THE VANDYKE ROOM, WINDSOR CASTLE.
desire to recognise the Confederate Government in the United States, were more difficult to meet. These speeches compromised the policy of strict neutrality which had been accepted by the Cabinet, and on that account they had caused considerable annoyance to the Queen. The absence of legislative proposals from the Royal Speech naturally gave Lord Derby a cue for some gibes, which, however, did not in the least affect Lord Palmerston’s peace of mind. The position of the Tories at this time was frankly avowed by Mr. Disraeli in a conversation with Count Vitzthum just before Parliament met. “I have not, indeed,” said Mr. Disraeli, “yet settled with my friends our plans for the coming Parliamentary campaign; but I think I can tell you at once that there will be no serious fighting. Something, of course, may turn up, but at present there seems to be nothing that could force us to quit our waiting attitude. We shall not form a weak Ministry a third time. We can wait, and shall upset nothing. If we take the helm again, we shall do so with the prospect of a longer and safer tenure. Whether this will happen or not before Lord Palmerston dies I don’t know; for the present, at any rate, the old man need fear no serious attack from us.” The change in strategy here is obvious. In 1862 the policy of the Opposition was adopted in deference to the general feeling that the Queen should, during the first days of her widowhood, be spared the anxiety of party conflicts, which possibly involved Ministerial crises. In 1863 the Tories adopted the policy of patriotically supporting Lord Palmerston’s Ministry simply because they were themselves unable to form a strong Cabinet, and Mr. Disraeli had determined that they must not “form a weak Ministry a third time.”[148]
But an event was approaching which diverted the minds of the nation from politics, namely, the marriage of the Prince of Wales, which it was now known would take place before Easter. The object of one of the first proposals laid before Parliament was to make an adequate provision for the future establishment of the Heir-Apparent. A message from the Queen to both Houses on the subject evoked a loyal congratulatory Address, and Palmerston himself moved the formal resolutions called for by the occasion in the House of Commons. He said that the Government considered that £100,000 a year would be a fair income to allow the Heir-Apparent, and, as he derived £60,000 a year from the revenues of the Duchy of Cornwall, the House would be asked to vote only £40,000 a year out of the Consolidated Fund. For the Princess of Wales, it was proposed that a separate allowance of £10,000 a year should be sanctioned, and, further, that in the event of her surviving her husband, a jointure of £30,000 should be secured to her. No objection could be fairly made to an arrangement which was at once moderate and business-like. Indeed, the Radicals were agreeably surprised to find that Parliament was not called on to vote anything approaching the enormous sum which was sanctioned by the precedent of 1795.[149] As for the domestic arrangements relating to the marriage, they were proceeding apace, and the nation was pleased to know that the Queen was able to participate in them with ever-quickening interest.
It has been said already that during the visit of the Queen to Brussels in the autumn of 1862, the preliminaries of this marriage had been arranged, and in November the Princess Alexandra had paid a brief visit to the Queen at Osborne, where her winsome manners charmed all hearts. In February, 1863, the King of Denmark and his subjects alike testified their approval of her marriage by bestowing on her many valuable gifts. On the 26th the Princess left Copenhagen with the good wishes of all classes sounding in her ears. The day was kept as a public holiday, and the crowded streets from the palace to the railway station were gay with festal flags and garlands. From the windows of the houses the Princess, who was escorted by her eldest brother, Prince Frederick, was pelted with bouquets of flowers, and at the station she was met by all the high functionaries of State, who took leave of her in formal farewell addresses for which her father, Prince Christian of Sleswig-Holstein-Glücksburg, Heir-Presumptive to the Danish throne, returned thanks. The Royal party travelling by Kiel, Hamburg, Hanover, and Coblentz, reached Brussels on the 2nd of March, where they were received by the Duchess of Brabant, the Count de Flandres, and the English and Danish Ambassadors. On the 5th they left for Antwerp, where they embarked on board the Victoria and Albert yacht and sailed for Flushing, where Rear-Admiral Smart’s squadron of escort was waiting for them. At eight in the evening the Royal yacht, which had passed Flushing, was sighted by the two chief vessels of the escort. Royal salutes from each awoke the echoes of the deep, yards were manned, and rockets went hissing up into the air, falling round the Royal yacht in a sparkling shower of stars. Without stopping for a moment, the bridal party and their convoy sped on through the darkness, gliding over the glassy surface of what might have been a summer sea. Before midnight the Victoria and Albert had anchored in Margate Roads. At eight o’clock in the morning of the 6th the Revenge and the Warrior were dressed with flags, and again a royal salute thundered over the waves. Admiral Smart, by hurrying at racing speed across the North Sea, had earned the gratitude of the Princess and her companions, for soon after the bridal party entered English waters the German Ocean was swept by south-westerly gales. At four o’clock in the afternoon the squadron was sighted from Sheerness, whereupon the ships at the Nore manned their yards and saluted. Bonfires blazed along the beach. The word “Welcome” in letters ten feet high gleamed in the radiance of blue lights, and a long line of torches glimmered along the sea-wall. Next morning the Royal yacht, escorted by the Warrior, steamed up the Thames, arriving at Gravesend at noon. Here the Prince of Wales met his bride, and they landed amidst Royal salutes from the warships. The Mayoress presented the Princess with a bouquet. The Mayor and municipal dignitaries presented loyal addresses, but the prettiest part of the ceremony was the procession from the landing-place to the Royal carriage. A band of young ladies dressed in white—wearing red burnous cloaks and straw hats decked with wreaths of oak-leaves—tripped gaily along in advance of the Princess, strewing her path with flowers. At the railway station the party was greeted by crowds whose cheers betokened their desire to welcome the “Sea-King’s daughter.” When the Royal train reached London it stopped at the Bricklayers’ Arms Station, which was gay with crimson drapery, and here a boudoir and ante-chamber for the travellers had been fitted up. Among the brilliant crowd of about 700 privileged persons who were admitted to the station were the Duke of Cambridge, the Prince of Prussia, the Duke of Saxe-Coburg, the Count de Flandres, Sir George Grey, the Lord Mayor and Sheriffs of London, Sir Richard Mayne, Chief Commissioner of Police, Mr. Layard, and others. Here the Royal party partook of luncheon, received some congratulatory addresses, and left the station at five minutes past two o’clock.
There was some fear lest the entry of the Princess into the capital would not be an unalloyed triumph. The officials of the Court had contrived to irritate the populace by several of their arrangements. The people were at first annoyed because they had been told the procession was to pass through the metropolis at a smart trot. Then the municipal dignitaries were greatly affronted because in the original plan they were to have no part in the procession. The reason given for this prohibition was that the Lord Mayor would necessarily have headed the pageant, but inasmuch as his unwieldy State coach must proceed at walking pace, his presence would have prevented the Royal carriages passing along at high speed. But when the Corporation met and expressed their anger at this interference with their prerogative, the Court officials yielded, and so it was arranged that the Lord Mayor and his train should head the procession as far as Temple Bar. But the moment the Princess appeared, her grace, her beauty, her charming simplicity of manners, carried all hearts by storm, and London was quite delirious with joyful excitement when she came on the scene. As the cortège left the station it was headed by the Lord Mayor and Sheriffs, and by the High Bailiff of Southwark, escorted by Horse Guards. Loyal crowds lined the route, which was decked with flags and triumphal arches. The officials of Southwark left the procession at London Bridge, which had been decorated in the most lavish manner by the Corporation. Venetian masts, surmounted by the Danish arms, medallions of the Danish Kings, tripods of incense, and banners innumerable were seen on all sides. Near Fishmongers’ Hall, a huge triumphal arch, seventy feet high, spanned the roadway. It was a gorgeous but somewhat confused mass of allegory and symbolism, bearing statues of Saxo Grammaticus, Holberg, Thorwaldsen, and Juel; a group of horses in plaster crowning the whole structure. As for the centrepiece, it was a fearful and wonderful work of art, blazoned with gold and flaunting colours. Britannia, surrounded by all the Pagan gods and goddesses; a portrait of the Queen in widow’s weeds; banners and heraldic devices and armorial escutcheons, all combined to make this structure unforgettable. In the City, it must be allowed, the local authorities rivalled the Court officials in their capacity for mismanagement. They refused all offers of assistance from the Horse Guards and the Home Office. Neither the Duke of Cambridge’s Cavalry nor Sir Richard Mayne’s Police were permitted to keep the crowds in order—that duty being entrusted to the City Police, the Honourable Artillery Company, and some Volunteers. Hence the streets were blocked up, and, according to Lord Malmesbury,[150] “if it had not been for the good temper of the people some terrible catastrophe must have occurred.” At the Mansion House a brilliant group of ladies, of whom the Lady Mayoress was the central figure, was waiting in the portico to welcome the Princess. Here the procession paused, and a bouquet was presented to her Royal Highness. But whilst this ceremony was going on, the authorities lost control of the crowd, and dense masses began to press on the Royal carriages with such persistency, that the Danish dignitaries in the train of the Princess were thrown into a panic, which was, however, allayed by the presence of mind of the Prince of Wales. The procession then drove on to Temple Bar, which was transformed into a grand triumphal arch, crowned with a tent of cloth of gold. At the corners smoking tripods sent up clouds of incense. Here the Civic dignitaries left the cortège, which was then headed by the High Steward of Westminster and other officials, who fell out at Hyde Park.
ENTRY OF THE PRINCESS ALEXANDRA INTO LONDON: THE PROCESSION PASSING TEMPLE BAR.
Clubland was in gala array, and the Princess seemed quite interested when Marlborough House was pointed out to her by the Prince as her future home. On the balcony at Cambridge House in Piccadilly Lord and Lady Palmerston were the most conspicuous figures in a group of aristocratic sightseers, and were honoured with gracious salutes from the Royal party. But of all the houses in Piccadilly that of Lord Willoughby d’Eresby was the most florid in its decoration. It was decked with evergreens, flags of all nations, and numberless banners. The wall space under the drawing-room windows was draped with white and gold, and with blue hangings studded with golden stars. “We went,” writes Lord Malmesbury, in his Diary, “to Lord Willoughby’s house at a quarter before one to see the entry of the Princess. The houses along Piccadilly were decorated, with few exceptions, but I saw nothing really pretty except Lord Willoughby’s and Lord Cadogan’s. There were a good many people in the drawing-room. It was the coldest day we have had for a long time, no sun, with occasional showers, and we were half frozen standing on the balconies. The Duke of Cambridge rode by two or three times with his staff, and was greatly cheered. Lord Ranelagh passed at the head of his brigade of Volunteers. Then appeared the Royal carriages; and I was never more surprised or disappointed. The first five contained the suite and brothers and sisters of the Princess Alexandra; the carriages looked old and shabby, and the horses very poor, with no trappings, not even rosettes, and no outriders. In short, the shabbiness of the whole cortège was beyond anything one could imagine, everybody asking ‘Where is the Master of the Horse?’ The Princess kept bowing right and left very gracefully. The moment the procession had passed the crowds dispersed, but there were universal remarks and compliments on the Princess’s beauty.”[151] Through a double line of seventeen thousand Volunteers the procession drove to Paddington Station, and there the Royal Party took the train for Slough, where they were received by the Princes of Prussia and Hesse, and Princes Arthur and Leopold. Night was now closing in, and rain fell fast. To add to the discomforts of the travellers, the horses of the first carriage became restive. The leaders of the second turned right round on the wheelers, and great confusion prevailed. All the harness became entangled. “Altogether,” writes Lord Malmesbury, “everything done by the Court authorities was bad.” It was past ten o’clock when Eton was reached, the boys of the College cheering the Princess vociferously, after which the cortège was met and welcomed at the triumphal arch at Windsor by the municipal authorities. The shouts of the people and the loyal and royal town rang in the ears of the Princess as she drove into the Castle. Here she was received by the Queen and the Princesses Louise and Beatrice, who had been waiting anxiously for her coming.