But the Afghan disasters were not fully known in England for months to come. In the interval, the christening of the Prince of Wales was celebrated with much splendour in St. George's Chapel, Windsor, on the 25th of January. The King of Prussia came over to England to officiate in person as one of the Prince's godfathers. The others were the child's two grand-uncles, the Duke of Cambridge and Prince Ferdinand of Saxe-Coburg, uncle of the Queen and of Prince Albert, and father of the King Consort of Portugal and the Duchesse de Nemours. The godmothers were the Duchess of Kent, proxy for the Duchess of Saxe-Coburg, Prince Albert's stepmother; the Duchess of Cambridge, proxy for the child's great-grandmother, the Duchess of Saxe-Gotha; and the Princess Augusta of Cambridge, proxy for the Princess Sophia of England.
The ambassadors and foreign ministers, the Cabinet ministers with their wives in full dress, the Knights of the Garter in their mantles and collars, the Archbishops of Canterbury and York, the Bishops of London, Winchester, Oxford, and Norwich assembled in the Waterloo Gallery; the officers and the ladies of the Household awaited the Queen in the corridor. At noon, certain officers of the Household attended the King of Prussia, who was joined by the other sponsors at the head of the grand staircase, to the chapel.
The Queen's procession included the Duke of Wellington, bearing the Sword of State between the Lord Chamberlain, the Earl De la Warr, and the Lord Steward, the Earl of Liverpool, the three walking before her Majesty and Prince Albert, who were supported by their lords-in-waiting, and followed by the Duke of Sussex, Prince George of Cambridge, Prince Edward of Saxe-Weimar, Prince Augustus and Prince Leopold of Saxe-Coburg, sons of Prince Ferdinand and cousins of the Queen and Prince Albert.
When the sponsors had taken their places, and the other company were seated near the altar, the Lord Chamberlain, accompanied by the Groom of the Stall to Prince Albert, proceeded to the Chapter-house, and conducted in the infant Prince of Wales, attended by the lord and groom in waiting. The Duchess of Buccleugh, the Mistress of the Robes, took the infant from the nurse, and put him in the Archbishop's arms. The child was named "Albert" for his father, and "Edward" for his maternal grandfather, the Duke of Kent. The baby, on the authority of The Times, "behaved with princely decorum." After the ceremony, he was reconducted to the Chapter-house by the Lord Chamberlain. By Prince Albert's desire "The Hallelujah Chorus," which has never been given in England without the audience rising simultaneously, was played at the close of the service.
The Queen afterwards held a Chapter of the Order of the Garter, at which the King of Prussia, "as a lineal descendant of George I.," was elected a Knight Companion, the Queen buckling the garter round his knee. There was luncheon in the White Breakfast-room, and in the evening there was a banquet in St. George's Hall. The table reached from one end of the hall to the other, and was covered with gold plate. Lady Bloomfield, who was present, describes an immense gold vessel—more like a bath than anything else, capable of containing thirty dozens of wine. It was filled with mulled claret, to the amazement of the Prussians. Four toasts were drunk—that to his Royal Highness the Prince of Wales taking precedence; toasts to his Majesty the King of Prussia, the Queen and Prince Albert followed. A grand musical performance in the Waterloo Gallery wound up the festivities of the day.
The presence of the King of Prussia added additional dignity to the proceedings. He was a great ally whose visit on the occasion was a becoming compliment. Besides, his personal character was then regarded as full of promise, and excited much interest. His attainments and accomplishments, which were really remarkable, won lively admiration. His warm regard for a man like Baron Bunsen seemed to afford the best augury for the liberality of his sentiments. As yet the danger of impracticability, discouragement, confusion, and paralysis of all that had been hoped for, was but faintly indicated in the dreaminess and fancifulness of his nature.
Lady Bloomfield describes the King as of middle size, rather fat, with an excellent countenance and little hair. The Queen met him on the grand staircase, kissed him twice, and made him two low curtseys. Her Majesty says in her Journal: "He was in common morning costume, and complained much of appearing so before me…. He is entertaining, agreeable, and witty, tells a thing so pleasantly, and is full of amusing anecdotes."
Madame Bunsen, who was privileged to see a good deal of the gay doings during the King of Prussia's visit, has handed down her experience. "28th January, 1842, came by railway to Windsor, and found that in the York Tower a comfortable set of rooms were awaiting us. The upper housemaid gave us tea, and bread and butter—very refreshing; when dressed we went together to the corridor, soon met Lord De la Warr, the Duchess of Buccleugh, and Lord and Lady Westmoreland—the former showed us where to go—that is, to walk through the corridor (a fairy scene—lights, pictures, moving figures of courtiers unknown), the apartments which we passed through one after another till we reached the magnificent ball-room where the guests were assembled to await the Queen's appearance. Among these guests stood our King himself, punctual to quarter-past seven o'clock; soon came Prince Albert, to whom Lord De la Warr named me, when he spoke to me of Rome. We had not been there long before two gentlemen walking in by the same door by which we had entered, and then turning and making profound bows towards the open door, showed that the Queen was coming. She approached me directly and said, with a gracious smile, 'I am very much pleased to see you,' then passed on, and after speaking a few moments to the King took his arm and moved on, 'God save the Queen' having begun to sound from the Waterloo Gallery, where the Queen has always dined since the King has been with her. Lord Haddington led me to dinner, and one of the King's suite sat on the other side. The scene was one of fairy tales, of undescribed magnificence, the proportions of the hall, the mass of light in suspension, the gold plate, and the table glittering with a thousand lights in branches of a proper height not to meet the eye. The King's health was drunk, then the Queen's, and then the Queen went out, followed by all her ladies. During the half-hour or less that elapsed before Prince Albert and the King followed the Queen, she did not sit, but went round to speak to the different ladies. She asked after my children, and gave me an opportunity of thanking her for the gracious permission to behold her Majesty so soon after my arrival. The Duchess of Kent also spoke to me, and I was very glad of the notice of Lady Lyttelton, who is very charming. As soon as the King came the Queen went into the ball-room and made the King dance a quadrille with her, which he did with all suitable grace and dignity, though he has long ceased to dance. At half-past eleven, after the Queen had retired, I set out on my travels to my bed-chamber. I might have looked and wandered about some miles before I had found my door of exit, but was helped by an old gentleman, I believe Lord Albemarle."
The same thoughtful observer was present when the King of Prussia saw the Queen open Parliament. "February, 1842, Thursday. The opening of the Parliament was the thing from which I expected most, and I was not disappointed; the throngs in the streets, in the windows, in every place people could stand upon, all looking so pleased; the splendid Horse Guards, the Grenadiers of the Guard—of whom might be said as the King said on another occasion—'An appearance so fine, you know not how to believe it true;' the Yeomen of the Body Guard; then in the House of Lords, the Peers in their robes, the beautifully-dressed ladies with very many beautiful faces; lastly, the procession of the Queen's entry and herself, looking worthy and fit to be the converging-point of so many rays of grandeur. It is self-evident that she is not tall, but were she ever so tall, she could not have more grace and dignity, a head better set, a throat better arching; and one advantage there is in her looks when she casts a glance, being of necessity cast up and not down, that the effect of the eyes is not lost, and they have an effect both bright and pleasing. The composure with which she filled the throne while awaiting the Commons, I much admired—it was a test, no fidget, no apathy. Then her voice and enunciation cannot be more perfect. In short it could not be said that she did well, but that she was the Queen—she was, and felt herself to be, the descendant of her ancestors. Stuffed in by her Majesty's mace-bearers, and peeping over their shoulders, I was enabled to struggle down the emotions I felt, at thinking what mighty pages in the world's history were condensed in the words so impressively uttered by that soft and feminine voice. Peace and war—the fate of millions—relations and exertions of power felt to the extremities of the globe! Alterations of corn-laws, birth of a future sovereign, with what should it close, but the heartfelt aspiration, God bless her and guide her for her sake, and the sake of all."
Lady Bloomfield, who was also present, mentions that when the Queen had finished speaking and descended from the throne, she turned to the King of Prussia and made him a low curtsey. The same eye-witness refers to one of the "beautiful faces" which Madame Bunsen remarked; it was that of one of the loveliest and most accomplished women of her time: "Miss Stewart (afterwards Marchioness of Waterford) was there, looking strikingly handsome. She wore a turquoise, blue velvet which was very becoming, and she was like one of the Madonnas she is so fond of painting."