the livery-porters, and the under-butlers took their orders from yet another official—­the Master of the Horse.  Naturally, in these circumstances the service was extremely defective and the lack of discipline among the servants disgraceful.  They absented themselves for as long as they pleased and whenever the fancy took them; “and if,” as the Baron put it, “smoking, drinking, and other irregularities occur in the dormitories, where footmen, etc., sleep ten and twelve in each room, no one can help it.”  As for Her Majesty’s guests, there was nobody to show them to their rooms, and they were often left, having utterly lost their way in the complicated passages, to wander helpless by the hour.  The strange divisions of authority extended not only to persons but to things.  The Queen observed that there was never a fire in the dining-room.  She enquired why.  The answer was “the Lord Steward lays the fire, and the Lord Chamberlain lights it;” the underlings of those two great noblemen having failed to come to an accommodation, there was no help for it—­the Queen must eat in the cold.

A surprising incident opened everyone’s eyes to the confusion and negligence that reigned in the Palace.  A fortnight after the birth of the Princess Royal the nurse heard a suspicious noise in the room next to the Queen’s bedroom.  She called to one of the pages, who, looking under a large sofa, perceived there a crouching figure “with a most repulsive appearance.”  It was “the boy Jones.”  This enigmatical personage, whose escapades dominated the newspapers for several ensuing months, and whose motives and character remained to the end ambiguous, was an undersized lad of 17, the son of a tailor, who had apparently gained admittance to the Palace by climbing over the garden wall and walking in through an open window.  Two years before he had paid a similar visit in the guise of a chimney-sweep.  He now declared that he had spent three days in the Palace, hiding under various beds, that he had “helped himself to soup and other eatables,” and that he had “sat upon the throne, seen the Queen, and heard the Princess Royal squall.”  Every detail of the strange affair was eagerly canvassed.  The Times reported that the boy Jones had “from his infancy been fond of reading,” but that “his countenance is exceedingly sullen.”  It added:  “The sofa under which the boy Jones was discovered, we understand, is one of the most costly and magnificent material and workmanship, and ordered expressly for the accommodation of the royal and illustrious visitors who call to pay their respects to Her Majesty.”  The culprit was sent for three months to the “House of Correction.”  When he emerged, he immediately returned to Buckingham Palace.  He was discovered, and sent back to the “House of Correction” for another three months, after which he was offered L4 a week by a music hall to appear upon the stage.  He refused this offer, and shortly afterwards was found by the police loitering round Buckingham Palace.  The