The last day at Cologne ended in another great concert, conducted by Meyerbeer, for which he had composed a cantata in honour of the Queen. Jenny Lind sang in the concert. It was her Majesty's first opportunity of hearing the great singer, who, of all her sister singers, has most identified herself with England, and from her noble, womanly character and domestic virtues, endeared herself to English hearts.
The tutelary genius of the river which is the Germans' watchword was not able to procure the Queen her weather for her sail on its green waters. Rain fell or threatened for both of the days. Not even the presence of three queens—of England, Prussia, and Belgium—two kings, a prince consort, an archduke, and a future emperor and empress, could propitiate the adverse barometer, or change the sulky face of the sky. Between showers the Queen had a glimpse of the romantic scenery, and perhaps Ehrenbreitstein was most in character when the smoke from the firing of twenty thousand troops "brought home to the imagination the din and lurid splendours of a battle."
The halt was made at Schlossenfels, which included among its distinguished guests Humboldt and Prince Metternich. Next day the King and Queen of Prussia took leave of their visitors, still under heavy rain. The weather cleared afterwards for a time, however, and beautiful Bingen, with the rest of the Rhenish country, was seen in sunshine. The only inconvenience remaining was the thunder of cannons and rattle of muskets which every loyal village kept up.
At Mayence the Queen was received by the Governor, Prince William of Prussia, and the Austrian commander, while the Prussian and Austrian troops, with their bands, gave a torchlight serenade before the hotel windows. On the rest-day which Sunday secured, the Queen saw the good nurse who had brought the royal pair into the world. Her Majesty had also her first introduction to one of her future sons-in-law—an unforeseen kinsman then—Prince Louis of Hesse, whom she noticed as "a very fine boy of eight, nice, and full of intelligence."
There were still long leagues to drive, posting, before Coburg could be reached, and the party started from Mayence in two travelling carriages as early as seven o'clock next morning. They went by Frankfort to Aschaffenburg, where they were met by Bavarian troops and a representative of the King on their entrance into Bavaria. Through woodland scenery, and fields full of the stir of harvest, where a queenly woman did not relish the spectacle of her sister-women treated as beasts of burden, the travellers journeyed to Wurzburg. There Prince Luitpold of Bavaria met and welcomed them to a magnificent palace, where the luggage, which ought to have preceded the wearied travellers, was not forthcoming. Another long day's driving, beginning at a little after six in the morning, would bring the party to Coburg. By one o'clock they were at the old prince- bishop's stately town of Bamberg. In the course of the afternoon the Queen had changed horses for the last time in Franconia. "I began," she wrote, "to feel greatly moved, agitated indeed, in coming near the Coburg frontier. At length we saw flags and people drawn up in lines, and in a few minutes more were welcomed by Ernest (the Duke of Coburg) in full uniform…. We got into an open carriage of Ernest's with six horses, Ernest sitting opposite to us."
The rest of the scene was very German, quaintly picturesque and warm- hearted. "The good people were all dressed in their best, the women in pointed caps, with many petticoats, and the men in leather breeches. Many girls were there with wreaths of flowers." A triumphal arch, a Vice-Land-Director, to whose words of greeting the Queen replied, his fellow-officials on either side, the people welcoming their prince and his queen in "a really hearty and friendly way."
The couple drove to what had been the pretty little country house of their common grandmother, the late Dowager-Duchess of Coburg, and found King Leopold and Queen Louise awaiting them there. He also was an honoured son of Coburg, pleased to be present on such a proud day for the little State. He and his queen took their places beside Queen Victoria and Prince Albert—Ernest Duke of Coburg mounting on horseback and riding beside the carriage as its chief escort. In this order the procession, "which looked extremely pretty," was formed. At the entrance to the town there was another triumphal arch, beneath which the Burgomaster addressed the royal couple. "On the other side stood a number of young girls dressed in white, with green wreaths and scarfs, who presented us with bouquets and verses."
Oh! what anxious, exciting, girlish rehearsals must have been gone through beforehand.
"I cannot say how much I felt moved on entering this dear old place, and with difficulty I restrained my emotion. The beautifully- ornamented town, all bright with wreaths and flowers, the numbers of good affectionate people, the many recollections connected with the place—all was so affecting. In the Platz, where the Rathhaus and Rigierungshaus are, which are fine and curious old houses, the clergy were assembled, and Ober-Superintendent Genzler addressed us very kindly—a very young-looking man for his age, for he married mamma to my father, and christened and confirmed Albert and Ernest." Neither was the motherly presence of her whose marriage vow the Ober- Superintendent had blessed, who had done so much to contribute to the triumph of this day, wanting to its complete realization of all that such a day should have been. The Duchess of Kent was already on a visit to her nephew, standing on the old threshold—once so well known to her—ready to help to welcome her daughter, prepared to show her the home and cherished haunts of her mother's youth. As the carriage drew up, young girls threw wreaths into it. Beside the Duchess of Kent were the Duchess and Dowager-Duchess of Coburg, Prince Albert's sister-in-law and stepmother. The staircase was full of cousins. "It was an affecting but exquisite moment, which I shall never forget," declared the Queen.
But in the middle of the gratification of the son of the house who thus brought his true wife under its roof-tree, and of his satisfaction of being with her there, the faithful hearts did not forget the late sovereign and house-father who had hoped so eagerly to welcome them to the ancestral home. They were there, but his place was filled by another. At Coburg and at Rosenau, which had been one of the old Duke's favourite resorts, his memory haunted his children. "Every sound, every view, every step we take makes us think of him and feel an indescribable hopeless longing for him."