I know how curious you are to hear all about the royal exhibition, so I shall do my best to give you such an account of our visits to it as may enable you to get a bird's eye view of the affair.
Almost as soon as I arrived, I determined upon securing season tickets for the boys, in order that they might not only see the pageant of the opening on the 1st of May, but also have frequent opportunities to attend the building and study its contents before the reduced prices should so crowd the palace as to render examination and study nearly impracticable. However, there came a report through all the daily papers that the queen had abandoned the idea of going in person to inaugurate the exhibition, and the sale of tickets flagged, and it was thought prices would be reduced below the three guineas, which had been the rate. I left London for a few days without purchasing, and on my return I called for four season tickets, when, to my surprise, I was told that, just an hour before, orders had been given from the board to raise them to four guineas. I at once purchased them, although I regarded the matter as an imposition. A few days after, Prince Albert revoked the action of the board, and orders were issued to refund the extra guinea to all who had purchased at the advanced price. This was easily ascertained by reference to the number on the ticket, and registered at purchase with the autograph of the proprietor. Of course, we saved our four guineas.
For several days before the 1st of May all London, I may say all England, and almost all the world was on tiptoe. Every man, woman, and child talked of "the Crystal Palace, the great exhibition, the queen, and prince Albert."
For a week or two there had been a succession of cold rain storms. Winter had lingered in the lap of April. Men were looking at the 1st of May with gloomy anticipations of hail, rain, snow, and sleet. Barometers were in demand. The 30th of April gave a hail storm! The 1st of May arrives,--_the day,_--and lo!
"Heaven is clear, And all the clouds are gone."
It was as though the windows of heaven were opened to let the glory from above stream through and bless Industry's children, who are about to celebrate their jubilee. The queen, it is said, has a charm as regards the weather. I heard many exclaim, "It is the queen's weather; it is always her luck." Such a sight as that day afforded was never before witnessed, and such a spectacle will probably never again be gazed upon. The streets were thronged early. Every westward artery of the great city pulsated with the living tide that flowed through it. From the far east, where the docks border the Thames, came multitudes, though not exactly stars in the hemisphere of fashion. Ladies in the aristocratic precincts of Belgravia rose at an early hour, and, for once, followed the queen's good, every-day example. The lawyers rushed from Lincoln's and Gray's Inns of Court. The Royal Exchange was so dull at ten o'clock that the very grasshopper on its vane might have been surprised. Holborn was crammed at when in olden time people pressed, and struggled, and strove to see Jack Sheppard, Joshua Wild, Dick Turpin, or any such worthies on their sad way to Tyburn. But it is no gibbet now allures the morbid multitude. They are gayly, gently, and gladly travelling to the home of industry. Among all the pleasant sights that every moment delighted us none were more pleasant than the happy family groups, who, on every side, "push along, keep moving." Just see that mechanic; he looks as proud as a lord,--and why shouldn't he be?--with his wife leaning trustingly, lovingly on his arm. He, good man, has thrown away the saw, or plane, or any other tool of handicraft, and now his little boy--O, the delight, the wonder in that boy's face!--is willingly dragged along. Well, on we go,--driving across what you would call impassable streets, and lo! we are wedged up in a crowd,--and such a crowd,--a crowd of all nations.