The King was to stop at resting places, and in the largest local churches, a reduced form of the Homage was to be instituted involving the enthronization, with the displays of the Regalia, and the jubilation, and the reverence of the people expressed, as always in the shouts—
God save King Edward!
Long live King Edward!
May the King live forever!
The bells of the churches were to ring, the houses were to hang out their banners, flags were to cover the streets, bands stationed on prominent balconies, at points covering the entire long journey through and around the city, were to play national airs, that so there might be generated an overwhelming enthusiasm, a tumult of devotion, and thus constrain the Englishman afresh in the religion of the nation’s immortality.
It was finely conceived, this elevation of the King. It was gorgeously executed. The imagination of the people was tremendously impressed, and the Ark of the Covenant of the eternal supremacy of the English crown seemed thus visibly incorporated, and presented to them. The procession was glittering, and it was majestic. It ponderously emphasized the English idea. There were really two processions, the first from Westminster to Buckingham Palace, the second through London. In the first—the King issued from Westminster, his crown borne before him, but holding in his right hand the Sceptre with the Cross, and in his left the Orb. Then began the most wonderful State ride through London. The superb chariot of the King surrounded by heralds, kings at arms, pursuivants, with judges, councillors, lords, and dignitaries, was followed by the open carriages of the nobility.
The King was immersed in color. Garter—principal King-at-arms—was a miracle of dress. He wore a frock or tabard, crimson and gold emblazoned with the quarters of the United Kingdom. Then there was the Clarencieux of the South, and Norroy of the North—and the heralds of Lancaster, Somerset, Richmond, all wonderfully bedight, and the pursuivants—Rouge Croix, Rouge Dragon, Portcullis, and Blue Mantel—looking like the genii of a Christmas pantomime. And here with the King were the Lord Chamberlain, the Lord Steward, and the Master of the Horse. And there followed this cavalcade, surrounding the King like a many colored fringe, the carriages of the nobles wherein all the signs of degree, order, rank, were sumptuously shown. Here the robes of the Peers, crimson velvet edged with miniver—the capes furred with the same—and powdered with bars or rows of ermine, according to degree, rolled together in a bank of oscillating glory. Beneath the mantles a court dress, a uniform, or regimentals were descried. The coronets were even worn, and as the scintillating groups passed, eager admirers separated the coronet of the baron with its six silver equidistant balls, from the coronet of a viscount with sixteen, from the coronet of an earl with eight balls raised on points, and with glistening gold strawberry leaves between the points, from the coronet of a marquis with four gold strawberry leaves alternating with four silver balls, and from the coronet of a duke with the eight gold strawberry leaves.
Nor did beauty hesitate to add its witchery to the sports of splendor, and in behalf of that ancient idea of Monarchy, which now was enlisted against a deep peril of mistrust and repudiation. The Peeresses formed part of the procession. Their scarlet kirtles over the petticoats of white satin and lace, their flowing sleeves slashed and furred, their cushioned trains heaped in confusion in the carriages, and relieved by shining plaques of silver silk, were still more bewilderingly graced by jewelry, by oceans of gems resplendently transfigured in the blazing sun. In this momentous pageant the limits of the spectacular were invaded, even distended, in which some saw not only a lack of good taste, but the pressure of a little fear.
Even the church advanced the bold bid for admiration and wonder. It sent out its archbishops, bishops, rectors, canons, prebendaries and deacons, to compose parts of the vast exhibit to be interwoven in the variegated human carpet that filled the streets. Before the churches that were passed, choirs gathered and sang melodiously; the strong religious fibre of the English men and women was sedulously appealed to, or else it was the elemental flaming forward of their powerful conviction. At this strange moment there was less of pretence and trick than sincerity. The heart of the people was steadfastly united with the old traditions; they clung unbrokenly to the inheritance of English greatness. There was no reason to doubt their faith.
The route of the second marvellous procession was from the Abbey through Bird Cage Walk past Victoria monument to Procession road, to the Strand, to Fleet street, over Ludgate hill, past St. Paul’s, to Cheapside, to Bishops street, to Shoreditch, to Hackney street, and so out to Victoria Park and Homerton. Back again to Highbury Fields, south by Essex road to Pentonville road, to Euston road, to Marylebone road, through Regents Park, through Hampstead road to Hampstead, to West Side, through Edgeware road to Hyde Park, and the Bays water to Holland park, to Hammersmith road, by Hammersmith bridge road to Castelnau; thence to Putney, to Battersea, to Clapham, to Camberwell, thence to Walworth road, by London road, by Waterloo road to Westminster bridge, to the Houses of Parliament, and on the banks of the river Thames to the Tower, and on through White Chapel, Mile End road, Bow road, to Bromley, to Stratford, to Barking, to Tilbury.