A sight never to be forgotten was the assemblage which, in perfect order, but with exalted feeling, awaited the arrival of the Duke and Duchess in the great avenues which branch out from beneath the vast Dome of the Exhibition-building. We have not in Australia any sense of the historical prestige which attaches itself to a royal opening of the British Parliament. There the stately function is magnificent in its setting and pregnant in its associations, but it is in scarcely any sense of the word a people's function.
Here, by a happy inspiration, the function was made, to the fullest extent, a popular one. Twelve thousand seated in a vast amphitheatre—free people, hopeful people, courageous people—entrusted with the working out of their own destiny, and rejoicing in their liberty, must be impressive by reason of their numbers alone.
But there was not wanting splendour of accessories. The mighty arches of the dome, the spread of the great transepts, the grace of the decorations, were in themselves inspiring; nor was even the sombre shade of the mourning dressing, softened by splashes of purple here and there, out of keeping with the event, typifying, as it did, our reverential regard for the memory of a great Constitutional Ruler, the mightiest Sovereign of the people the world has known.
Broadly speaking, what was represented in the noble assemblage was worth. The worthiest of Australia were there—the men who hold their distinguished positions because they have won them, and because they deserve them. All that is best in politics, in commerce, in industry, in the arts, in the Church, in the school, in the public service of Australia was represented there, and every heart beat high with pride and with hope.
Faint and far off, just about noon there came the sound of the National Anthem, and there was a multitudinous murmur and stir, for here was the actual event coming at last. Then near at hand came the blare of a trumpet heralding the approach of the Imperial envoys, and a moment or two after, with royal punctuality, the Duke and Duchess were on the dais, and the strains of the National Anthem came pealing through the building.
The religious feelings of the occasion were stirred by the singing of the grand "Old Hundredth" to the words of the metrical psalm, commencing "All people that on earth do dwell." This was taken up by thousands of the audience, and its swelling harmonies rose grandly to the dome. Lord Hopetoun, setting aside all complicated questions of religious precedence, himself read several prayers, in his clear, penetrating voice, so pleasantly familiar in Victoria.
When the Duke stepped forward to deliver his speech to the two Houses, a "Hush" ran round the assembly, and everyone listened intently, but the sound of the ever-moving feet on the boarded floors went on. His Royal Highness spoke deliberately, in a clear, strong voice, and the speech he read was distinctly heard by thousands of those present. It was a dignified, a graceful, a kindly, and a congratulatory speech, and it expressed a confident belief that the new powers granted to Australia will only strengthen the affection of the people for the throne and empire.
At the final words, "I now declare the Parliament of the Commonwealth of Australia open," the Duchess touched an electric button which gave the signal outside for the hoisting of the Union Jack on all the State schools of the Colony, and for the sending of a message to England declaring the object of the journey of the Royal envoys accomplished. Trumpets rang out the signal, and outside was heard the booming of cannon in royal salute.
After a brief pause the Duke of Cornwall and York stepped forward once more and read a special cable message of congratulation from His Majesty the King. And now Australia asserted herself. She had been suppressing her feelings to show that she knew how to behave with old-world decorum in the presence of Royalty, but this message, direct from the King himself, was too much—they simply had to cheer. And cheer they did. It was done without order or without concert. It was taken up time after time by sections of the audience; it ran round the aisles, and surged through the galleries; a hearty, spontaneous, irrepressible Australian cheer. It was not down in the programme, but it formed a most effective part of it.
The final part of the ceremony, which altogether occupied about three-quarters of an hour, was the swearing-in of members by the Governor-General. He stood on the dais and read out the oath, whilst the members, Bible in hand, followed him in sections. Then Lord Hopetoun stepped to the front of the dais, and directing the audience by the waving of his hat, called for three cheers for His Royal Highness the Duke, which were given with splendid heartiness, and followed by another round for the Duchess, after which the Duke and Duchess retired and the great ceremony was over.