CHAPTER IV.

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.

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.

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.

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.