THE ROYAL VISIT TO WORSLEY HALL: THE STATE BARGE ON THE BRIDGWATER CANAL.
This was the season during which “the Spanish beauty,” Mademoiselle de Montijo, afterwards Empress of the French, shone meteor-like in London Society, and divided the honours with Narvaez, “an ugly, little fat man, with a vile expression of countenance,” according to Lord Malmesbury, and who, after being Prime Minister of Spain, and having headed many pronunciamientos, uttered one famous bon mot on his deathbed. When he was asked by the priest to forgive his enemies, he answered, “I have none, as I always got rid of them.”[42]
On the 9th of July, however, the most remarkable event of the season took place. It was the gorgeous ball given at Guildhall by the Lord Mayor and Corporation of the City of London to celebrate the success of the Great Exhibition. That success was now assured. The weekly takings at the gates had never been less than £10,298. In one week they had amounted to £22,189, and already Prince Albert was discussing, with his confidential advisers, what they should do with the large surplus which they were certain they would have in hand. The crowning triumph of the undertaking was therefore celebrated by the City magnates with more than their usual display of lavish magnificence. The Queen and Prince Albert accepted invitations, and when they started in their State carriage from Buckingham Palace, they drove through dense crowds of people, amidst shouts of congratulations delivered in all sorts of tongues. Nay, when they left the Guildhall on the morning of the 10th of July, at daybreak, they were amazed to find loyal crowds still waiting to cheer them, with no diminution of enthusiasm as they drove home. “A million of people,” writes the Prince to Baron Stockmar on the 14th of July, “remained till three in the morning in the streets, and were full of enthusiasm towards us.” He says, also, that the ball passed off “brilliantly,”[43] but with this must be read, as a mild corrective, the description given by Lord Malmesbury in his Diary, which is as follows:—“July 10th.—Went in the evening to Madame Van de Weyer’s. I hear the ball to the Queen at the Guildhall was extremely amusing. People very ridiculous. The ladies passed her at a run, never curtseying, and then returned to stare at her. Some of the gentlemen passed with their arms round the ladies’ waists, others holding them by the hand at arm’s length, as if they were going to dance a minuet. One man kissed his hand to the Queen as he went by, which set her Majesty off in a fit of laughter.” The ball, however, marked the beginning of the end of this splendid season. “To-night,” writes Prince Albert to Baron Stockmar in the letter just alluded to, “we have our last ball. The day after to-morrow I come back here to dine with the Agricultural Society.... On the 18th we return to Osborne for good.” It was not, however, till the 28th of July that the Court removed to Osborne, and on the 18th they visited the Crystal Palace once more. This visit the Queen describes in a letter to Stockmar, in which she says:—“The immense number of manufacturers with whom we have spoken have gone away delighted. The thousands who are at the Crystal Palace when we are leaving are all so loyal and so gratified, many never having seen us before. All this will be of a use not to be described. It identifies us with the people, and gives them an additional cause for loyalty and attachment.”
On the 27th of August the Queen, Prince Albert, and their family left Osborne for Balmoral, which had now been purchased by the Prince from its owner. On the journey northwards they were received at Peterborough by the venerable Bishop of that see, who had been her Majesty’s tutor, and a touching interview took place between the Queen and her old preceptor. At Boston and Doncaster loyal addresses were presented, the party passing the night at the Angel Inn, Doncaster, much to the delight of the inhabitants of that town. On the 28th they reached Edinburgh, where they occupied the State apartments at Holyrood, and drove through the town in the evening. Next day they arrived at Balmoral, where they remained till the 7th of October. During this holiday the Queen and her husband devoted themselves to the rural occupations that always while away the autumn in the Highlands—the Queen walking, driving, riding, sketching, and visiting the cottages of the poor people in her neighbourhood, with whom she had become an especial favourite—the Prince pursuing his favourite sport of deer-stalking, with even more than his wonted ardour. They also entertained many distinguished guests, among whom may be mentioned Hallam the historian, and Liebig the chemist, who were both charmed with the welcome which they received, and with the easy simplicity of the Queen’s life in her northern home.
On the 8th of October they proceeded to Edinburgh, and met with one or two adventures by the way which brought vividly to the Queen’s mind the hazards of railway travelling. When nearing Forfar the axle of a carriage truck became overheated by friction, and the train was stopped till the truck was uncoupled. At Kirkliston there was an explosion of steam in one of the feeder-pipes of the engine, which delayed the train for an hour, and prevented the Royal party from reaching Edinburgh till eight o’clock at night. Next morning they resumed their journey. At Lancaster, where they stopped for luncheon, the Queen and her children went to view John of Gaunt’s ancient castle, and she was presented with its keys at the gateway of the stronghold—two addresses being read to her, which she herself has said were “very prettily worded.” In the afternoon the Royal party reached Croxteth Park, the seat of the Earl of Sefton. Next morning they started to visit Liverpool, calling on Lord Derby at Knowsley Park on the way.
They would have been welcomed with a splendid reception from the Mayor and Corporation and inhabitants of the great northern seaport, had not the weather broken, and had not torrents of rain poured down without ceasing, veiling everything and everybody in the densest fog. Still the Queen persisted in proceeding with the appointed programme, and, good-naturedly determined to make the best of the unpropitious elements, she visited the eastern and southern districts of the town, inspected the docks by land, viewed them from the Mersey from the deck of the Fairy, and made a return progress through the central and northern streets, which by this time were one sea of mud, where, however, patient and loyal crowds stood waiting to cheer their Sovereign and her family as they passed. “We proceeded,” writes her Majesty, “to the Council Room, where we stood on a throne, and received the addresses of the Mayor and Corporation, to which I read an answer, and then knighted the Mayor, Mr. Bent, a very good man.” What seems to have pleased the Queen most was her visit to St. George’s Hall, a building which she enthusiastically described as “being worthy of ancient Athens.” Here she had to step out on the balcony and stand in the rain bowing her acknowledgments to the vast crowd who stood cheering with undamped ardour in the street below. From Liverpool the Queen and her party, attended by Lady Ellesmere, the Duke of Wellington, Lord and Lady Westminster, and Lord and Lady Wilton, proceeded in a barge along the Bridgwater Canal to Worsley Hall, the seat of Lord Ellesmere. The barge was towed by four horses, and whilst one half was covered in, over that part which was open an awning was stretched. “The boat,” writes the Queen, “glided along in a most noiseless and dream-like manner amidst the cheers of the people who lined the sides of the canal.” At Worsley Hall the Queen met Mr. Nasmyth, the inventor of the steam-hammer, and she seems to have been greatly delighted with his conversation, and fascinated by his drawings and maps explaining his investigations into the geography of the moon. The evening, indeed, was devoted mainly to scientific conversation, this ascetic turn being given to it by the arrival of the news that the first great submarine telegraph cable had been successfully laid between Dover and Calais. Next day, the 10th of October, the weather brightened, and the Royal party visited Manchester, the working people of the town turning out in holiday garb to welcome their Sovereign. “A very intelligent but painfully unhealthy-looking population they all were, men as well as women”—such is the Queen’s description of her hosts. In the Peel Park, Salford, her reception by 82,000 school children of all sects and creeds, and their singing of the National Anthem, appear to have surprised and impressed her profoundly. She also remarked “the beautifully dressed” Mr. Potter, the Mayor of Manchester, “the Mayor and Corporation of which town,” writes the Queen, “had till now been too Radical to have robes.” Mr. Potter was duly knighted for his courtesy and kindness to the Royal party, and the Queen expressed herself as especially delighted with the order and good behaviour of the crowds who followed. She notes, however, in her Diary “that there are no really fine buildings” in Manchester—an observation which serves to mark the progress made by this now splendid city since 1851. Next day the Royal party left Worsley Hall, passed again through Manchester, and through Stockport, Crewe, Stafford, Rugby, Weedon, Wolverton, and Watford, where their carriages were found waiting for them ready to post to Windsor, which they reached at half-past seven in the evening.
On the 14th of October the Queen paid her final visit to the Great Exhibition, and she records the fact that “an organ, accompanied by a fine and powerful brass instrument, the Sommerophone, was being played, and it nearly upset me.” The Sommerophone had a compass of five octaves, and
THE QUEEN’S ARRIVAL IN PEEL PARK: CHILDREN OF THE MANCHESTER AND SALFORD SCHOOLS SINGING THE NATIONAL ANTHEM.