Duke of Wellington – Page 24 – Number One London

A Pictorial Stroll to Apsley House

Here we are together on another London stroll. This time, we’ll be taking in the views as we approach Apsley House whilst walking north on Grosvenor Place.

Our first glimpses of Apley House through the trees.

The Wellington Arch! And many double decker buses.

We’re getting closer.

The gate at Hyde Park Corner, Apsley House and a rare break in the traffic.

The Wellington Statue!

The gates at Hyde Park

Stepping inside the gates, the toll keeper’s cottage.

View from inside gates to the side of Apsley House. Wouldn’t we look marvelous standing on that balcony with a cocktail in our hand?

The Wellington Arch!

Walking round to the front of Apsley House.

The front of Apsley House.

Whoops! Almost forgot to point out the sign.

The steps leading up to the front door. Note the black dots going up each side of the steps. A carpet rail would be slid into these iron rings to hold a stair carpet in place during important events. Personally, I think our visit is an important event in itself, but I suppose since we’re on first name terms with Artie our visit is considered informal.

The front door!

Unfortunately, those are all the first hand photos you’ll see, as no photography is allowed inside. I was able to find a scant few photos online, so those will have to do. I can tell you that the two portraits below, both by Thomas Lawrence, hang within.

Whilst the portrait above may be the most iconic image of the Duke, I’m also partial to the lesser known and seldom seen portrait below, painted circa 1820.

I feel that this painting captures the essence of the Duke as a man, rather than as a great soldier or statesman. He stands alone, in civilian dress and with no emblem of military might, in the semi-darkness ready to defend against whatever comes his way. At the same time, there is something in the way he protectively holds his arms to his chest that evokes an air of vulnerability, a trait not typically attributed to the Duke of Wellington.

Now we’ll move on to the Waterloo Chamber, below.

Above is the statue of Napoleon by Canova that was taken as a spoil of war and presented to the Duke of Wellington by George IV. I don’t suppose re-gifting was an option then . . . . . .

Above is only a tiny portion of the gold plate presented to the Duke by grateful nations and now on display at Apsley House. Below is the Portuguese Centrepiece, one of the most important examples of Neo-Classical silver ever made, which was always used during the Duke’s annual Waterloo Dinners.

If you’re a faithful reader of this blog, you’ll know that on one of my previous visits I set off the alarm when I touched the centerpiece, which at that time was covered in a layer of dust. I simply couldn’t believe it had been allowed to gather dust and so swiped my finger across it to be sure. I’m happy to report that it’s now gleaming and dust-free. So ends our stroll to Apsley House. I hope you’ve enjoyed as much as I.

A Visit to Buckingham Palace

In all my visits to England, I’ve never managed to be in London during public openings of Buckingham Palace. And I didn’t expect it to be open this time over, either. As I mentioned in a previous post, one day whilst in London I strolled across the street from our hotel to the Royal Mews gift shop and while there I overheard one of the ladies who works there telling a man about an unprecedented opening of Buckingham Palace while the family was away over the Christmas holidays. On that day and the next, the Palace would be offering two private, guided, champagne tours each day. Tickets were to be had a few doors down at the Queen’s Gallery. Honestly, dear Reader, no one ever covered the ground between the gift shop and the Queen’s Gallery as quickly as I did that day. I snapped up two tickets to the 4 p.m. tour that very day – by the way, the tickets were enclosed in a really impressive blue envelope, with directions on what forms of I.D. to bring – and then I hightailed it back to the hotel to crow at Greg about my coup. Even he was impressed. And excited.

As instructed, we arrived at the gate on the Queen’s Gallery side of the Palace in Buckingham Palace Road at 3:45. After showing two forms of picture I.D. each, Greg and I were personally escorted to the Ambassador’s Entrance of the Palace and passed through a security screening. Typically, when the Palace is open during the summer, visitors are taken inside in large groups, with over 7,000 visitors coming through in all. Over the two days the Palace was opened in December, just 100 people would have the opportunity to view the interiors. This personalization was evident from the start – we were shown into a waiting area and given upholstered chairs to sit upon until the rest of our group had arrived. Greg and I gawped, goggled, gaped and poked each other in the legs for a while before I turned my head to the right . . . and saw Chantrey’s bust of the Duke of Wellington!

To digress, by this point in our London visit, it had become abundantly clear to Greg that several people other than myself actually knew who the Duke of Wellington was, our having seen Apsley House, the Wellington Arch, Wellington Place, Wellington Street and having had dinner in the Wellington Pub. Vindication at last!

But back to the Palace . . . . once we were all assembled, our tour guide, Dawn, greeted us and took us into an antechamber where a coat check had been set up. We then assembled in a massive hall, where there were full length portraits of Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, amongst others. This chamber opened onto the staircase, below, and we were invited to ascend and stand on either side of the staircase whilst Dawn told us a bit about the paintings – William IV, Queen Adelaide, Prince Leopold, Princess Charlotte, etc. etc. etc. As The British Monarchy Website explains: “Queen Victoria requested that the series of portraits of her immediate family were displayed around the upper part of the stairs. These include her grandparents, George III and Queen Charlotte, her parents the Duke and Duchess of Kent and her predecessor on the throne, her uncle William IV, and his wife Queen Adelaide. Thus the portraits served as a kind of ‘receiving line’ so that whoever climbed the staircase was simultaneously received by her family.”

I should tell you here that in addition to Dawn, there were two other uniformed Palace people attached to our group, one of whom preceeded us and opened the tall, double doors to every room we entered, the other followed our group and closed the doors behind us as we left. And whilst you might think that decorum ruled the visit, you’ll be glad to know that Dawn encouraged us at every step to make ourselves at home – “get up close and get a good look at that painting; do go over to the windows and push the curtains aside for a look at the lawns where the garden parties are held; take a seat – any seat; yes, yes, do go on up to the front and stand where those who are being knighted stand. Terribly fun, is it not?” Greg and I kept catching each other’s eye and making faces. Terribly fun, yes.

Of course, no photos were allowed, and I’ll admit here and now that I could not for the life of me tell you the exact route of our procession through the State Apartments, but here are some photos of some of the rooms we visited. Note: the work of architect John Nash was evident everywhere and his ornate ceilings and fireplaces appeared in almost every room.

The Picture Gallery

Where I saw Winterhalter’s portrait of the Royal Family, above, which Victoria and I had previously viewed at the Victoria and Albert: Art in Love Exhibition at the Queen’s Gallery in June. No, Chuck was not actually present during my tour. More’s the pity.

The White Drawing Room

The Music Room

The State Dining Room

The Blue Drawing Room

Shown above is the old Throne Room, used up until the reign of Queen Victoria, who found it too small and had another built, large enough for dancing. You can’t see it in the photo, but on the wall to the left of the thrones hangs the only portrait in the entire room, shown below.

As Dawn hadn’t mentioned the portrait, I sidled up to her and asked, “Pardon me, but isn’t that a Wellesley?”

“Yes,” Dawn replied, “He was brother to the Duke of Wellington.”

“Elder brother,” said I, “Richard, Lord Mornington.”

“Oh,” said Dawn, “I am impressed.”

Greg was impressed, too. I was a tad depressed. After all, the ability to properly identify Wellesleys isn’t all that impressive as party tricks go. I mean, how often can one flaunt such a talent? And to whom? The ability to eat fire, do bird calls or play the zither would be much handier, but one must be satisfied with one’s lot in life.

This is the new throne room below, where investitures take place and where all the chairs are hauled out and an enormous table laid for State Banquets.

We ended our tour exactly where we’d begun, in the Great Hall, shown below, where flutes of cold champagne were served before we all trooped off to a makeshift giftshop near the cloakroom.

And where I bought myself an official William and Kate wedding tankard. Once we’d collected our coats, Greg and I were each handed an official Buckingham Palace Souvenier Guide and the pair of us were personally escorted out, across the quadrant below

and through the archway on the far right

to the front of the Palace, where we were finally escorted through the entry gate.

By this time, night had fallen and we paused to take one last look back at the Palace, where we’d enjoyed a truly Royal visit.

The Wellington Connection: Ice Skating in London

Active until the end, the Duke of Wellington was an advocate of exercise and fresh air. In a letter to Angela Burdett-Coutts, he sent the following encouragement:

“Don’t repine! My Dear! that you are a Woman! There is nothing to prevent your skaiting; excepting the difficulty and want of opportunity now, possibly, of learning. But Women skait habitually in the Countries in which the Ice is certain annually, and in England I have seen Ladies skait beautifully. The best that I have seen, I think, is Lady Catherine Cavendish, and Her skaiting is admirable! But I have seen many who skait very well; as well at least as most Men . . . . “

Ice skating became so popular in Scotland that the first skating club was established in Edinburgh in 1742. In 1848, E. W. Bushnell invented the first all-iron ice skate that could be clipped to a boot. During the 1800’s, the popularity of ice skating skyrocketed. Skating clubs opened in London, Vienna and New York and rinks were built in Toronto, Canada and Davos, Switzerland. In 1876, the first artificially frozen ice rink, called the Glaciarium, was opened in London by John Gamgee and was mechanically refrigerated. Figure skating was first included as an event at the 1908 Summer Olympics in London.

Here are two fun pictures of ice skaters from our favorite era. On the right is “The Skating Minister” by Henry Raeburn, from the National Gallery of Scotland, painted in the 1790’s. The full title is The Reverend Robert Walker Skating on Duddingston Loch.

The second portrait, below, is by American Gilbert Stuart, painted in 1782, “The Skater,” aka Portrait of William Grant, part of the Andrew W. Mellon Collection in the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D. C.

Should you wish to take up the Duke’s advice, here are a few locations in London where you can practice your “skaiting.”

Hyde Park Winter Wonderland – 19 November to 3 January – Each year, Hyde Park becomes home to Central London’s largest open air ice skating rink. £30.00 per session. Ice guides are available to escort your party on the ice.Each Ice guide can look after up to 15 skaters and will be exclusive to your group for the 1 hour session.

Somerset House – 5 November to 17 January – The 18th century courtyard provides a magical setting for the ice rink, graced by a 12 foot Xmas tree. A skating school is held on the Somerset House Ice Rink on weekdays from 8.30-9.30am for adults, and there’s also Penguin Club, which teaches kids how to skate.

Natural History Museum – 5 November to 9 January – The Natural History Museum ice rink features a special viewing platform for spectators and visitors, providing a perfect place to enjoy a break from the ice. Visit the ice side Cafe Bar for food, drink and a chat with fellow skaters, before heading back to the ice for another quick spin or two. The Cafe Bar is always a popular addition to the ice skating, serving up mulled wine, hot chocolate and a great birdseye view of the ice rink itself.

Tower of London – 20 November to 9 January – Located in the dry moat beneath the fortress, the real-ice rink offers the chance to skate in a truly unique setting on the banks of the River Thames. The Moat Cafe offe
rs hot drinks to warm the cockles of skater’s hearts.

Hampton Court Palace – 27 November to 9 January – One of London’s most dramatic ice rinks, the rink at Hampton Court Palace is set against the backdrop of Henry VIII’s Tudor palace. The 900-square-metre rink which has room for 250 skaters. The adjacent café serves hot chocolate and snacks.

A Gathering of Graces – Part Three

Torquhil Campbell, 13th Duke of Argyll – title created 1701. Additional titles: Marquess of Kintyre and Lorne, Viscount Lochow and Glenilla and Lord Morvern, Chief of Clan Campbell.

Family Pile: Inveraray Castle, Argyllshire.

History: The dukedom brings with it the the hereditary posts of Master of HM’s Household in Scotland and Keeper of the Great Seal of Scotland.

The family suffered serious scandal in the Sixties, when the divorce proceedings of the 11th duke unearthed a famous photograph of his soon-to-be former wife with a mysterious naked man. Also introduced to the court was a list of eighty-eight men the Duke believed had enjoyed his wife’s favours; the list is said to include two government ministers and three royals. The judge commented that the Duchess had indulged in “disgusting sexual activities”.

The present duke, when not working in the whisky trade, is captain of the Scottish elephant polo team.

Holdings: Family owns 60,000 acres of Scotland, valued at £12.5m in 2001.

Maurice FitzGerald, 9th Duke of Leinster – title created 1766. Additional titles: Marquess of Kildare and Earl of Offaly. Family Pile: Formerly Carton House, Co. Kildare. Now a farmhouse in Oxfordshire.

History: The FitzGeralds assisted Edward I in his battles against the Scots. The family fortunes declined in the 20th century after the 7th Duke sold his interests in the family estates and was then declared bankrupt. His fourth wife, with whom he opened a teashop in Rye in 1965, was the caretaker of the block of flats in which he lived. Educated at Millfield, the present Duke is president of the Oxfordshire Dyslexia Association and is the highest ranking member of the Peerage of Ireland.

Holdings: None of note – the Duke works as a landscape gardener.

Murray Beauclerk, 14th Duke of St Albans Age: 70. Title created: 1684. Other titles include Earl of Burford, and Baron Heddington. Family Pile: Seat: A terrace house in Knightsbridge, London.

History: The first Duke was the illegitimate son of Charles II and Nell Gwyn. Though the present Duke is a Tonbridge-educated chartered accountant, an eccentric strain still runs through family. His heir, the Earl of Burford, has long campaigned to prove his ancestor, Edward de Vere, 17th Earl of Oxford, was the true author of the works of Shakespeare. In 1999, the young Earl was forcibly expelled from the House of Lords for jumping on the Woolsack and accusing the Government of treason in its expulsion of hereditary peers.

Holdings: Never a great landowning family, the Beauclerks were said to own 4,000 acres, worth £12m, in 2001.

Arthur Wellesley, 8th Duke of Wellington – title created 1814. Additional titles: Prince of Waterloo, Duke of Vittoria and Earl of Mornington.

Family Pile: Stratfield Saye House, Hampshire

Second Family Pile: Apsley House, London.

History: Like the original Iron Duke, the present Duke had a long Army career, winning the Military Cross and reaching the rank of Brigadier. In later life, he has devoted himself to his estates and charities, coming top in Country Life’s ‘Good Duke Guide’ in 1991. The Duchess of Wellington died on November 1 of this year. His heir, the Marquess of Douro, is a former Tory MEP and his grandson. Arthur, Lord Mornington, is married to Jemma Kidd (Lady Mornington), the make-up artist, seen below.

Holdings: 7,000-acre Hampshire estate, 20,000 acres of Belgium and Spain. Thought to be worth £50m in 2001. For all you want to know – and probably more – about the 1st Duke of Wellington, check the 40-something posts to be found under “Labels” in the left sidebar of this blog.

Those Fabulous Phaetons – Part Two

The area in and around Long Acre in London was noted for it’s many coach builders, who offered standard coach designs and could also make customized carriages to suit any need or taste. Rudolph Ackermann, most famous for his “Repository,” designed many coaches for the aristocracy. The delivery of a finished coach happened long after its initial order had been placed, as there many firms involved in the construction and outfitting of each. No one firm undertook all phases of the process. There were the Body Makers who made the body and panels, Carriage Makers who built the under-carriage, Blacksmiths who did all the iron work, Wheelwrights and Curriers, who fitted the seats and all leather parts. Finally, Painters attended to the coach bodies and heraldic designs upon the doors and the Trimmers fitted up the interior with lace edgings for pockets, tassel cords, hammer cloths and window blinds. Quality work produced by skilled craftsmen took time – but those Fabulous Phaetons were well worth the wait.

Charles Dickens gives us details of the process is All the Year Round:

The coachmaker’s wood-loft contains oak, ash, and elm, from trees which have lain a year after falling, and which, after I.-mis; cut into planks of various thicknesses, must remain unused as many years as they are inches thick. A certain class of carriage-builders use green wood of any quality, relying on paint to cover all defects, not expecting or caring to see any customer twice. There are some advertising fabricators of diminutive Broughams who are especially to be avoided.

Besides European woods, there is also a large demand for mahogany and knee-wood from the Gulf of Mexico, Quebec pine, birch and ash from. Canada, tulip-wood and hickory from the United States. These, for the most part, are cut ready for use by steam saws before going into the hands of the coachbuilder.

The first step for the construction of, say a Brougham, is to make a chalk drawing on a brick wall, of the same size. On this design depends the style of the carriage. Some builders are happy or unhappy in designing novelties; others have a traditional design, a certain characteristic outline, from which they will on no consideration depart. The next step is to make patterns of the various parts. In first-class factories, each skilled workman has been apprenticed to, and follows only one branch of, the trade. The leading workmen in wood are body-makers, carriagebuilders, wheelers, and joiners—all highly skilled artisans, as may be judged from the fact that a chest of their tools is worth as much as thirty pounds.

The framework is sawn out of English oak. The pieces, when cut by the band-saws, are worked up, rabbeted, and grooved to receive the panels, and thus a skeleton is raised ready for the smith and fitter, who, taking mild steel or homogenous iron, forge and fit a stiff plate along the inside cart-bottom framework, following the various curves, and bolted on so as to form a sort of backbone to the carriage, which, takes the place of the perch:—universally the foundation of four-wheeled carriages before the general adoption of iron and steel.

The frame is then covered with thin panels of mahogany, blocked, canvased, and the whole rounded off. After a few coats of priming, the upper part is covered with the skin of an ox, pulled over wet. This tightens itself in drying, and makes the whole construction as taut as a drum-head, the joints impervious to rain, and unaffected by the extremes of heat or cold. Meanwhile the “carriage-maker,” the technical name of the artisan who makes the underworks, arranges the parts to which the springs and axles are bolted, so that the body may hang square and turn evenly with the horses, on the fore-carriage. The coachsmith and spring-maker have also been at work arranging the springs, the length and strength of which must be nicely calculated to the weight estimated to be carried. The ends of these springs are filled with india-rubber, to make the carriage run lightly and softly.

McNaught and Co., Worcester

Though from a much earlier date, Samuel Pepys records a visit to his coachmaker in his Diary: “I to my coachmaker’s, and there vexed to see nothing yet done to my coach, at three in the afternoon; but I set it in doing, and stood by till eight at night, and saw the painter varnish it, which is pretty to see how every doing it over do make it more and more yellow: and it dries as fast in the sun as it can be laid on almost; and most coaches are, now-a-days, done so, and it is very pretty when laid on well, and not too pale, as some are, even to show the silver. Here I did make the workmen drink, and saw my coach cleaned and oiled; and staying among poor people there in the alley, did hear them call their fat child Punch, which pleased me mightily, that word being become a word of common use for all that is thick and short. At night home, and there find my wife hath been making herself clean against tomorrow; and late as it was, I did send my coachman and horses to fetch home the coach to-night, and so we to supper, myself most weary with walking and standing so much, to see all things fine against to-morrow, and so to bed.”

The Coachmaker Pub
88 Marylebone Lane, London

And in closing, Dear Reader, you will not be too surprised to find that, yet again, the fates have brought us to another encounter with the Duke of Wellington with this passage from All the Year Round – “So recently as 1837 a . . . scientific book on pleasure carriages was published by Mr. Adams, then a coachbuilder, since a distinguished mechanical engineer, and he gives no hint of the coming carriage reform. Mr. Adams made an early display of his ingenuity by building a carriage now only remembered in connexion with the great Duke of Wellington, who drove one to the last, the Equirotal, which, in theory, combined the advantage of a two-wheeled and a four-wheeled carriage, the forepart and wheels being connected with the hind body by a hinge or joint, so that no matter how the horses turned, the driver always had them square before him; a great advantage. It was also, at the cost of something under five hundred pounds, convertible into a series of vehicles. Complete, it was a landau, holding four inside, besides the servants’ hind dickey; disunited, it formed at will a Stanhope gig, a cabriolet, or a curricle. In spite of the example of the Iron Duke, and the eloquent explanations of the inventor, the public, either not caring for such a combination, or not willing to pay the price, never took to the Equirotal.”