Shrieks of an agonizing king.”
The neighbouring peasant woke at the outcry of the tortured sufferer, and crossed himself; for he suspected what the devil was doing in the castle. Here now lies the victim of that horrid regicide, but there is something in the sculpture of his visage, that reminds the visitor, that “God shall bring to light the hidden things of darkness.” This powerful impression lingered with me, as I paced the cloisters, and revived, when at a late hour of the night I was awakened by the chimes of the cathedral clock charming the darkness with a solemn tune, and lifting the thoughts of the listener to communion with his God.
CHAPTER XX.
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.