The Princess Beatrice was married on Thursday to Prince Henry
of Battenberg, amidst the general rejoicings of the people of the Isle of Wight. The Princess has received cart- loads of wedding presents from the Queen's loving subjects, and especially a bridal poem from Lord Tennyson of considerable beauty, though it is injured by the use of the vile word " spousal " and by the slightly pedantic simile which likens the Princess to a "conjectured planet in mid heaven between two Suns." As the existence of the Princess is not at all more conjectural than that of the two suns in question,—the Queen and Prince Henry of Battenberg,—we regret this relegation of the bride, especially on such an occasion, to the realm of mere probability, as a defect in art. Otherwise, the lines are really beautiful, and marked by the peculiar genius of the Laureate. Medals in silver and bronze have been struck to commemorate the wedding, and everything seems to have gone well. The absence of the Princess of Prussia has given rise to conjectural rumours that the German Court does not approve the match, though we should not think that the German Court has much political opinion about the matter, or, indeed, any opinion, except on the purely personal ground of a sincere desire for the Princess's happiness.
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