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The Vault at PfaffsAn Archive of Art and Literature by the Bohemians of Antebellum New York
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Text for Page 045 [10-11-1860]

	The Coming of the Price of Wales
		to New York.

[newspaper clipping: first column]
  When a king or prince appears in the old plays, he
is invariably preceded by a flourish of drums and
trumpets, in recognition of his superiority over the
ordinary personages in the drama.  The historian or
student who, curious in antiquarian knowledge, shall
in some future Astor library, a thousand years hence,
turn over the records of to-day as conserved 
in the newspaper, refashioning from the ephem-
eral and hastily chronicled details in which the age
writes itself, the dead past�such a historian or stu-
dent will find ample reason to suppose that we
Americans have retained the spirit in which the old
dramatists wrote.  Our drums and trumpets are,
metaphorically, in active operation just now; remind-
ers of coming royalty encounter us everywhere.  Our
newspapers are full of the one topic; editorials, lec-
tures, news-items, paragraphs and advertisements all
turn upon it, claiming preference in public attention
above all others.  Perhaps no two individuals in this
city of New-York, at the present time of writing,
could converse for the space of twenty minutes with-
out some allusion to the Prince of Wales.  We are,
emphatically, in the midst of �a sensation.�
  And our interest is natural enough, and at least
two-thirds honest.  We need not take shame to our-
selves for it, not be alarmed lest it be inconsistent
with our republicanism�that can take care of itself.
There is always some truth underlying great mani-
festations of popular feeling, which commonly justi-
fies their existence.  In this case no very minute ex-
amination or analysis is necessary to discover the
source of our interest in the royal visitor.
  He is, say those who pride themselves on their
cool-headed capacity to take a common sense view of
the question, simply a young man of good education
and manners, of no extraordinary capacity�except
for dancing�who has, in not one respect or particular,
given promise of, or done anything to raise himself
in unbiased estimation above the level of average
human respectability.  Conceding him amiability
and good intentions, both of which are not uncom-
mon accompaniments of youth, we see nothing
beyond these in him, and object, as Americans, to
any furore about him.
  Such reasoners ignore or wilfully forget the youth�s
position and its possibilities.  If he survives, he will
be the king of the most powerful, the most perma-
nently established of European governments; an em-
pire boasting that the sun never sets upon its bounda-
ries.  And more than that�one standing in direct
parental relations with our own; one identified with
it in traditions, history, literature, and social usages,
as in aspirations and faith in liberty and humanity

[newspaper clipping: second column]
as the basis of all governments.  The prince is vir-
tually England�s future, personified, and as such we
instinctively receive him.
  His personal authority as king may be, as it is,
more limited and straitened than that of our own
chief magistrates, but history bears pregnant wit-
ness of the wide-spread influence, whether for good
or evil, of regal character and example.  The su-
periority of the morale of the court of Queen Vic-
toria over that of every other, past and present, is
confessedly due to her alone.  Carefully reared un-
der her training, and that of her no less judicious
husband, it may be hoped that the prince will emu-
late his mother�s virtues.  He becomes the center of
American interest for this, among other and no less 
worthy reasons.
  The weather was propitious for the occasion.  No
lovelier autumn day ever dawned upon the harbor and
city of New-York than that on which its thousands
were astir with expectation of the advent of the royal
guest.  Here, as elsewhere in the United States, the
heir of England has escaped from the watery attend-
ance of Jupitor Pluvius, whose adherence to him
while in his own domains had almost passed into a
joke.  Yesterday was, emphatically a beautiful day,
what in England is denominated �Queen�s weather.�
  To the U. S. revenue cutter, Harriet Lane, placed
at the disposal of Lord Renfrew heretofore on several
occasions, was accorded the honor of conveying him
to this city.  She lay off the Battery until close upon
9 A. M., awaiting the arrival of the citizens deputed
to meet and receive the distinguished visitor.
  Before these appeared, the deck of the steamer
presented a very lively spectacle.  The cutter is or-
dinarily a model of nautical trimness and propriety;
but on this occasion these characteristics were tempo-
rarily in abeyance, the getting aboard, and unpack-
ing of crates of crockery, wineglasses, and bottles of
champagne, not to mention sofas, and other articles
of furniture, materially interfering with them.  Offi-
cers, sailors, stewards, and waiters, seemed equally
busy.  The Governor�s Island band, detailed for
service on the steamer, furnished music�the only
thing needed to complete the scene.  Amid it, in his
handsome naval costume, his golden epaulets spark-
ling in the sunlight, was Captain John Faunce, the
commander of the vessel, guiding and directing,
aided by his officers.  To these gentlemen, Lieuten-
ants J. D. Usher, D. C. Constable, and C. B. Berret,
to Chief Engineer J. R. Dryburgh, Assistant Engi-
neers Walter Scott, C. G. Dale, and Frank Pulsifer,               
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