THE ROYAL BREAKFAST.
Holford did not immediately close his eyes in slumber.
Although his education had been miserably neglected, he possessed good
natural abilities; and his reflections at times were of a far more
philosophical nature than could have been anticipated.
The gorgeous scenes which he had just witnessed now led him to meditate
upon the horrible contrasts which existed elsewhere, not only in the
great metropolis, but throughout the United Kingdom,—and many, very many
of which he himself had seen with his own eyes, and felt with his own
experience.
At that moment when festivity was highest, and pleasure was most
exciting in the regal halls, there were mothers in naked attics, dark
cellars, or even houseless in the open streets,—mothers who pressed
their famished little ones to their bosoms, and wondered whether a
mouthful of food would ever pass their lips again.
While the royal table groaned beneath the weight of golden vessels and
the choicest luxuries which earth's fruitfulness, heaven's bounty, or
man's ingenuity could supply,—while the raciest produce of fertile
vineyards sparkled in the crystal cups,—at that same period, how many
thousands of that exalted lady's subjects moistened their sorry crust
with tears wrung from them by the consciousness of ill-requited toil and
the pinching gripe of bitter poverty!
Delicious music here, and the cries of starving children there;—silver
candelabra pouring forth a flood of lustre in a gorgeous saloon, and a
flickering rushlight making visible the naked and damp-stained walls of
a wretched garret;—silks and satins, rags and nudity;—luxurious and
pampered indolence; crushing and ill-paid labour;—homage and reverence,
ill-treatment and oppression;—the gratification of every whim, the
absence of every necessary;—not a care for to-morrow here, not a hope
for to-morrow there;—a certainty of a renewal of this day's plenty, a
total ignorance whence the next day's bread can come;—mirth and
laughter, moans and sorrowing;—a palace for life on one hand, and an
anxiety lest even the wretched hovel may not be changed for a workhouse
to-morrow;—these are the appalling contrasts which our social sphere
presents to view!
Of all this Holford thought as he lay concealed in the lumber-room of
the royal dwelling.
But at length sleep overtook him.
It was still dark when he awoke. At first he thought that he must have
slumbered for many hours—that a day had passed, and that another night
had come;—but he felt too little refreshed to remain many instants in
that opinion. Moreover, as he watched the window, he observed a faint,
faint gleam of light—or rather a mitigation of the intenseness of the
gloom without—slowly appearing; and he knew that the dawn was at hand.
He was nearly frozen in that cheerless room where he had slept: his
teeth chattered—his limbs were benumbed. He longed for some new
excitement to elevate his drooping spirits, and thus impart physical
warmth to his frame.
Suddenly a thought struck him: he would penetrate into the royal
breakfast-room! He knew that the Queen and Prince Albert frequently
partook of the morning meal together; and he longed to listen to their
conversation when thus _tête-a-tête_.
Scarcely had he conceived this project when he resolved to execute it.
The interior of the palace—even to its most private apartments and
chambers—was as we have before stated, perfectly familiar to him.
Stealing from the place where he had slept, he proceeded with marvellous
caution to the point of his present destination; and in about ten
minutes he reached the breakfast-room in safety.
The twilight of morning had now penetrated through the windows of this
apartment; for the heavy curtains were drawn aside, a cheerful fire
burnt in the grate, and the table was already spread.
A friendly sofa became Holford's hiding-place.
Shortly after eight o'clock a domestic entered with the morning
Ministerial paper, which he laid upon the table, and then withdrew.
Five minutes elapsed, when the door was thrown open, and the Queen
entered, attended by two ladies. These were almost immediately
dismissed; and Victoria seated herself near the fire, to read the
journal. But scarcely had she opened it, ere Prince Albert made his
appearance, followed by a gentleman in waiting, who humbly saluted her
Majesty and retired.
Servants immediately afterwards entered, and placed upon the table the
materials for a sumptuous breakfast, having performed which duty they
immediately left the room.
The Queen and her consort were now alone—or at least, supposed
themselves to be so; and their conversation soon flowed without
restraint.
But such an empire—such a despotism does the habitual etiquette of
Courts establish over the natural freedom of the human mind, that
even the best and most tender feelings of the heart are to a certain
extent subdued and oppressed by that chilling influence. The royal
pair were affectionate to each other: still their tenderness was not
of that lively, unembarrassed, free, and cordial nature which
subsists at the domestic hearth elsewhere. There seemed to be a
barrier between the frank and open interchange of their thoughts;
and even though that barrier were no thicker than gauze, still it
existed. Their words were to some degree measured—scarcely
perceptibly so, it is true—nevertheless, the fact _was_ apparent in
the least, least degree; and the effect was also in the least, least
degree unpleasant.
The Queen was authoritative in the enunciation of her opinion upon any
subject; and if the Prince differed from her, he expressed himself with
restraint. In fact, he did not feel himself his wife's equal. Could a
listener, who did not see them as they spoke, have deadened his ear to
those intonations of their voices which marked their respective sex, and
have judged only by their words, he would have thought that the Queen
was the _husband_, and the Prince the _wife_.
The Prince appeared to be very amiable, very intelligent; but totally
inexperienced in the ways of the world. The Queen exhibited much natural
ability and an elegant taste: nevertheless, she also seemed lamentably
ignorant of the every-day incidents of life. We mean that the royal pair
manifested a reluctance to believe in those melancholy occurrences which
characterize the condition of the industrious millions. This was not the
result of indifference, but of sheer ignorance. Indeed, it would
necessarily seem difficult for those who were so surrounded by every
luxury, to conceive that such a fearful contrast as literal starvation
could possibly exist.
But let us hear that illustrious pair converse: their language will to
some extent serve as an index to their minds.
"Melbourne informed me last evening," said the Queen, "that he trembles
for the safety of his Cabinet during the approaching session. The
Carlton Club is particularly active; and the Conservative party has
acquired great strength during the recess."
"What would be the consequence of a Ministerial defeat?" inquired Prince
Albert.
"A dissolution, of course," answered the Queen. "I must candidly confess
that I should regret to see the Conservative party succeed to power. All
the principal lords and ladies of our household would be immediately
changed. The Whigs, however, have certainly grown unpopular; and there
appears to be some distress in the country. The very first article on
which my eyes rested when I took up this newspaper ere now, is headed
'_Dreadful Suicide through Extreme Destitution_.' Beneath, in the same
column, is an article entitled '_Infanticide, and Suicide of the
Murderess, through Literal Starvation_.' The next column contains a long
narrative which I have not had time to read, but which is headed
'_Suicide through Dread of the Workhouse_.' On this page," continued the
Queen, turning the paper upon the table, "there is an article entitled
'_Death from Starvation_;' another headed '_Dreadful Condition of the
Spitalfields' Weavers_;' a third called '_Starving State of the Paisley
Mechanics_;' a fourth entitled '_Awful Distress in the Manufacturing
Districts_;' and I perceive numerous short paragraphs all announcing
similar calamities."
"The English papers are always full of such accounts," observed the
Prince.
"And yet I would have you know that England is the richest, most
prosperous, and happiest country on the face of the earth," returned the
Queen, somewhat impatiently. "You must not take these accounts literally
as you read them. My Ministers assure me that they are greatly
exaggerated. It appears—as the matter has been explained to me—that the
persons who furnish these narratives are remunerated according to
quantity; and they therefore amplify the details as much as possible."
"Still those accounts must be, to a certain extent, based on truth?"
said Prince Albert, half inquiringly.
"Not nearly so much as you imagine. My Ministers have satisfied me on
that head; and they must know better than you. Take, for instance, the
article headed '_Dreadful Condition of the Spitalfields' Weavers_.' You
may there read that the weavers are in an actual state of starvation.
This is only newspaper metaphor: the writer means his readers to
understand that the weavers are not so well off as they would wish to
be. Perhaps they have not meat every day—perhaps only three or four
times a week: but they assuredly have plenty of bread and
potatoes—because bread and potatoes are so cheap!"
"I thought that you intended to discountenance the importation of
foreign silks, by ordering all the ladies of the Court to wear dresses
of English material?" observed Prince Albert, after a pause.
"Such was my intention," answered the Queen; "but the ladies about me
dropped so many hints on the subject, that I was compelled to rescind
the command. I must confess that I was not sorry to find an excuse for
so doing; for I greatly prefer French silks and French dressmakers. But
let me make an observation upon this article which is headed '_Suicide
through Dread of the Workhouse_.' I spoke to the Secretary of State a
few days ago upon the subject of workhouses; and he assured me that they
are very comfortable places. He declared that the people do not know
when they are well off, and that they require to be managed like
refractory children. He quite convinced me that all he said was
perfectly correct; and I really begin to think that the people are very
obstinate, dissatisfied, and insolent."
"They are most enthusiastic in their demonstrations towards their
sovereign," remarked the Prince.
"And naturally so," exclaimed Victoria. "Am I not their Queen? are they
not my subjects? do I not rule over them? All the happiness, prosperity,
and enjoyments which they possess emanate from the throne. They would be
very ungrateful if they did not reverence—nay, adore their sovereign."
"Oh, of course!" said Prince Albert. "In Germany, any individual who
exhibits the least coldness towards his sovereign is immediately marked
as a traitor."
"And in this country the Home Secretary keeps a list of disaffected
persons," observed the Queen; "but, thank God! their number is very
limited—at least, so I am assured. My Ministers are constantly informing
me of the proofs of loyalty and devotion which the people manifest
towards me. If this were a Roman Catholic nation, they would no doubt
place my image next to the Virgin in their chapels; and if it were an
idolatrous country, my effigy would assuredly stand amongst the gods and
goddesses. It is very pleasant, Albert, to be so much loved by my
subjects—to be positively worshipped by them."
The Prince replied with a compliment which it is not worth while to
record.
The Queen smiled, and continued:—
"You remember the paragraph which the Secretary of State pointed out a
few days ago: it was in the _Morning Post_, if you recollect. That
journal—which, by the bye, circulates entirely amongst the upper
servants of the aristocracy, and nowhere else—declared '_that so great
is the devotion of my loyal, subjects that, were such a sacrifice
necessary, they would joyfully throw themselves beneath the wheels of my
state-carriage, even as the Indians cast themselves under the car of
Juggernaut_.'[31] I never in my life saw but that one number of the
_Post_: its circulation, I am told, is confined entirely to the servants
of the aristocracy; still it seems in that instance to express the
sentiments of the entire nation. You smile, Albert?"
"I was only thinking whether the paragraph to which you have alluded,
was another specimen of newspaper metaphor," answered the Prince, with
some degree of hesitation.
"Not at all," returned the Queen, quickly; "the Editor wrote precisely
as he thought. He must know the real sentiments of the people, since he
is a man of the people himself. I have been assured that he was once the
head-butler in a nobleman's family: hence his success in conducting a
daily newspaper exclusively devoted to the interests and capacities of
upper-servants."
"I thought that English Editors were generally a better class of men?"
observed the Prince.
"So they are for the most part," replied the Queen: "graduates at the
Universities—barristers—and highly accomplished gentlemen. But in the
case of the _Morning Post_ there seems to be an exception. We were,
however, conversing upon the distress in the country—for there certainly
is some little distress here and there; although the idea of people
actually dying of starvation in a Christian land is of course absurd. I
am really bewildered, at times, with the reasons of, and the remedies
proposed for, that distress. If I ask the Home Secretary, he declares
that the people are too obstinate to understand what comfortable places
the workhouses are;—if I ask the Colonial Secretary, he assures me that
the people are most wilfully blind to the blessings of emigration: if I
ask the Foreign Secretary, he labours to convince me that the distracted
state of the East reacts upon this country; and if I ask the Bishop of
London he expresses his conviction that the people require more
churches."
"For my part, I do not like to interfere in these matters," said the
Prince; "and therefore I never ask any questions concerning them."
"And you act rightly, Albert, for you certainly know nothing of English
politics. I observe by the newspapers that the country praises your
forbearance in this respect. You are a Field-Marshal, and Chief Judge of
the Stannaries Court—and——"
"And a Knight of the Garter," added the Prince.
"Yes—and a Learned Doctor of Laws," continued the Queen: "any thing
else?"
"Several things—but I really forget them all now," returned the Prince.
"Never mind," exclaimed the Queen. "I intend to obtain for you higher
distinctions yet. I do not like the mere title of _Prince_, and the
style of _Royal Highness_: you shall be _King-Consort_ and _Your
Majesty_. Then, when a vacancy occurs, you must be appointed
Commander-in-Chief."
"I feel deeply grateful for your kind intentions," returned the Prince,
with a smile; "but you are well aware that I am totally ignorant of
every thing connected with the army."
"That is of no consequence in England," replied the Queen. "You will
have subordinates to do your duty. I must speak to Melbourne about all
this. And now, as I intend to take these steps in your behalf, pray be a
little more cautious relative to your private amusements; and let me
hear of no more burying of dogs with funeral honours. That little affair
of the interment of _Eos_ at Windsor has attracted the notice of the
press, I understand. It was indiscreet."
"If I adapt my conduct entirely according to the English notions,"
returned the Prince, "I should be compelled to give up those _battues_
to which I am so devotedly attached."
"We must consult Melbourne on that head," observed the Queen.
The royal pair then conversed upon a variety of topics which would
afford little interest to the reader; and shortly after nine her Majesty
withdrew.
Prince Albert remained in the room to read the newspaper.
Henry Holford had listened with almost breathless attention to the
conversation which we have recorded.
The Prince had drawn his chair more closely to the fire, after the Queen
left the room; and he was now sitting within a couple of yards of the
sofa beneath which Holford lay concealed.
The pot-boy gently drew aside the drapery which hung from the framework
of the sofa to the floor, and gazed long and intently on the Prince. His
look was one in which envy, animosity, and admiration were strangely
blended. He thought within himself, "Why are you so exalted, and I so
abased? And yet your graceful person—your intelligent countenance—your
handsome features, seem to fit you for such an elevated position.
Nevertheless, if I had had your advantages of education——"
The meditations of the presumptuous youth were suddenly and most
disagreeably checked:—the Prince abruptly threw aside the paper, and his
eyes fell on the human countenance that was gazing up at him from
beneath the sofa.
His Royal Highness uttered an exclamation of surprise—not altogether
unmingled with alarm; and his first impulse was to stretch out his hand
towards the bell-rope. But, yielding to a second thought, he advanced to
the sofa, exclaiming, "Come forth—whoever you may be."
Then the miserable pot-boy dragged himself from his hiding-place, and in
another moment stood, pale and trembling, in the presence of the Prince.
"Who are you?" demanded his Royal Highness in a stern tone: "what means
this intrusion? how came you hither?"
Henry Holford fell at the feet of the Prince, and confessed that, urged
by an invincible curiosity, he had entered the palace on the preceding
evening; but he said nothing of his previous visits.
For a few moments Prince Albert seemed uncertain how to act: he was
doubtless hesitating between the alternatives of handing the intruder
over to the officers of justice, or of allowing him to depart
unmolested.
After a pause, he questioned Holford more closely, and seemed satisfied
by the youth's assurance that he had really entered the palace through
motives of curiosity, and not for any dishonest purpose.
The Prince accordingly determined to be merciful.
"I am willing," he said, "to forgive the present offence; you shall be
suffered to depart. But I warn you that a repetition of the act will
lead to a severe punishment. Follow me."
The Prince led the way to an ante-room where a domestic was in waiting.
"Conduct this lad as privately as you can from the palace," said his
Royal Highness. "Ask him no questions—and mention not the incident
elsewhere."
The Prince withdrew; and the lacquey led Henry Holford through various
turnings in the palace to the servants' door opening into Pimlico.
Thus was the pot-boy ignominiously expelled from the palace; and
never—never in his life had he felt more thoroughly degraded—more
profoundly abased—more contemptible in his own eyes, than on the present
occasion!
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Footnote 31:
Such a disgustingly fulsome, and really atrocious paragraph did
actually appear in the _Morning Post_ three or four years ago.