Postscript.
THE EXHIBITION OPENED.
The first of May, eighteen hundred and fifty-one, was a day to be remembered to all time! On it the nations of the earth combined together to “make history,” in a manner they had never done before;—in one also, which, in its prominent peculiarity, can never be repeated. There may be similar Exhibitions in future periods of the world’s progress, but the first can never be again. Even respecting those which may be imagined to occur, although they may be distinguished by new features and characteristics of their own, and though these may, in some respects, surpass those of the one now opened, they cannot be anticipated with that depth of interest, nor excite by their inauguration those profound emotions, which preceded and distinguished the sublime event which has just taken place. The preceding pages were written in the prospect of that event, and were intended to appear before its occurrence. The author cannot regret, however, that circumstances interfered with the fulfilment of his purpose, since to this he is indebted for the opportunity of adding a supplementary section to his little work, commemorative of the grand and magnificent ceremonial of which he was privileged to be a spectator.
It is not the writer’s intention to attempt to describe the opening of the Exhibition, with all that minuteness of detail in respect to what occurred in the interior of the structure,—or with those stirring delineations of the bustle and excitement, the lines of carriages and congregated crowds, that imparted animation to the scene without,—which have already been furnished by the public prints. He merely wishes to note a few things which were interesting or suggestive to his own mind, and especially such as were felt to be in harmony with the spirit and object of the present volume.
It was his good fortune to obtain admittance into the Palace of Industry, on the memorable morning of the first of May, before the gates were opened to the public. He had traversed it frequently during the previous weeks, and had seen it in various stages of its progress. One morning, in March, he was there so early, that while walking along its galleries he observed that he was the only visitor upon them at that moment. Few of the counters were then erected, hardly any of the articles unpacked;—the wide spaces and vast dimensions of the wonderful structure spread before him in clear and unobstructed perspective;—there was something, too, of solitariness in his position, though multitudes of workmen were occupied below, above, and around him;—the whole scene, from its simple magnitude, was inexpressibly sublime; it stirred within him thoughts and feelings which were not, indeed, “too deep for tears,” but which could only find utterance and relief in their indulgence; while, as he passed on, and for the first time saw the compartments of the different countries, and read the names of the various nations that were preparing to stand, side by side, in peaceful rivalry,—his emotions deepened to an intensity which it was difficult to bear, and which cannot be described! He was in the building, also, for some time, three days before the opening, and could then form some idea of what would be the number and variety of its contents; though so much, even at that late period, remained to be done, that he wondered how it would be possible for the preparations to be finished by the time appointed. As, however, he walked into the transept, when that time had come,—approached the centre,—and looked along the naves stretching to such an extent on either side,—it was not without a feeling of admiration and surprise, mingled with something of solemnity and awe, that he looked on the splendid and gorgeous spectacle that stood revealed in all its completeness!
The mere material scene was sublime when beheld by itself,—empty, and comparatively still; but much more impressive and affecting was it, when filled with its immense multitude of spectators. There was much that was stirring in the sight of the rush and inundation of the crowd, as it kept flowing in, in vast waves, at every opening; and much that was impressive when the noise and murmur of its movements had subsided,—when all had found or had been forced into their places,—and when floor and gallery, and every part that the eye could reach, was seen to be occupied by human beings,—by an assembly larger than any that had ever, in England, been congregated before under one roof,—and by one that had met for an object, and under circumstances, unparalleled in the annals of the world!
Men see in all external events and objects, what the light that is in them reveals. Things are, to us, what we are to them. He that visits foreign countries, brings back according to what he takes. The same sight may be a very different thing to two different persons, in proportion as they may differ in knowledge, in opinion, in taste, in sympathies. The eye of a clown may look on a prospect that in some souls would produce rapture or occasion tears, with hardly more intelligence than that of the ox that he drives before him. The outside of things is open to all; their inner significance is revealed only to those who have an inner eye to read it; and even such significance may be differently interpreted according as the eye is influenced and affected by the degree of intelligence, the tendencies, and the tastes of the inward man to whom it belongs. It is quite possible that some may see nothing in the great Exhibition but an ordinary, though enormous, fancy bazaar; and that others saw nothing in the ceremonial of the opening but a state pageant, court dresses, and an immense crowd of men and women! It is quite possible, too, that some of the incidents of the day, which appeared to us touching in themselves, or pregnant with meaning, were indebted for this to the capricious activity of our own fancy, as well as to their inherent beauty or significance. But, however this may have been, there certainly were some things that we felt to be deeply interesting as they occurred, and remarkably suggestive as illustrating the character and tendencies of the event. We shall not attempt to recall all that struck us at the time; but a few words may not be amiss on what immediately bore, or appeared to us to bear, on some of the topics of this book.
On getting a sight of the catalogue of the Exhibition,—which we did before entering the interior of the building,—we were gratified to find on the cover and the title-page:
“The earth is the Lord’s, and all that therein is;
The compass of the world, and they that dwell therein.”