DISAPPOINTING DECORATIONS.

Lyttelton Times, Volume CV, Issue 12535, 24 June 1901, Page 7

DISAPPOINTING DECORATIONS.

Mary Beaton: Do you see nothing ? Mary Carmichael;- Nay, hut swarms of men ■And talking women gathered in small space, Flapping their gowns and gaping with fool’s eyes; And «, thin ring round one that seems to speak, ■Holding his hands out eagerly; no more, Mary (Beaton: Why, I hear more, I hear men shout “The Queen." The long, lean days of anticipation, crowding more hurriedly of late towards their goal, as the good people of Christchurch woke to a realisation that they had left undone many of those things which they ought to have done preparatory to the (reception of the King’s son and his consort, have reached their point of fruition. A dozen of the simple similes of journalism, worn threadbare by centuries of use, break unbidden from 'lips and pen to express the completion of a historic incident. It was a pageant of symbolism, for the proper appreciation of which some degree of special cultivation was' necessary. Probably, during the eighteen months’ just past, that preparation has been more fully undertaken by the finger of chance than at any previous period of our country’s story. The seeds of Imperialism have been deeply sown, the tie with the -Motherland has been knotted beyond all possibility of unloosing, save by the Gordian process of summary severance; and drawn closer in sorrow and rejoicing together in success, Great Britain and' her colonies have found the latter days big with the lusty elements of history. So that the visit of the representatives of the Throne to the power that lies behind it fails not upon stony ground. Estimable citizens that they are in every respect, colonists look upon the Duke and: Duchess of Cornwall and York in their individual capacities with the idle curiosity of an hour, hot slow to comment upon their physical characteristics, to bandy comparisons, and to discriminate with widely-varying adjectives ar.ent their personalities. “If Cleopatra’s nose had been longer,’’ the historian relates, “the whole face of the world would have been changed.” But the days have passed when might or beauty counted for more inthe Divine -right of kings and queens than constitutional government, and so having asserted the" sturdy independence of their democracy by a criticism of manners end methods, honouring their guests'as emblems of the Empire, the people cheered themselves coramendably hoarse in welcome. . In the pomp and 1 circumstance attaching to the Royal progress through this colony, in common with other lands, the HeirApparent ahd his wife can gain but little insight into the processes of Empire-building. They see fair cities and smiling peoples, they live in stately mansions and travel in lordly steamers andi on palatial railway-cars, not the veriest crumpled rose-leaf of discomfort is allowed to mar the Royal pro-, gress, every valley is exalted and every mountain laid low. But of “out back,” where the thews and sinews of the country labour, of the undecorated streets of the cities, of the thousand and one arteries by which they only feel the beating pulse, they can know nothing. Bjr no stretch of imagination can their visit be regarded as one of expert stock-taking. Something of New Zealand’s loyalty, as already practically expressed by her giving freely of the flower of her manhood in the Empire’s need, will be reiterated and impressed in the form of Royal homage, but such impressions as the Duke and Duchess carry away with them will be but transient and nebulous generalities, which will fade as quickly as the memory of a summer-short flirtation. The recollection of the visit to Rotorua—this one peep behind the gilded scenes—-rich in its wealth of vivid local colour, will probably remain sharply outlined when the harsh dust will lie upon the face of other memories too thick to see their past. Beyond that will lie only a confused, recollection of ceremony upon ceremony,. obeisance uppn obeisance, platitude upon platitude, with here and there, perhaps, “ a foamy flake ” of incident to lighten the dull jade level. The Royal visit is not a national episode fraught with all sorts of superlative though misty possibilites for the colony; it does not mark a new era iii its career, nor stamp the stamp of empirical greatness upon its “ brows of gold” ; it doesn't mean that a new day, like ■a young sunrise, dawns ter the Britishspeaking world; it doesn’t mean any, or at least hardly any, of the erudite culoginms and frothy hysterics which drew from one visiting official the definition of the Australian tour as “ a sickly slobber ” ; it will not even affect the price of eggs, except temporarily. It is an incident, not an episode. What it does mean is that an appreciative nation is expressing its gratitude to its kin- across seas for a very present help in time of trouble through the highest recognised channels. The Duke and Duchess are performing a duty—it is to be hoped, and, indeed, fairly assumed, not a duty which is in any way way distasteful, and that they should be assailed by an occas sional weariness of the flesh as a. sequel to a round of ceremonies which must, perforce, grow monotonous, is one of those touches of humanism which cannot be dissassociated from Royalty as a Crown symbol. The interchange of compliments is simply one of life’s little ironies of courtesy, inseparable from either national or individual smoothness. New Zealand’s reception of the Motherland’s ‘personal message hag been a warm-hearted and kindly one, it has been immarred by a single discordant note, it has been generously enthusiastic and notably fre-e from abjectnass, and our Royal visitors will probably carry away with them an enhanced regard for the colony in so far as its courtesy has not been- overladen with embroidery. As elsewhere, by singular and marked coincidence, the dawn l of the festivities in Christchurch was decidedly ominous. All night long

Far and fain The soft rush of iho rejoicing rain Solaced .'the darkness, and it seemed morally certain that the curtain would draw upon a streaming day. Bub morals, after all, are ntftably uncertain, and that mysterious entity vaguely yclept The Clerk of the Weather, turning his eyas earthwards and seeing that the city already laboured under decorative disabilities enough to humble any excess of pride over her northern sisters should sunshine ho her por tion, relented him. As the Ophir steamed in “ out of the moonless -and faint-hearted

night,” the rain ceased. Up sprang the strength of the dark East and took with- its wide wings the laden cloud-wrack, scattering it in broken masses upon the hills, and rolling the fragments over the horizon’s edge to some unfathomable “ down- under." The first pale windy light touched the foothills of Akaroa with a glint of growing gold, it smote the bounding bay, and on a sudden “all the sea lay subject to the sun.” The curtains of clinging mist parted, and, dripping, but smiling like the sun through a shower, with all her damp finery trying bravely to assert, itself, Lyttelton lay disclosed, nestling upon her shelving terraces. The big ship’s consorts casting anchor down tbs harbour, in line with che waiting gunboats, blossomed at once into a sweep of flying colour. The warships saluted, the guns at the Island Fort thundered, .an echoing response, and with the Royal Standard floating free the Ophir steamed straight to her berth, and Canterbury’s first move was called. It was an irregular opening, for one© again Commandant Winsloe, with a playful pertinacity that is almost malicious, put in an appearance prematurely, and the actual arrival was witnessed only by some half-dozen weatherworn and semi-disconsolate casuals. Within. an hour the Government steamers and two Union boats arrived with the Ministerial party and other visitors, and the scene livened into something approaching impressiveness as the four vessels poured their quota into the now rapidly-filling streets. The wind blew shrewdly as the ceremony.of disembarkation was undertaken. This differed in no way from preceding landings in its minutiae. A crimson carpet, a blaze cf gorgeous staff uniforms, a bouquet and a presentation, the thunder of cannon, and a rally of spasmodic cheers, the thin and tremulous pipe of the schoolchildren essaying a nervous National Anthem, and the train sliding off into the yawning tunnel, Lyttelton was left to gather what reflected glory she might from the presence of The White Ship and the grim, line of anchored war-vessels stretching down towards the distant Heads.

Noon chimed as the Royal train ran sedately into the - gaily-decorated station, where the opening function proper took place. Mere bouquets, more addresses, more presentations. The ceremony at the station over, the route was quickly taken for the Provincial Counoil Chambers. The enthusiasm 1 was quite os marked by the way as that displayed in the northern cities, and the cheering sounded more spontaneous and brisker a® it rippled up the street, breaking in waves of sound a few chains ahead of the Royal carriage. People swarmed beelike upon roofs and verandahs, and upon the side-walks, where coigns of vantage had been earlier secured. The route being shorter than that of Wellington, lent an appearance at least of greater solidity to the mass of the people, and it also served to concentrate the applause and to give it volume. The function at the Provincial Council Chambers was exhilaratingly brief, and then, a little Late, through‘some of the carriages mistaking the route, an adjournment was made to Victoria, Square, where the ceremony of laying the founda-tion-stone of the Jubilee Memorial was proceeded with. The crowd here was an eminently proper one, and apparently regarded any excessive display of emotionalism as highly. improper, for though a burst of cheering welcomed the Royal arrival, it lacked spirit somewhat. The Royal suite had been curtailed from that in evidence in the north, only one lady-in-waiting attending the Duchess, neither Lady Coke nor' Lady Mary Lygon being present. When the party left the dais and proceeded down the carpeted way to the rotunda, where the stone was to be laid, it was found that no seating accommodation had been provided, and there was a rush to remedy the omission. The Duchess was not at her best; she seemed a trifle disturbed nt something, and tapped a petulant foot throughout what was probably the shortest ceremony the Duke has yet undertaken. But, indeed, the whole of the day’s proceedingss were characteristically short and sweet, to an extent which seemed out of all keeping with the elaborate preparations. People felt a want somewhere ; the show was neither impressive enough nor large enough for the populace, who, however, dispersed contentedly enough after the somewhat ragged march-past of the Friendly Societies, satisfied that the brief introduction was but a prelude to some more noble strain to, follow, and feeling at least virtuous in having established a fair weather record for the reception of the King’s son and his good wife. j

Outside that accident of weather there was bub little upon which Christchurch could lay to'her soul the flattering unction that she had excelled over the .northern cities in the accessories of her welcome. As had been confidently anticipated long ago, the decorative scheme was a. comparative failure. Compared with previous decorations rfc was distinctly disappointing. Both in Auckland and. Wellington there was quite as liberal a display of colour as hero, but this was backed up. by a wealth of greenery, which lent a< solid substance to the scheme. Following these as it does, therefore, the local decorations ®re thin and unconvincing, and convey a distinct impression of half-heartedness. And even the charity which covers so multitudinous an army of sins, can hardly be expected to atone the mixture of colours which flaunted so ungraciously in our streetsAre Art and (Nature thus at strife That Art Can lend such idle dreams? Rather Ist the much-maligned rag display be bundled away to swell the vast store of good intentions run unwittingly to seed. Notable, also, was the comparative absence of private decorative efforts. There were flagpoles even upon which, no bunting flew, whilst it was quite the exception to find individual enterprise blossoming forth into display. The “pink cake icing” which adorned tho front of the Salvation Army liar racks was probably the most pretentious effort in this direction, and if not exactly artistic, it was at ■ least warmly generous. . . The afternoon, so far as the public were concerned, was a melancholy Dukeless blank. Some of’the Royal party wandered “On Avon’s bank, where flowers eternal blow,” and the unrevealed whereabouts of the Royal pair was made light of by the man in the street, who confidently reported them as surveying mankind at various points of interest from,' China to Peru, or at least from Lancaster Park to New Brighton. But with the evening came abundant recreation. One by one strange stars stole out, and sombre buildings shot into lines of living light. The Cathedral spire climbed sky-ward- in a flashing reach of scintillating

jewels, its gilt cross gleaming like a beacon in “ the pure severity of perfect light ” which the long beam of a searchlight threw still and unerringly upon it, through the darkness. There was an almost mystic transparency about the light-lit reach of shadowy stone, silently impressive. Transparencies and mottoes, generaHy crude and primitive in conception, but ait least enthusiastically loyal, gleamed everywhere, and even the arches mellowed down in the soft shadow to dim-Ht canopies,suggestive of infinite hidden possibilities. The streets were crowded with appreciative worshippers who had nothing but praise for everything except the vehicular traffic, which should at least have been stopped in the principal thoroughfares for an hour or two. The illuminations were, generally speaking, fully equal to'those in Auckland, but quite incomparable with those in Wellington. Aftef duly inspecting the “ strange lights” and surfeiting themselves with “Ohs and “ Aies” of .admiration, a large section of the public adjourned to tfie neighbourhood of thV Canterbury Hall, where they lined up in an expectant throng to await the arrival of the Duke and Duchess tat the Mayor’s reception. Arriving guests had to run a gentle fire of pleasantry from the onlookers, who kept themselves comfortably warm at the blushes of their butts. The reception itself was a brilliant function, and quite the most impressive and well-ar-ranged with, their Highnesses have yet attended in New Zealand. They were late in arriving, and many of those outside, grown weary, stood not upon the order of their going, but “ got ’ ’in disgust long before the expected guests, accompanied by a gorgeous suite, put in an appearance. People inside were growing irritable, too, and weary with the well-doing of maintaining the best places in the long line through which the Royal visitors must pass. There was much discussion as to manners and etiquette, wherewithal to beguile the time. There was no lack of “ coaches,” either, both self-ap-pointed and official, ready to lay down the law upon all points, from the angle of ties to the composition of button-holes, from the, depth of curtseys to the abasement of smiles: Hire a slave, or (if you will) a lord

To do the honours and give '(he word ; Tell at your levee, as the crowd approach, To whom to nod, whom take into your coach, ■Whom honour with your hand. The clock had started on its uphill climb towards eleven when the tension was at last relieved. A few mild Dukes ami Princes led the way, but all eye® were reserved for the Royal pair. As Oliver Twist, with wonderful prescience, has already placed on record “ Mrs Gomey smiled,” and it was everybody’s laudable aim to participate in that smile, to catch a flying comer of,the Ducal eye, or to sneak into the embrace of the Royal how. The Duchess looked and smiled and bowed directly at everybody there—-everybody says so—and so everybody in the fullness of time went home rejoicing like Bret Harte’s angel, “ chock-full of Sunday self-esteem.” Gathering up an impression here and a fragment of street comer conversation there, a flying’ criticism upon a train platform and a polished platitude from the reception hail, a woman’s reason from the domestic hearth, and a cruel truth from the bibulous barloafer, a sentiment from the suite andi a cold-blooded comparison from a visitor, “incensing and judiciously crushing them” through the Baconian mill, the inevitable verdict is arrived at that so fax as Christchurch is cqncemed the proceedings so far have been ‘tolittle tame.” There has been none of the glory of pageant, nothing of the splendour of display • there has been a kinndly welcome from a hospitable city to guests she is glad to honour," and for the rest the magnificence of realisation has been once more heavily discounted by a too sumptuous anticipation.