THE WORLD’S CONGRESS OF INDUSTRY.

As early as 1848 Prince Albert submitted to the Government a proposal to establish an exhibition of works of industry in this country; but the members of the Government could not be induced to afford to it any of that encouragement which it was sought to obtain. Despairing of acquiring assistance in this quarter, but hopeful, courageous, and unbaffled, the Prince, who was President of the Society of Arts, in the following year betook himself to that more likely and congenial quarter. Not content, however, with following in the wake of previous Expositions which had been held in Paris and elsewhere, he suggested the happy idea of so extending its range as to include within it the works of industry and the art treasures of all lands. He convened on his own responsibility a meeting at Buckingham Palace, on the 30th of June, 1849, where he proposed that the Exhibition should be divided into four sections: the first being raw materials and produce illustrative of the natural productions in which human industry is employed; the second, machinery for agricultural, manufacturing, engineering, and other purposes, and mechanical inventions illustrative of the agents which human ingenuity brings to bear upon the products of nature; the third, manufactures illustrative of the results produced by the operation of human industry upon natural produce; the fourth, sculpture, models, and the plastic arts generally, illustrative of the skill displayed in such applications of human industry.

When this proposal of a display so novel was first made, there existed no public enthusiasm to welcome the daring scheme, and all were in utter ignorance of those mechanical means of accomplishing it which to the present generation are so simple and obvious. It was met by countless cavils and objections without end. But the Prince had insight enough to discriminate between the real body of public opinion, lethargic and slow to move, yet ductile and malleable, and the artificial clamour of the marplots. Fortunately for the success of the great enterprise, the Prince possessed within himself the happiest combination of the highest station with those indomitable qualities of hopeful perseverance which were necessary to overcome the innumerable impediments which threatened more than once to mar the success of the great work. He succeeded in getting associated with him an active body of Commissioners, who, encouraged by the untiring industry which their illustrious President displayed, persevered in their work; and one by one the practical difficulties disappeared before the clear and vigorous intellect which the Prince brought to bear upon their discussions.

But he remained, indeed, the facile princeps in maturing, as he had been in designing, the scheme. This is no mere language of eulogy, for the records of the Commissioners of the Exhibition have placed in print undoubted proofs that equally the completion with the progress, and the progress quite as much as the origin, of the Exhibition of 1851, were mainly due to the large conception and wise foresight of the Prince Consort. The public at the time knew but little, and many of its constituent atoms know but little to this day, of the amount of anxious thought and labour which he devoted to the success of the great undertaking that made the year 1851 memorable as a new starting-point in the industrial and social history of the world. One important point, apart altogether from his personal merits, must never be lost sight of. His own high name and his close relation to the Sovereign, added a lustre to the Royal Commission which would otherwise have been totally lacking, and gave ground for that confidence to foreign powers which they displayed so signally and with so little stint.

At a banquet held at York about six months before the Exhibition opened, the Prince in a long address, in which he replied to the toast of his health, indicated, though most modestly and unconsciously, at once the arduous nature of his preliminary labours and the zeal with which he pursued them. In the name of the Commissioners, who had been invited to the banquet en masse, he thanked his hosts for the proof thereby made plain of their earnest and combined zeal in the cause of the approaching Exhibition. He rejoiced that it was not a mere impulse of momentary enthusiasm which they evinced, but a spirit of steady perseverance and sustained effort, and he assured his auditors that the spirit of active preparation and hopeful faith was abroad in the country. Of this, he said, he was confident, on the ground of information which reached him from all quarters. And he added, and the event proved him to be right, his own personal conviction that the works in preparation would be such as to dispel any apprehension about the position which British industry would maintain. Of his brother Commissioners he spoke with loyal and chivalrous fervour. He thanked, in their name, the public for their uninterrupted confidence in those who were responsible for the management of the scheme; and stated that there had been no difference of opinion between the central and the local committees, which had not, upon personal consultation and open discussion vanished, and given way to agreement and identity of purpose. So much for hope: the test of fruition had yet to come.

At length the great event to which the whole civilised world had been looking forward for eighteen months with mingled interest and curiosity—the opening of the great congress of industry and art—was accomplished with a pomp and solemnity of ceremonial suitable to the dignity of the occasion, and the important social interests which it involved. Spite of all predictions to the contrary—spite of the faint-hearted forebodings which the wild confusion of the interior of the building in the last days of April excused, if it did not justify—the building was ready and furnished with the world’s wares at the appointed time. At two o’clock on the last day of April the building was cleared by police and guardsmen of all exhibitors and their assistants, and the preparations for the opening day, already partially made, were pursued with the utmost zeal and vigour.

Never dawned a brighter morning than that of the May Day which succeeded. The sky was clear and blue, the air as cool, crisp, and genial as a poet or artist could wish, and the sun came forth in undimmed splendour. London, reinforced by a multitude of visitors, was early astir and afoot. At six the Park gates were opened, and through them at once commenced to pour carriages from all parts of the metropolis and its neighbourhood, filled with gaily attired courtiers, cits, and provincials. The line of route was kept by mounted soldiers and police; but their task was rendered almost perfunctory, so fully did all appear animated with the one desire to signalise this truly popular ceremonial with generous and kindly feeling, and a respect for the rights and duties of one another. The only houses from which a sight could be got of the royal procession were those at Grosvenor Gate and at Hyde Park Corner. These were crowded with well-dressed persons, of whom ladies formed the majority, up to the very roofs. The roofs of Apsley House and the park-keeper’s lodge were similarly tenanted. The windows of Buckingham Palace, which had recently been new fronted, were filled with eager spectators, chiefly members of the Household, their relatives and friends. The centre balcony was occupied by the younger princes and princesses, attended by several ladies.

Precisely at eleven the Life Guards commenced to widen the path for the procession. At half-past eleven, the band of the regiment playing “God save the Queen,” the royal cortÈge set forth, amid the cheers of the vast assembled multitude. The procession was of anything but an ostentatious character. The eight carriages of which it was composed were drawn by but two horses each. There were no Gentlemen-Ushers, Grooms, or Yeomen of the Guard. Trumpeters there were, but their trumpets were silent. At a quarter to twelve the procession reached the northern entrance of the Palace, and the Queen alighted amid the strains of the National Anthem, a salvo of artillery, and the lusty cheers of enormous multitudes on both sides of the Serpentine.

Meanwhile, from nine o’clock, the appointed hour of opening, the building had been rapidly filling, all the visitors being remarkably well dressed, and a large majority of them ladies. “The first coup d’oeil of the building, on entering the nave, was grand and gorgeous in the extreme; the vast dimensions of the structure, the breadth of light, partially subdued and agreeably mellowed in the nave by the calico coverings placed over the roof, whilst the arched transept soared boldly into the clear arch of heaven, courting, admitting, and distributing the full effulgence of the noon-day sun; the bright and striking colours and forms of the several articles in rich manufactured goods, works in sculpture, and other objects displayed by the exhibitors, dissimilar and almost incongruous in their variety, were blent into an harmonious picture of immense grandeur by the attendant circumstances of space and light to which we have just alluded; and the busy hum and eager and excited movements of the assembled thousands infused the breath of life into a picture, which, at the period of the crowning incident of the day, became truly sublime.”

By eleven o’clock, after which hour none of the general public could be admitted, the Honourable Corps of Gentlemen-at-Arms, in their gay uniforms, had taken up their places in the rear of the dais set for the Queen. This dais was covered with a splendid carpet, which had been specially worked for the occasion by 150 ladies, and on this was placed a magnificent chair of state, covered with a cloth of crimson and gold. High over head was suspended an octagon canopy, trimmed with blue satin, and draperies of blue and white. The trumpeters and heralds were in readiness to proclaim the arrival of the Queen, and Sir George Smart stood, baton in hand, perched up in a small rostrum, “ready to beat time to ‘God save the Queen’ for the five hundredth time in his life.” The Commissioners of the Exhibition and the foreign ambassadors stood in the entrance hall, prepared to pay their respects to Her Majesty on her arrival. The Queen entered, leaning on her husband’s arm, and being also accompanied by the Princess Royal and Prince of Wales. The Queen wore a dress of pink satin, brocaded with gold; Prince Albert a Field-Marshal’s uniform; the Prince of Wales was in a Highland dress, while the Princess was clad in white satin, with a wreath of flowers round her head. A tremendous burst of cheering, renewed and prolonged from all parts of the building, greeted the announcement of the arrival of the Queen.

Her Majesty was conducted to her chair of state by the Commissioners, Cabinet, and Foreign Ministers. As they stood around her chair, in their bright Court dresses and brilliant uniforms, a choir of nearly a thousand voices sang “God save the Queen.” At the conclusion of its last strain, Prince Albert descended from the dais, and taking his place with his brother Commissioners, read a long address to Her Majesty, in which he recited the history, plan, and intent of the magnificent and magnanimous scheme which was so largely the product of his own heart and brain. These and other less important particulars having been enumerated, the Prince thus concluded:—

The Queen read a short reply, the tenor of which was warmly to re-echo the hopes and sentiments contained in the address of the Prince. The Archbishop of Canterbury then offered up a consecratory prayer, which was followed by the performance of the “Hallelujah Chorus,” under the direction of Sir Henry Bishop. A very long procession, in which the Queen went hand in hand with her son, and Prince Albert with his daughter, was then marshalled, and having marched round the interior of the building, it was declared formally opened.