_The Court of St. James._
Who knows not by heart the face of the Royal Palace of St. James? That
such a house should have been a Palace in the days of Wolsey, seems
strange enough to one who has seen at Oxford what even a college was, in
Wolsey’s conception: but that it should still be a Palace, when Pall
Mall and St. James’s-street are full of club-houses, that would scarcely
take any part of it for a kitchen, with the condition of setting it on
their own ground—this seems stranger still. Yet a Palace may it long
continue; for not until the government of England shall be that of some
revolutionary _parvenu_, will it cease to be a speaking symbol of the
genuine dignity of the British Crown! The Queen of England can afford to
hold her Court in an old, worn-out mansion, and to let the opulence of
her subjects erect the most striking contrast at its side. Build as they
may—St. James is not cast into the shade: it is historical and royal.
There are few illustrations to be found more _à propos_ to the
superiority of a mental over a physical grandeur.
In returning to London from my Glo’stershire excursion, one of my
purposes was to be presented at Court; a gratification which I had been
advised to allow myself, and which the American Minister had politely
proffered me. An experienced courtier supplied me with the necessary
hints as to dress, and the etiquette of the Court; and accordingly, on a
levee day, I was duly presented, as preparatory to going to Court, on
the more splendid occasion of a drawing-room. The presentation of
gentlemen always takes place at a levee, and no one of the male sex can
attend a drawing-room who has not been previously presented. Ladies do
not attend levees at all, and consequently a levee is a very dull
affair, when compared with the brilliant spectacle which they make of a
drawing-room, not less by their beauty, than by the glitter of their
diamonds, and the flaunting of their trains.
As a clergyman, I was freed from any great burden of expense in the
matter of costume, canonicals being the proper dress for one of the
priestly function, and my ordinary suit of robes being in very good
condition. A pair of enormous shoe-buckles was almost the only
additional item to be thought of; and an Oxford cap was pronounced by my
kind adviser, Sir John S——, quite as proper as the absurd little
apology for a three-cornered hat, (tucked under the arm,) which is
considered the more exquisite finish to the clerical exterior, on such
occasions. My next concern was to furnish myself with a Brougham, (or
chariotee,) and with a driver wearing a sort of livery; hackney-coaches
not being sufferable within the precincts of the Palace. A couple of
cards, of unusual magnitude, one of which bore the name of my presenter,
with my own, was the last requisite; and thus munimented, I had only to
fall into the line of aristocratic equipages, sweeping down St.
James’s-street, and to await my turn for alighting at the doors of the
Palace.
How different the scene in Hogarth’s day, when they went to Court in
sedan-chairs, and when the “Rake, arrested for debt,” (as portrayed in
his dramatic colours,) was the very ideal of a courtier. Yet there
stands the old Palace, precisely as it figures in that graphic picture,
and here are the successors of the characters who fill up its
back-ground, if not those of the hero himself! Such were my reflections
as I found myself moving, very leisurely, in the procession of wheels,
along the splendid street, amid crowds of gaping spectators, kept at
respectful distance by the heels of the horses of the mounted guards,
and by the vigorous exertions of the police. My further reflections were
not of a very self-sufficient sort; for who could be very much elated at
finding himself cutting so little of a figure, and, in fact, making an
absolute blemish, in such a pageant? Yet, I had no occasion to be
ashamed, as I felt that my hired brougham was as much the thing for my
republican self-respect, as the gilded coaches and gorgeous liveries
before me and behind me were for titled lords and ladies. In fact, if I
could not be vain, I was not without a little Johnsonian pride, in the
entire consistency and reality of my turn-out. Hired court-dresses, and
swords, and buckles, have been not unheard-of things for an appearance
at Court. I was at least habited in no borrowed plumes, and was going in
the same vestments which I had often worn in my pulpit, to be presented
by the representative of my own Government, as a plain American
parish-priest. As for my hired brougham, it was countenanced by so many
of its own kind, that its humble appearance occasioned no surprise even
among the staring crowd, it being quite usual for professional gentlemen
to use such an equipage. But the carriages of the nobility, in general,
are truly superb: that is to say—if they are not ridiculous. They look,
for all the world, (with their gilding, emblazonings and trappings,
their powdered coachmen, and footmen holding on behind, three in a row,
with staves and cocked hats,) like the carriage of Cinderella in the
nursery-book. And indeed, on a drawing-room day, the fair creatures
within, in their ostrich-plumes, and lace, and diamonds, as revealed to
vulgar eyes through the glass-windows, often seem to realize the
fabulous beauty of Cinderella herself with their dazzling complexions
and delicate airs. Not alone the vulgar, however, but many of the
personal friends of the fair parties are viewing them, all the time,
from the neighbouring balconies and shop-fronts. The levee attracts less
of a crowd, and yet there was crowd enough, and very stupid was my
approach to Pall-Mall. There—you wait till called in your turn, and
meanwhile have time to look at the mounted trumpeters, pursuivants, and
guards, in liveries of scarlet and gold, drawn up before the gates. At
last, setting forward, you enter the court-yard, with as much of a
flourish as your whip can make for you, and alight at the door of the
Palace, making your way, first along a corridor, and then slowly up a
grand stair-case, to the suite of apartments opened for the occasion. As
you enter these apartments, you throw your card into a basket, and pass
on amid files of yeomen of the guard, wearing the Tudor livery, and
holding their halberds, and looking like old statues of wood or stone,
or rather like the wax figures in a museum. When the time comes for you
to enter the royal presence, you are met at the door of the throne-room
by a gentleman in waiting, to whom you deliver your second card, that
you may be properly announced. This card is handed to another official,
and you are ushered through a file of ladies of honour towards her
Majesty, who stands beneath a canopy, with Prince Albert at her side,
the centre of the brilliant circle, and (as I am glad to say) making a
truly royal appearance. Here your name is called out, and that of the
party who presents you, and then—an American simply advances and bows
to the Queen, repeats the salaam to her princely consort, and so retires
backwards, not turning his heel upon the royal presence. A British
subject goes through the more formidable ceremony of falling on one
knee, and kissing the royal hand. Now it so happened that her
Majesty—owing no doubt to my attire, which was the same as that of her
own clerical subjects—evidently mistook me for one; and my gallantry
was in consequence sorely put to the test,—for, advancing with great
dignity, the Queen was just proffering her hand, and I was beginning to
balance between the republicanism of my knee, and the courtesy of my
heart, when the anxious official promptly repeated the form—“presented
by the _American_ Minister.” Of course her Majesty took the hint, and
most gracefully withdrew, with a courteous recognition and a pleasant
smile, while I finished my democratic homage with as much
self-possession as was in my power, repeated my obeisance to Prince
Albert, and bowed myself backward through the gorgeously apparelled
circle of _diplomats_, making my especial respects to our own Minister,
and so retiring into the adjoining apartment.
On this occasion the Queen’s appearance impressed me, in all respects,
more favorably than I had expected; but, on the other hand, Prince
Albert struck me as less princely, and less intelligent, than I had
supposed him to appear. A lady would here interpose with the question as
to her Majesty’s dress, and I must allow that, from my own observation,
I could not speak with certainty on that important subject, but the
_Times_ next morning asserted it to have been—“a train of white watered
silk, _chenée_ with gold, and green and silver, trimmed with tulle and
white satin ribands, and ornamented with diamonds; and a petticoat of
white satin and tulle, with satin ribands to correspond; and a
head-dress of emeralds and diamonds.” The Duchess of Sutherland and Lady
Jocelyn were conspicuous among the ladies in attendance, and Prince
Albert was attended by Lord George Lennox, with his groom and his
equerry. It would have been a very magnificent spectacle, had not the
small and stifled appearance of the throne-room given a cramped look to
the royal party, and detracted from the majesty which always requires
“ample room and verge” for its full effect on the imagination.
The drawing-room was held in honour of the Queen’s birthday, about a
week later. I could now go freely, without the ceremony of a
presentation, merely depositing my card in the basket, from which, I
suppose, the Times reports of attendants at the Palace are made up. In
approaching St. James, everything was as before, save that the crowd was
greater, and the carriages conveying ladies of rank more superb. On
alighting, and entering the corridor, I was enchanted by the display of
splendour and beauty which filled it, and in which there was everything
but order to make it all that one could imagine of a courtly pageant.
Brilliant indeed; but such a jam! The crowd was a perfumed and dazzling
one; but not less a crowd than one in the streets. Here were peers and
peeresses of every rank, and the daughters of peers, and new brides, and
many a young beauty coming for the first time, and trembling with
excitement, yet bewildered with delight. There is no denying the
striking beauty of many of these high-born damsels; their complexions
were lily-and-rose, and health was as generally characteristic of their
appearance as beauty. I observed the trepidation of some of them, as
their finery was subjected to the pressure of the patrician throng, and
as they gathered their trains over the ivory arm, evidently thinking
anxiously of the critical moment when they must allow it to flaunt
gracefully, and catch it up not less so, in the presence of their
Sovereign. No doubt all had been practised for weeks beforehand, till
each was an adept, in the eyes of waiting-maids and mammas. Mingled with
these gay creatures were grave judges in their wigs, and fierce-looking
officers in their uniforms, and wild-looking Highland chieftains,
bare-legged, but plaided and plumed, and making a showy figure in their
clan-tartans. One of the yeomen-of-the-guard remarked, in my hearing, as
I passed, that this was the greatest attendance at Court he had ever
known. The Crystal Palace had filled the town, and there were many
foreigners. I saw some Persian and other Oriental costumes in the
throng; and, on the whole, the poorest figures were those in the
ordinary gentleman’s court suit, with the cocked-hat, and hair-powder of
the last century. This style of dress seemed to be avoided as far as
possible, military uniforms predominating. In mounting the great
stair-case, if our progress was slow, there was everything to relieve
its tediousness. The ascending rows of glittering uniforms and fine
female figures were a study in themselves. I observed the lovely Lady
——, whom I had met a few hours before, at a breakfast, and was amused
with the entire change of her appearance which those few hours had made.
Lord Lyttleton, who had been at the same breakfast party, now appeared
in a military suit. Quite a number of the clergy were interspersed among
the fair and brave; and as a polite young officer offered me precedence,
and cautioned me to beware of his spurs, he whispered—“_Cedant arma
togæ_ is about all the Latin I retain.” Gaining a landing on the
stair-case, we were next amused by observing the great personages
descending by a corresponding stair-case, from the royal presence. A
servant called for the carriage of each party, as they successively
appeared, and so one always knew who was coming. At last came a great
man whom all knew without any help, as he tottered down, dressed in his
Field-Marshal’s uniform, of which the gay decorations strangely
contrasted with his white head and bowed shoulders. As I watched the old
hero descending, step by step, I could not but think of the lower
descent he must soon make into the dust, and oh! what a moral was
furnished, at that moment, by the glittering honours he wore upon his
breast. Dukes, earls, and cabinet ministers, and several ambassadors,
with wives and daughters, came following each other in splendid
succession, till at last I gained the ante-chamber, and had something
else to look at. Here I could move more freely, and renew my impressions
of the Palace. Several persons whom I had met elsewhere were so polite
as to join me, and to enter into conversation, which very pleasantly
beguiled the time. The exits and entrances were in themselves enough to
amuse and fill up one’s time. Almost every variety of official
decoration and costume, known to heralds and antiquarians, seemed to be
worn by somebody, and amongst the comers and goers were some
distinguished individuals in arts and arms. In this room were one or two
of Lely’s pictures, and among them, if I remember rightly, that of
Catharine of Braganza. Queen Anne also looked on us, from the walls, and
her Majesty’s odious old great-great-grandfather, George the Second. As
I fell into the line which moved toward the throne-room, I came to a
window looking over the park and private garden of the Palace. Oh! what
tales of Caroline, and Hanoverian, gossip and scandal, the sight
recalled. There was her Majesty’s state carriage, awaiting the
conclusion of the ceremonies, to convey her back to Buckingham Palace.
The squab of a driver was sleeping on his box—a mere mortal in spite of
his livery, his hair-powder, and the nosegay in his bosom. In my turn, I
passed before her Majesty, much as before. I hardly saw, in full, the
ceremony of a female presentation, although there were several just
before and after me, for the crowd was intolerable, and my escape from
the presence of royalty into the freer apartments beyond, was truly
refreshing. I passed into an armory, or room ornamented with such old
weapons and defences as one sees at the Tower. Finally, as before, I
left the Palace through a long corridor, ornamented with portraits of
the Kings of England, down to Charles the First. This portrait reminded
me of the last night on earth of that sovereign, which he passed beneath
this roof: and of the last sacrament which he received, in the chapel of
St. James. This is the most sacred association with the Old Palace, and
it is the only one that is enough sacred, to sink the ill memories of
its Georgian traditions. The English underestimate Charles the First,
and do not seem to reflect that many of those elements of their
Constitution, on which they are most wont to value themselves, have been
bequeathed to them by the spirit in which he maintained the royalty, and
suffered for the Church. If the brutal Cromwell is remembered with
commendation, because of some liberties which were the secondary results
of his usurpation, why should not the failings of Charles be forgotten,
in gratitude for the great conservative principles which he taught the
English people, by the signal ability with which he baulked his
adversaries in debate, and by his truly sublime behaviour in the last
stages of his reign? Say what they will, thought I, as I looked at his
portrait—had Charles the First been a Louis the Sixteenth, I should
not, to-day, have seen a descendant of Alfred on the Throne of Great
Britain.