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


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


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


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


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


"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.