The Sun.
London, England, 1863-03-02 00:00:00

SPIRIT OF THE PUBLIC JOURNALS.

SATURDAY REVIEW.—If there be a weak place in
English institutions, it is our lamentable deficiency
of public shows. The minute proportions of our
military force cut us off from the splendid reviews
with which the eyes of other populations are re-
galed. The spirit of our national religion is averse
to public display ; and that there may be no mistake
upon the subject, everything in the nature of a re-
ligious procession is forbidden by act of Parlia-
ment. The Londoner is forced to content himself
with the annual glories of the Lord Mayor's Show,
and the occasional splendour of the State-coach
and Life Guards at the opening of Parliament.
The discontent, therefore, that is so universally
felt at the selection of the little borough of Windsor
for the celebration of the Prince's marriage, is not
unnatural. It seems hard that a sight which would
have been a real pleasure to the whole population of
London should be reserved for a handful of Court
officials whose enjoyment of court magnificence pro-
bably approaches to satiety by this time, and for
such of the Knights of the Garter as can be pre-
vailed upon to attend. If report speaks true, this
latter class of spectators have sufficient reasons of
their own for regarding their prospects of witness-
ing this spectacle with a limited enthusiasm. It is
said—we know not with what truth—that the pres-
sure of sightseers in Windsor and the neighbour-
ing villages is so great that not a room or even a
hole can be found for these elderly specimens of
chivalry to dress in. Consequently they will have
to go down on the morning of the marriage ready
dressed from London. Full dress will, cf course, be
imperative on the occasion ; and the full dress of the
Order is, among other things, a blue velvet cloak
and white satin tights. The Great Western station
—a cold (perhaps damp) morning--some of that
hopeless confusion of arrangements which always
distinguishes an English railway on great occasions
—and a dozen elderly gentlemen in blue velvet
cloaks and white satin tights, running about the
platform breathlessly asking for their seats—all
these features combine to form a picture which will
no doubt be realised on the morning of March 10th,
but the probability of which the hardest heart can-
not contemplate unmoved. However, we will con-
sole ourselves with the hope that these anticipations
are over gloomy. It is very possible that, after all,
the Knights may procure at least one dressing-room
among them somewhere in Windsor, so that only a
moderate public exposure of white satin legs will
be extracted from them. In spite of the march of
intellect, the philosopher must confess with regret
that the people, both high and low, are still pas-
sionately fond of shows. They prove it by tokens
which it is impossible to overlook. There is some-
thing almost pathetic in the eagerness with which
they are preparingfor so very moderate a specimen of
pageantry as is involved in the drive of six carriages
with mourning liveries from one railway station to
another. But, according to present appearances,
there seems to be a strong probability that all their
efforts to witness even this humble show will be in
vain. The arrangements for the purpose of pre-
venting anybody from seeing anything seem to have
been made with a skill that leaves nothing to be
desired. On the night preceding the day upon
which the Londoners imagine that they will see
her, the unfortunate Princess is, they say, to sleep
at the Nore. No doubt it is judged necessary that,
before marrying the future King of a maritime
nation, she ought to become inured to sea-sickness.
Having made this experience of the advantages of
an insular residence, she will come up the river to
Gravesend in the morning. The Prince is to leave
the shore, for the purpose of bringing her off, pre-
cisely at one o'clock. The sun sets on that day at
half-past five; and for sight-seeing purposes, in
the thick London atmosphere, it may be assumed
to set half an hour sooner. In those four hours,

even assuming no unpunctuality, a very formidable
amount of representation will have to be done. The
Prince will go on board the Danish frigate, and
will go through the ceremonial—whatever it is—
which is correct in the case of English Princes
coming in contact with Danish captains. He will
then return to the shore with his bride. Her night's
lodging at the Nore will have probably obviated
the necessity for luncheon, and they will be able to
start at once for the train. But first it will beobli-
gatory on them to receive a loyal address from the
Mayor and Corporation of Gravesend, and to return
a gracious answer. We gather, however, from the
Lazes, that this ceremony is to be shortened by a
novel but judicious contrivance. The Mayor's ad-
dress will be taken as read, and the Prince's reply
will be taken as spoken. They will both be reported
in the newspapers as though they had been orally
delivered at length ; but, as a matter of fact,the actual

ceremonial will be confined to the Mayor handing an
envelope to the Prince, and the Prince handing an-
other envelope back to the Mayor. If the Mayor
and Corporation are on the alert, it may not even
be necessary to stop the carriage for so simple an
operation. Every one knows by experience with
what dexterity a turnpike man can thrust a ticket
into the hands of a hurried traveller. But, with all
these labour-saving contrivances, a considerable
amouat of time must be wasted before the Royal
party can be fairly seated in the train. Then, there
is an hour's rail to the Bricklayers' Arms ; and then
there is the address of the Lord Mayor and Alder-
men to receive. They can hardly be subjected to the
new contrivance for abating the loquacity of mayors.
In deference to the susceptibility of the City
London—already somewhat wounded—it will be
necessary to allow time for a little decent speechi-
fication. In fact, unless some balm is applied to
their irritated dignity, there appears to be a good
chance of their leaving Sir Geo. Grey to rejoice by
himself. When all this is happily concluded, the
general opinion seems to be that one or two courses
will be open to the Prince. He may go at a hand -
gallop through the City, followed, at the same pace,
by the Lord Mayor, the Corporation, and the escort
of five hundred gentlemen—in which case the pro-
cession will be a vivid representation of a " skedad-
dle," and will forcibly bring home to the spectators
the appearance of the Federal cavalry when they
are executing a " strategic movement." This is the
arrangement which Sir George Grey appears to
contemplate. Or the Prince may prefer to go at a
sober pace—in which case he will not reach the
Western portion of his route before dusk. In fairness
to his future subjects, it is to be hoped that he will
contrive to pass Temple Bar before it is quite dark;
for another address is to meet him here, and any
little centretenzps would be very lamentable. It
would be very depressing if the loyal citizens were
to make a false start in the dark, and begin their
dutiful address to a stray hansom or accidental
omnibus by mistake. It is hoped, however, that, if
reasonable despatch is used, there will still remain
twilight enough to save the loyalty of Temple Bar
from any severe mishap. Beyond that venex able
barrier, the course is clear from deputations and
addresses. All along their further progress, the
Royal pair will be received with enthusiastic cheer-
ing ; but that species of homage can be quite as
effectively rendered in the dark. If the street-boys
do cheer the ladies-in-waiting by mistake, no great
harm will be done. The fine ladies and gentlemen
who are to be suspended upon an extemporised
balcony from the fronts of the club-houses, will find
their chief recompense in the novel sensation of sit-
ting out after sunset on a March evening under the
soft and balmy skies of Pall-mall. Of the proces-
sion they will only see such fitful glimpses as may
be furnished them by the beams of each successive
gas-lamp. To the Volunteers who are to be assem•