Where Victoria Lies Side by Side With Albert

One of the most fascinating places in England will open its gates for three days in May, then lock them again for another year. Behind those gates is a strange mixture of history, art and mortality.

The Royal Mausoleum at Frogmore, Queen Victoria’s shrine to Prince Albert and her own burial place, is open to the public only on the first Wednesday and Thursday in May and on the Wednesday closest to May 24, Victoria’s birthday.

Last year on Victoria’s birthday the mood at Frogmore, just up the road from Windsor Castle, was festive. Lush rhododendrons with deep pink and purple flowers lined the private path to the Royal Mausoleum.

There was a light rain, but a group of elderly gentlemen wearing matching ties welcomed visitors warmly. “It’s not raining on this side,” they called out, indicating the correct steps to use. Well-dressed dowagers and boys in school caps alike obediently filed up the black marble stairs on the left.

The mausoleum, across from a stream, is a 13th-Century Italian design with arched doorways and an octagonal copper dome. Outside the door are two stern bronze angels, one holding a trumpet and a sword, the other the Book of Life and a quill to write down the names of the worthy. A terra cotta cameo of Christ is set above the doorway; on each side of the post is the V & A insignia. Designed by Ludwig Gruner, the building was completed in 1868.

In 1861, when Prince Albert succumbed at age 42 to what was belatedly diagnosed as typhoid fever, it was a shocking end to a marriage that had become a love match. The stocky Victoria adored his good looks from the start, but had a few things to learn.

A royal attendant overheard her at Albert’s bedroom door one night. It seemed to be a variation of the old joke. Knock-knock. “Who’s there?” “It is the queen.” No response. Knock-knock. “Who’s there?” “It is your sovereign, Albert!” Still no response. Knock-knock. “Who’s there?” “It’s your wife.” With this humility she gained entrance to the conjugal bedroom.

That settled, Albert’s death was a terrible shock. Victoria wore her black mourning bonnet for the rest of her life and came to Frogmore to commune with Albert on every important occasion. She brought her children and their prospective spouses here to get his “blessing,” and, as time passed, added younger family members.

Yet the chapel is not mournful. The 70-foot dome, painted blue, is peopled with angels, clouds and bright gold stars. The religious murals and trompe l’oeil images of geese, griffins and cupids with feathers for bodies are done in the style of Raphael, who was much admired by Albert. The interior is divided into four smaller chapels with sculpture in the passageways between.

One sculpture, done by William Theed in 1867, shows the couple in Anglo-Saxon dress; Albert in a kilt, Victoria wearing a crown with a medieval headdress. She clutches at him anxiously as if already knowing the end. The inscription below reads, “Allur’d to brighter worlds and led the way,” a line from Oliver Goldsmith.

The monument to one of Victoria’s grandsons, Prince Christian Victor, is typical of the age. It shows an angel wearing a war helmet, her eyes closed in a willful expression. On the hilt of her sword is a miniature woman resembling the angel herself. Christian Victor, nicknamed “Christie,” was preparing to return home from South Africa when he contracted malaria and died at age 33.

But the most startling sculpture is the white marble likeness of Princess Alice lying on her deathbed, cradling her 4-year-old daughter, Mary; she was nursing the child back from diphtheria in 1878 when they both died. In true Victorian fashion, sculptor Joseph Boehm has recreated every detail, down to strands of the child’s hair on the pillow. Alice, Victoria’s third child, was living in Germany with her husband, the Prince of Hesse, when she died.

It was a grievous loss to Victoria, although when she spoke of Alice she always identified her in the Albertine context of “the dear child who nursed her father in his last illness.” Like her father, Alice died on Dec. 14.

The main attraction of the mausoleum, of course, is the double monument of Victoria and Albert. Executed by Carlo Marochetti in 1868, it is raised five feet from the floor; a set of wooden stairs and platform have been provided for a better look. Because the marble has never been exposed to the elements, it seems unnaturally white.

The couple lie side by side, their heads slightly inclined toward one another. Albert’s hands are folded, his chest covered with medals. Victoria is holding a scepter. At the corners of the monument are four dark angels whose oversize wings nearly touch. Because it is Queen Victoria’s birthday, there are fresh flowers, too, and such tributes as:

How we miss that welcome voice,

How we mark that vacant chair,

For the loved one taken from us

Seems the one we least can spare.

Yet with the passage of time the mood has become pleasantly nostalgic. Visiting on Queen Victoria’s birthday, spending time where she spent so much of hers, is a truly English experience.

Outside on the porch, visitors linger to prolong the mood. A verger looks out at the rain, then fixes the group with a genial eye. “You have to go out in it sometimes,” he admonishes. “Go on. Be brave.”

The party is over until next May.