On the 13th at nine a.m. the illustrious visitors embarked at Whitehall Stairs, for a trip by water to Woolwich. It must have been a very pretty sight to have seen the carved and gilded barges, not only of the Admiralty, the Navy, and the Ordnance Board, but of all the City Companies, as brave as bunting and silken flags could make them, all rowed by watermen, in uniform, with huge silver badges on their arms. Add to this beautiful scene, the launches of the Enterprise, and of the Men-of-war at Deptford, and Woolwich, several boats with bands of Music, and the coup d'œil must have been charming. There is always plenty to see at Woolwich Arsenal (it then had a Dockyard), and they saw it, for they did not return till late in the evening, just in time for a dinner at the Marquis of Stafford's, and a ball at the Earl of Cholmondeley's.
This gadding about must have been tiring work, for the Emperor of Russia did not get to his hotel, from the ball, till three o'clock a.m., and he was off for Oxford, by half-past six. The Prince Regent started at a quarter to six. No time, however, was wasted on the journey, for nine relays of horses, for each carriage, were provided to do the 58 miles. The Regent who was accompanied by the Prince of Orange, arrived about half-past ten, the time appointed, but they were not quite ready for him. They scrambled together some kind of a procession, and the Chancellor laid the Maces of the University Bedels, at his Royal Highness's feet. Of course, he graciously returned them, and, by this time, the Mayor and the Civic portion of the procession had arrived, and they all proceeded to the Divinity Schools. Here, of course, was presented the inevitable address, after which, the Regent was conducted to Christ Church, where apartments had been prepared for him.
A few minutes after one o'clock, the Czar arrived, accompanied by his sister, who was attired in "a plain travelling dress, with a large straw bonnet, shaded by a broad pendant feather." This bonnet was the latest thing from Paris, which the Duchess brought over with her, and which speedily became the fashion. It went by the very undignified name of "the Oldenburgh Poke," and my reader will meet with it in the coming illustrations. They drove to Merton College.
Very shortly after, the King of Prussia and his sons, drove up, and went to Corpus Christi. Both sovereigns barely gave themselves time for refreshment, but went directly to call upon the Regent, who received them in his cap and gown. They then visited all the objects of interest in the most interesting city in England. About four o'clock old Blücher (who was to be made a D.C.L.) arrived, and received the ovation which his presence always produced. Of course, the people wanted to drag his carriage, but good sense prevailed, and they were not allowed to make fools of themselves. In the evening, at half-past seven, a grand banquet was served to about two hundred guests, of whom the Regent's party comprised fifty. This took place in the Radcliffe Library, the upper gallery of which was thrown open to people to walk round, and view the dinner. The stone staircases were small, and the pushing and crowding were great. Hats, caps, and shoes were flying in all directions, and many, at last, extricated themselves, with their gowns and coats torn in pieces. The military were called in, and order was restored. The banquet lasted till eleven, when the guests went through the City to see the illuminations, which, however, were extinguished by a tremendous thunderstorm between twelve and one.
Next morning the degrees were conferred, in the Theatre, on the Emperor of Russia, the King of Prussia, the Duke of Wellington (in absentia), Prince Metternich, Count Lieven, and Blücher. Of course fun was made of this grizzled old warrior being made a D.C.L., and Cruikshank drew a picture of him looking at himself in a glass in utter astonishment (see [previous page]).
Another picture also by G. Cruikshank, shows Oxford, as it was supposed to have been during the visit of the sovereigns, Alexander, the Duchess of Oldenburgh, (who has mounted a cap and wig on the crown of her "Poke,") and Blücher, being excessively amiable to the Dons. Cossacks vested in Gowns, and Caps, are the order of the day, and fraternize right jovially. A dinner in Christ Church Hall, and a Ball ended the day.
We hear more about poor Blücher's unfortunate popularity. "The gallant Blücher seems to have been the peculiar favourite of the people. He could not stir without a crowd, and the vehemence of their salutations has been almost painful to him. His rooms at Christ Church were generally surrounded by a crowd of people. On the morning of Wednesday, he was sitting at the end of his bed, the window being quite open, smoking his long pipe, in a white vest with a ribbon over it, with complete military sang froid. He frequently advanced to the window, and bowed. The excessive joy of the people almost overpowered him in the Theatre on Thursday. Two of the newly-created doctors were obliged to rescue him from the hands of the people by force, or he must have sunk under their pressure."