The Queen’s House

by Edna Healey

  Nash was harassed in his retirement by his creditors, for though he had amassed a fortune, much was invested in property. He died in 1835 and was buried in the churchyard at East Cowes. Buckingham Palace was Nash’s creation. He was an architect well trained in the classical tradition but a visionary with a fertile imagination: a risk-taker, an innovator, a gambler with a lofty disregard for accounts, he certainly merited Taylor’s furious rebuke, ‘harum scarum’. But his energy, fun and charm intrigued even his critics; and there is an underlying harmony that graces most of his work. A new wing now encloses the forecourt and hides Nash’s impressive façade. But today the visitor to Buckingham Palace has only to look up to Nash’s ceilings to appreciate the astonishing imaginative vitality of his work. He was, in the words of John Bull, ‘in fact a most extraordinary man’.

  The Uninspired Blore

  William IV was perfectly comfortable at Clarence House, rebuilt for him as Duke of Clarence, and did not want Buckingham Palace. He was essentially a simple man with nothing of his brother’s folie de grandeur. He immediately understood that it was not the time to spend money on palaces.

  When King William came to the throne the battle for Parliamentary reform was at its height. Finally in 1832 and with great difficulty, Lord Grey and the Whigs managed to get the Reform Bill through Parliament and to persuade the King to give his assent. At a time like this the King had the sense to realize that Whigs and radicals would fiercely oppose extravagant expenditure on the Palace. William IV’s sympathies lay more with the Tories but he tried to keep above party politics, although he had great difficulty in restraining his ultra-Tory wife, Queen Adelaide. He told Lord Holland that ‘the expense of his brother’s coronation had been £250,000 … a wasteful display … it was prudent nay incumbent upon persons in his situation … to advise every means of curtailing useless expense and unnecessary parade’.4

  As the contemporary historian, Robert Huish, wrote, ‘The representatives of the people could not be brought to vote any further sum for the completion of this palace, and it now stands as a monstrous insult upon the nation, and a monument of the reckless extravagance of its projector.’

  The King had determined he would never make it his home and ‘he never calculated upon the use of Buckingham Palace for any purpose of state’. Huish considered that:

  This cumbrous pile now hangs as a dual weight upon the nation. It is never intended to finish it as a royal residence, and, like York House, it may one day become the residence of some opulent nobleman. It is computed that half a million is yet required for its completion independently of furniture. The Duke of Northumberland is spoken of as the most probable purchaser, it having been refused by Lord Grosvenor.5

  Unlike his brother George IV, William IV had simple tastes and, according to the diarist, Thomas Creevey,

  the King never ceased to impress upon Duncannon that all he and the Queen wish for is to be comfortable.

  … as for removing to Buckingham House, he will do so if the Government wish it, tho’ he thinks it a most ill contrived house; and if he goes there he hopes it may be plain and no gilding for he dislikes it extremely.

  He would have been happy to ‘live in Marlborough House, which is Crown land and the lease nearly out’. And, added Creevey, ‘Billy says if he might have a passage made to unite this house with St James he and the Queen could live there very comfortably indeed.’6

  The new architect, Edward Blore, wanted to begin straightaway planning his completion of the Palace: but while Parliament was debating its future, work was halted. William IV, determined that he would never have it, still hoped to steer the great white elephant into someone else’s patch. In 1831 he suggested the Palace should be a barracks: the 1,500 Footguards at Knightsbridge needed a new home. In 1833 he suggested that ‘the present Houses of Parliament and their appendages might be converted into a residence for the Lord Chancellor and into Courts of Law’, and then honourable members could take over the Palace. God appeared to be on his side: in 1834 the Houses of Parliament went up in flames. William IV went to inspect the ruins, exulting among the ashes. Sir John Hobhouse and the Speaker watched him: the King was ‘gratified as if at a show’. ‘Buckingham Palace,’ he insisted, ‘would as a Parliament building, be the “finest thing in Europe”.’ As he left the smouldering ruins he called Hobhouse and the Speaker to his carriage: ‘Mind, I mean Buckingham Palace as a permanent gift … mind that!’

  The King’s ministers shuddered at the thought of presenting demands for even more expenditure to the newly elected Parliament. Prime Minister Lord Melbourne, master of delaying tactics, in the time-honoured way, asked for a report: Blore would have none of it: such a conversion was impossible. ‘But,’ shouted the King, ‘it was the King’s prerogative to appoint the place at which Parliament should meet.’ Then Melbourne, with all the tact that in later years he would use on Queen Victoria, suavely suggested to His Majesty that if the Palace were rebuilt as Parliament, ‘it will be very difficult to avoid providing much larger accommodation for spectators as well as for members, and Lord Melbourne need not recall to your Majesty’s mind the fatal effects which large galleries filled with the multitude have had upon the deliberations of public assemblies’.7 That clinched it. William IV accepted the inevitable, but he was deeply offended that the press had misunderstood his offer of a gift and attacked him for wanting to shift the expenditure on to the public.

  One thing, however, he was determined to shift on to his government’s shoulders: the responsibility for supervising the completion of the Palace. Unlike his brother, George IV, he had no intention of turning architect or interior decorator. The Prime Minister accordingly appointed two ministers to supervise the work – Lord Althorp and Lord Duncannon, the new Whig minister who had been appointed in 1834 as the First Commissioner of Woods and Forests. It was the latter who supervised the furnishing of the Palace. This was a fortunate choice. Lord and Lady Duncannon had run their estates in Ireland with great competence.

  The work on the Palace was completed with remarkable speed, in spite of strikes on the site. For this the credit must go mainly to Edward Blore and to Duncannon. His department was responsible for Crown lands and the First Commissioner was a political appointment, which changed with the government. The other department concerned with the care of public and government buildings was the Board of Works under a Surveyor-General, responsible to the Treasury. It was to this department that the three architects, Nash, Soane and Smirke had been attached. An enquiry of 1828 had revealed much waste and confusion, with which, in his brief Tory ministry, Wellington had tried to deal. In 1830, however, the new Whig government under the premiership of Lord Grey, and with Duncannon at Woods and Forests, undertook a major reorganization of the departments responsible for expenditure on palaces and public works.

  The new Whig Chancellor of the Exchequer, Lord Althorp, asked for detailed accounts from the Surveyor General, Benjamin Stephenson, and he wanted to know who and how many were accommodated in the royal palaces, and what was the cost of their upkeep. The days of unlimited and unquestioned royal expenditure were numbered.

  Duncannon inherited from his predecessor, Agar Ellis, a plan for reorganization which Duncannon proceeded rapidly to put into practice: he brought in a bill to amalgamate Woods and Forests with the Board of Works. Later he was to supervise the initial planning stages of the new Houses of Parliament, the building of the new National Gallery and the replanning of the streets of Westminster. That such a major reorganization was carried through with less fuss than might have been expected was due to Duncannon’s particular skills not only as an efficient administrator but also as a friendly and charming conciliator. Yet, indispensable though he was to Grey and his government, he never made much impact in Parliament, since he was acutely conscious of an embarrassing stammer.

  Duncannon, born John William Ponsonby, had been made an Irish peer in 1793 and in 1834 became 4th Earl of Bessborough. He was one of the great Whig ‘Cousinage’ that d
ominated the government of the day, yet another of those aristocrats who, to the confusion of the reader, changes his name with each step up the noble ladder: Cavendish became Duke of Devonshire; Viscount Althorp became Earl Spencer; William Lamb became Viscount Melbourne (later to be Prime Minister).

  The network of the ‘Cousinage’ was formidable. Duncannon’s mother was the sister of the ravishing Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire. His sister was the scandalous Caroline who married William Lamb. Lord Althorp, the Chancellor of the Exchequer when Duncannon took office, was his first cousin. Agar Ellis, his predecessor, was also his cousin by marriage. All these were Whigs, but he also had links with the Tories. His wife, the sweet and gentle Maria, was the younger sister of the formidable Sarah, Lady Jersey, once the ‘companion’ of George IV and the queen bee of contemporary society. Refurbishing a palace was no great problem for Duncannon, who had stayed, en famille, in the great country houses – Chatsworth (Derbyshire), Brocket Hall (Hertfordshire) and Althorp (Northamptonshire). And although he had two other Commissioners working with him, he did not need to waste time consulting them. Decisions could be swiftly taken in the libraries or while riding around the estates of the great Whig houses. So he had the confidence to deal with the problems of the Palace and with the royal family. He could forbid the Duke of Sussex to cut down trees in Green Park and when William IV was difficult, knew how to manage him. It was Duncannon who encouraged the appointment of Blore, having seen his work in the houses of members of his family. He knew he would keep to time and cost.

  Edward Blore was born in Derby on 13 September 1787. Encouraged by his historian father, he showed early a talent for careful drawings. He worked on his father’s History of Rutland, which was published in 1811. He also made a particular study of county histories, sketched York and Peterborough for Britton’s Cathedrals and developed a special interest in Gothic architecture. His chance came in 1816 when Sir Walter Scott employed him to build a house in the Gothic style at Abbotsford, Roxburghshire, Scotland.

  When Scott published his Provincial Antiquities and Picturesque 'Scenery of Scotland, Blore assisted, contributing all the architectural drawings and acting as a manager for the work. In this capacity he met Turner, who provided some of the illustrations.

  In 1824, Blore published his own work, The Monumental Remains of Noble and Eminent Persons. He was valued as a careful and competent draughtsman and gained a number of commissions, among them a palace in the Crimea for Prince Woronzow, a castle in Ireland and the government buildings in Sydney, New South Wales, Australia. Much of his work was in churches and cathedrals, and he had some influence on the Gothic revival of the period.

  He is usually criticized, with some reason, as a boring architect and certainly there is not much evidence of original or imaginative creative ability in his work. But he was exact and efficient and kept to time. He was also ruthless in cutting costs. All this endeared him to the government. Duncannon, and independent experts reporting to the Parliamentary commissioners, considered he ‘would discharge his duty in a most satisfactory manner’. So on 9 August 1831 the Treasury advised the King that Blore was the man to complete the Palace and on 10 August the King confirmed his appointment. Blore estimated that he would need £75,000 to remedy the defects and complete the building, excluding the additional furnishings needed. At least most of these could come from the Brighton Pavilion and Carlton House, as Nash and George IV had suggested. £100,000 was allotted for the work.

  Blore now moved with his accustomed speed. He consulted the King – who was not particularly interested, except to insist that money should not be wasted on ‘the Decorations which he considers to form part of the Architectural Estimate, especially as he has never calculated upon the use of Buckingham Palace for any purpose of state’.8

  Blore studied Nash’s plans, which he admired, and almost certainly consulted James Pennethorne, now Nash’s manager.

  He planned some structural alterations. However the King intended to use the Palace, he and his successors would still need better servant accommodation and the small, damp kitchen improved. These could be achieved by building new offices and a servants’ hall on to the Pimlico wing of the Palace and an additional storey to the main block for additional bedrooms. So he could get rid of the much-mocked dome and the irrelevant little turrets.

  Blore agreed with the many critics who had justly found ‘the want of an Architectural Connexion between the Marble Arch and the wings’. He considered that if the fence had been of stone instead of metal, the Arch would have seemed part of the building, instead of being ‘isolated and out of place’. He therefore substituted new piers in white Portland stone.

  In the interest of economy, George IV’s splendid Marble Arch was simplified. The ‘attic’ with its planned sculptures was removed: Richard Westmacott had finished his carved reliefs of the Duke of Wellington and Prince Blücher of Prussia at the Battle of Waterloo, but these were now placed almost out of sight on the front of the new attic storey over the entrance.

  As for the interior of the Palace, Blore kept as much as possible to Nash’s plans. At the entrance, the Grand Hall and Staircase were completed according to Nash’s plans and by his craftsmen. Joseph Browne, whom he had sent to Italy for marble, used it on the white Corinthian pillars and floor. The latter was inlaid with a border which echoed the swirling pattern of the plasterwork in the ceiling.

  Undoubtedly George IV would have liked the walls to have been of marble too, but, instead, Browne lined them with the substitute, scagliola. Even then the cost was £4,000. Browne’s total bill for the work done in the Grand Hall was almost £8,000. In addition, Samuel Parker’s superb gilt bronze balustrade of the staircase cost £3,900, and Joseph Theakston was paid £1,000 for his magnificent marble chimneypiece. George IV, whose bust crowns the overmantel, had certainly been prepared to employ the finest craftsmen at whatever cost.

  On the ground floor, where George Ill’s rooms had been, William IV set his mark. The new King had little use for books: his father’s libraries were dismantled and the contents sent to Windsor. The ground-floor rooms were simplified, but in the Household dining room, under the State Dining Room, Blore added white marble Ionic columns at either end.

  Blore made a major alteration on the floor above. On the instructions of William IV the Music Room became the State Dining Room. He kept the two marble chimneypieces, with their carved ladies playing musical instruments, but otherwise recreated the room in his characteristic pedestrian style. One has only to compare his ceiling with that in Nash’s Blue Drawing Room to see the difference between great talent and competence.

  In the north wing on this floor new apartments were created for the King and Queen, although William IV and Queen Adelaide had little desire to live in the Palace.

  By October 1834 most of the structural work had been completed, but there was still much to be done. The Treasury allowed an additional £55,000 for furnishing the Palace, which was at the disposal of Lord Duncannon, who continued to be responsible for the work, even though he was now at the Home Office.

  Finally George IV’s treasures, packed and stored in the Carlton House Riding School (which had been kept as a store and was now demolished), were brought across the Park. The great chandeliers, which had been supplied by Parker & Perry for Carlton House in 1811, now were cleaned and hung. Sofas and chairs, some of which had belonged to Queen Charlotte, were brought in. The French furniture which George IV had acquired over many years, graced the State Rooms. More furniture and fittings came from Windsor and the Royal Pavilion, Brighton.

  In 1835 the King decided that he would like to live in the Palace after all; Queen Adelaide had probably been overwhelmed by its splendour.

  The King wanted to take over the Palace as soon as possible. Blore, in desperation, asked for an additional grant, since he could not possibly complete the work in two or three months without employing extra workers. Duncannon therefore told the King’s secretary, Sir Herbert Taylor, that he coul
d not hand the building over unfinished. There was a further delay after it was decided to light the forecourt and some of the interior with gas.

  It was not until May 1837 that Duncannon was able to hand over the building to the King, requesting the appointment of a Clerk of the Works. In fact, William IV and Queen Adelaide were never to occupy Buckingham Palace.

  Duncannon’s organizing ability had been exceptional. He kept his eye on every detail of the work at Buckingham Palace, yet never became bogged down. The diarist, Creevey, who stayed with him at Bessborough, his country home in Ireland, gives a revealing description of Lord and Lady Duncannon sitting at home at Bessborough, choosing the chintz for Queen Adelaide’s sitting room at Buckingham Palace. Duncannon rejected those chosen by his wife, Mary, and Creevey, preferring the cheapest.

  … as … Duncannon manages all the palaces, so yesterday brought him a collection of patterns for him to choose out (such manufacture!) for the furniture of the Queen’s apartment at Buckingham House. Lady Duncannon and I were quite agreed about which she should have, but Duncannon would not hear of it as being much too dear; he would not go beyond six shillings a yard.

  Queen Adelaide has received the credit for choosing silks woven in Ireland for Buckingham Palace in order to help the deprived population. In fact that decision sounds much more like Duncannon’s. His devotion to Ireland was passionate; he even remained on friendly terms with the firebrand, Daniel O’Connell, whereas Queen Adelaide was quite convinced that he and his comrades would soon be bundling her into the tumbrel on the way to guillotine. In spite of Duncannon’s cost-cutting exercise, there was still much anger at the expense of the ‘Palace at Pimlico’.

  When the Palace was almost finished, Creevey visited it and was furious. ‘As for our Buckingham Palace,’ he spat,