Victoria herself was in a state of excitement which bordered on delirium.  She performed her duties in a trance of joy, gratitude, and amazement, and, when it was all over, her feelings poured themselves out into her journal in a torrential flood.  The day had been nothing but an endless succession of glories—­or rather one vast glory—­one vast radiation of Albert.  Everything she had seen, everything she had felt or heard, had been so beautiful, so wonderful that even the royal underlinings broke down under the burden of emphasis, while her remembering pen rushed on, regardless, from splendour to splendour—­the huge crowds, so well—­behaved and loyal-flags of all the nations floating—­the inside of the building, so immense, with myriads of people and the sun shining through the roof—­a little side room, where we left our shawls—­palm-trees and machinery—­dear Albert—­the place so big that we could hardly hear the organ—­thankfulness to God—­a curious assemblage of political and distinguished men—­the March from Athalie—­God bless my dearest Albert, God bless my dearest country!—­a glass fountain—­the Duke and Lord Anglesey walking arm in arm—­a beautiful Amazon, in bronze, by Kiss—­Mr. Paxton, who might be justly proud, and rose from being a common gardener’s boy—­Sir George Grey in tears, and everybody astonished and delighted.

A striking incident occurred when, after a short prayer by the Archbishop of Canterbury, the choir of 600 voices burst into the “Hallelujah Chorus.”  At that moment a Chinaman, dressed in full national costume, stepped out into the middle of the central nave, and, advancing slowly towards the royal group, did obeisance to Her Majesty.  The Queen, much impressed, had no doubt that he was an eminent mandarin; and, when the final procession was formed, orders were given that, as no representative of the Celestial Empire was present, he should be included in the diplomatic cortege.  He accordingly, with the utmost gravity, followed immediately behind the Ambassadors.  He subsequently disappeared, and it was rumoured, among ill-natured people, that, far from being a mandarin, the fellow was a mere impostor.  But nobody ever really discovered the nature of the comments that had been lurking behind the matchless impassivity of that yellow face.

A few days later Victoria poured out her heart to her uncle.  The first of May, she said, was “the greatest day in our history, the most beautiful and imposing and touching spectacle ever seen, and the triumph of my beloved Albert...  It was the happiest, proudest day in my life, and I can think of nothing else.  Albert’s dearest name is immortalised with this great conception, his own, and my own dear country showed she was worthy of it.  The triumph is immense.”