A rare medal for the Great Exhibition, 1851, and “the Guildhall Entertainment”

A rare medal for the Great Exhibition, 1851, and “the Guildhall Entertainment”

by Peter Duckers

The remarkable “Great Exhibition” in Hyde Park in 1851 produced a wealth of official bronze medals awarded for various services relating to its organisation and exhibitions. They vary from the rare Council Medal, with about 170 awarded, to the small Exhibitor’s Medal, given to over 14,000 businesses and individuals who showed their wares, inventions or designs at the Exhibition. A great many privately-made souvenir medallions and token coins were also produced. [see general article on Great Exhibition medals on this site]

One award which rarely features in the accounts of the Exhibition or even in catalogues of its medals is the silver medal given (effectively) to the organisers of the Exhibition Ball held under Royal patronage at the Guildhall in the City of London on 9^th July 1851. It was intended to celebrate the successful opening of the Exhibition and as a ‘thank you’ to some of the people involved in setting it up. Nearly 3,000 guests (if we include partners) were invited, all of them having some connection with the working or organisation of the Great Exhibition or members of the City of London council. But only some of those guests actually got the medal, given for distinct services rendered in the organisation of the Royal Ball itself or, in the case of some specially-invited dignitaries, for other work associated with the Great Exhibition. Leading political figures invited to the Ball include William Gladstone, Lord Grey, the Duke of Norfolk, Lord Granville, Lord John Russell and foreign ambassadors. It is interesting to note that some leading Tory politicians – like Benjamin Disraeli – declined to attend, believing that the whole Great Exhibition was nothing more than Liberal free trade propaganda.

The event itself “in commemoration of the great Congress of Industry now holding in the Crystal Palace in Hyde Park” was proposed and organised by the Lord Mayor of London, John Musgrove (for which he was knighted!), working with a committee of the Aldermen and Common Councillors of the City of London – many of whose members feature in the list of the guests and were recipients of the medal. The few medals which have been seen are usually to Councillors of the City of London. The huge sum of £5250 was voted by the Common Council to fund the event – estimated at over £950,000 in today’s terms. A staggering sum for a supper and one night of dancing!

 

The Military General Service and the 1851 medal – comparison.

The 1851 medal obverse lacks the date.

 

The medal was based entirely on the Military General Service Medal (MGS) or Naval General Service Medal (NGS), awarded in 1848 to survivors of the wars of 1793-1814. The date ‘1848’ was removed from the 1851 medal. It was of identical size, used the Wyon ‘young head’ of Queen Victoria and titles ‘Victoria Regina’ as its obverse and carried the straight, swivelling suspension of the MGS/NGS; from the obverse side, it looks identical to the MGS or NGS.

The reverse, of course, was completely different. It bore a simple central text:

ROYAL / ENTERTAINMENT / AT / GUILDHALL / 9^th JULY / 1851

Around this, over a small spray of national emblems, was:

EXHIBITION OF THE WORKS OF INDUSTRY OF ALL NATIONS

The event was originally meant to take place on the 2^nd July 1851, but since that was the first anniversary of Prime Minister Sir Robert Peel’s death in 1850, it was thought tactful to re-arrange the event for a week later – which resulted in a lot of work!

The awards were machine-impressed on the lower rim with the recipient’s name [e.g. ‘Fredk. Locke Esqre.’] in the exact block capitals used on the MGS/NGS. At a time when the production of medals and medallions to celebrate events was common enough and used to demonstrate the skills and expertise of artists and designers, it seems strange that the medal for such a grand event tamely duplicated the look of the MGS/NGS. But the fact was that William Wyon, the designer who was to produce the medal, was taken ill in 1851 (he died in October) and couldn’t complete the work. The Council clearly opted for a quickly-available “off the shelf” die design, with appropriate wording added to the reverse.

The medals were presented in an attractive red, velvet-lined display case, with the royal coat-of-arms and date ‘1851’ embossed in gold on the lid. Since the medal bore a suspension, it was clearly meant to be worn and is usually seen with a dark blue ribbon, but many surviving examples no longer carry a ribbon at all and others are clearly altered to personal preference; one shown here, for example, has been adapted to be worn round the neck! The case has a compartment under the medal seating to hold a length of ribbon.

It is not known exactly how many medals were issued – no roll exists – but it is estimated to be no more than a few hundred, if that; they were not given to all the invited guests, but only to those who had worked to set up the actual event, responsible for organising, funding and hosting the Royal Entertainment i.e. the Lord Mayor of London and his committee and various City of London Aldermen and high-ranking members of the Corporation of London. Added to these were the Royal Commissioners who managed the Great Exhibition and selected foreign ambassadors, dignitaries and VIP guests (from the government, the House of Commons and the House of Lords) who attended the ball. It was considered that, given the universal (international) nature of the Exhibition, a grand ball would be a good opportunity to entertain some of the many foreign leaders, leading exhibitors and overseas leaders of commerce.

On the day of the Ball, the Queen, Prince Albert and some of the royal children visited the Great Exhibition. In the evening, the Queen and Prince Albert travelled the route from Buckingham Palace to the Guildhall in the City of London in a grand, formal procession of eight carriages, escorted by the 1st and 2nd Life Guards. The roads were lined with cheering crowds (“the cheering along the whole line of the route was immense”), the bells of all the nearby churches pealing and the streets and nearby side-streets decked with flags, floral displays and bunting. The event was made all the more noteworthy because it took place in the Guildhall at night: “the Queen’s path from Temple Bar to King Street was a blaze of light – flags and ensigns were stretching across the streets or hung from the casements”. All the major public buildings en route were “magnificently illuminated” – Temple Bar, St. Paul’s School, the Mansion House, the Bank of England, the Royal Exchange, East India House, the Guildhall and South Sea House and others; they vied with each other to produce the most impressive decorated coloured displays, lights and illuminations. The bands of the Life Guards and Honourable Artillery Company provided a musical accompaniment along the route.

The Queen, met in the quadrangle courtyard of the Guildhall, by the Lord Mayor, and other Corporation dignitaries, was greeted with “a flourish of trumpets” as she entered the Guildhall around 10.00 p.m. The band of the Grenadier Guards under Bandmaster Peter Schott was stationed in a temporary pavilion erected in the quadrangle; they provided the grand ceremonial music, including the fanfare for Queen Victoria’s arrival and the initial royal promenade, when the Queen was being introduced to the Lord Mayor and other dignitaries.

Unsurprisingly, the event was covered in depth by the contemporary press, like the Illustrated London News, offering a great deal of detail, illustrated with woodcuts. The London Observer commented:

The “noble and large hall of the [City] Corporation and the numerous suites of offices attached to the buildings will be purposely fitted up as retiring, supper and refreshment rooms”. It was confidently expected that the Ball would “bid fair to out-vie anything that was ever seen there. Everything that art, elegance and space can afford is being done, and the whole will present a scene that its like, perhaps, will never have been beheld by the numerous distinguished foreigners who will be invited to this imposing assembly”. 

It certainly seems to have been a breath-taking spectacle, as recorded in the London Illustrated News:

“The Great Hall has undergone a complete transformation insomuch as it would hardly be recognised by the oldest frequenter of civic festivities. The floor was boarded throughout and covered with a rich crimson carpet and around the walls, to a height of twelve feet, a temporary Gothic screen was erected … the ceiling was painted with panels blue and white … and semi-circular balconies were erected at the base of each of the windows, bearing escutcheons of the City arms. Pendant rom these and above them, along the whole line of the walls, were rich festoons of flowers of all colours, reaching to the ceiling … the most fairy-like picture presented [itself]. The massive Gothic pillars between the windows were covered with silver and gold so as to resemble in form the stems of palm trees, while above them were hung branches of leaves of similar character, clusters of various fruits and other device sof like kind. The compartment of the walls beneath the above decorations were filled with allegorical devices emblematic of the various nations which have contributed to the Great Exhibition”. The whole chamber was illuminated with great crystal chandeliers “with cut and coloured glass” bearing the royal arms of cypher. Gas lamps “with round glass shades” lit up the rest of the hall. “Choice works of sculpture” by leading modern artists were dotted around the Hall and side rooms, along with a vast array of “luxurious hothouse plants”; passages between the rooms were draped in crimson and white drapery “and brilliantly lighted”.

The side rooms and crypt were all decorated in equally sumptuous fashion, including, of course, the Queen’s own suite of “retiring rooms”, decked with “fabrics in amber and silver, the roof formed into a tent, with white and silver” and the walls draped with rich and vibrantly colourful tapestries. The chairs and sofas were newly upholstered to match and there were “richly ornamented cabinets and tables” throughout.

In anticipation of the royal visit, the historic 15th-century stonework of the crypt (undercroft) was completely rubbed down and cleaned. The medieval clustered shafts, Purbeck marble pillars and ornate capitals were fully repaired to showcase their structural beauty under the vaulted ceilings. Rather than using the blinding gaslight popular upstairs in the Great Hall, the crypt relied on extensive candlelight and oil lamps to trace the stone-ribbed groins of the ceiling and highlight the carved bosses. The centre of attention near the north entrance featured a massive, prominent Egyptian red granite bowl (presented to the City in 1802 to commemorate British military achievements in Egypt). Very long banqueting tables lined the stone aisles. They were dressed in fine white linens, crowded with expensive corporate gold plate and decorated with elaborate flower arrangements to contrast with the heavy, subterranean architecture.

The Queen had rejected the idea of a formal banquet and suggested a ball instead; for one thing, more people could be invited to a dance than to a sit-down meal. Nevertheless, the “supper” at midnight was nothing less than a banquet!

The food, as well as “general refreshments” for nearly 3,000 guests – listed on specially-printed, calligraphic menus – were in the hands of “those eminent caterers” Messrs. Staples. The Staples family was legendary in Victorian London’s luxury dining scene. They operated out of the famous Albion Tavern on Aldersgate Street, the premiere centre for handling impressive, large-scale, formal corporate and royal banquets in the City. In fact, John Staples later became so prominent in City affairs that he was elected Lord Mayor of London in 1885.

Needless to say, the large wine list (the wines “poured continuously throughout the evening” and for “the endless rounds of formal toasts to the Royal Family and the success of global industry”) included some exquisite and rare vintages, one of which “brought from the civic depositories, was a bottle of sherry 105 years old [i.e. from 1746] and of matchless quality, which had been bottled for the Emperor Napoleon.” Other wines – notably Muscatel and Paxarete – were provided by “Mons. Peter Domecq from his vineyards at Macharnudo” and the best Sillery champagnes. All were served in glasses specially made for the occasion “by Mr. J. Staples”, engraved with the royal crown, the City shield and the globe, (typifying all nations), and interwoven with sprays of corn, fruit and flowers. All the table linen, napkins and doyleys (“of rich green Genoa velvet”) were specially produced for the occasion, embroidered with motifs “of peace and plenty”, the royal crown and the flags of the major nations represented in the Exhibition. The ceramic tableware was also specially made and decorated with royal devices and badges of the City of London. “The toute ensemble of the feast – for such it may be called – was one of elegant profusion. The whole banquet went off with the ease and quiet of a supper party at a private house”.

Dancing went on through the night. It was led by Michael Weippert’s band, one of London’s premier aristocratic society bands, based in the Great Hall, and responsible for the main dance program, keeping the crowded room moving to the latest and most fashionable ballroom numbers. The most fashionable dances of the day were performed. It began with the Grand Polonaise, played by the Guards in the Quadrangle Pavilion, which was on this occasion not a dance but simply an accompaniment to the formal, walking processional led by Queen Victoria and the Lord Mayor to officially open the dance floor. After the guests had paraded into the Hall, assembled, the Queen danced in the First Quadrille (The Royal Set) partnering the French Ambassador, while Prince Albert danced with the Duchess of Norfolk. It was followed by a Waltz, a Second Quadrille and an energetic Galop or Polka set, played to liven up the room before the supper interval and a Mazurka, the dramatic, rhythmic Polish couple’s dance, which concluded the main portion of the dance card before guests moved to the dining rooms.

The Queen and royal family left before 1.00 a.m. – after about three hours  – and after the “supper”, but it was after 6.00 a.m. before all the rest of the guests had departed. The Queen commented in her Journal that she marvelled at the transformation that had taken place to the Guildhall and expressed great amazement at the sheer scale of public adoration outside. She noted that the streets, rooftops, and windows of London were “one mass of beaming faces” cheering her carriage along the route, a spectacle that stayed vibrant even when she left the venue at 1:00 a.m. She had greatly enjoyed the event (“beautifully decorated”) but found it “very hot and crowded”.

Interestingly, all the expensive and sumptuous fittings made for the spectacular one-off occasion – drapes and other fabrics, some of the tableware, decorative devices etc – were sold by auction in the Guildhall at the end of September 1851, where “there was a numerous attendance of buyers, including several theatrical agents, and the lots fetched a good price”.

 

The men (no women?) who got the Exhibition Banquet medals would no doubt have enjoyed the most sumptuous night of their lives – and the small, silver medal was at least a memento of the great occasion.