There was a pause in the conversation.
The duchess, who was possessed of a strong inclination for the mysterious or scandalous narratives connected with the family of George the Third, was so impressed by the vehemence and confident emphasis with which her companion had denounced the profligacy of George the Fourth, that a species of awe—an undefined alarm came over her:—it suddenly appeared as if it were a sacrilege thus to canvass the character of that deceased monarch within the very palace where he himself had dwelt;—and she hesitated to make any remark or ask any question that might lead to a continuation of the same topic.
On her side, the countess—who was much older than the duchess, and more deeply initiated in the mysteries of Courts—had become plunged into a deep reverie; for she possessed a generous mind, and never could ponder upon the wrongs of the murdered Queen Caroline without experiencing the most profound indignation and sorrow.[1]
[1] The last and fatal illness of Queen Caroline was caused by a stoppage in the bowels. Doctors Maton and Warren (the king’s physicians) attended upon the illustrious lady; and various remedies were prescribed by them—but in vain. One morning, a bottle of croton oil was sent to an individual of Her Majesty’s household, accompanied by the following letter:—
“Sir,—I am aware that nothing but the great—the very great—danger Her Majesty is in, would excuse this unauthorised intrusion. Having, however, learnt from the papers the nature of Her Majesty’s complaint, I have taken the liberty to forward to you, with a view of having it handed to Dr. Maton or Dr. Warren, a medicine of strong aperient properties, called croton oil—one drop of which is a dose. It is most probably known to some of Her Majesty’s advisers; but it has only been recently brought into this country. It may be proper to observe that Doctor Pemberton has himself taken it; and I have administered it to more than one person. Its operation is quick and certain. Two drops, when made into pills with bread, usually produce saving effects in half or three quarters of an hour. It has struck me that this medicine might be successfully administered to Her Majesty. At all events I can have done no harm in taking the liberty to suggest it; but, unwilling to appear anxious to make myself obtrusive, or to seem influenced by any other than the most disinterested motives, I have declined giving my name.
“Yours respectfully,
“A CHEMIST.”
This letter, and the medicine, were forwarded to Dr. Pemberton, of Great George Street, Hanover Square, who had at one time been Her Majesty’s principal medical attendant. Dr. Pemberton’s answer was this:—“I have myself taken two drops of the croton oil, on several occasions; and the Queen may safely take one.” The royal physicians obtained an interview with George the Fourth, and the result was a declaration on their part, “that they did not consider themselves justified in administering the medicine to Her Majesty.” Comment is unnecessary.
The reader may probably deem it somewhat extraordinary that ladies attached to the Court should thus freely discuss the most private affairs, and canvass the characters of deceased members of the Royal Family. But we can positively assert that nowhere are scandal and tittle-tattle more extensively indulged in, than amongst the members of that circle of courtiers and female sycophants who crowd about the sovereign.[1]
[1] But, ah! while of Victoria’s court I’m singing,
What solemn music echoes from the lyre!
And wherefore does a passing bell seem ringing,
And melancholy thoughts my soul inspire?
See where the raven now his flight is winging—
Hark to the anthem of the funeral choir—
List to the curfew’s note of death-like gloom—
And drop a tear o’er Flora Hastings’ tomb!
—Sequel to Don Juan.
The conversation of the duchess and countess was not renewed on the present occasion; for while they were yet plunged each in the depths of her own particular meditations, the regal train entered the Ball Room.
And all this while Henry Holford remained concealed beneath the sofa!
Victoria leant upon the arm of her consort; and the illustrious party was preceded by the Lord Chamberlain and the Lord Steward. The Queen and the Prince proceeded to the reserved seats which were slightly elevated in a recess, and were covered with white satin embroidered in silver.
Then the magnificent Ball-Room presented a truly fairy spectacle. Plumes were waving, diamonds were sparkling, bright eyes were glancing and music floated on the air. The spacious apartment was crowded with nobles and gentlemen in gorgeous uniforms or court-dresses; and with ladies in the most elegant attire that French fashions could suggest or French milliners achieve. All those striking or attractive figures, and all the splendours of their appearance, were multiplied by the brilliant mirrors to an illimitable extent.
The orchestra extended across one end of the Ball Room; and the musicians had entered by a side-door almost at the same moment that the royal procession made its appearance.
In the rooms adjoining, the Corps of Gentlemen-at-arms and the Yeomen of the Guard were on duty, and in the hall the band of the Royal Regiment of Horse Guards was in attendance.
The Queen and the Prince danced in the first quadrille; and afterwards they indulged in their favourite waltz—the Frohsinn mein Ziel. At the termination of each dance the royal party passed into the Picture Gallery, where they promenaded amidst a wilderness of flowers and aromatic shrubs. Then indeed the odour-breathing exotics—the whispering leaves—the light of the pendent lamps, mellowed so as to give full effect to the portraits of those who were once famous or once beautiful—the ribboned or gartered nobles—the blaze of female loveliness—the streams of melody—the presence of all possible elements of splendour, harmony, and pleasure, combined to render the whole scene one of enchantment, and seemed to realize the most glowing and brilliant visions which oriental writers ever shadowed forth!
The dancing was renewed in the Ball-Room: and as the beauteous ladies of the court swam and turned in graceful mazes, it appeared as if the art had become elevated into the harmony of motion. Dancing there was something more than mechanical: it was a true, a worthy, and a legitimate sister of poetry and music.
At twelve o’clock the doors of the supper-room were thrown open; and in that gorgeous banqueting-hall the crimson draperies, the service of gold, and the massive table ornaments were lighted up by Chinese lanterns and silver candelabra of exquisite workmanship. A splendid row of gold cups was laid on each side of the table. On the right of each plate stood a decanter of water, a finger-glass half filled with tepid water, a champagne glass, a tumbler, and three wine-glasses. Numerous servants in magnificent liveries were in attendance. No one asked for any thing: the servants offered the various dishes, of which the guests partook or which they rejected according to their taste. No healths were drunk during the Queen’s presence, nor was the ceremony of taking wine with each other observed—not even on the part of the gentleman with the lady whom he had handed into the room. The domestics whose especial duty it was to serve the wine, never filled a glass until it was quite empty; nor did any guest ask for wine, but, when the servant approached him, merely stated the kind of wine he chose.
After sitting for about an hour, the Queen rose, and was conducted to the Yellow Drawing-Room by Prince Albert, the guests all rising as the royal couple retired.
Then the servants filled the glasses, and the Lord Steward said, “The Queen!” The health was drunk standing, in silence, and with a gentle inclination of the head. In a few minutes afterwards the gentlemen conducted the ladies into the Yellow Drawing-Room, where coffee and liqueurs were served.
The harp, piano, and songs by some of the ladies, occupied another hour; at the expiration of which the guests took their departure.
Holford had now been concealed nearly five hour
s beneath the sofa in the ball-room; and he was cramped, stiff, and wearied. During that interval he had experienced a variety of emotions—wonder at the strange revelations which he had heard from the lips of the countess,—ineffable delight in contemplating the person of his sovereign,—envy at the exalted prosperity of Prince Albert,—thrilling excitement at the fairy-like aspect of the enchanting dance,—sensations of unknown rapture occasioned by the soft strains of the music,—and boundless disgust for his own humble, obscure, and almost serf-like condition.
During those intervals when the royal party and the guests were promenading in the Picture Gallery or were engaged in the supper-apartment and the drawing-room, Holford longed to escape from his hiding-place and retreat to the lumber-closet where he was in the habit of concealing himself on the occasion of his visits to the palace; but there were too many persons about to render such a step safe.
It was not, therefore, until a very late hour,—or rather an early one in the morning,—that he was able to enter the supper-room and help himself to some of the dainties left upon the board; having done which, he retreated to his nook in the most retired part of the palace.
CHAPTER CXCIV.
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-à-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 defea
t?” 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 Mysteries of London, Vol. II [Unabridged & Illustrated] (Valancourt Classics) Page 64
