THE QUEEN'S FIRST VISIT TO IRELAND.
Parliament was prorogued by commission, and the Queen and the Prince, with their four children, sailed on the 1st of August for Ireland. Lady Lyttelton watching the departing squadron from the windows of Osborne, wrote with something like dramatic emphasis, "It is done, England's fate is afloat; we are left lamenting. They hope to reach Cork to-morrow evening, the wind having gone down and the sky cleared, the usual weather compliment to the Queen's departure."
The voyage was quick but not very pleasant, from the great swell in the sea. At nine o'clock, on the morning of the 2nd, Land's End was passed, and at eight o'clock in the evening the Cove of Cork was so near that the bonfires on the hill and the showers of rockets from the ships in the harbour to welcome the travellers, were distinctly visible. Unfortunately the next day was gray and "muggy"—a quality which the Queen had been told was characteristic of the Irish climate. The saluting from the various ships sent a roar through the thick air. The large harbour with its different islands—one of them containing a convict prison, another a military depot—looked less cheerful than it might have done. The captains of the war-steamers came on board to pay their respects; so did the Lord-Lieutenant, Lord Bandon, and the commanders of the forces at Cork. Prince Albert landed, but the Queen wrote and sketched till after luncheon. The delay was lucky, for the sun broke out with splendour in the afternoon. The Fairy, with its royal freight, surrounded by rowing and sailing boats, went round the harbour, all the ships saluting, and then entered Cove, and lay alongside the gaily-decorated crowded pier. The members, for Cork, the clergymen of all denominations, and the yacht club presented addresses, "after which," wrote the Queen, "to give the people the satisfaction of calling the place 'Queenstown,' in honour of its being the first spot on which I set foot upon Irish ground, I stepped on shore amid the roar of cannon (for the artillery was placed so close as quite to shake the temporary room which we entered), and the enthusiastic shouts of the people.".
The Fairy lay alongside the pier of Cork proper, and the Queen received more deputations and addresses, and conferred the honour of knighthood on the Lord Mayor. The two judges, who were holding their courts, came on board in their robes.
Then her Majesty landed and entered Lord Bandon's carriage, accompanied by Prince Albert and her ladies, Lord Bandon and General Turner riding one on each side. The Mayor went in front, and many people in carriages and on horseback joined the royal cortege, which took two hours in passing through the densely-crowded streets and under the triumphal arches. Everything went well and the reception was jubilant. To her Majesty Cork looked more like a foreign than an English town. She was struck by the noisy but good-natured crowd, the men very "poorly, often-raggedly, dressed," many wearing blue coats and knee-breeches with blue stockings. The beauty of the women impressed her, "such beautiful dark eyes and hair, and such fine teeth; almost every third woman was pretty, and some remarkably so. They wear no bonnets, and generally long blue cloaks."
Re-embarking at Cork, the visitors sailed to Waterford, arriving in the course of the afternoon.
The travellers sailed again at half-past eight in the morning, having at first a rough passage, with its usual unacceptable accompaniment of sea-sickness, but near Wexford the sea became gradually smooth, and there was a fine evening. At half-past six Dublin Bay came in sight. The war-steamers, four in number, waiting for her Majesty, were at their post. Escorted by this squadron, the yacht "steamed slowly and majestically" into Kingstown Harbour, which was full of ships, while the quays were lined with thousands of spectators cheering lustily. The sun was setting as this stately "procession of boats" entered the harbour, and her Majesty describes in her Journal "the glowing light" which lit up the surrounding country and the fine buildings, increasing the beauty of the scene.
Next morning, while the royal party were at breakfast, the yacht was brought up to the wharf lined with troops. The Lord-Lieutenant, Lord Clarendon, and Lady Clarendon, Prince George of Cambridge, Lords Lansdowne and Clanricarde, the Archbishop of Dublin, &c. &c., came on board, an address was presented from the county by the Earl of Charlemont, to which a written reply was given. At ten Lord Clarendon, bowing low, stepped before the Queen on the gangway, Prince Albert led her Majesty on shore, the youthful princes and princesses and the rest of the company following, the ships saluting so that the very ground shook with the heavy 68-pounders, the bands playing, the guard of honour presenting arms, the multitude huzzaing, the royal standard floating out on the breeze.
Along a covered way, lined with ladies and gentlemen, and strewn with flowers, the Queen proceeded to the railway station, and after a quarter of an hour's journey reached Dublin, where she was met by her own carriages, with the postillions in the Ascot liveries.
The Queen and Prince Albert, the Prince of Wales and the Princess Royal, occupied one carriage, Prince Alfred and Princess Alice, with the ladies-in-waiting, another. The Commander-in-chief of the soldiers in Ireland, Sir Edward Blakeney, rode on one side of the Queen's carriage, Prince George of Cambridge on the other, followed by a brilliant staff and escort of soldiers. "At the entrance of the city a triumphal arch of great size and beauty had been erected, under which the civic authorities—Lord Mayor, town-clerk, swordbearer, &c. &c.— waited on their sovereign." The Lord Mayor presented the keys and her Majesty returned them. "It was a wonderful and stirring scene," she described her progress in her Journal; "such masses of human beings, so enthusiastic, so excited, yet such perfect order maintained. Then the number of troops, the different bands stationed at certain distances, the waving of hats and handkerchiefs, the bursts of welcome that rent the air, all made it a never-to-be-forgotten scene when one reflected how lately the country had been under martial law."
The Queen admired Dublin heartily, and gave to Sackville Street and Merrion Square their due meed of praise. At the last triumphal arch a pretty little allegory, like a bit of an ancient masque, was enacted. Amidst the heat and dust a dove, "alive and very tame, with an olive- branch round its neck," was let down into the Queen's lap.
The viceregal lodge was reached at noon, and the Queen was received by
Lord and Lady Clarendon and their household.
On the 7th of August, a showery day, the Queen drove into Dublin with her ladies, followed by the gentlemen, but with no other escort. Her Majesty was loudly cheered as she proceeded to the bank, the old Parliament House before the Union, where Curran and Grattan and many a "Monk of the Screw" had debated, "Bloody Toler" had aroused the rage of the populace, and Castlereagh had looked down icy cold on the burning commotion. The famous Dublin schools were next visited. Their excellent system of education and liberal tolerant code delighted the Prince. At Trinity College, with its memories of Dean Swift and "Charley O'Malley," the Queen and the Prince wrote their names in St. Columba's book, and inspected the harp said to have belonged to "King O'Brian." After their return to the lodge, when luncheon had been taken, and Prince Albert went into Dublin again, the Queen refreshed herself with a bit of home life. She wrote and read, and heard her children say some of their lessons.
At five the Queen drove to Kilmainham Hospital, Lord Clarendon accompanying her and her ladies, while the Prince and the other gentlemen rode. The Irish Commander-in-chief and Prince George received her Majesty, who saw and no doubt cheered the hearts of the old pensioners, going into their chapel, hall, and governor's room. Afterwards she drove again into Dublin, through the older quarters, College Green—where Mrs. Delany lived when she was yet Mrs. Pendarvis and the belle of the town, and where there still stands the well- known, often maltreated statue of William III., Stephen's Green, &c. &c. The crowds were still tremendous.
On the 8th of August, before one o'clock, the Queen and her ladies in evening dress, and Prince Albert and the gentlemen in uniform, drove straight to the castle, where there was to be a levee the same as at St. James's. Her Majesty, seated on the throne, received numerous addresses—those of the Lord Mayor and corporation, the universities, the Archbishop and bishops (Protestant and Catholic), the different Presbyterians, and the Quakers. No fewer than two thousand presentations took place, the levee lasting till six o'clock—some five hours.
On the following day there was a review of upwards of six thousand soldiers and police in the Phoenix Park.
The Queen and the Prince dined alone, but in the course of the evening they drove again into Dublin, to the castle, that she might hold a Drawing-room. Two or three thousand people were there; one thousand six hundred ladies were presented. Then her Majesty walked through St. Patrick's Hall and the other crowded rooms, returning through the densely-filled, illuminated streets, and the Phoenix Park after midnight.
On the 10th of August, the Queen had a little respite from public duties in a private pleasure. She and Prince Albert, in company with Lord and Lady Clarendon and the different members of the suite, went on a short visit to Carton, the seat of "Ireland's only Duke," the Duke of Leinster. The party passed through Woodlands, with its "beautiful lime-trees," and encountered a number of Maynooth students near their preparatory college. At Carton the Queen was received by the Duke and Duchess and their eldest son, the Marquis of Kildare, with his young wife, Lady Caroline Leveson-Gower, one of the daughters of the Duchess of Sutherland. All the company walked, to the music of two bands, in the pretty quaint garden with its rows of Irish yews. Was it the same in 1798, when a son of the Leinster house, after thinking to be a king, was hunted down in a poor Dublin lodging, fought like a lion for his life, was taken a wounded prisoner to the castle, and then to Newgate to die?
The Duke led the Queen round the garden, while Prince Albert conducted the Duchess. Her Majesty wrote warmly of her host that "he was one of the kindest and best of men." After luncheon the country people danced jigs in the park, the men in their thick coats, the women in their shawls; one man, "a regular Irishman, with his hat on, one ear," the music furnished by three old and tattered pipers. Her Majesty pronounced the steps of the dancers "very droll."
The Duke and Duchess took their guests a drive, the people riding, running, and driving with the company, but continuing perfectly well- behaved, and ready to obey any word of the Duke's. It must have been a curious scene, in which all ranks took part. The Queen could not get over the spectacle of the countrymen running the whole way, in their thick woollen coats, in the heat.
On the Queen's departure from Kingstown she was followed by the same enthusiasm that had greeted her on her arrival. "As the yacht approached the extremity of the pier near the lighthouse, where the people were most thickly congregated and were cheering enthusiastically, the Queen suddenly left the two ladies-in-waiting with whom she was conversing, ran with agility along the deck, and climbed the paddle-box to join Prince Albert, who did not notice her till she was nearly at his side. Reaching him and taking his arm, she waved her right hand to the people on the piers." As she stood with the Prince while the yacht steamed out of the harbour, she waved her handkerchief in "a parting acknowledgment" of her Irish subjects' loyalty. As another compliment to the enthusiastic farewells of the people, the Queen gave orders "to slacken speed." The paddlewheels became still, the yacht floated slowly along close to the pier, and three times the royal standard was lowered by way of "a stately obeisance" made in response to the last ringing cheers of the Irish. Lord Clarendon wrote afterwards, that "there was not an individual in Dublin who did not take as a personal compliment to himself the Queen's having gone upon the paddle-box and ordered the royal standard to be lowered three times." It was a happy thought of her own.
The weather was thick and misty, and the storm which was feared came on in a violent gale before the yacht entered Belfast Harbour, early on the morning of the 11th of August. The Mayor and other officials came on board to breakfast, and in the course of the forenoon the Queen and the Prince, with the ladies and gentlemen in attendance, entered the barge to row to the Fairy. Though the row was only of two minutes' duration, the swell on the water was so great that the embarkation in the Fairy was a matter of difficulty; and when the smaller yacht was gained the Queen had to take shelter in the pavilion from the driving spray. In such unpropitious circumstances her Majesty passed Carrickfergus, the landing-place of William III., and arrived at the capital of Ulster just as the sun came out and lent its much-desired presence to the gala. Lord Londonderry and his wife and daughters, Lord Donegal, the proprietor of the greater part of Ulster, &c. &c., came on board with various deputations, especially of Presbyterians and members of the linen trade. The Queen knighted the mayor, as she had knighted his brother-magistrate at Cork.
By an odd blunder the gangway, which had been carefully constructed for the Queen's use, was found too large. Some planks on board the yacht had to form an impromptu landing-stage; but the situation was not so awkward as when Louis Philippe had to press a bathing-machine into the royal service at Tréport. The landing-place was covered in and decorated, the Londonderry carriage in waiting, and her Majesty's only regret was for Lord Londonderry, a big man, crowded on the rumble along with specially tall and large sergeant-footmen.
The Scotch-descended people of Belfast had outdone themselves in floral arches and decorations. The galleries for spectators were thronged. There was no stint in the honest warmth of the reception. But the Irish beauty, and doubtless also something of the Irish spirit and glee, had vanished with the rags and the tumbledown cabins. The douce, comfortable people of Ulster were less picturesque and less demonstrative.
Linen Hall, the Botanic Gardens, and the new college were visited, and different streets driven through in returning to the place of embarkation at half-past six on an evening so stormy that the weather prevented the yacht from setting sail. As it lay at anchor there was an opportunity for seeing the bonfires, streaming in the blast, on the neighbouring heights.
Before quitting Ireland the Queen determined to create her eldest son
"Earl of Dublin," one of the titles borne by the late Duke of Kent.