On the opening day of the Exhibition, Parliament sat afterwards, at 6 p.m., and, in the course of a debate on the “Oath of Abjuration (Jews) Bill,” Colonel Sibthorp told the House that “He was not present at the Crystal Palace. He felt that his duty to God and his country demanded of him that he should not go there, and he deeply regretted that an eminent prelate of the Church should have been induced to invoke a blessing on that which he (Colonel S.) considered most injurious to the interests of the country and an insult to Almighty God.”
But if Colonel Sibthorp took a pessimistic view of the Exhibition, others held equally optimistic opinions respecting it. It was going to inaugurate a sort of Millennium and a general brotherhood of nations: war was to cease, and all countries were to vie with each other in cultivating the arts of peace. The following song will show the drivel they used to sing about it in the streets.
Crystal Palace.
Britannia’s sons an attentive ear
One moment lend to me,
Whether tillers of our fruitful soil,
Or lords of high degree.
Mechanic too, and artizan,
Old England’s pride and boast,
Whose wondrous skill has spread around
Far, far from Britain’s coast.
Chorus.
For the World’s great Exhibition,
Let’s shout with loud huzza,
All nations can never forget
The glorious first of May.
From every quarter of the globe
They come across the sea,
And to the Crystal Palace
The wonders for to see;
Raised by the handiwork of men
Born on British ground,
A challenge to the Universe
Its equal to be found.
Each friendly nation in the world
Have their assistance lent,
And to this Exhibition
Have their productions sent;
And with honest zeal and ardour,
With pleasure do repair,
With hands outstretch’d, and gait erect,
To the World’s Great National Fair.
The sons of England and of France,
And America likewise,
With other nations to contend
To bear away the prize,
With pride depicted in their eyes,
View the offspring of their hand:
O, surely England’s greatest wealth
Is an honest working man.
It is a glorious sight to see
So many thousands meet,
Not heeding creed or country,
Each other friendly greet.
Like children of one mighty sire,
May that sacred tie ne’er cease;
May the blood-stained sword of War give way
To the Olive-branch of peace.
But, hark! the trumpets flourish,
Victoria does approach,
That she may long be spared to us
Shall be our reigning toast.
I trust each heart it will respond
To what I now propose—
Good-will and plenty to her friends,
And confusion to her foes.