Philippa Carr: Pool of St. Branok

“You must take the children over to Helena’s,” said Aunt Amaryllis. “Jonnie and Geoffrey will look forward to seeing Angelet.”

“Jonnie must be getting on now.”

“He’s soon to be thirteen.”

I looked forward to seeing Jonnie.

The next morning my mother took Jack and me to see the Humes. Matthew was of course with Uncle Peter, but Aunt Helena welcomed us warmly. Aunt Helena was very like her mother but she lacked that innocent belief in the goodness of life which was her mother’s outstanding quality; she adored her family and was very proud of her husband’s achievements. She talked to my mother about Matthew’s progress in the House of Commons and how she hoped the Party would soon regain power and if they did there would certainly be a post in the Cabinet for Matthew. Her father was sure of it and, of course, he had his ear to the ground.

I went off to see Jonnie’s collection of books on archaeology which he showed me with great enthusiasm. I did not care very much about old weapons and coins and pieces of urns and things which had been dug up and proved when the Stone Age merged into the Bronze; but I did like to be with Jonnie. He was very interested in the Exhibition and told me that he was often in Hyde Park watching the progress of the work. It was going to be wonderful when it was opened and we could see the wonders of that glorious glass palace.

Geoffrey, two years my senior, was inclined to view me with a certain aloofness as being too young to engage his attention. Jonnie, who was four years older, was quite different. There was something special about Jonnie.

When we returned to the house in the square Matthew was still with Uncle Peter.

Uncle Peter was very affable to me and I fancied he gave me a rather special affection. Once he said: “You may not look like your grandmother but you are another such as she was.” And I felt that was a compliment. He must have been fond of Jessica.

He dominated everything, although he was quite an old man. His hair was almost white now, but he was very handsome; but what was different about him was that rather secretive smile as though life was great fun to him because he had found the perfect way to live it. I could well believe he had.

The éminence grise … well, there was no doubt of that. Matthew, famous politician though he might be, regarded his father-in-law as a master. Matthew had done a great deal since he had returned from Australia and written that book about transportation and prisoners which was becoming a classic, the book on the subject. Transportation was still in existence and so were the infamous hulks in which prisoners were kept; and the conditions in prisons were still appalling; but Matthew had called attention to these matters and the subject of transportation was constantly being given an airing; there were many who supported Matthew’s views that it should be abolished and it seemed only a matter of a short time before it would be. Matthew had also written a book about child chimney sweeps and labor in the mines. Matthew was a natural reformer. It meant that he was a highly respected member of Parliament, beloved by his constituents, highly thought of by the leaders of his party, and certain of a ministerial post when it was returned to power.

I was allowed to sit with the family for luncheon.

“I shall have Angelet beside me,” declared Uncle Peter. He had great charm and an endearing way with him. It was small wonder that innocents like myself admired him.

He did most of the talking. He seemed to have, as was once said of him, “a finger in many pies.” I was not sure at that time what his business was, but I knew that it was highly profitable and made him very rich. Later I learned that he owned several clubs of somewhat dubious reputation, but in his view these were a necessity for the community. It kept certain persons from committing misdemeanors which could be a menace to society so he was doing a great service to the country. Amaryllis believed this absolutely, though there had been a great scandal about his activities at one time and through it he had lost his place in Parliament. Even he had to compromise in some way, for he had to content himself with being outside the main action and give himself up to guiding Matthew in the way he wanted him to go. I thought of Matthew as the puppet and Uncle Peter as the puppet master.

It was not only Matthew whom he manipulated. I was sure Uncle Peter made a number of people do what he wanted.

It was gratifying and made me feel important to be selected to sit beside him.

The talk was of the folly of John Russell who was the Prime Minister and a Whig; and as Uncle Peter was a Tory, he had nothing but contempt for Little John, as he called him.

The Exhibition was discussed at great length.

“You are looking forward to seeing the opening, are you not, Angelet?” he asked, turning to me.

I assured him that indeed I was.

“It will be something to remember all your life. It is an historic occasion.”

“I understand the Queen is opening it,” said my mother.

“But of course. Her diminutive Majesty dotes on the idea. And why? Because it was Albert’s brainchild. Therefore in her eyes it must be perfect.”

“Is it not wonderful to see how happy they are?” said Aunt Amaryllis. “They set such a good example to the nation.”

“There are the occasional storms, I believe, my dear,” said Uncle Peter. “But I fancy Albert usually comes out best in these encounters which says something for his wisdom … or is it his pretty appearance?”

“Oh Peter!” said Aunt Amaryllis, half scolding, half admiring.

“At least,” put in Matthew, “the whole project is nearing completion and all should be well.”

“Little John will do his best to make difficulties,” said Uncle Peter. “What’s his latest, Matthew?”

“He wants the salute of guns fired in St James’s Park. He says if they are let off in Hyde Park they may shatter the glass of the dome.”

“And will they?” asked my mother.

“Of course not,” retorted Uncle Peter. “It is just that he wants to put in his spoke and cause a little trouble.”

“I believe Albert is going to stand out against him,” said Matthew.

“What if it does shatter the dome?” I asked.

“My dear Angelet,” said Uncle Peter, beaming at me, “then Albert will be proved wrong and Little Johnny right.”

“Isn’t it a risk?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t think Albert will give way on this matter. Don’t look so glum, I doubt it will happen, and I feel sure the crystal dome will remain intact, and if it does not … well, then I say … what a to-do!”

“It seems rather silly to risk it,” I said. “It would be awful if it were spoilt after all this fuss.”

“Life, dear child, is full of risks. Sometimes it pays to take them. If the Prince gave way on this we should have Little Johnny raising other objections. Albert can’t admit he’s wrong … so he takes this little risk.”

I was thoughtful considering this and I saw Uncle Peter’s amused glance on me.

He went on to talk of the beautiful Exhibition and how the Prince had thought of it as a festival of Work and Peace. How much better for nations to mingle in friendship, to show their achievements in technology than facing each other on a battlefield. Art and Commerce should stand side by side.

The great day dawned. How fortunate we were to be of a party which could attend the opening. For the first time I saw the Queen. She looked magnificent in pink and silver; across her breast was the garter ribbon and on her head a small crown in which the Koh-i-Noor diamond glistened. I caught my breath in wonder. I had never seen such a beautiful vision. I was so proud as I joined in the cheers as she arrived in her carriage, two feathers waving gently on her head attached in some way to the crown. She looked proud, happy and completely regal, everything that a queen ought to look.