The day before it took place the bride arrived with her mother, the Duchess Anastasia, and took up her residence for the night in Belle Vue, which was outside the city boundary. The next day, which turned out remarkably hot, almost too hot to be agreeable, all Berlin was astir early, and the streets were lavishly bewreathed and beflagged. Along the route large wooden stands had been erected, for as far as the populace is concerned the entry is the only part of the State ceremony which they can enjoy, as the wedding itself takes place privately in the Chapel of the Schloss.
So the good people of Berlin are astir betimes, and take their places along the Tier-Garten, or as near as they can to the Brandenburger Tor, at a very early hour, quite regardless of the fact that the procession will not start before three. But they know there will be plenty to be seen. Royal carriages, carrying notable personalities, will pass to and fro, and the Emperor and Empress, the “little Princess” and her brothers, will doubtless be in evidence. So they stand from hour to hour waiting patiently in the heat. In the stables great activity prevails. The eight fine black horses which draw the bride’s State carriage have been daily exercised together, wearing the heavy red brass-studded harness. The coach itself is made almost entirely of glass in the upper panels, and is most beautifully painted and decorated. Three gorgeously-clad footmen cling behind it, and two equally gorgeous pages hold a seemingly precarious and uncomfortable footing behind the coachman’s box, crowded up between it and the curvature of the coach itself in a very complicated and mysterious manner. The ponderous vehicle swings heavily from side to side, and has a peculiar cross-Channel motion.
Its progress down towards Belle Vue is watched by crowds of delighted spectators. The sight of its eight slowly-pacing horses, each wearing wonderful plumes of ostrich feathers, and led at a foot’s pace by grooms in red coats encrusted with gold lace, fill the crowd with joyful ecstasy. They forget the heat and thirst and the long hours they have already waited.
All the master-butchers of Berlin are very active and not a little apprehensive, for it is an old-established privilege of their guild to ride, in top-hats and frock-coats, at the head of the bride’s procession, and they are divided between the fearful joy and doubtful pleasure of the enterprise. They have been diligently pursuing equestrian exercise for the last few weeks. Many who never made acquaintance with a saddle before—except in the form of mutton—have been learning, at the nearest “Tattersall,” some of the elementary mysteries of horsemanship. Quiet, staid horses of mature years have suddenly risen in price, and horse-dealers have reaped a rich harvest from certain ancient but good-looking crocks which know how to walk with an air of magnificence.
All these black-coated gentry assemble at the entrance to Belle Vue. They are in the happy position of seeing to advantage all that goes on. They may not look quite as smart as the mounted Uhlans of the escort, but they add a quaint, homely German touch to the picture which is very agreeable.
Only State carriages are allowed to drive, as they do on this occasion, along the gravelled centre of the avenue of lime-trees on Unter den Linden. All the Stall-Meisters, Sattel-Meisters, Wagen-Meisters and other stable functionaries are assembled in Belle Vue Garden, while the Master of the Horse in his plumed cocked hat casts an eye over the horses and hopes that those well-trained quadrupeds will not be stirred out of their usual calm by the unaccustomed character of the day’s proceedings.
From the Schloss there is an excellent view of the long procession as it at last comes slowly up the Linden. It stops at the Brandenburger Tor, where the Bürger-Meister—the Lord Mayor of Berlin—has the pleasing duty of making a speech of welcome to the bride, who is expected to make a short speech in reply. A bouquet is also presented by one of a galaxy of palpitating white-clad maidens, and, headed by the black-coated butchers, amid the fluttering pennons of the Uhlans the big coach swings slowly on its way, the bride smiling and bowing incessantly. Never was anyone more joyously responsive than the future Crown-Princess, who possesses in a high degree that capacity for appearing pleased and amused which is so invaluable to royalties. She probably does not know how to look bored. The world is to her an intensely amusing, interesting place. That day she drove triumphantly into the hearts of the people, where she has remained enthroned ever since—a stimulating, charming presence.
Besides the bride, the coach contained the Empress and the Mistress of the Robes, and when it turned at last from the shouting, waving populace into the courtyard of the Schloss, the butchers having previously ridden in at one gate and out again at the other, the Emperor, who had driven up earlier from Belle Vue, was standing at the entrance to welcome his future daughter-in-law, while the bridegroom waited at the head of his regiment, which formed the guard of honour for the occasion.
The wedding itself took place three days later, at five o’clock in the afternoon. Those people who were not invited to be present at the wedding ceremony in the chapel itself received invitations to the Bilder Galerie or Picture Gallery, through which the wedding procession must pass.
It is a very mixed assembly, for all having any connection with the bride or bridegroom, professors, school friends, teachers, footmen or their families, fellow students, all receive tickets. They must appear in evening dress, and some very strange costumes are seen among the ladies. One I remember, an obviously home-made and inartistic affair, was trimmed with real water-lilies, which in the heat had turned a dismal brown, and long before the procession drew near were depressingly dying on the ample bosom of the lady who wore them. Everybody had to stand all the time, and footmen holding scarlet cords kept back the crowd as well as they could from encroaching on the space left in the centre. There was a much better view here of the procession than in the chapel itself, especially for the front rank of spectators, among whom I was luckily placed. In the second row was a very stout woman, who leaned frankly upon me for support, and tried unblushingly but unsuccessfully to push her way to the front. When frustrated in this manœuvre, she complained loudly of my disobligingness, and said that she had received her entrance card from an Ober-Kastellan, and that she could not understand how I could therefore expect her to remain in the second row. I had to lean back on to her to prevent myself being pushed on to the red carpet, and she again became tearfully indignant, not to say unpleasant; but fortunately the procession began to arrive and saved any further trouble.