The Sun.
London, England, 1863-03-11 00:00:00

THE MARRIAGE OF THE PRINCE OF

WALES.

Yesterday the marriage ceremony in which the
English nation feels so deep an interest was per-
formed with fitting pomp and solemnity at Wind-

THE CHOIR OF ST. GEORGE'S CHAPEL.
It is not much changed from what we are accus-
tomed to see it every day—the oaken canopies and
dusty banners of the Knights of the Garter (that
greatest and highest of all European honours) are
left undisturbed as the time-discoloured scutcheons
in the seats below, which tell of every knight and
chief who has borne the badge, from the long past
days of its earliest founder. What strange vicissi-
tudes time and change these quaint old stalls
record. What tales without words are told when
we see near the pale silver embroidered banner of
our gracious S ivereign the flag of the Emperor
Napoleon, hanging over the stall once occupied by
Louis Philippe, occupied before him by Louis XIII.
of Bourbon, before him again by the heads of the
warlike house of Montmorenci, the Constables of
France, and, before all, by the Talbots and Fal-
staffes and other stalwart knights who were the
first governors of Calais. Even at such a time,
and before such a happy event as was then im-
pending, it was impossible altogether to suppress
the reflections which these old coats of arms,
suggested. Whole families, of dynasties whose
style and titles are here so gaudily emblazoned, have
passed away like a tale that is told, yet with our-
selves each country has only knit strongly and more
strongly the bond of love and kindly feeling between
the Sovereign and the people, and made them
look forward, as to a holyday and happiness, to
anything which gives joy to her or hers. Up
the centre of the Chapel is a rich carpet worked
at the borders with the Prince's plume and motto,
with his own and his fair bride's monogram em-
bossed between. Near the altar is a raised dais
approached by three broad steps and giving an
ample platform for the accommodation of the bridal
party and their royal relatives on either side, It is
quite covered with garter-blue velvet cloth, on
which is worked the old heraldic Tudor rose, en-
circled by the motto of the Order of the Garter.
On bath sides, away from the space the bride and
bridegroom will occupy, are crimson and gold
seats with fringes and tassels of bullion for the
members of the English and Danish Royal families.
The old oaken Communion-rails have been removed
and their place is supplied with a low gilt railing to
form a larger enclosure sufficient to accommodate
the many prelates who officiate at the day's great
ceremony. On the left of the altar the carved oak
screen work has been removed, and is carefully piled
away in the quaint old Chantry Chapel of the muni-
ficent builder of the whole structure, Sir Reginald
Bray. In place of the screen are seats capable
of accommodating some 30 guests of the diplomatic
corps and their suites, only a few of whom can see
well at all, so carefully divided and subdivided is
every inch of space that commands any glance into
the interior. Opposite this, on the right, a simi-
lar screen has been removed, and a high wide
series of draped benches substituted, reaching far
back into the north aisle--b 0 that, like the row
which faces it, not many of the occupants of the
backs seats can see much. This is reserved exclu-
sively for the few invited guests and friends of the
young bride and bridegroom—all except one place
(the first and best, and nearest to the altar), which
is for Mr. Frith, who paints the great picture of the
marriage for the Queen, and for the copyright of
which a higher sum has been given already. than
has ever yet been offered for any picture. Above
the altar, on the left, jutting out from the wall, is
the Royal pew, covered with quaint old carving, and
still more curious heraldic emblazonments, built in
the days of Henry VII., when kings were expected
to be present at the " low" or kneeling mass every
morning. Part of the panelling is removed from
the front, and its antique window sills are draped
with massive folds of purple velvet, fringed richly
and deeply with bullion lace. This is for her Ma-
jesty, and the floor of the pew has been heightened
inside, so that the window sills reach no higher than
about a foot from the floor, that her Majesty might
see andbe seen as she was throughout the ceremony.
These alterations, though they take long to tell, were
but temporary, and effected scarcely any change in
the aspect of the interior. The only permanent al-
teration was an improvement. Sir Benjamin West's
stained glass window of the Resurrection, with its
piles of smoky clouds, so utterly at variance with
the perpendicular style of architecture around, has
been removed for ever, and its place more worthily
occupied by a magnificent memorial window, put up
by the Dean and Chapter in honour of the late
much-loved Prince Consort. The window is from
Gilbert Scott's design, and Messrs. Clayton and Bell
have in the execution done full justice to it, which
is high praise in a few words. The upper part re-
presents Our Saviour in His glory. The middle
portion His resurrection, the lower His suffering
ministry on earth. Beneath all a small series of
compartments illustrates the chief features in the
life of the late Prince. Along the whole extent of
the wall behind the altar is hereafter to rise areredos
of marble and clouded alabaster. But only the centre
portion is fixed now, the spaces to be occupied on
either side being covered with crimson velvet dra-
pery. The altar was arrayed with its gold commu-
nion plate in massive rows, the seats in the Knights'
stalls and the spaces in front were covered with purple
velvet, each seat bearing on a large card the name
and rank of its occupant. Beyond these changes
there was not much to note in the Choir differing
from its usual quiet, dim, religious aspect, as be-
comes the historical chapel of the oldest kingly seat
of the oldest dynasty in Europe. At half-past 10
the Dean of Christ Church is the first to enter the
Choir, but apparently only to look about him, for he
does not then venture on a seat, all of which still
remain only occupied by their glistening copies of
the programme, bound in white silk and stamped
with gold. A gorgeous group of heralds are the
next corners, Lancaster and Windsor, Norroy and
Clarencieux, walking stiffly in their magnificent
but most uncomfortable tabards, which, as they can
only be worn when the Sovereign is present at
State occasions, must have been laid by till now for
a very long time. They have a curious aspect as
they stalk about, in these ungainly habits, looking
for all the world as if some of the banners and coats
of arms of the old knights around had been endowed
with life and were shuffling about the floor. To
them soon come a number of Gentlemen Ushers,
stiff with bullion and edged about with gold, who
assemble round Mr. Spencer Ponsonby, receive their
last instructions, and study a carte du pays of the
Choir, showing them their own places and, what is
still more important, everybody else's. Now and
then a Guardsman in full uniform, a Silver Stick,
or Gentleman-at-Arms, enters for a moment to look
about him, but no one stays, though it is half-past
10, and the Nave, as can be heard from the hum
of conversation, must be nearly full or filling fast.
The Queen's private band begin to muster in their
gallery, from which immediately issue sounds of
instruments being tuned and tuned, and otherwise
exasperated into a succession of the most doleful
discords, varied occasionally by a tap on the drum,
as if the performances were about to commence
forthwith. Madams Goldschmidt, formerly
Jenny Lind, looks into the Choir for a
single minute, and then ascends to her place
among the other ladies who are
to sing the hymn
of praise on this great day. Every one comes to
look into the Choir, but no one stops, though it is
late. At last the Marchioness of Ailesbury
enters,
and seats herself in a stall of a Knight of the Garter,
next to that over which her husband's banner floats.
She is in court costume, but wearing no train, and
with a magnificent circlet of diamonds round her
head. As if they had been waiting for this exam-
ple to be set, and for some one to break te stately-
solitude of the shrine, many ladies follow h
the Mar
chioness quickly—Lady Edward Seymour and Lady
De Ros, and the Countesses A. and M. Dannesch-
jold and Viscountess Torrington. Mr. Frith seats
himself next to the Countess of Caithness, and the
Countess of Derby, like the Marchioness of Ailes-

bury, dressed in blue, seats herself near where the
banner of her noble husband as Knight of the Gar-
ter droops over his vacant stall, A few minutes
more the distinguished visitors begin to Lome in
fast, and the gorgeous ushers have enough to do.

The Marchioness of Ely, Countess Cowley, the
Countess of Spencer, the Viscountess Comber-
mei e, the Duchess of St. Alban'e, the Mar-
-1 chioness of Westminster, the Countess Gleichen,
Viscountess :Jocelyn, the Duchess of Athole, the
Countess of Gainsborough, the Countess of Maccles•
field, the Countess of Desert, the Marchioness of
Cat ruarthen, the Countess Ducie, Lady Camoys,
the Countess of Bessborough, Viscountess Bury,
and the wife of the Deputy-Chamberlain, Vis-
countess Castlerosse, whose superb toilette pro-
vokes admiration even in that assemblage of rank
and wealth. All are in fall court dress, with
the exception that they wear no trains, and
all, without exception, are dressed in velvet or
satin either of blue, mauve, or violet colour, the
latter being the prevailing tone. All, too, wear
feathers and diamonds in their hair, and some show
tiaras of brilliants almost large enough to form
head-dresses, so completely do the glittering
,jewels cover the head like a regal crown. There is
now a long pause, and the spaces in the aisles,
where high platforms have been erected looking
over the backs of the carved oak canopies be-
tween the knights' stalls begin to fill up fast.
Only semi-occasional glimpses can be had from here
of what is passing in the Choir, yet every space is
filled, and the heads of the most curious are seen
with a rather grotesque effect passing out from be-
tween the pinnacles of oak. Almost the first male
visitor to put in an appearance is Sir George Grey,
who comes accompanied by Lady Grey. They take
their places on the left, and are quickly followed by
Lord and Lady Stanley of Alderley, Sir Charles
and Lady Mary Wood, Mr. Milner Gibson, Mr.
and Mrs. Cardwell, the Master of Trinity, the
Chancellor of the Exchequer and Mrs. Gladstone,
Lady Alfred Paget, the Earl and Countess of Hard-
wicke, Lord Harris, the Earl and Countess of Suf-
folk, the Duke of St. Alban's, the Duke of Athole,
the Duke and Duchess of Argyll, Earl and
Countess De la Warr, Lady Proby, Lord
Churchill, Sir G. C. Lewis, Hon. Mrs. W.
Cowper, Lady A. Bruce, Miss Biddulph, Mrs.
C. Grey, Mrs. Wellesley, the Duchess of Somer-
set, and the Countess of Shaftesbury. All the
gentlemen are in full official uniform, and wear
the chief insignia of whatever orders they have the
honour to possess, collars and badges in the fullest
state. No bridal favours are worn on such
an occasion of State dress, but, as a kind of
amends for this necessary omission, where the
collars of the orders of knighthood are displayed,
they are in every case looped at the shoulders with
bows of white satin riband, which answers the pur-
pose equally well. Now that the Choir is almost
full, the predominance of mauve and velvet colours
is more marked than ever, —1 fact, few other tints
are shown, except when ladies who fear the cold
keep their white burnouses, which all without ex-
ception have, still wrapped about their shoulders.
The Lord Mayor and Lady Mayoress are among the
arrivals. - His Lordship wears his robes of State,
which, without being over gaudy, make a rich ad-
dition even to the mass of uniforms and gorgeous
dresses around. Mr. and Mrs. Disraeli are also
among the last comers. The leader in the Com-
mons of the Opposition wears his Windsor uniform,
and is seated with Mrs. Disraeli, who is radiant
with diamonds, on the left, immediately inside the
Choir. The Speaker of the House of Commons also
comes attired in state, with Lady Charlotte Denison,
and then nearly all the places are filled.
It is a quarter to 12, and there is a short hush of
expectation—one of those periods of unaccountable
silence which always falls at intervals even upon
the most crowded and animated assemblies. The
Usher of the Black Rod, Sir Augustus Clifford,
enters, and then there is another pause, that is
quickly broken by a loud hum of admiration
in the Nave, which the more stately and select
gathering in the Choir only notice by increased
rigidity of uprightness till the cause of the murmur
is made known by the appearance at the entrance
of the Knights of the Garter, all robbed and
jewelled in their almost regal costume, and headed
by the Premier himself. They make a noble and a
gallant show as they sweep up the Choir like a pro-
cession of monarchs, with their long velvet mantles
of Imperial blue, looped at the shoulders with
white riband, trailing after them. Lord Palmerston
proceeds at once to his stall on the left, where he is
joined by Lady Palmerston; and the others, after
waiting for a single second in a stately group,
pass also to their seats. The Premier was, of
course, the most observed of all, as he stepped up
lightly into his seat and looked round him with a
brisk joviality,as if about to quell a troublesome mem-
ber,or evade by a most voluminous reply an awkward
question. The Duke of Newcastle, Earl Granville,
Earl Clarendon, an d E arl Russell are the most noticed
of the rest, and the latter, when once he sits in his
wide, high, ample stall, is almost lost to view. The
other knights who took part in this splendid cere-
mony are the Dake of Buccleuch, the Marquis
Camden, the Marquis of Westminster, the Duke of
Devonshire, the Duke of Somerset, the Earl of Har-
rowby, the Duke of Wellington, the Marquis of
Normanby, the Marquis of Abercorn, the Marquis
of Salisbury, and the two junior knights, the Earl
of Shaftesbury and Earl Fitz william, who as juniors
in knighthood at least, sit furthest away from the
Sovereign's stall, and thus, as it happens, nearest to
the Sovereign's place on this occasion.
After all the knights are seated, the Lord Chan-
cellor, in his state robes, and carrying the Great
Seal, passes slow and stately up the Choir—alone,
but a perfect pageant in himself—to his seat at the
head of all. It is now a quarter to 12, and the
Archbishop of Canterbury enters, followed by the
Bishop of London, attending as Dean of the Chapels
Royal ; the Bishop of Oxford, as Chancellor of the
Order of the Garter ; the Bishop of Winchester, as
its Prelate ; the Bishop of Chester, as Clerk of the
Closet; and the Dean' ofWindsor, as Registrar of
the Order of the 'Pet`rter, with the Canons and
Minor Canons of -oe. Chapel. The suffragan
Bishops stand aside
,as the dais is reached, and
make way for the Primate, who passes at once to
the north of the altar, and the Dean, robed in scar-
let, with the Canons, take their places to the south.
For a minute the Prelates kneel in prayer, then
rise and stand in line inside the rails.

Then there is a slight rustle of silks and clinking
of jewelled orders as nearly the whole Corps Diplo-
matique come in and take their places underneath
the Royal pew—showing literally like a cluster of
gold and jewels that equals even the appearance of
the Knights of the Garter. And now there is a
long and solemn pause, during which even whispers
are audible, and the rustle of the dresses comes with
4 noise as their fair wearers turn to survey the
scene around, where

" Lords, ladies, captains, councillors, and priests,
Their choice nobility and flower ;
Embassies, from regions far remote, in various habits,
Met from all parts to celebrate the day."

It is in truth a scene of such stately
pomp and
Royal circumstance as few have ever seen before,
where the noblest by birth and intellect, the greatest
and most revered in power, are all assembled within
the narrow precincts of this grand old Choir, like the
treasures of the nation in the carved oak casket.
Suddenly there is just a perceptible movemtmt—
a kind of consciousness that something has occurred
which tells at once that the Queen is either coming
or has come, and all eyes are quietly directed to-
wards the quaint old pew in the wall. In another
instant the Queen herself appears, accompanied by
his Royal Highness the Duke of Saxe-Coburg and
Gotha, the brother of the late Prince, and, as we all
know, so like him as to make the resemblance almost
startling as he stands by the side of her Majesty.
The Queen wears the simplest and plainest of
widow's weeds—a widow's cap, a black silk dress
with white collar and cuffs, and black gloves. The
only colours which appear upon her are the star of
the Order of the Garter, and its blue riband, nar-
rowed to the width her Majesty usually wears,
across her left shoulder. She looks well in health,
but thinner and older, with the permanent traces of
deep grief and care stamped on every lineament of
her features.

She stands at the
window of the Royal pew, a I
e
generalgaze,and only to be
n a
oseon the opposite side of the Choir
61 little
tall
b y Withdrawntthose
from
glancing quietly into the interior, while the Duke
of Saxe-Coburg speaks, and apparently explains to
her the arrangements going on below for thereat
great
ceremony which has drawn her forth from her
mourning and seclusion. After a few minutes she

seats herself a little away from the window, and the
Duke retires, the Hon. Mrs. R. Bruce, clad, like the
Queen, in deep mourning, taking his place. his 12
o'clock, and the noise of cheering can he heard out-
side, and then a pause, broken after a few minutes
by the great rustle and peculiar hum which the
great mass of visitors in the Nave make on rising.
The first of the three processions is at hand, but no
one moves in the Choir till the glittering file is
seen, headed by heralds and great officers of State,
coming rank in rank in stately order, filing off to
the right and left as they enter the Choir, till they
reach the dais, which none but the most illustrious
may ascend.
Dhuleep Singh, with Prince Edward of Saxe
Weimar and the Prince of Leiningen, in his uniform
as captain in the English navy, head the line of
Royal guests, but it is on the sister of the bride, the
lovely Princess Dagmar of Denmark, followed by
her Royal mother, leading in each hand the Prin-
cess Thyra and Prince Waldemar, that all looks
are centred as with stately step theyslowly pass up
the centre. The Princess Christian is richly yet
simply dressed, and only a feather and a few flowers
are mixed with the thick clusters of her auburn
hair. All as they reach the dais turn and make a
deep and reverend obeisance to her Majesty, and
then pass on to the seats on the south of the altar.
Hardly are they placed in order when the cheers
from without the building come loud and clear,
with a sound that is almost noise amid that stately
pomp and quiet, and the strains of the bands playing
the National Anthem can be distinctly heard herald-
ing the progress of the procession of the Royal
family. There is the usual slight delay while it is
marshalled in the temporary apartments, and then
the trumpets burst forth as it enters the building.
Officers of the huusehold, pursuivants, and
heralds, lead the way as before, halting and
making a double line below the dais, while the
Princess Mary of Cambridge, her magnificent train
borne by Lady Edith Somerset, moves up the choir
with the most stately grace. At the dais her at-
tendant pauses, and she turns to gather her train
over her arm, and, moving to the centre, makes a
profound courtesy to her Majesty ; then passes
at once to her place on the north of the altar,
iu front of and just beneath those treasures
of ironwork, the gates of Quintin Matsys. As she
passes in the Duchess of Cambridge follows, with
like state and ceremony, and then the Princess Bea-
trice,Princess Louise, and Princess Helena ascend in
turn, followed by the Princes Arthur and Leopold,
the latter in Highland dresses of the Royal tartan.
All bow and courtesy deeply to the Queen, and the
Princess Helena, who wears a train, gathers hers
on her arm like the rest, and seats herself near the
Duchess of Cambridge. The next is the Princess
Alice, wearing a noble coronet of brilliants, who
pays the same deep reverence to her mother as all
the rest; then the Princess Royal, looking as young,
as amiable, and as timid as when, with slow steps,
she herself was led to the altar at the Chapel Royal,
but this time leading by the hand a fine little boy,
who, all unawed by the stately pomp around,
dragged on his mother's arm, as he looked behind
him at the pageant, and with difficulty brought his
little feet to surmount the- three steps of the haut
pas. All have risen as they enter, and the Queen
now rises too, and bows to her daughter with a kind
and winning smile--the first that has passed across
her face since she entered the Chapel. Beethoven's
noble march has been played as they filled in, but,
as may be guessed, its strains, though beautifully
rendered, are but little attended to in such a scene
as this, The Queen has evidently found an object
which more deeply interests her, and instead of
seating herself again she remains at the closet win•
dow, watching her Royal children as they pass one
after another to their seats beneath, and even when
they are seated she leans over the front and remains
gazing down at them steadily with an expression of
fond pride which is unmistakeable, and in which no
trace of grief can be discovered now.
Again the cheers come louder and more sustained
than ever from the outside ; again there is the same
pause, broken by the trumpets and rattling kettle-
drums in the Nave, and this time all save the Queen
herself rise and remain standing respectfully, for it
is the Bridegroom that approaches. Great officers
precede him, but they are little heeded; all eyes
are turned upon the Prince of Wales, who,
in his uniform of General, but wearing over
all the insignia and purple mantle of a
Knight of the Garter, comes slowly up the Choir,
partly accompanied, partly followed, by his brother-
in-law, the Prince of Prussia, and his uncle, the
Duke of Saxe Coburg, similarly robed. The
Wedding March is played as they move up with
stately ease, and the Queen rises and comes fully
forward as the haut pas is reached, and the three
ascend and turn in line towards her, bowing deeply.
The Duke of Saxe Coburg and the Prince of Prussia
retire to the south side of the altar, and the bride-
groom, after kneeling a few seconds in prayer, rises
and stands " the rose and expectancy of this fair
State," in the centre of the haut pas, alone, with
his face towards the Queen.

Such an occasion is one in which few men appear
to advantage, yet the Prince gains by passing
through it. With the easy grace that seems natural
to all his actions, he stood alone, the watched and
observed of all the observers, neither bashful nor
confident, but with a manly Royal bearing that be-
came his illustrious birth and exalted station. He
looked round upon the splendid scene for a moment
quietly and easily ; and his every movement, his
look, his very bearing, seemed in their vivid like-
ness to his Royal father to impress and amaze all
—even those who by their rank end station might
be supposed to be the most familiar with his fea-
tures. As the sound of cheering was heard with-
out, marking the coming of his youthful bride, he
kept turning his head every moment, for from
where he stood, in the centre of the altar, he could
see through the screen and down the nave beyond
to where the crimson curtains would hide the mar-
shalling of the bride's procession. Often and often
did he glance this way, but the curtains were
motionless, and gave no sign of the coming forth
of her whom all now watched for with such eager
expectation that the suspense even of the slight
delay seemed almost painful. Still he stood alone,
and, though keenly anxious for the coming of his
young bride, he bore the eager scrutiny of all with
a quiet ease that was charming—his youth, his face,
his figure, all bringing irresistibly before the mind
the lines,—
__ _

Shaped in proportion fair,
Blue was his piercing eye,
And auburn of the richest dye
His short moustache and hair.

At last, with a great clangour of trumpets, which
at first are muffled into a rich indistinctness behind
the curtains, the long looked for procession of the
Bride enters, and the Prince, giving one look to
satisfy himself of the fact of the arrival, keeps his
eyes fixed on the Queen, and never turns his head
again till his affianced stands beside him. The hush
was now so deep and breathless that even the rest-
less glitter of the jewels that twinkled everywhere
seemed almost to break it, and, despite the stately
etiquette which had hitherto regulated every word
and gesture, all now bent far and eagerly forward
as the hum and rustle in the nave beyond showed
the young bride to be drawing near. In another
minute she had entered, and stood
In gloss of satin and glimmer of pearls
Queen lily and rose in ono.
the fairast and almost the youngest of all her lovely
train that blopmed in fair array behind her.
Though not agitated, she appeared nervous, and the
soft, delicate bloom of colour which ordinarily ilia-
parts a look of joyous happiness to her expressive
features, had all but disappeared as, with head bent
down, but glancing her eyes occasionally from side
to side, she moved slowly up towards the altar. The
programme tells us she was supported on the right
by her royal father, Prince Christian of Denmark,
and on her left by the Duke of Cambridge, and the
same dry but authentic document leads us to believe
both were in full uniform and wore the collars and
badges of their respective orders of knighthood.
But, without wishing at all to derogate from the
importance of these illustrious personages, we may
say any one else might have safely borne their part,
so all-absorbing was the interest with which the
bride, and bride alone, was watched. From the
way her features are now shaded by the veil and
her looks bent forward it is difficult to see her
features more fully, but as she nears the altar