PALACES OF LONDON.
LONDON is studded with palaces some of which were constructed by
Royalty itself--some of which were confiscated by royalty, and others
again were bought by royalty from the nobles of England, or from those
persons who had amassed great wealth.
The Court of St. James is a household word among diplomats, and is
used as a threat by ambassadors at Vienna, or perhaps as a phrase
of mediation at Washington, St. Petersburg, or Paris, but generally
this name is used by belligerent envoys with threat and menace at
Constantinople, Athens, Honduras, or Lisbon. English statecraft and
diplomacy always tempers the wind to the shorn lamb, and an English
Cabinet never fails to measure the strength of a nation before trying
conclusions with it.
Even the Sultan himself, and he is by common consent supposed to be a
very sick man, could pass the dirty looking pile of St. James palace at
the lower end of Pall Mall, near St. James street, without a tremor,
and the only signs of royalty or power are the bear skin caps and red
coats of a couple of guardsmen, who walk up and down with their muskets
at a support, in a most melancholy and bored manner before the gates.
[Sidenote: ST. JAMES AND WHITEHALL.]
This is one of the chief residences of royalty in the metropolis. In
1532, his majesty by the Grace of God, King Henry the Eighth, cast his
eyes upon St. James Hospital, a place set apart for lepers, fourteen
of whom were residing there at the time, and being convinced of the
healthfulness of the situation, the inmates were driven forth, a small
pension given to each, and on the site of the hospital for physical
lepers, this moral leper erected what is now known as the palace of St.
James, for the reception of the unfortunate but giddy Anne Boleyn.
During the reigns of Mary and Elizabeth the palace was deserted, but
with the advent of the Stuarts, St. James became a royal nursery.
The ill-fated Charles the First had a passionate fondness for this
palace, and on the morning of his execution attended divine service in
the chapel which he had fitted up.
After the restoration, James II furnished St. James at great expense;
and from this period St. James became with hardly an intermission the
abode of royalty. George the Second died here mumbling. George IV was
born, and passed much of his time here. As a royal residence it has
fallen away from its ancient splendor and is now only used on occasions
of state solemnity; yet it is one of the best planned palaces in Europe
for comfort, and possesses a fine gallery of paintings.
Whitehall, or the palace that is known by that name, was formerly
called York House, and for three centuries before the time of Cardinal
Wolsey, was the residence of the Archbishop of Canterbury.
After the death of Wolsey its name was changed to Whitehall, from a
large hall in the building painted entirely white. Wolsey fitted up the
palace in a style of grandeur never equaled, much less excelled by any
other subject of the English crown, and being occupied by the king on
the demise of Wolsey, it was called the King's Palace of Westminster.
When Queen Elizabeth died it was refitted by King James, and
enlarged--but was destroyed by fire in 1619. Immediately after its
destruction James determined to rebuild it, and a portion of the
palace was completed at a cost of fifteen thousand pounds, but such
extravagance could not be allowed in those days, parliament refusing
to grant money to continue the building, and the fanatical monarch,
whose memory has survived because of his hatred of tobacco, was forced
to suspend operations for want of funds.
The ceiling of the banqueting-room, a work of Rubens and for which he
was paid three thousand pounds, is said to be one of the finest efforts
of that most gifted artist's pencil.
In the time of the Protector Cromwell, one of the rarest collections
of paintings ever made in the world, and of immense value--which had
been accumulated here by successive kings, was ordered to be sold
by Cromwell in accordance with the Puritan belief that to possess
paintings or statuary was conducive of image worship in the owner.
Charles the First was really a great admirer of works of art, and had
he lived he would no doubt have made Whitehall the finest palace of
Europe.
Cromwell occupied Whitehall as a residence for his family after
the execution of King Charles I, for butcher as he was, and strict
republican as he pretended to be, he was not above enjoying the good
things of this life, and despite his cadaverous countenance he could
appreciate a soft bed and a tender piece of roast beef with the
jolliest of cavaliers.
On the 10th of April, 1691, a fire broke out in the apartments of the
bad Duchess of Portsmouth who occupied a portion of Whitehall, (this
woman was a mistress of Charles II,) and in 1698 the entire structure
was consumed with the exception of the banqueting-hall, and nothing but
the walls were left standing.
This hall was altered to a chapel by King George II, and since that
time has been used for that purpose, the clergyman always being a royal
chaplain. Over the door is a bust of the founder, and the brilliant
frescos of the ceiling pieces of Rubens are all that is left of the
once magnificent palace of Whitehall.
[Sidenote: BUCKINGHAM PALACE.]
The residence of the Queen, when in London, is generally supposed to be
Buckingham Palace, a long gloomy looking building in St. James Park,
not a stones' throw from the Marble Arch in Hyde Park or Westminster
Abbey. The same big flashy looking soldiers in red coats, and hideous
grenadier bearskins are to be seen marching up and down opposite this
palace gate just as they do about St. James Palace, or at the Horse
Guards in Parliament street.
[Illustration: BUCKINGHAM PALACE.]
St. James Park is a pretty place with fine shady trees, and here in
the mall or wide walk of the park was played a century ago, and still
farther back in the days of paint, powder, and patches, and garden
masquerades, the game of "pell mell."
Buckingham Palace, though much frequented by the Queen, and situated
pleasantly as far as appearances go, is not a healthy place of
residence at all. The Queen frequently has complained of its dampness,
she having often contracted bad colds there. This I have on the
authority of her former chaplain.
George the IV had a Dutch predeliction for low ceilings, and as he
never lived on good terms with his wife, whom he used to call a Fat
Dutch Hog, no accommodations were made for Queen Caroline his spouse,
in Buckingham Palace.
The palace was occupied by this monarch, for whom it was built, in
1825. This king was one of the most profligate of men and a roue--and
yet had the reputation of being the finest gentleman in Europe, but he
never spared man in his rage nor woman in his lust.
John, Duke of Buckingham, lived in a house on the site of the palace,
in 1703, from which circumstance it has derived its name.
I had special permission to visit this palace while the Queen was
absent on her summer tour in Scotland; it being a great favor to be
admitted, and it was only by great perseverance and difficulty that I
obtained entrance to the royal abode.
One bright morning I called about ten o'clock, and after presenting my
order of admittance was allowed to enter.
I was bewildered by its sumptuous magnificence. Fancy a noble hall
surrounded with a double row of marble columns, every one composed of a
single piece of veined Carrara marble, with gilded bases and capitals;
the _tout ensemble_ being a splendid perspective of over one hundred
and fifty feet. The steps of the grand staircase are also of the purest
marble. The Library, Council room, and Sculpture gallery are all most
beautifully decorated.
The Library is used for a waiting room for deputations, which as soon
as the Queen is ready to receive them pass across the Sculpture Gallery
into the hall, and thence ascend by the Grand Stairway, through the
Ante-Room and the Green Drawing-room to the Throne room. The Library
and adjoining rooms are fitted up in a most gaudy fashion, there
being a sad want of taste displayed, either by her Majesty or her
upholsterer, but by which I am not able to say.
The Sculpture Gallery contains the busts of leading statesmen of all
countries, and chief among them I noticed one of Prince Albert, the
late husband of the Queen, mounted on a fine pedestal. Busts of all the
members of the royal family, male and female, are also here. That of
the Princess Louisa is a charming, innocent looking English face; she
is said to be deeply in love with a rich Catholic nobleman of the Duke
of Norfolk's family.
The Picture Gallery has fine skylights so as to throw a shaded light
on the works of art below, and here are to be found the master pieces
of the Dutch and Flemish schools, gems of Reynolds, Watteau, Titian,
Albert Durer, Rembrandt, Teniers, Ostade, Cuyps, Wouvermans, and
others, formerly the collection in great part of George IV.
The Yellow Drawing room, a superb apartment, has a series of paintings
in panels of the royal family, there being full length pictures of
Queen Victoria, looking very fat, with the crown upon her head, and
Prince Albert in his costume of Knight of the Garter, a dress which
is supremely ridiculous in these days when none but priests and
academicians wear such drapery.
[Sidenote: QUEEN'S LIBRARY.]
The Throne Room is a gaudy looking apartment, very large and spacious,
and like all the rooms in Buckingham palace having a very low ceiling,
the prevailing decoration being curtains of striped satin, and the
alcoves are hung in rich crimson velvet relieved or rather bedizened
with an nearly obscured gilding. William IV, the sailor king, hated
this palace for its ugliness and discomfort, and this all the more that
he was used to sleeping in a hammock aboard his own frigate.
The Marble Arch, an immense pile of stone now at the corner of
Piccadilly and Hyde Park, formerly occupied the central position in
this building, and was erected in its present position at a cost of
thirty-one thousand pounds.
When the present Queen had her first child the palace was found so
uncomfortable that she had to have the nursery removed to the attic,
and there, while the royal child was getting its teeth cut, the Lord
Chamberlain of England, who had charge of the improvements, was boiling
glue and making French polish in the basement, so that altogether the
queen of the greatest nation of the earth, subsequent to her honeymoon,
was no better housed than a poor family in New York, dwelling in a
respectable tenement house.
Parliament, however, was kind enough to grant the sum of one hundred
and fifty thousand pounds to alter and repair the building, and
accordingly the palace was made habitable for her Majesty.
The Ball Room is one hundred and thirty-nine feet in length. The
Supper Room is seventy-six by sixty feet--with a promenade gallery
one hundred and nine feet in length, and twenty-one feet wide. There
is a riding school attached, with a mews or stable for horses; here
the state carriages and coaches are kept at an expense, for flunkies,
grooms, masters of the horse, stable boys, feed for horses and labor,
of thirty-six thousand pounds, or over two hundred thousand dollars
annually.
I was allowed as a great favor to inspect the Queen's library, which
is very handsomely fitted up, and wherever the eye rested for a moment
it was sure to find a picture or bust of Prince Albert. There were a
number of small tables of inlaid ivory, mother of pearl, and gold,
covered with handsomely bound volumes of Shakespeare and other English
poets. I also saw a finely bound copy of the Memoirs of the Queen,
which it is supposed was written by her Majesty. This is a mistake,
however, as the entire book was written by a secretary of hers from
some scanty notes provided by her, and from personal recollections.
The Queen was nine months dictating the work before its publication.
The Queen was in the habit of sitting four hours a day giving these
reminiscences of her husband, and during this time she always had a
glass of sherry and a biscuit by her side.
Very little is known of her Majesty outside of the British Isles.
Almost every other female sovereign has publicity given to all her
secret actions, and her private life is discussed with great personal
freedom, in the cafes and clubs. A thousand stories have been set
afloat and circulated in regard to Madam Isabella, lately Queen of
Spain, and but a few of them are true. Rochefort in his papers, "The
Lantern" and the "Marsellaise," has not hesitated to pour columns of
abuse upon the head of the Empress Eugenie, a lady whose principal
fault is a fondness for low necked dresses.
[Illustration: PORTRAIT OF THE QUEEN.]
Two women have hitherto escaped this kind of slander, and these two are
the Empress of Austria and Queen Victoria. The reason is palpable in
the case of the Empress of Austria; she is an imperial lady to discuss
whose private life it would be dangerous if done on Austrian territory.
In regard to the Queen of England, the reason why silence is kept in
relation to her private life is because of a sneaking regard for the
manners, customs, and good opinions of titled individuals among most
American travelers.
[Sidenote: QUEEN'S SECLUSION.]
The Queen has been a good wife and mother, but in these two qualities
she is more than equaled by thousands of American women. She is no
better and no worse than the average married woman; has her faults, her
weaknesses, and her good qualities, and it is among her own people that
her failings find their loudest trumpeters.
In honestly dealing with these stories I shall not stop to give the
gross yarns which are spun by the Jenkinses of the press, who make what
they call an honest penny by chronicling all the loose street scandal
that is poured into their ears.
The London Times, the leading paper of England, has on several
occasions soundly berated the Queen for her continued seclusion from
the public, her exalted position being, it is said, her only excuse,
and subsequent to the death of Prince Albert this seclusion was
continued so long that the shopkeepers and tradesmen who profit by the
receptions, festivals, and gaieties of the court, were loud in their
complaints of what they deemed to be an overstrained and extravagant
grief.
Several leading modistes or dress makers were obliged to give up
business, owing to the Queen having closed her drawing rooms; murmuring
loudly that they had been ruined by her Majesty, as their principal
business was to make dresses for the ladies of rank who have nothing
else to do but go to balls, parties, and drawing-room receptions when
invited. Indeed for the past three years there has been a growing
dissatisfaction with her Majesty, and sad stories are told of that
royal lady in the English capital--chiefly the shopkeepers were
enraged--although this class of people are usually the most loyal--then
the Fenian affair came and was added as fuel to the general discontent.
But the worst remains to be told, and it is with no feeling of pleasure
that I am compelled to lift the veil.
The story is everywhere prevalent that the seclusion of the Queen is
owing to her fondness for liquor; this statement has never been openly
promulgated in the papers, but is continually hinted at obscurely in
the more liberal organs. It is boldly spoken of by private individuals
that the temper of her Majesty has of late years become very irascible
and is sometimes ungovernable, and the cause is attributed to drink and
its consequent delirium which has seized upon this unfortunate lady.
I was told by a clergyman who had it direct from the wife of a
former chaplain of her Majesty, that the Queen was in the habit of
drinking half a pint of raw liquor per day. The effects of these
liberal potations are making visible havoc in her once comely face. I
saw her thrice, and her inflamed face and swollen eyes gave her all
the appearance of an inebriate. Perhaps the trouble caused by her
scapegrace of a son, the Prince of Wales, who, without doubt, is as
reckless a scamp as ever existed, has had much to do with his mother's
present condition, and has driven her to drinking.
It is also notorious that the Queen has chosen for her body servant one
John Brown, a raw boned, robust, and coarse Highlander, and clings to
him with more warmth and tenacity than becomes a lady who carried her
sorrow for a deceased husband previously to such an extravagant pitch.
This John Brown whom I saw is over six feet in height, a powerful
looking fellow; but he has a face that would find favor in the eyes of
very few women. He was formerly a body servant of Prince Albert, and
was always an attendant on him in his hunting and fishing excursions.
The Queen took notice of him at Balmoral, her summer residence in
Scotland, and here she made a great pet of him.
After the death of Prince Albert the Queen attached Brown to her
person, and ever since he has constantly attended her.
It is the custom of the Queen to have herself pushed around the grounds
of her lodge at Balmoral in a perambulator or hand carriage when she
visits that charming spot.
The person selected for this duty was the lucky John Brown. Day after
day he might be seen pushing around the spacious lawn, the Majesty of
England.
[Sidenote: LUCKY JOHN BROWN.]
During her hours of idleness Brown is always allowed to converse
with the Queen in a familiar manner, and it is said presumes on her
gracious condescension more than her noblest subject would dare to do.
[Illustration: JOHN BROWN EXERCISING THE QUEEN.]
When the Queen takes her seat in her perambulator it might often occur
that a servant would spring forward with a lowly reverence to assist
the royal lady, but in every instance the unfortunate flunkey would
receive a rebuking frown, and in a moment after might have to undergo
the mortification of a sneering laugh from Brown, who at this crisis
would make his appearance--strolling in a leisurely fashion toward the
perambulator, and stretching his long Celtic legs, his arms full of
warm wraps in which he proceeds to enfold the person of the Queen, with
as much seeming fondness as if he were the husband instead of the low
lackey of royalty, without polish and breeding; then in addition to the
silent rebuke of the Queen the offending servant would hear from Brown
some such remark as "I say my douce laddie, dinna ya offer yer sarvices
till her Majesty asks ya fur them. Dinna ye be sticking yer finger in
till anoother mun's haggis or ye moon be scalded."
"That will do Brown," the Queen would say to prevent a scene which
would be sure to take place were Brown's violent temper not curbed
in time to prevent an explosion, for the tall Highland gillie is no
respecter of persons, and cares very little for royalty except in the
person of its chief representative.
It is a current anecdote in the Pall Mall clubs, that the Queen's
cousin, the Duke of Cambridge, who is also the commander-in-chief of
the British Army, having one day desired an audience with the Queen of
a private nature, waited upon her at Buckingham Palace and presented
his card like any other private citizen. He was desired to wait, and
did so until he became tired, and finally he was admitted to the
presence, and was somewhat astonished to find the servant, John Brown,
in the room.
The Duke being a member of the royal family did not hesitate to say to
her majesty in a respectful way:
"Will your Majesty be so kind as to ask your footman to leave the
saloon, I desire to speak to you on a matter of importance, privately."
"Very well, you may speak without intrusion," said the Queen, turning
her head slightly to the window where her servant stood with his back
turned coolly upon the Queen's cousin, "there is no one here but Brown,
he is very discreet."
[Sidenote: A GOOD STORY.]
Finding that the Highlander could not be prevailed upon to leave the
room, the Duke made a virtue of necessity and proceeded to state the
purport of his visit. The Queen engaged in conversation with her
cousin, and some minutes having elapsed the conversation turned upon
different subjects. The Duke was relating a joke about the Clubs for
the edification of the Queen, in which a noble person was made to
assume a ridiculous position, when all at once he was interrupted
with a peal of coarse and irreverent laughter, which rang through the
apartments, and the Duke turning around with a thrill of horror and
astonishment, heard Brown scream out while he held his sides to contain
his mad mirth:
"Oh! oh! What a d----d fule that fellow must have been."
The Duke for a moment stood petrified with horror, an unpleasant tremor
ran down the small of his back, and then being seized with a sudden
idea, he took his hat and making a low reverence left the apartment as
the Queen said in an irritable tone:
"Oh! never mind, it's only Brown."
The story was too good to keep, and in a few days it was known all over
London.
On the day that the Queen opened Blackfriars bridge she rode in a state
carriage with Brown behind her, and the act was so flagrant that when
the procession passed through the Strand, the Queen was openly hissed
by the people who stood on the sidewalks and saw the burly form of the
Scotsman in the carriage, so close to her Majesty.
I leave facts to speak for themselves, there is no need of comment. The
great rival of Punch is a paper called the Tomahawk, published in Fleet
street, and which is edited with fearless ability. The chief artist is
a Matthew Morgan who excels all others of his craft in London for the
beauty and spirit of his cartoons. Well, one day the Tomahawk appeared
with a large two paged cartoon, in which the queen was pictured in her
perambulator, and the tall form of Brown behind pushing the vehicle,
while he leaned over the back and looked with an affectionate leer into
the face of the sovereign of England. There was no inscription at the
bottom of the picture, but it was so truthful and telling, that every
person who looked, saw the whole scandalous story at a glance. Three
editions of this number of the Tomahawk were sold in a few days, and in
the corner of the picture the daring artist did not hesitate to sign
his initials, "M.M." It is sufficient to state that no proceedings were
taken, nor was a suit of libel brought against the editors who publish
the paper.
I have here only recounted facts well known in England, and I set them
down without malice or extenuation.
The salary or income of Queen Victoria is, I believe, about five
thousand two hundred dollars a day, including Sundays, for which she
also receives her regular stipend. Like other sovereigns, she does not
toil or spin, yet the people must pay the bills all the same. Being
of a very economical and thrifty disposition, it is supposed that
her Majesty will leave a fortune of many millions of pounds to her
scapegrace son when she dies, that is to say, if he has common decency
enough too wait for her decease, and ceases to outrage her feelings to
much.
Queen Victoria was born May 24th, 1819, and is consequently in her
fifty-second year.
[Illustration]