldsen,
and Juel; a group of horses in plaster crowning the whole structure. As
for the centrepiece, it was a fearful and wonderful work of art,
blazoned with gold and flaunting colours. Britannia, surrounded by all
the Pagan gods and goddesses; a portrait of the Queen in widow’s weeds;
banners and heraldic devices and armorial escutcheons, all combined to
make this structure unforgettable. In the City, it must be allowed, the
local authorities rivalled the Court officials in their capacity for
mismanagement. They refused all offers of assistance from the Horse
Guards and the Home Office. Neither the Duke of Cambridge’s Cavalry nor
Sir Richard Mayne’s Police were permitted to keep the crowds in
order--that duty being entrusted to the City Police, the Honourable
Artillery Company, and some Volunteers. Hence the streets were blocked
up, and, according to Lord Malmesbury,[150] “if it had not been for the
good temper of the people some terrible catastrophe must have
occurred.” At the Mansion House a brilliant group of ladies, of whom the
Lady Mayoress was the central figure, was waiting in the portico to
welcome the Princess. Here the procession paused, and a bouquet was
presented to her Royal Highness. But whilst this ceremony was going on,
the authorities lost control of the crowd, and dense masses began to
press on the Royal carriages with such persistency, that the Danish
dignitaries in the train of the Princess were thrown into a panic, which
was, however, allayed by the presence of mind of the Prince of Wales.
The procession then drove on to Temple Bar, which was transformed into a
grand triumphal arch, crowned with a tent of cloth of gold. At the
corners smoking tripods sent up clouds of incense. Here the Civic
dignitaries left the _cortège_, which was then headed by the High
Steward of Westminster and other officials, who fell out at Hyde Park.
[Illustration: ENTRY OF THE PRINCESS ALEXANDRA INTO LONDON: THE
PROCESSION PASSING TEMPLE BAR.]
Clubland was in gala array, and the Princess seemed quite interested
when Marlborough House was pointed out to her by the Prince as her
future home. On the balcony at Cambridge House in Piccadilly Lord and
Lady Palmerston were the most conspicuous figures in a group of
aristocratic sightseers, and were honoured with gracious salutes from
the Royal party. But of all the houses in Piccadilly that of Lord
Willoughby d’Eresby was the most florid in its decoration. It was
decked with evergreens, flags of all nations, and numberless banners.
The wall space under the drawing-room windows was draped with white and
gold, and with blue hangings studded with golden stars. “We went,”
writes Lord Malmesbury, in his Diary, “to Lord Willoughby’s house at a
quarter before one to see the entry of the Princess. The houses along
Piccadilly were decorated, with few exceptions, but I saw nothing really
pretty except Lord Willoughby’s and Lord Cadogan’s. There were a good
many people in the drawing-room. It was the coldest day we have had for
a long time, no sun, with occasional showers, and we were half frozen
standing on the balconies. The Duke of Cambridge rode by two or three
times with his staff, and was greatly cheered. Lord Ranelagh passed at
the head of his brigade of Volunteers. Then appeared the Royal
carriages; and I was never more surprised or disappointed. The first
five contained the suite and brothers and sisters of the Princess
Alexandra; the carriages looked old and shabby, and the horses very
poor, with no trappings, not even rosettes, and no outriders. In short,
the shabbiness of the whole _cortège_ was beyond anything one could
imagine, everybody asking ‘Where is the Master of the Horse?’ The
Princess kept bowing right and left very gracefully. The moment the
procession had passed the crowds dispersed, but there were universal
remarks and compliments on the Princess’s beauty.”[151] Through a double
line of seventeen thousand Volunteers the procession drove to Paddington
Station, and there the Royal Party took the train for Slough, where they
were received by the Princes of Prussia and Hesse, and Princes Arthur
and Leopold. Night was now closing in, and rain fell fast. To add to the
discomforts of the travellers, the horses of the first carriage became
restive. The leaders of the second turned right round on the wheelers,
and great confusion prevailed. All the harness became entangled.
“Altogether,” writes Lord Malmesbury, “everything done by the Court
authorities was bad.” It was past ten o’clock when Eton was reached, the
boys of the College cheering the Princess vociferously, after which the
_cortège_ was met and welcomed at the triumphal arch at Windsor by the
municipal authorities. The shouts of the people and the loyal and royal
town rang in the ears of the Princess as she drove into the Castle. Here
she was received by the Queen and the Princesses Louise and Beatrice,
who had been waiting anxiously for her coming.
Next morning (Sunday) the Queen, her family, and her guests attended
service in the private chapel, where the Bishop of Oxford preached from
the text “Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that
weep.” Wilberforce had to handle his theme with great delicacy and tact,
because the Queen had been sadly annoyed by the carping criticism of
some zealots of the High Church Party. They had taken offence because
her Majesty had permitted her son to be married in Lent, and they even
threatened to absent themselves from all the national festivities that
were to mark the event. The Queen had invoked Wilberforce’s aid in
pacifying these persons, and in a letter to the Bishop of Salisbury he
writes as follows:--“I am _very_ sorry for the time of the marriage, but
everything possible has been done to get it changed, and in vain. I
_think_ the best thing now possible would be for the Archbishop to write
a letter saying that for high State reasons, that time having been
thought necessary, he, as Archbishop, thinks it his duty to express that
he, so far as it is lawful for him to do so, dispenses for that day with
the Church’s ordinary rule, or add that all may, without scruple,
legally devote it to rejoicing.”[152] This advice, however, was not
acted on. But Wilberforce issued a letter to each of his Archdeacons for
the guidance of the clergy in his diocese, in which he said that “any
rejoicing, to be real, must be on the day of the marriage.” He held that
the Archbishop’s Episcopal authority gave him the right to abrogate the
Lenten Fast for such an occasion, and he added that from communications
he had received he considered “that the Primate had exercised his
dispensing power.”[153] Wilberforce’s sermon, however, pleased and
impressed his illustrious audience. In his “Diary,” and in that of Dr.
Macleod, some interesting facts of the Queen’s life at this period are
disclosed. After referring to the sermon on the 8th of March,
Wilberforce writes: “Saw the Queen in the afternoon, and had much talk
with her; always the Prince--expecting him in old places. Large dinner;
after, presented to the Princess Alexandra; she very pleasing--such a
countenance, mien, demeanour, and conversation!” Some days previously
Dr. Macleod had visited her Majesty at Windsor, and she took him, with
Lady Augusta Bruce and the Princess Alice, to the Mausoleum at Frogmore.
“She (the Queen),” writes Dr. Macleod, “had the key, and opened it
herself, undoing the bolts, and alone we entered and stood in silence
beside Marochetti’s beautiful statue of the Prince. I was very much
overcome. She was calm and quiet.... I had a private interview at night
with the Queen. She is so true, so genuine, I wonder not at her sorrow.
To me it is quite natural, and has not a bit of morbid feeling in it. It
but expresses the greatest loss that a Sovereign and wife could
sustain.”[154] The bridal festivities of the Princess were overcast to
some extent by the cloud of melancholy which had settled on the Queen’s
heart.
But there was no lack of joyous display on the part of the public. On
Monday, the 9th of March, the Lord Mayor of London and several members
of the Corporation brought their wedding gift to the Princess--a diamond
necklace
[Illustration: THE PRINCESS OF WALES.
(_From a Photograph taken about the time of her Marriage._)]
and earrings worth £10,000. The Princess spent the day in driving about
the neighbourhood of Windsor, and in the evening there was a splendid
State banquet in St. George’s Hall, followed by a party and a
magnificent show of fireworks in the Home Park. On the 10th the marriage
took place in the Chapel Royal at Windsor, in the presence of a
brilliant assembly, the Queen--shrouded in the deepest mourning--taking
no part in the ceremony, which she watched with tearful eyes from the
Royal closet. Shortly before noon the Archbishop of Canterbury, the
assisting bishops and clergy, entered the Chapel--the prelates walking
to the altar, the Archbishop to the north side, and the Dean of Windsor
to the south. The Chapel was one mass of gorgeous colour, softened in
tone by the rich light that streamed through the painted window of the
choir. Massive sacramental plate of gold and silver, superb golden
candlesticks,
[Illustration: MARLBOROUGH HOUSE, FROM THE GARDEN.]
alms-dishes, quaint and curiously-wrought chalices and patens, were
heaped in a glittering pile on the altar. The reredos, hung with rich
crimson velvet curtains, with its fine panels of Christ and the Woman of
Samaria, the Ascension, and the Institution of the Holy Communion, shone
with the virgin purity of white alabaster. Time and space would fail to
catalogue the dazzling array of Royal and Princely guests, of
Ambassadors and Ministers of State, whose resplendent uniforms and
sparkling decorations almost fatigued the spectator’s eye. The Princess
Alexandra was clad in rich white satin robes, trimmed with Honiton lace
and orange blossoms. Her necklace, earrings, and brooch of pearls and
diamonds were a gift from the Prince of Wales; her rivière of diamonds
was the gift of the Corporation of the City of London. On her wrists
shone three bracelets--two being of opals and diamonds, one of which was
given to her by the Queen, the other by the ladies of Manchester, whilst
the third, of diamonds, was the gift of the ladies of Leeds. Her bouquet
was a magnificent collection of orange blossoms, white rosebuds, lilies
of the valley, and costly orchids, made up at Osborne in accordance with
the Queen’s directions, and throughout, the mass of floral bloom was
relieved by sprigs of the myrtle which had served for the bridal bouquet
of the Princess Royal. The design of the four great flounces of Honiton
lace on her robe was a sequence of cornucopiæ filled with roses,
shamrocks, and thistles, arranged in festoons and interspersed with
these national emblems.[155] As for the Prince of Wales, he wore a
General’s uniform, with the mantle of the Garter, the gold collar and
jewel of that Order, and the decorations of the Golden Fleece and the
Star of India. His chief supporters were the Crown Prince of Prussia,
and the Duke of Saxe-Coburg-and-Gotha. The Princess was led in by her
father, Prince Christian of Denmark, and the Duke of Cambridge, and her
bridesmaids were eight unmarried daughters of Dukes, Marquises, and
Earls, namely, Lady Victoria Scott, Lady Diana Beauclerk, Lady Elina
Bruce, Lady Victoria Howard, Lady Emily Villiers, Lady Agneta Yorke,
Lady Feodore Wellesley, and Lady Eleanor Hare. As the procession reached
the altar, the band and organ performed Handel’s march from _Joseph_.
The choir next sang one of the late Prince Consort’s chorales--Jenny
Lind’s sweet birdlike notes ringing high above all other voices. The
Archbishop then read the service, and when the ring was placed on the
finger of the Princess, distant guns thundered forth a salute, and the
bells of Windsor rang out a peal of joy. After the benediction the Psalm
was chanted with great solemnity, and the united processions of the
bride and bridegroom left the Chapel, the choir singing Beethoven’s
Hallelujah Chorus from the _Mount of Olives_. At the Grand Entrance to
Windsor Castle the bride and bridegroom and their train were received by
the Queen, whose features bore traces of deep emotion, and were by her
conducted to the Green Drawing Room and White Room, where the marriage
was attested in due form by the Royal guests, the ecclesiastical
dignitaries, the Ministers of the Crown, and M. de Bille, the Danish
Minister. Breakfast was served in the Dining Room to the Royal guests,
and in St. George’s Hall to the company present at the ceremony, upwards
of four hundred in number. The wedding cake on the table at St. George’s
Hall is said to have weighed eighty pounds. At four in the afternoon the
Prince and Princess of Wales left for Osborne, amidst hearty cheers from
loyal crowds, who greeted them as they drove along to the station.
Dr. Norman Macleod, describing the ceremony, says in his Diary, “Two
things struck me much. One was the whole of the Royal Princesses
weeping, though concealing their tears with their bouquets, as they saw
their brother, who was to them but their ‘Bertie’ and their dear
father’s son, standing alone, waiting for the bride. The other was the
Queen’s expression as she raised her eyes to heaven, while her husband’s
chorale was sung. She seemed to be with him before the throne of God.”
The Bishop of Oxford, in a letter to Sir Charles Anderson, gives a less
pathetic description of the scene. He writes:--“The ceremony was
certainly the most moving sight I ever saw. The Queen, above all,
looking down, added a wonderful chord of deep feeling to all the lighter
notes of joyfulness and show. Every one behaved quite at their best.
The
[Illustration: MARRIAGE OF THE PRINCE OF WALES.]
Princess of Wales calm, feeling, self-possessed. The Prince with more
depth of manner than ever before. Princess Mary’s entrance was grand.
The little Prince William of Prussia, between his two little uncles[156]
to keep him quiet, both of whom--the Crown Princess told me--he bit on
the bare Highland legs whenever they touched him to keep him
quiet.”[157] There was, however, one jarring incident in the proceedings
which irritated the Queen not a little, and to which reference is made
by Lord Malmesbury and Count Vitzthum. Lord Malmesbury says in his
Diary, “Nothing could exceed the splendour of the scene in St. George’s
Chapel. The foreigners were all much struck with it; it was so grand as
to be overpowering. Mr. Paget confirmed all I had heard of the confusion
on the departure of the special train for London. The Duchess of
Westminster, who had on half a million’s worth of diamonds, could only
find place in a third class carriage, and Lady Palmerston was equally
unfortunate. Count Livradio had his diamond star torn off and stolen by
the roughs.” Count Vitzthum writes, “The confusion at the railway
station when the special train was leaving was incomprehensible. We men
were in full uniform, and the unfortunate ladies in full Court attire
and covered with jewellery. It had never occurred to the police to close
the entrances to the platform, and the returning guests were hemmed in
by a noisy and disorderly crowd.”[158]
In every part of the kingdom the 10th of March was kept as a national
holiday. London and all the great cities were brilliantly
illuminated--in fact, it was only in Ireland that the event was not
marked by universal manifestations of popular loyalty. There was some
rioting in Dublin and Cork; indeed, in the latter city, troops had to be
called out to restore order. The appearance of Edinburgh on the evening
of the 10th was particularly memorable, the “grey metropolis of the
North” naturally lending itself to effective illumination. After a brief
honeymoon at Osborne, the Prince and Princess of Wales returned to
London. But Lord Malmesbury, who describes their entry to St. James’s
Palace, says, the scene struck him “as very melancholy, when one
considered the cause of the Queen’s absence.” A few days afterwards, he
was invited to Windsor Castle. “The Queen,” he writes, “was quite calm
and even cheerful, and looks well, but she complains of not feeling
strong, and being unable to stand much.”
So far as the Queen was able to take an active interest in the
management of the Foreign policy of the country, the only questions to
which she paid close attention were those relating to Poland and the
Duchy of Sleswig-Holstein. For two years rebellious agitators had
disturbed Poland, and at last the Russian Government, in a moment of
irritation, resolved to seize the youth of the upper and middle
classes, who represented the discontented sections of the people, and
drive them into the Imperial Army as conscripts. The rigour with which
this measure was enforced roused a great deal of popular sympathy in
England on behalf of the Poles, and strong pressure was put on the
Government by the Tories, by some Radicals like Mr. Stansfeld, who were
friendly to Continental revolutionary movements, and even by a large
section of the Evangelical party, led by Lord Shaftesbury, to interfere
on behalf of the Polish insurgents. For in February, 1863, the Committee
of the Polish National Insurrection had issued its first proclamation,
after which, Mieroslavski raised the standard of revolt on the Posen
frontier. A pamphlet, called “Napoleon III. et la Pologne,” had been
published in Paris, under the auspices of the French Emperor, and it not
only created a sensation on the Continent, but it roused the suspicions
of the Queen. Palmerston’s personal sympathies were naturally with the
Poles. But, on the other hand, the Queen could not forget that the
restoration of Poland was one of the many devices which the Emperor of
the French had in reserve for upsetting the Treaties of 1815, in order
to give him a pretext for seizing the left bank of the Rhine. It was
not, therefore, from any sympathy for the Czar’s autocratic policy of
repression that the English Court was averse from encouraging the Polish
insurrection, or that the King of Prussia and his Minister, Herr Von
Bismarck, actively aided Russia in coercing the Poles by massing troops
along the frontier of Posen, and delivering up Polish fugitives who fled
to Prussian territory. The Courts of Berlin and St. James’s alike
dreaded a general European war--and to that issue the Queen honestly
believed a policy of intervention must tend. For a time Lord
Palmerston’s Ministry tossed about aimlessly in a vortex of
embarrassments. They were afraid to develop a policy of intervention,
lest it might encourage an outbreak of anti-Russian opinion in England,
and drive them into a war, with Napoleon III. as a self-interested ally.
They were equally afraid that a policy of cold neutrality might be
resented by the populace, whose sympathies were being roused daily on
behalf of Poland. At last they sent a secret agent--Mr. Lawrence
Oliphant--to Poland, to discover the real character of the revolutionary
movement. His report was very discouraging to Lord Palmerston, but it
strengthened the hands of the Queen. Mr. Oliphant found that the
conscription enforced by Russia was really an act of precaution against
an insurrection which had been carefully planned in secret, and was
ordered and guided by a Central Committee of Social Democrats in London.
The movement was not, therefore, a national one in its origin, though
resistance to the conscription had drawn a large body of the nobles and
the middle classes into the ranks of the insurgents. In order to free
themselves from the dictation of the Socialists, they had made
Langiewicz Dictator; but after a time he left them and fled to Austria.
The Committee of Insurrection, which was then formed, had nothing to do
with the Socialist Committee in London, and it was fighting, not for
Constitutional reform under the Czar, but for the restoration of the
Polish
[Illustration: CORRIDOR, OSBORNE HOUSE.
(_After a Photograph by J. Valentine and Sons, Dundee._)]
Kingdom of 1772, an object of which England, as a party to the Treaties
of 1815, could hardly approve. The insurgents had no military
organisation or competent leaders, and they were carrying on guerilla
warfare with the tenacity of despair.[159] As for the peasants, they had
no reason to love their old tyrants, the nobles. For them the Government
of the Czar was a lesser evil than the _régime_ of 1772, and so they
held aloof.[160] Still, some steps had to be taken to satisfy public
opinion and ward off attacks in Parliament. Ministers accordingly
decided to remonstrate gently with Russia--the excuse being that the
Treaties of 1815 gave England a moral right of interference between
Russia and Poland. The policy of France, on the other hand, was
interference, not on the basis of the Treaties of 1815, which, the
Emperor declared in his Speech to the Chambers, were dead, but in the
interests of humanity outraged at the excesses which Poles and Russians
were alike committing. Austria, on the other hand, considered that she
could only approach Russia as a neighbouring Power, like Prussia,
possessing Polish subjects, whose institutions might with advantage be
imitated in Russian Poland. The attitude of Prussia was that of declared
friendliness to Russia.
Thus the Powers were grouped as before the Crimean War: England, France,
and Austria in accord, but each with a different end to serve, and a
different idea underlying their respective policies: Russia and Prussia,
on the other hand, solidly in alliance. Ultimately, Lord Russell
suggested on the 17th of June that Russia might submit the whole Polish
Question to a Conference of the Eight Powers who had signed the Treaty
of Vienna, on the basis of an understanding that there should be an
amnesty, and an armistice, and that moderate constitutional reforms
should be carried out in Poland. The weak point in the proposal was that
Lord Palmerston and Lord Russell ignored the warning of their own secret
agent to the effect that the Poles had no organised leadership. Russia
was therefore able to ask ironically with whom did Lord Russell propose
to negotiate an armistice? and how he did propose to guarantee obedience
to it by migratory bands under guerilla chiefs? It was therefore the
contention of Russia that surrender must precede any negotiations for
peace, and that were it not for the hope of aid from France and England,
the Poles would have long since ceased to resist. Russia, in a word,
refused to accept the basis of negotiations. She offered, however, to
discuss the affairs of Poland with Austria and Prussia--the other
partitioning Powers--probably anticipating the refusal of Austria to
separate herself from England and France. Finally, she declined to
accept any foreign interference whatever in her domestic affairs. Lord
Palmerston and Lord Russell meekly submitted to this rebuff, and
concurred with France and Austria in remonstrating with Russia, on the
grave responsibility she incurred in haughtily rejecting their good
offices.
The speech of the Emperor Napoleon at the opening of the French Chambers
has already been referred to. The sentences alluding to the Treaties of
1815, and to the summoning of a European Congress, not only to settle
the Polish Question, but other questions affecting nationalities
struggling to be free, soon received a practical comment, for in Paris
the Funds fell with startling rapidity. A few days after the speech was
delivered the Emperor addressed a circular to the Powers which fully
justified the warnings that the Queen had given to her Ministers, from
the day the Polish Question was raised. Napoleon, in fact, invited the
Sovereigns of Europe to meet in Congress and settle the affairs of the
Continent, and the tone of the circular, combined with the veiled threat
of war in his speech, really transformed the invitation into a summons.
Italy and Prussia accepted the proposal, the former because she saw in
it an opportunity for wresting Venice from Austria. As for Lord Russell,
he met the project with a refusal couched in terms that stung the French
Emperor to the quick. Writing on the 29th of November, Lord Malmesbury,
in his “Diary,” says, “Mr. Seymour Fitzgerald arrived from Paris, where
he says the refusal of our Government to attend the Congress proposed by
Napoleon, and especially the rude tone of Lord Russell’s despatch, has
created great irritation. The correspondence between the English and
French Governments respecting the Congress is published in to-day’s
papers. Lord Russell’s despatch is published in the _Gazette_, and I am
not surprised that the French are angry; for not only is it very rude,
but it was sent without the least delay, and published in the _Times_
before it was delivered to Drouyn de Lhuys.”[161] The despatches,
however, merely reveal the customary combination of dogmatic argument
with a supercilious affectation of infallibility, which gives a
distinctive mark to all Lord Russell’s diplomatic correspondence.
Napoleon, too, had laid himself open to a rebuff by not sounding England
on his proposal, before he sprang it on the world. Count Vitzthum says
that the despatch was approved at a meeting of the Cabinet on the 19th
of November, after which it was submitted next day to the Queen at
Windsor, who, according to Lord Russell’s statement to the Count, “had
given her assent with pleasure to the refusal to take part in the
Congress.”[162] Still Napoleon was not without his consolations. In
Mexico Forey’s victories enabled the French to bring together a Mexican
Assembly of their partisans, who recommended the establishment of a
mimic Bonapartist Empire under the Archduke Maximilian. This unfortunate
Prince consented to take the Crown, provided the Mexicans sanctioned his
dynasty by a _plébiscite_.
Much more serious for the Queen was the rapid development of the
Sleswig-Holstein Question, as to which her opinions were known in
Society to be in undisguised conflict with those of her Ministers. The
death of Frederick VII. and the succession of the father of the Princess
of Wales to the Danish Crown rendered this question urgent.