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The Marriage








The 10th of February rose dark and foggy, with a lowering sky discharging
at frequent intervals heavy showers. But to many a loyal heart far beyond
the sound of Bow bells the date brought a thrill of glad consciousness
which was quite independent of the weather. What mattered dreary skies or
stinging sleet! This was the day on which the young Queen was to wed the
lover of her youth, the man of her choice.

The marriage was to take place at noon, not in the evening, like former
royal weddings, and the change was a great boon to the London public.
During the busy morning, Prince Albert found time for a small act, which
was nevertheless full of manly reverence for age and weakness, of mindful,
affectionate gratitude for old and tender cares which had often made his
childhood and youth happy. He wrote a few lines to the loving, venerable
kinswoman who had performed the part of second mother to him, who had
grieved so sorely over their parting.

"In less than three hours I shall stand before the altar with my dear
bride. In these solemn moments I must once more ask your blessing, which I
am well assured I shall receive, and which will be my safeguard and my
future joy. I must end. God help me (or, rather, God be my stay!), your
faithful Grandson." The Prince wrote a similar letter, showing how
faithfully he recollected her on the crowning day of his life, to his good
stepmother, the Duchess of Coburg.

Among the innumerable discussions on the merits or demerits of the Prince
when he was first proposed as the husband for the Queen of England, there
had not been wanting in a country where religion is generally granted to be
a vital question, and where religious feuds, like other feuds, rage high,
sundry probings as to the Prince's Christianity--what form he held, whether
he might not be a Roman Catholic, whether he were a Christian at all, and
might not rather be an infidel? Seeing that the Prince belonged to a
Christian and to one of the most Protestant royal families in Europe, that
he had been regularly trained in Christian and Lutheran doctrines, and had
made a public profession of his belief in the same--a profession which his
practice had in no way contradicted--these suppositions were, to say the
least, uncalled for, and not remarkable for liberality or charity. It is
easy to answer them substantially. The Prince, reserving his Protestant
right of private judgment on all points of his belief, was a deeply
religious man, as indicated throughout his career, at every stage, in every
event of his life. It is hardly possible even for an irreligious man to
conceive that Prince Albert could have been what he was without faith and
discipline. His biographer has with reason quoted the "God be my stay!" in
the light of the sincerity of the man, in a letter written in the flush of
his joy and the very fruition of his desires, as one of the innumerable
proofs that the Prince lived consciously and constantly under the
all-seeing eye of an Almighty Father.

There were two main points from which out-of-door London could gaze its
fill on the gala. The one was St. James's Park, from which the people could
see the bride and bridegroom drive from Buckingham Palace to St. James's,
where the marriage was to take place, according to old usage, and back
again to Buckingham Palace for the wedding breakfast; the other was the
Green Park, Constitution Hill, Hyde Park, and Piccadilly, by which most of
the guests were to arrive to the wedding. The last point also commanded the
route which the young couple would take to Windsor.

It was said that, never since the allied sovereigns visited London in 1814
had such a concourse of human beings made the parks alive, as on this wet
February morning, when a dismal solitude was changed to an animated scene,
full of life and motion. The Times described the mass of spectators
wedged in at the back of Carlton Terrace and the foot of Constitution Hill,
and the multitude of chairs, tables, benches, even casks, pressed info. The
service, and affording vantage-ground to those who could pay for the
accommodation. The dripping trees were also rendered available, and had
their branches so laden with human fruit, that brittle boughs gave way,
while single specimens and small clusters of men and boys came rattling
down on the heads and shoulders of confiding fellow-creatures; but such
misadventures were without serious accident, and simply afforded additional
entertainment to the self-invited, light-hearted wedding guests.

Parties of cavalry and infantry taking their places, with "orderlies
dashing to and fro," lent colour and livelier action to the panorama. At
the same time the military were not a very prominent feature in the
picture, and the State element was also to some extent wanting. Some state
was inevitable, but after all the marriage of the sovereign was not so much
a public ceremonial as a private event in her life. As early as eight
o'clock in the morning the comparatively limited number of invited guests
began to contribute to the satisfaction of the great uninvited by driving
up beneath the triumphal arch, and presenting their pink or white cards for
inspection. A body of Foot Guards marched forwards, followed by a
detachment of the Horse Guards Blue, with their band discoursing wedding
music appropriate to the occasion, cheering the hearts of the cold, soaked
crowd, and awaking an enthusiastic response from it. Then appeared various
members of the nobility, including the Duke of Norfolk, coming always to
the front as Grand Marshal, wearing his robe and carrying his staff of
office, when the rest of the world were in comparative undress, as more or
less private individuals. But this gentleman summed up in his own person
"all the blood of all the Howards," and recalled his ancestors great and
small--the poet Earl of Surrey, those Norfolks to whom Mary Tudor and Mary
Stuart were alike fatal, and that Dicky or Dickon of Norfolk who lent a
humorous strain to the tragic tendency of the race.

The Ministers and Foreign Ambassadors came singly or in groups. The
Ministers, with one or two exceptions, wore the Windsor uniform, blue
turned up with an oak-leaf edging in gold. Viscount Morpeth, Lord John
Russell, the Marquis of Normanby, Lord Palmerston, Lord Holland, Lord
Melbourne, were well-known figures. The good-natured Duke of Cambridge
arrived with his family and suite in three royal carriages. He wore the
Orders of the Garter, and the Bath, and carried his baton as Field-Marshal.
The Duke of Sussex was in the uniform of Captain-General of the Artillery
Company, and wore the Orders of the Garter, the Bath, and St. Andrew. He
had on his black skull-cap as usual, and drove up in a single carriage. He
had opposed the clause relating to Prince Albert's taking precedence of
all, save the Queen, in the Naturalisation Bill. He was to make further
objection to the husband's occupying his natural place by the side of his
wife when the Queen opened and prorogued Parliament, and to the Prince's
rights in the Regency Bill. All the same, by right of birth and years, the
Duke of Sussex was to give away his royal niece.

Before eleven o'clock, the Gentlemen and Ladies of the Household were in
readiness at Buckingham Palace. The Ladies started first for St. James's.
The Gentlemen of the foreign suites--Prince Albert's, and his father's, and
brother's--in their dark-blue and dark-green uniforms, mustered in the
hall, and dispatched a detachment to receive the Prince on his arrival at
the other palace. At a quarter to twelve notice was sent to Prince Albert
in his private apartments, and he came forth "like a bridegroom," between
his royal supporters, traversed the State-rooms, and descended the grand
staircase, preceded by the Chamberlain and Vice-Chamberlain, Comptroller of
the Household, equerries and ushers. He was received with eager clappings
of hands and wavings of handkerchiefs. The Prince was dressed in the
uniform of a British Field-Marshal, and wore only one decoration, that of
the Garter, with the collar surmounted by two white rosettes, and his
bride's gifts of the previous day, the George and Star set in diamonds, on
his breast, and the diamond-embroidered Garter round his knee. His pale,
handsome face, with its slight brown moustache, his slender yet manly
figure would have become any dress. Indeed, his general appearance, full of
"thoughtful grace and quiet dignity," impressed every honest observer most
favourably. We can imagine Baron Stockmar watching keenly in the background
to catch every furtive glance and remark, permitting himself to rub his
hands and exclaim, with sober exultation, "He is liked!"

Prince Albert's father and brother, his dearest friends hitherto, walked
beside him. The Duke of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha, with his fatherly heart
swelling high, must have looked like one of the quaint stately figures out
of old German prints in his long, military boots, the same as those of the
Life Guards, and his dark-green uniform turned up with red. He, too, wore
the collar and star of the Garter, and the star of his own Order of Coburg
Gotha. On the other side of the bridegroom walked Prince Ernest. The
wedding was next in importance to him to what it was to his brother, while
to the elder playing the secondary part of the couple so long united in
every act of their young lives, the marriage ceremony of his other self,
which was to deal the decisive blow in the cleaving asunder of the old
double existence, must have been full of very mingled feelings of joy and
sorrow, pleasure and pain. Prince Ernest was a fine young man, in whose
face, possibly a little stern in its repressed emotion, The Times
reporter imagined he saw more determination than could be found in the
milder aspect of Prince Albert, not guessing how much strength of will and
patient steadfastness might be bound up with gentle courtesy. Prince Ernest
was in a gay light-blue and silver uniform, and carried his helmet in his
hand.

When the group came down the stairs, some privileged company, including a
few ladies, stationed behind the Yeoman Guard and about the entrance,
clapped their hands and waved their congratulations, and as Prince Albert
entered the carriage which was to take him and his father and brother to
St. James's, he received for the first time all the honours paid to the
Queen. Trumpets sounded, colours were lowered, and arms presented. A
squadron of Life Guards attended the party, but as the carriage was closed
its occupants were not generally recognised.

As soon as the Lord Chamberlain had returned from escorting the Prince, six
royal carriages, each with two horses, were drawn up before the entrance to
Buckingham Palace, and his Lordship informed the Queen that all was ready
for her. Accordingly, her Majesty left her room leaning on the arm of Lord
Uxbridge, the Lord Chamberlain. She was supported by her mother, the
Duchess of Kent, and followed by a page of honour. The various officers of
the Household--the Earl of Belfast, Vice-Chamberlain; the Earl of
Albemarle, Master of the Horse; Lord Torrington, Comptroller and Treasurer,
&c., walked in advance.

The Queen wore a bride's white satin and orange blossoms, a simple wreath
of orange blossoms on her fair hair. Her magnificent veil of Honiton lace
did not cover the pale face, but fell on each side of the bent head. Her
ornaments were the diamond brooch which had been the gift of the
bridegroom, diamond earrings and necklace, and the collar and insignia of
the Garter. She looked well in her natural agitation, for, indeed, she was
a true woman at such a moment. She was shy and a little shrinking as became
a bride, and her eyes were swollen with recent tears--an illustration of
the wise old Scotch proverb, "A greetin' (weeping) bride's a happy bride."
Here were no haughty indifference, no bold assurance, no thoughtless,
heartless gaiety,

A creature breathing thoughtful breath,
A traveller 'twixt life and death.

A maiden leaving one stage of her life, with all its past treasures of
affection and happiness, for ever behind her, and going forward, in loving
hope and trust, no doubt, yet still in uncertainty of what the hidden
future held in store for her of weal and woe, to meet her wifely destiny.
As she came down into her great hall she was welcomed with fervent
acclamations, but for once she was absorbed in herself, and the usual
frank, gracious response was not accorded to the tribute. Her eyes were
fixed on the ground; "a hurried glance round, and a slight inclination of
the head," were all the signs she gave.

The Duchess of Kent, the good mother who had opened her heart to her nephew
as to a son, from the May-day when he came to Kensington, who had every
reason to rejoice in the marriage, still shared faithfully in her
daughter's perturbation. However glad the Duchess might be, it was still a
troubled gladness, for she had long experience. She knew that this day
closed the morning glory of a life, brought change, a greater fullness of
being, but with the fullness increased duties and obligations, more to
dread, as well as more to hope, a heavier burden, though there was a true
friend to share it. Illusions would vanish, and though reality is better
than illusion to all honest hearts, who would not spare a sigh to the
bright dreams of youth--too bright with a rainbow-hued radiance and a
golden mist of grand expectations, dim in their grandeur, ever to be
fulfilled in this work-a-day world? And the Duchess was conscious that the
mother who gives a daughter away, even to the best of sons, resigns the
first place in that daughter's heart, the first right to her time,
thoughts, and confidence. Queen Victoria belonged to her people, but after
that great solemn claim she had till now belonged chiefly to her mother.
Little wonder that the kind Duchess looked "disconsolate" in the middle of
her content!

The Duchess of Kent and the Duchess of Sutherland drove in the carriage
with her Majesty "at a slow pace," for the royal bride, even on her
bridal-day, owed herself to her subjects, while a strong escort of
Household cavalry prevented the pressure of the shouting throng from
becoming overpowering.

On the arrival of the Queen at St. James's Palace she proceeded to her
closet behind the Throne-room, where she remained, attended by her maids of
honour and train-bearers, until the Lord Chamberlain announced that all was
ready for the procession to the chapel.

Old St. James's had been the scene of many a royal wedding. Besides that of
Queen Mary, daughter of James II. and Anne Hyde, who was married to William
of Orange at eleven o'clock at night in her bedchamber, Anne and George of
Denmark were married, in more ordinary fashion, in the chapel. Following
their example, the daughters of George II. and Queen Caroline--another
Anne, the third English princess who was given to a Prince of Orange, and
who was so ready to consent to the contract that she declared she would
have him though he were a baboon, and her sister Mary, who was united to
the Landgrave of Hesse-Cassel, were both married here; so was their
brother, Frederick, Prince of Wales, to Princess Augusta of Saxe-Coburg.
Prince Albert was the third of the Coburg line who wedded with the royal
house of England. Already there were two strains of Saxe-Coburg blood in
the veins of the sovereign of these realms. The last, and probably the most
disastrous, marriage which had been celebrated in St. James's was that of
George Frederick, Prince of Wales, and Caroline of Brunswick.

The portions of the palace in use for the marriage included the Presence
Chamber, Queen Anne's Drawing-room, the Guard-room, the Grand Staircase,
with the Colonnade, the Chapel Royal, and the Throne-room. On the Queen's
marriage-day, rooms, staircase, and colonnade were lined with larger and
smaller galleries for the accommodation of privileged spectators. The seats
had crimson cushions with gold-coloured fringe, warming up the cold light
and shade of a February day, while the white and gay-coloured dresses of
the ladies and the number of wedding favours contributed to the gaiety of
the scene. A Queen's wedding favours were not greatly different from those
of humbler persons, and consisted of the stereotyped white riband, silver
lace, and orange blossoms, except where loyalty indulged in immense
bouquets of riband, and "massive silver bullion, having in the centre what
might almost be termed branches of orange blossoms." The most eccentrically
disposed favours seem to have been those of the mace-bearers, whose white
"knots" were employed to tie up on the wearers' shoulders the large gold
chains worn with the black dress of the officials. The uniformity of the
gathering was broken by "burly Yeomen of the Guard, with their massive
halberts, slim Gentlemen-at-Arms with their lighter 'partisans,'....
elderly pages of State, almost infantile pages of honour, officers of the
Lord Chamberlain's Office, officers of the Woods and Forests, embroidered
heralds and shielded cuirassiers, robed prelates, stoled priests, and
surpliced singing-boys."

Among the guests, though not in the procession, loudly cheered as on other
occasions, was the Duke of Wellington, who had seen the bride christened.
People thought they noticed him bending under his load of years, tottering
to the last step of all, but the old soldier was still to grace many a
peaceful ceremony. In his company, far removed this day from the smoke of
cannon and the din of battle, walked more than one gallant brother-in-arms,
the Marquis of Anglesey, Lord Hill, &c.

The chapel was also made sumptuous for the occasion. Its carved and painted
roof was picked out anew. The space within the chancel was lined and hung
with crimson velvet, the communion-table covered with magnificent gold
plate.

The Queen's procession began with drums and trumpets, and continued with
pursuivants, heralds, pages, equeries, and the different officers of the
Household till it reached the members of the Royal Family. These ranged
from the farthest removed in relationship, Princess Sophia of Gloucester,
through the Queen's young cousins in the Cambridge family, with much
admiration bestowed on the beautiful child, Princess Mary, and the
exceedingly attractive young girl, Princess Augusta, to another and a
venerable Princess Augusta--one of the elder daughters of George III., an
aged lady upwards of seventy, who then made her final appearance in public.
Doubtless she had been among the company who were present at the last royal
marriage in St. James's, on the night of the 8th of April, 1795, forty-five
years before, a marriage so widely removed in every particular from this
happy wedding. The two royal Dukes of Cambridge and Sussex walked next, the
Lord Chamberlain and Vice-Chamberlain, with Lord Melbourne between, bearing
the Sword of State before the Queen.

Her Majesty's train was carried by twelve unmarried ladies, her
bridesmaids. Five of these, Lady Fanny Cowper, Lady Mary Grimston, Lady
Adelaide Paget, Lady Caroline Gordon Lennox, and Lady Catherine Stanhope,
had been among her Majesty's train-bearers at the coronation. Of the three
other fair train-bearers on that occasion, one at least, Lady Anne
Wentworth Fitzwilliam, was already a wedded wife. The remaining seven
bridesmaids were Lady Elizabeth West, Lady Eleanor Paget, Lady Elizabeth
Howard, Lady Ida Hay, Lady Jane Bouverie, Lady Mary Howard, and Lady Sarah
Villiers. These noble maidens were in white satin like their royal
mistress, but for her orange blossoms they wore white roses. Still more
than on their former appearance together, the high-bred English loveliness
of the party attracted universal admiration.

The Master of the Horse and the Mistress of the Robes, the Ladies of the
Bedchamber, Maids of Honour, and Women of the Bedchamber followed, closed
in by Yeomen of the Guard and Gentlemen-at-Arms.

In the chapel there had been a crowd of English nobility and foreign
ambassadors awaiting the arrival of Prince Albert, when at twenty minutes
past twelve he walked up the aisle, carrying a prayer-book covered with
green velvet. He advanced, bowing to each side, followed by his supporters
to the altar-rail, before which stood four chairs of State, provided for
the Queen, the Prince, and, to right and left of them, Queen Adelaide and
the Duchess of Kent. The Queen-dowager was in her place, wearing a dress of
purple velvet and ermine; the bridegroom kissed her hand and entered into
conversation with her, while his father and brother took their seats near
him.

The Queen entered the chapel at twenty-five minutes to one, and immediately
proceeded to her chair in front of the altar-rails. She knelt down and
prayed, and then seated herself. Her mother was on her left side. Behind
her stood her bridesmaids and train-bearers. On stools to right and left
sat the members of the Royal Family. The Archbishop of Canterbury and the
Bishop of London were already at the altar. In a few minutes the Queen and
the Prince advanced to the communion-table. The service was the beautiful,
simple service of the Church of England, unchanged in any respect. In reply
to the question, "Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?" the
Duke of Sussex presented himself. The Christian-names "Albert" and
"Victoria" were all the names used. Both Queen and Prince answered
distinctly and audibly. The Prince undertook to love, comfort, and honour
his wife, to have and to hold her for better, for worse, for richer, for
poorer; the Queen promised to obey as well as to love and cherish her
husband till death them did part, like any other pair plighting their
troth. When the ring was put on the finger, at a concerted signal the Park
and Tower guns fired a royal salute and all London knew that her Majesty
was a married woman.

The usual congratulations were exchanged amongst the family party before
they re-formed themselves into the order of procession. The Duke of Sussex
in his character of father kissed his niece heartily on the cheek besides
shaking her by the hand. The Queen stepped quickly across and kissed her
aunt, Queen Adelaide, whose hand Prince Albert saluted again. The
procession returned in the same order, except that the bride and bridegroom
walked side by side and hand in hand, the wedding-ring being seen on the
ungloved hand. Her Majesty spoke once or twice to Lord Uxbridge, the Lord
Chamberlain, as if expressing her wishes with regard to the procession. Her
paleness had been succeeded by a little flush, and she was smiling
brightly. On the appearance of the couple they were received with clapping
of hands and waving of handkerchiefs. In the Throne-room the marriage was
attested and the register signed "on a splendid table prepared for the
purpose."

The whole company then repaired to Buckingham Palace, Prince Albert driving
in the carriage with the Queen. The sight of the pair was hailed everywhere
along the short route with loud cheering, to the joyous sound of which "the
Queen walked up the grand staircase, in the presence of her court, leaning
on her husband's arm."

An eye-witness--the Dowager Lady Lyttelton, who, both as a Lady of the
Bedchamber and Governess to the royal children, knew the Queen and Prince
well--has recorded her impression of the chief actor in the scene. "The
Queen's look and manner were very pleasing, her eyes much swollen with
tears, but great happiness in her countenance, and her look of confidence
and comfort at the Prince when they walked away as man and wife was very
pleasing to see. I understand she is in extremely high spirits since; such
a new thing to her to dare to be unguarded in conversation with
anybody, and, with her frank and fearless nature, the restraints she has
hitherto been under from one reason or another with everybody must have
been most painful." The wedding-breakfast with the toast of the day
followed, then the departure for Windsor, on which the skies smiled, for
the clouds suddenly cleared away and the sun shone out on the journey and
the many thousand spectators on the way.

The Queen and Prince drove in one of the five carriages--four of which
contained the suite inseparable from a couple of such rank. The first
carriage conveyed the Ladies in Waiting, succeeded by a party of cavalry.
The travelling chariot came next in order, and was enthusiastically hailed,
bride and bridegroom responding graciously to the acclamations. Her
Majesty's travelling dress was bridal-like: a pelisse of white satin
trimmed with swans' down, a white satin bonnet and feather. The Prince was
in dark clothes. The party left before four, but did not arrive at Windsor
till nearly seven--long after darkness had descended on the landscape. Eton
and Windsor were in the height of excitement, in a very frenzy of
rejoicing. The travellers wended their way through a living mass in
brilliantly illuminated streets, amidst the sending up of showers of
rockets, the ringing of bells, the huzzaing of the people, the glad
shouting of the Eton boys. Her Majesty was handed from the carriage by the
Prince, she took his arm and the two entered the castle after a right royal
welcome home.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning celebrated this event also in her eloquent
fashion.

"She vows to love who vowed to rule, the chosen at her side,
Let none say 'God preserve the Queen,' but rather 'Bless the Bride.'
None blow the trump, none bend the knee, none violate the dream
Wherein no monarch but a wife, she to herself may seem;
Or if you say, 'Preserve the Queen,' oh, breathe it inward, low--
She is a woman and beloved, and 'tis enough but so.
Count it enough, thou noble Prince, who tak'st her by the hand,
And claimest for thy lady-love our Lady of the land.
And since, Prince Albert, men have called thy spirit high and rare,
And true to truth and brave for truth as some at Augsburg were,
We charge thee by thy lofty thoughts and by thy poet-mind,
Which not by glory and degree takes measure of mankind,
Esteem that wedded hand less dear for sceptre than for ring,
And hold her uncrowned womanhood to be the royal thing."

Up in London and all over the country there were feasts and galas for rich
and poor. There was a State banquet, attended by very high and mighty
company, in the Banqueting-room at St. James's. Grand dinners were given by
the members of the Cabinet; the theatres were free for the night to great
and small; at each the National Anthem was sung amidst deafening applause;
at Drury Lane there was a curious emblematical ballet--like a revival of
the old masques, ending with a representation of the Queen and Prince
surrounded by fireworks, which no doubt afforded immense satisfaction to
the audience.

The Queen's wedding-cake was three hundred pounds in weight, three yards in
circumference, and fourteen inches in depth. In recognition of the national
interest of the wedding, the figure of Hymen, on the top, was replaced by
Britannia in the act of blessing the royal pair, who, as a critic observed,
were represented somewhat incongruously in the costume of ancient Rome. At
the feet of the image of Prince Albert, several inches high, lay a dog, the
emblem of fidelity. At the feet of the image of her Majesty nestled a pair
of turtle-doves, the token of love and felicity. A Cupid wrote in a volume,
spread open on his knees, for the edification of the capering Cupids
around, the auspicious "10th of February, 1840," the date of the marriage;
and there were the usual bouquets of white flowers, tied with true lovers'
knots of white riband, to be distributed to the guests at the wedding
breakfast and kept as mementoes of the event.

There were other trophies certain to be cherished and preserved among
family treasures, and perhaps shown to future generations, as we sometimes
see, turning up in museums and art collections, relics of the marriages of
Mary Tudor and Catharine of Aragon. These were the bridesmaids' brooches.
They were the royal gift to the noble maidens, several of whom had, two
years before, received rings from the same source to commemorate the
services of the train-bearers at the Coronation. These brooches were in the
shape of a bird, the body being formed entirely of turquoises, the eyes
were rubies, and the beak a diamond, the claws were of pure gold, and
rested on pearls of great size and value. The design and workmanship were
according to the Queen's directions.

The twelve beautiful girls who received the gifts have since fulfilled
their various destinies--each has "dreed her weird," according to the
solemn, sad old Scotch phrase. Some, perhaps the happiest, have passed
betimes into the silent land; the survivors are elderly women, with
granddaughters as lovely as they themselves were in their opening day. One
became a princess--Lady Sarah Villiers married Prince Nicholas Esterhazy.
Two are duchesses--Lady Elizabeth Sackville-West, Duchess of Bedford; and
Lady Catherine Stanhope, married first to Lord Dalmeny, eldest son of the
Earl of Rosebery, and secondly to the Duke of Cleveland. Three are
countesses--Lady Caroline Gordon Lennox, Countess of Bessborough; Lady Mary
Grimston, Countess of Radnor; and Lady Ida Hay, Countess of Gainsborough.
Lady Fanny Cowper, whose beauty was much admired by Leslie, the painter,
married Lord Jocelyn, eldest son of the Earl of Roden. Lord Jocelyn was
one of the victims to cholera in 1854. He was seized while on duty at
Buckingham Palace, and died after two hours' illness in Lady Palmerston's
drawing-room. Lady Mary Howard became the wife of Baron Foley. One
bridesmaid, Lady Jane Bouverie, married a simple country gentleman, Mr.
Ellis, of Glenaquoich.





Next: A Royal Pair

Previous: The Betrothal



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