JOHN VAN BUREN (nicknamed "Prince John" for the charm of his manner and the courtliness of his bearing) was the second son of Martin Van Buren, President of the United States. The following extracts are taken from his diary and letters written from England in 1838, where, while engaged upon some private business, he attended the coronation of Queen Victoria and most of the festivities incident to the occasion. He received a very unusual amount of attention from notable people, and was warmly welcomed everywhere. Lack of space has of course compelled the omission of many interesting descriptions of persons and places, and many amusing accounts of the entertainments to which he went. The Coronation, a royal banquet, a dinner at Lord Palmerston's, one or two balls, a day at Windsor, a visit to Lord Leicester (Thomas William Coke, the American sympathizer, created Earl of Leicester only the year before), and the prorogation of Parliament, are the only passages given at length, with some comments on his voyage across the Atlantic.

Friday, May 25th, 1838. Well, here we are, four days out at sea, and running along delightfully. Everything augurs a charming passage, and very good luck attending me, now as ever. It is curious how very sad I felt the first 48 hours after leaving New York. The weather was delightful, too, which always exhilarates me. We have been running rapidly away from the Hook, some two hundred miles a day, and are now within three hundred miles of the Banks of Newfoundland. There we are just in time for the islands of ice which float along the outside of the Banks in great quantities in June. But I passed there in June in returning in '32, and fell in with no ice. A packet ship, the Liverpool, ran on the ice some years since and went down in fifteen minutes. The passengers were saved after being out seventy hours in the long VOL. XL.-77

boat. On leaving New York I prophesied that we should be twenty-two days on the passage. Since then I have bet against twenty-two. But for that I believe we should run over in eighteen. We might easily do it at our present rate.

Saturday, May 26th, 1838.

A lovely night, last night, and I lay on the taffrail smoking cigars and looking at the phosphorescent lights about the keel of the ship and stern, and up into the clear, starry heavens till the one o'clock bell admonished me to have an end to my smoking and castle-building, and betake myself to sleep. We had a fine run through the night and this morning, and are now near the Banks. The Captain thinks we shall pass to the South of them. Last night was Saturday evening, and according to usage we gathered around a noggin of punch to tell and hear the wonders those see that "go down to the sea in great ships." A veteran gentleman, who is now making his forty-third voyage, gave us some fearful accounts of hairbreadth escapes-which were well enough-but then he began to comfort us with assurances that we should fall in with ice; that it abounded in the longitude exactly at this season; that the last time he was in the ice on the Banks they first knew of the presence, or propinquity, of ice, by seeing it shelving over the foretop and carrying away the fore and main masts. With the help of the mizzen sails they backed out from under it and were saved. It was the easiest thing in the world to avoid the ice by steering south, but the Captain, from sheer obstinacy, never would. With much more consolatory and cheering information. We had a fog and cold weather last night, both of which portend that ice is near. After this veteran of forty-three trips had made most of his associates as uncomfortable as possible, he turned into his berth and in fifteen minutes one could hear him snore all over the ship. Pleasant fellow, sure enough.

Had a curious talk with an English merchant on board, of more than common in

693

telligence for his class. He predicts for me a very cordial reception in England and, considering my position, a commanding one. I hope he is right, but my fears are stronger than my hopes. I should be disappointed if coldly received by those to whom I have letters, but quite as much disappointed at any extra attention. There is nothing about me personally to attract or retain it. I have no official position, am no literary or intellectual celebrity. I am the son of my father they say, and if this is to o'er-leap all obstacles, why then, English society is more absurd than I thought it.

Monday, May 28th.

A week out to-day and the temper of my fellow passengers sorely tried yesterday by a rainy, foggy day and no progress made. We kept the blue laws most religiously against travelling on Sunday, lying still and rolling about. The Captain made an effort to break the day by spearing a porpoise but could not hit one. To-day his luck was better and we had a famous row in getting on board a fellow eight feet long of his slaughtering. Poor beast, how it groaned and struggled and it blew-like a porpoise

To-day we have had a little wind, and that little dead ahead. If the Captain don't draw his bet with me we shall miss the Coronation.

Wednesday, May 30th.

A ship called the Susan Maria Brook bound for St. John, sent a boat aboard of us yesterday, ostensibly to give us a letter to somebody in Donevail, Ireland. I took advantage of the chance to start a letter through Victoria's Dominions to my father. It may reach him after journeying many a weary mile. After the small boat had left us it came a long way back to ask the longitude, which we inferred afterward was its real object in boarding us. The small boat pulled a couple of miles to reach us.

We are wallowing about on these Banks yet. The change of the moon may bring wind.

Thursday, May 31st. At last we have a breeze, but not so fair as one could wish. However we are completing our journey. We encountered yesterday a fleet of eleven ships in full sight from our quarter deck, which makes it probable that this calm is surrounded by winds blowing vessels from all directions into this

confounded pot. We must be over Symm's Hole. The Republican, which sailed the day after us from New York, has kept us company for the last two days.

Saturday, June 9th.

Had a splendid sail for the last seven days and but for our being becalmed on the Banks should have made the passage in thirteen days. Our running time thus far is twelve days and we expect to make Scilly Light by six P. M. The distance passed by us in the last six days exceeds 1400 miles. Sounded at four this morning but got no bottom. The changed colour of the water, though, denotes that land is near.

June 24th.

Fifteen days have elapsed since I put pen to paper, and what an age it seems. We got ashore on Monday, a fine, clear afternoon, and took up our quarters for the night at the Royal George, Portsmouth.

Tuesday we had a half-pleasant, halfwretched drive up from Portsmouth to London. Part of the time it rained in torrents, and having an outside seat and no overcoat, except a poor thing I borrowed, I was drenched. Again it was fine, and the charming country of Hampshire spread out before us offered a rare feast in the way of scenery. Tuesday I ate my first dinner in Long's Hotel in Bond Street at 7 P. M., and am now regularly installed in my comfortable quarters and have fallen into the English habits of living with as much ease as if I had been to the manner born.

The people here are treating me uniformly with the greatest kindness, quite beyond my deserts or expectations. The season is at its height, the town is crowded with strangers of great eminence in their own countries respectively, and amid all this I am contented with a very moderate allowance for myself. Lord Gosford is unwearied in contributing to my enjoyment. Through him I was invited to the Queen's Ball before I had been presented, an unusual thing. The ball was magnificent beyond everything, but an attempt at description would occupy all my time, which is now so limited that I have not time to write to my friends. Stevenson* and myself had a grand conference as to the dress which I should wear. The court dress here for private gentlemen is preposterous.

*The American Minister.

I therefore decided to wear my old attaché uniform, which I luckily brought with me. With a little fitting it answered extremely well, and except when I have to wear breeches (when nothing saves the character of my nether extremities but the neatness of my feet and ankles) I pass off well enough. On arriving at the palace Mr. Stevenson inquired of the Marquis of Conyngham, the Lord Chamberlain, whether I should be presented. He replied, no, it is not usual to present except at a levee, and we acquiesced. A moment after we saw him conversing with the Queen, and rejoining us, he said, "Her Majesty commands that Mr. Van Buren be presented." Accordingly, I was walked up to her little Majesty and presented. She very graciously, and what struck me more, very gracefully, asked me several commonplace questions, such as-when I arrived, whether I came in a steam packet, if it was my first visit to England, how it pleased me, whether I left my father in good health, etc., to all of which I responded as properly and respectfully as my curiosity to get a good look at the little thing would allow.

I was at Ascot races a day or two before, where I had a fine opportunity of seeing her for half an hour in an open balcony a little raised above the course, known as the Queen's Stand. She was surrounded in the stand by her household, the Earl of Mulgrave, Lord Paget, Charles Murray, and others, the Marquis of Anglesey, etc. Her mother, the Duchess of Kent, was at her side. The Queen is fair, with blue eyes, light brown hair, rather a slight figure and an uncommonly pleasing expression of countenance, and very graceful manners. She talked and laughed much with those about her and seemed a lively, clever, happy person. At the ball she danced several times, but did not waltz. I suppose the contact of this last dance is too close for Majesty. She opened the ball with Prince George of Cambridge, a genteel-looking young man, a trifle shorter than I, and otherwise much the same -his hair a little darker. She danced during the evening with the Duke of Buccleuch -Lord Ward, and a son of Esterhazy, Prince Nicolas. Her figure is neat and graceful and she dances decidedly well, though rather more and harder than is customary with us. My friends threatened me with the honor of dancing with her Majesty, which would have annoyed me not a little in

my court dress for the first time; otherwise, of course, I should have been much flattered. I was relieved of all apprehension, however, by learning from Mr. Stevenson that her Majesty could dance with no one who had not been regularly presented.

Wednesday I attended the levee and had the honor of being presented in form to her Majesty. She again asked me a few questions in a sweet voice and manner, and hoped I had good news from the President. To which I again responded in my best holiday style.

It was a droll sight at the levee to see the old, war-worn veterans bowing down before this young creature and kissing her hand. Some of them were so wounded and crippled that in kneeling they fell at her feet, which caused her considerable embarrassment. Others again were so stiff that when down they could not rise and then Lord Mulgrave or Lord Conyngham or others of her household would help them up. Some were knighted, which exaltation is effected in this wise: The Queen, who at the levee is surrounded by the ladies and gentlemen of her household, with a couple of pages holding her train, has at her left an officer holding a large sword which she receives from his hands and places the blade of it first on the right shoulder and then on the left of the "operatee," who remains on his knees before her. She then says, "Rise, Sir So-andSo," and he gets up-a knight.

The day after the levee the Queen held a drawing-room, where only ladies can be presented. This one was most brilliantly attended, being the last of the season and the last opportunity of being presented so as to attend the Coronation. Victoria was supported on the left by the Princess Augusta, the Duchess of Cambridge, Duchess of Kent, Duchess of Gloucester, etc.; on the right by the officers of her household. She stood at the foot of the steps in front of the throne and behind her on the steps and platform were her ladies and maids of honor; all the ladies were magnificently dressed. The Queen wore a brilliant coronet of diamonds and her bust and stomacher were profusely covered with the same stones. The ladies enter at a door on her right, where their trains are adjusted by an officer, when they sweep forward the half of a semicircle to the front of the Queen, where they courtesy twice and converse with her Maj

esty, if she pleases. Other officers then take up their trains and pass them from hand to hand till they complete the half circle, when they leave the presence-chamber by a door opposite to the one where they entered. The Diplomatic Corps, of about forty privileged persons, of which I am one by chance, are allowed to remain in the presence of the Queen, and of course see the whole ceremony. The Queen salutes the princesses and their daughters by a kiss on the cheek. Their indecision as to whether she should kiss them or they her gave rise to much laughable butting of noses. I stood opposite the Queen for an hour gazing at the passers-by and could not help laughing at the curious and tremulous anxiety depicted on her countenance whenever a man took her hand to kiss it. She followed her hand with her eyes when she tendered it during the operation until it was finished, and seemed right glad to have it returned to her in safety.

June 27, 1838.

It is impossible to keep anything like a regular journal in this scene of unutterable confusion. Sunday I dined with Lord Holland at Holland House. There were present Lady Cowper [afterward married to Lord Palmerston], widow of Lord Cowper, a relative of Cowper, the poet. I put my self on excellent terms with her by inquiring if she were any relative of the lovely Lady Ashley, who turned out to be her daughter; Lord Mulgrave, the Viceroy of Ireland, a tall, dark, good-looking, clever but cockneyish gentleman; Luttrell of the Commons; Lord and Lady John Russell, both uncommonly nice and unaffected people, she quite pretty and he a very clearheaded man but small and insignificant; Sergeant Talfourd, a gentleman who has become eminent at the bar and as a writer, but has not entirely rubbed off in mingling in society his roughness of manners-he has been very kind and civil to me, though. We were a party of ten or so. Lady Holland is a coarse, strong-minded, masculine woman, of whom everybody is afraid. Holland House is a famous old chateau of Queen Elizabeth's time, in fine order and preservation. In the evening Lytton Bulwer came in. Bulwer is very like the portraits of him, not as affected as I feared I should find him. I did not make his acquaintance.

Monday night we had a famous ball at

Lord Fitzwilliam's. Lord Fitzwilliam is a very rich but unostentatious nobleman, a Whig of great simplicity of manners. The company were all of the Haute Noblesse. The Duke de Nemours, Louis Philippe's second son, was present,—a light-haired, sharp-faced youth, with nothing particular in his face.

Sunday I went through the Zoological Gardens which are in Regent's Park and were literally crammed with people. The Duke and Duchess of Cambridge and Prince George mingled with the populace there for an hour.

Lord Mulgrave unfortunately pronounced "balcony" with the "o" short at Lady Holland's dinner. Her Ladyship shamed him out of it, and "balcony's" penultimate was unanimously settled long.

Last night attended the Caledonian Ball, the finest spectacle I have seen in England; everybody was in fancy dress. Turkish, Scotch and Chinese costumes gave a very gay look to the rooms. The Duke and Duchess of Cambridge, Prince George, the Duke and Duchess of Buccleuch, Duke de Nemours, Marshal Soult, the Duchess of Sutherland, a wonderful old preservation, etc., etc., were there. The Scotch dances with whooping, snapping of fingers and bagpipes are no bad imitation of a North American Indian dance.

Yesterday dined at Greenwich on whitebait with Macaulay, Hoyt and others to gratify old Buckland. To-morrow is the Coronation, and all London is thronged with those who intend to be spectators.

Saturday, 30th June.

I attended the Coronation of her most gracious (sacred, I believe the English call it) Majesty on the 28th and was highly delighted. We formed in procession about ten in the morning in the Green Park and passed along up Constitution Hill into Piccadilly, along Piccadilly to St. James's Street, down St. James's Street to Pall Mall, along Pall Mall to Charing Cross, then down Whitehall and Parliament Street to the Abbey. The whole route was bordered with people extending from the side of our carriages back to the very tops and ridges of the houses. Most of the better class of English, excepting a privileged few, preferred a good view of the procession to a bad one of the Coronation, and as the number of good seats in the Abbey