In a later letter, the Queen pointed out that it was absolutely essential that Albert should have an Englishman at the head of his affairs.
However, the two months rolled away, and the marriage morning dawned with the 10th of February, Albert arriving in London on the 8th. He, poor thing, had hoped for a real honeymoon, and was gently chided for desiring so much: “You forget, my dearest love, that I am the Sovereign, and that business can stop and wait for nothing. Parliament is sitting, and something occurs almost every day, for which I may be required, and it is quite impossible for me to be absent from London, therefore two or three days is already a long time to be absent.”
The morning of Monday, February 10th, was stormy: “What weather! I believe, however, the rain will cease,” scribbled Victoria to her bridegroom before they met that day; and, in spite of the torrents of rain and gusts of wind, a countless multitude thronged the streets and the Park to see the bride go from Buckingham Palace to the chapel in St. James’s Palace and back, and then, after the breakfast, to Paddington on the way to Windsor, where the Royal pair were to spend four days.
Photo
Emery Walker.
H.R.H. PRINCE ALBERT.
From the Painting by Winterhalter in the National Portrait Gallery.
Said the Sage of Chelsea concerning this event: “Yesterday the idle portion of the Town was in a sort of flurry owing to the marriage of little Queen Victory. I had to go out to breakfast with an ancient Notable of this place, one named Rogers, the Poet and Banker; my way lay past little Victory’s Palace, and a perceptible crowd was gathering there even then, which went on increasing till I returned (about one o’clock); streams of idle gomerils flowing from all quarters, to see one knows not what—perhaps Victory’s gilt coach and other gilt coaches drive out, for that would be all! It was a wet day, too, of bitter heavy showers and abundant mud.... Poor little thing, I wish her marriage all prosperity too.... As for him (Prince Albert) they say he is a sensible lad; which circumstance may be of much service to him; he burst into tears on leaving his little native Coburg, a small, quiet town, like Annan, for example; poor fellow, he thought, I suppose, how he was bidding adieu to quiet there, and would probably never know it more, whatever else he might know.”
Carlyle and Rogers seem to have discussed the Queen and all that had happened, for the former adds in amused fashion: “He (Rogers) defended the poor little Queen, and her fooleries and piques and pettings in this little wedding of hers.”