1836
_Monday, 11th January._— ... We went out walking at a ¼ to 2 with
Lady Flora and Lehzen; it had cleared up and was quite mild and
bright. We walked on the pier and got into a boat. There was a good
deal of swell in the Harbour, and at the mouth of it our boat pitched
and rolled a good deal; Mamma began to look queerish, but I thought
it very pleasant. There were numbers of people on the pier. The 3
Portuguese vessels hoisted their Portuguese standards, as did also the
two Spaniards. We landed at the same stairs where we embarked. The
whole of Ramsgate seemed to be out on the pier. We walked to the head
of the pier and back again and got into the carriage. We drove to the
cliff where the stairs called “Jacob’s ladder” are. We got out there
and went down the stairs, and walked on the other side of the pier. We
took a parting look at the end of the pier, of all the ships, the pier
&c., for we go tomorrow. There were, I think, 7 French boats in the
Harbour; and there were numbers of little French boys on the pier; we
gave them something, but they (for the first time) proved dissatisfied
and rebellious. They quite attacked Lehzen, who always gives the money,
coming round her on all sides, stretching out their hands, saying
“Donnez-moi un sou,” “Je n’ai pas un,” “Madame, Madame, donnez-moi
un sou,” &c. Some little urchins were _rusés_ enough to say “C’est
pour nos matelots, nous allons à bord dans l’instant.” Lehzen threw
them a shilling, whereupon they all fell on the ground in one heap,
scrambling after it. They were quiet for a little while, but a few
little determined fellows came again and followed us for sometime. They
at length got something, and went away. Cela était fort amusant et très
ridicule à voir....
_Wednesday, 13th January._—I awoke at a little past 6 and got up
at 7. Dressed and had my hair done. We breakfasted at 8. We left
Sittingbourne at 9. It was a bitterly cold day, though bright and
clear. We changed horses at Rochester, 2ndly at Gravesend, and 3rdly
at Blackheath. We reached Kensington Palace at a little before 2. We
instantly went upstairs, that is to say, up _two_ staircases, to our
new sleeping and sitting apartments which are very lofty and handsome.
To describe them minutely and accurately would be impossible. Our
bedroom[206] is very large and lofty, and is very nicely furnished,
then comes a little room for the maid, and a dressing-room for Mamma;
then comes the old gallery which is partitioned into 3 large, lofty,
fine and cheerful rooms.[207] One only of these (the one near Mamma’s
dressing-room) is ready furnished; it is my sitting-room and is _very_
prettily furnished indeed. My pictures are not yet in it. The next is
my study, and the last is an anteroom; this last has no fireplace, but
the two others have, and my sitting-room is very warm and comfortable.
There is another room, belonging to me, on another side of the bed-room
(Lehzen’s former bed-room) which is not freshly furnished, but is a
passage &c. Lehzen is now in our former bed-room. When I went down into
my poor former sitting-room,[208] I could not help looking at it with
affection, and pleasant recollections, having passed so many days of my
life and many very pleasant ones there; but our new rooms are much more
airy and roomy....
_Thursday, 14th January._— ... Read out of Mme. de Sévigné while my
hair was doing to Lehzen. We all breakfasted at a ¼ past 9. Carried
things from my old room, upstairs to my new room, and put them into
the new presses. Wrote my journal. My pictures are being hung up and
my room is in a great confusion; the workmen in my study are making a
great noise, so that I am _un peu confuse_. Walked about. We lunched
at 1. Arranged things. Saw Dr. Clark at 2. Received a most kind and
long letter from dearest Aunt Louise in which she tells me that Uncle
Leopold and my little cousin are well, as also Uncle Ferdinand, who
is with them; and that the Duke of Orleans[209] (whom she calls
_Chartres_, as the whole family generally do) is better but not quite
well yet. She further adds, that the dear Queen of the French who had a
very bad cold, is better....
_Wednesday, 3rd February._—I awoke at 7 and got up at a ¼ to 8. Read
in the Irish History while my hair was doing. At 9 we breakfasted.
Pasted my name in some of my books. At 10 came the Dean till 11. Read
with him first in the Old Testament and then in Hume. Pasted my name in
some of my books. I have got all the same pictures I had in my former
room, hung up in my present room, with the exception of some old prints
and of the two ugly oil pictures of my Father and Mother, and with
the addition of Hayter’s drawing of Mamma and I. My fine casts of the
_dear_ French family are also hung up in my sitting-room; they only
came home today as the frame had to be mended. I am so fond of them.
Various prints are also being hung up in my study. Wrote my journal.
Drew....
_Saturday, 6th February._— ... I have quite forgotten to mention
that the young Queen of Portugal was married by proxy on the 1st of
January to—_my Cousin Ferdinand_, Uncle Ferdinand’s eldest son, and
who completed his 19th year on the 29th of last October.[210] The
negotiations to this purpose have been going on since last September,
and have only just now come to an end. Count Lavradio, whom we saw just
before we went to Ramsgate, went to Cobourg to meet Uncle Ferdinand and
my dear Cousins Ferdinand and Augustus, there. Dear Uncle Leopold has
managed a _great_ deal of the business; he is ever ready and ever _most
able_ to assist his family. Uncle Ferdinand has not long left Brussels,
where he came to settle and arrange about the marriage. Dear Uncle
Ferdinand is, of course, full of anxiety for the welfare and happiness
of his son. Ferdinand will soon come to Brussels with Augustus on his
way to Lisbon and they will also come here. I cannot say how happy I
am to become thus related to the Queen of Portugal, who has always
been so kind to me and for whom I have always had a great affection.
She is warm-hearted, honest and affectionate, and when she talks, is
very pleasing. We have known each other since our 8th year (for there
is only a month’s difference of age between us). She is far from plain
too; she has an exquisite complexion, a good nose and fine hair. I hear
that Ferdinand is full of good and excellent qualities, has a pure and
unsophisticated mind, and is very good-looking....
_Saturday, 20th February._— ... At ½ past 3 came the Dean till 4. Read
with him in Milton’s _Paradise Lost_. Practised on the piano for Mrs.
Anderson.[211] Drew while Lehzen read to me out of that Rapport about
Fieschi.[212] Practised again on the piano. At ½ past 7 we dined.
Aunt Gloucester, the Prince of Hesse-Philippsthal-Barchfeldt,[213]
the Archbishop of York and Miss Harcourt, the Duke of Wellington,
Count[214] and Countess Charles Pozzo di Borgo, the Earl and Countess
of Lincoln,[215] Viscount and Viscountess Beresford,[216] Lord Hill,
Lady Caroline Legge,[217] Lady Theresa Strangways, Sir Robert and Lady
Peel, General Upton and Sir Samuel Higgins dined here. I sat between
the Duke of Wellington and Count C. Pozzo di Borgo. The Count is a
very agreeable man. His wife, the dear little Countess, looked lovely;
she is such a charming person; she is the 3rd daughter of the Duc de
Crillon and is called Valentina. Lady Lincoln is also a very charming
young person; she was so pretty but she is very much changed as she
was very ill all last summer and is still very far from well. I sat a
good deal with her and the little Countess Pozzo, and found them very
amiable and cheerful....
_Saturday, 27th February._— ... It was Miss Joanna Baillie’s[218]
Tragedy of _The Separation_ in 5 acts, performed for the 2nd time.
The principal characters are: Garcio (an Italian Count), Mr. Charles
Kemble,[219] who acted finely in parts but is dreadfully changed;
Rovani (his friend), G. Bennett who acted disagreeably and affectedly;
the Marquis of Tortona, Mr. Pritchard, a poor odd-looking creature;
Margaret (wife to Garcio), Miss Helen Faucit,[220] who acted well in
the pathetic quiet parts. I had not seen Charles Kemble since 5 years,
and I did not quite recollect his countenance; those however who had
seen him in his good days, when he was an excellent actor and a very
handsome man, found the change _very great_. _I_, for _my_ part, like
Macready by far better. Kemble whines so much and drawls the words in
such a slow peculiar manner; his actions too (to me) are overdone and
affected, and his voice is not pleasant to me; he makes terrible faces
also which spoils his countenance and he looks old and does not carry
himself well. He was very fine, however, at the end of the 3rd act when
he snatches the picture out of his wife’s hand, and when he discovers
it to be that of her brother Ulrico whom he murdered,—the way in which
he throws the picture on the ground and sinks trembling and gasping
against the bed, while his countenance pourtrays the violent feelings
of remorse, horror and conscience this Kemble did _very finely_, and
also when he takes leave of Margaret. He _was_ undoubtedly a very fine
actor, nay, still _is_, but he is not natural enough for my taste. I
_do_ think Macready is so feeling and natural, particularly now; he
was perhaps formerly rather affected and violent at times. His voice
too I like so much and he does not drawl the words; I like him best
after Young, who was the _most beautiful_ actor I ever saw, or who
perhaps ever existed in this country, except Garrick and John Kemble
(Charles K.’s elder brother). I only saw Young twice but I shall never
forget it. I saw him 1st in _Macbeth_ and then I saw him take his
final leave of the stage in _Hamlet_. I must say a few words about
G. Bennett[221] and Miss Helen Faucit. Bennett, whom I have seen act
really extremely well in _The Miller and His Men_, in _Pizarro_, in
_King John_ as Hubert, &c., &c., was extremely disagreeable yesterday
as Rovani; he twisted his arms, hands, legs, back and even eyes in all
directions, and drawled his words in speaking most disagreeably. Miss
Faucit is plain and thin, and her voice is much against her, but when
she is gentle and pathetic she is far from disagreeable; she rants and
screams[222] too much also, but as she is very young, they say she may
_become_ a good actress. The Tragedy though well written is rather
unnatural and very heavy in parts; I must say _I_ greatly prefer _The
Provost of Bruges_ and think it by far more natural. Kemble and Miss
Faucit were called out and were much applauded....
[Illustration: _P.V. del. R.P. April 1837._
_M^r. Charles Mathews as Dapperwit in The Rape of the Lock_
CHARLES MATHEWS.
From a sketch by Princess Victoria.]
_Monday, 29th February._— ... At ½ past 7 we went to the play to Mme.
Vestris’s[223] Olympic, with Lehzen and Sir J. C. I had never been
there before; it is a very small but pretty, clean little theatre.
It was the burletta of _One Hour_ or _The Carnival Ball_ in one
act. The principal characters are: Mr. Charles Swiftly, Mr. Charles
Mathews,[224] a most _delightful_ and _charming_ actor; he is son to
the celebrated old Mathews who died last year. He is quite a young man,
I should say not more than five or six and twenty.[225] His face is
not good-looking, but very clever and pleasing; he has a very slight,
pretty figure, with very small feet and is very graceful and immensely
active; he skips and runs about the stage in a most agile manner.
He is _so_ natural and amusing, and never vulgar but always very
gentlemanlike. He is a most charming actor....
Charles Mathews is the most delightful and amusing actor possible. He
is the only child of his parents and was intended for an architect and
studied in Greece and Italy for that purpose; but having a penchant for
the stage, he abandoned his profession and had become an actor; we see
how it has succeeded—_most perfectly_!...
_Wednesday, 2nd March._— ... Lady Burghersh[226] told me that she knew
Charles Mathews very well when she was in Florence, where he was come
for the purpose of studying architecture; she said she had often acted
with him in their private theatricals and that he always showed a
great talent for acting, and that he then performed as a gentleman; he
_now_ acts quite like a gentleman, and looks so too; he is a charming
performer I think. Lady Burghersh also said that he looks younger than
he is, for that he must be 3 or 4 and thirty. He told her when at
Florence that he had a great passion for the stage, but, as his father
was greatly averse to his son becoming an actor, he refrained from
doing it during his father’s lifetime....
_Thursday, 17th March._— ... We reached Windsor Castle at 6. We went
to the Queen’s room where Ferdinand and Augustus were presented to the
King. We then went to our rooms. At ½ past 7 we dined in St. George’s
Hall with an immense number of people. Ferdinand looked very well. He
wore the 3 Portuguese Orders in one ribbon, which he has the right of
doing as husband to the Queen of Portugal. Ferdinand led the Queen in
to dinner and the King led Mamma and I. I sat between the King and
George Cambridge and opposite dear Ferdinand. After dinner we went into
a beautiful new drawing-room[227] where we remained till the gentlemen
came from dinner. We then all went into the Waterloo Gallery where the
ball was. The King went in first, then the Queen and Mamma, and then
dear Ferdinand with me at his arm. I danced 3 quadrilles; 1st with dear
Ferdinand, then with George Cambridge, and lastly with dear Augustus.
During the evening dear Ferdinand came and sat near me and talked so
dearly and so sensibly. I do _so_ love him. Dear Augustus also sat near
me and talked with me and he is also a dear good young man, and is
very handsome. He is extremely quiet and silent, but there is a great
deal in him. I am so fond too of my Uncle Ferdinand. I stayed up till
1. I was much amused and pleased. Uncle Ferdinand brought me two kind
notes from Uncle Leopold and Aunt Louise. Ferdinand is so fond of Aunt
Louise. He told me: “Oh, je l’aime tant!” Both he and Augustus speak
French extremely well. This dinner and ball were in honour of dear
Ferdinand.
_Friday, 18th March._— ... At ½ past 9 we breakfasted with the King,
the Queen, dear Ferdinand (who came nearly at the end of the breakfast,
having slept a long while), dear Uncle Ferdinand, Augustus, Charles,
Prince Ernst of Hesse P.B.,[228] the Duchess of Northumberland, George
Cambridge, Lady Ely,[229] Lady Flora, and Lehzen. After breakfast Mamma
and I went into the Queen’s room and looked at some of her many pretty
things. Wrote my journal. At ½ past 11 we drove out with the Queen
and dear Ferdinand in our carriage, Ferdinand and I sitting on the
back seat and the Queen and Mamma on the front seat. Uncle Ferdinand,
Augustus, Charles and Prince Ernest of Hesse P.B. followed in another,
and all the rest in other carriages. We went to see a hunt and saw a
stag let out of a cart and all the horsemen followed in great numbers.
It was a very pretty sight, and a beautiful warm day. We were all in
open carriages. I talked a good deal with Ferdinand, and like him
_more_ and _more_; he is so sensible, so natural, so unaffected, and
unsophisticated and so _truly_ good. His tutor, who has been with
him 13 years, M. Dietz, and whom he told me he is very fond of, will
go with him to Lisbon as his “secrétaire intime,” he told me. He (M.
Dietz)[230] came with several other gentlemen to Kensington yesterday.
Ferdinand is so fond of Augustus; the separation will be dreadful for
the two brothers; and he is very fond of his sister Victoire. We came
home at ½ past 1. Wrote the _brouillon_ of a French letter to Aunt
Louise. At 2 we lunched with the whole party. I sat between the King
and Uncle Ferdinand. Wrote my letter to Aunt Louise. Wrote my journal.
Walked about. At about ½ past 5 dear Ferdinand, Uncle Ferdinand, and
dear Augustus came into our room for a little while. At ½ past 7 we
dined; again in St. George’s Hall and with the same large company as
the day before. Ferdinand went first (as he did also yesterday) with
the Queen; then came the King with us two. I sat between the King
and George Cambridge, and opposite dear Fernando. After dinner Uncle
Ferdinand and my Cousins came and sat near us every now and then. Dear
Ferdinand has elicited universal admiration from all parties; the King
is very much pleased with him, and the Queen is quite taken with him.
He is so very unaffected, and has such a distinguished appearance and
carriage. They are both very dear and charming young men; Augustus is
very amiable too, and when known, shows much good sense; he is very
quiet and gentle. There is such an innocence and simplicity in them,
and such a childish gaiety, and again they are very grown-up and nice
in their manners, which are very unaffected and pleasing. Stayed up
till ½ past 11....
_Friday, 1st April._—Today is Good Friday. At ½ past 9 we breakfasted
with dear Uncle Ferdinand, dear Augustus, Charles, Lady Flora and
Lehzen. I sat between dear Augustus and Charles. I stayed downstairs
till a ¼ past 10. Received the Order of Ste. Isabelle from my Cousin
Donna Maria. The ribbon is very pale pink and white. Went up stairs,
and wrote part of the _brouillon_ of a French letter to Aunt Louise.
Dear good Augustus came up at ½ past 10 and stayed till 11. These
visits please me very much; he is _so_ quiet, and goes about looking
at the things in the room, sits down and reads the newspapers, and
never is in the way. He is a dear boy, and is so extremely good, kind
and gentle; he has such a sweet expression and kind smile. I think
Ferdinand handsomer than Augustus, his eyes are so beautiful, and
he has such a lively, clever expression; _both_ have such a sweet
expression; Ferdinand has something _quite beautiful_ in his expression
when he speaks and smiles and he is _so_ good. They are both very
handsome and _very dear_! Ferdinand is superior to Augustus in various
ways, and is by far more forward for his age in his mind than the
latter. They have both learnt, and know, a great deal, and are both
very orderly and tidy. At 11 we went down to prayers with Charles,
Lehzen, Lady Flora &c. &c. The service was performed by the poor Dean
who gave us likewise a sermon. We saw him for an instant after the
service was over. He is very calm and resigned. We remained with Uncle
a little while downstairs. Finished my _brouillon_ of my French letter.
Began to copy it. Went downstairs to see some paintings done by a Mr.
Cowen.[231] They are very well done indeed. Augustus came in also and
looked at them for a moment. Came up to my room and went on writing my
letter to dear Aunt Louise. Dearest Uncle Ferdinand came up to me for
a few minutes and then went down again. Augustus came up and stayed a
little while, while I was writing my letter and then went down. I gave
him this morning a seal and some prints which pleased him very much.
Finished my letter to Aunt Louise and wrote my journal. At 25 minutes
to 4 _dear_ good Augustus came up and sat in my room looking at annuals
till 4. He assisted me in sealing my letters, and we both made a mess,
and he burnt a cover in sealing it, dear boy, for me, which made us
both laugh. He went down for 5 minutes, came up again, and Uncle, after
staying a few minutes, fetched him away to pay visits to the Duke of
Sussex and Princess Sophia. Played and sung. At 10 minutes to 6 came
Mrs. Wellesley[232] who is going tomorrow and will reach Stuttgardt on
Friday. Augustus came in and we stayed with Uncle and him a few minutes
downstairs. Oh! could I but have some more such days, with that dear
Uncle and dear Augustus, whom I love so much! I shall feel very lonely
and unhappy when they leave us....
_Sunday, 10th April._— ... Read to Lehzen part of _The Directions and
Advices_ which dearest Uncle Leopold has written down for Ferdinand,
most cleverly and beautifully done. They are written in French and are
divided into 3 parts. The part I have read is _Affaires Politiques_,
which is divided into headings of all the departments of the
Government. Dear Uncle has studied[233] the Portuguese Constitution,
Government, People, Country, &c., &c., so completely since the intended
marriage of Ferdinand with the Queen of Portugal, that he is as
familiar with the whole as though he were in the country. Dear Uncle
Leopold is so clever and so prudent and so kind; he has taken so much
pains and trouble about Ferdinand and I must say he is repaid for his
trouble by the affection and gratitude Ferdinand has for him; and
certainly he has _not_ thrown away his time in so doing, for Ferdinand
is not only _very good_, but _clever_, and therefore with Uncle’s
advice he will succeed, I am sure. Van de Weyer is a most trusty,
clever person, and as he has also copies of these papers, will be of
the greatest use to Ferdinand. I see by the part I have read, which
contains most valuable, important and sage advice, one thing which I
am very glad of, which is, that the Queen will associate Ferdinand
with her in the Council, &c., that he is always to be present at all
her Councils. Uncle advises him to listen and not to give his opinion
until he has become acquainted with the characters of the persons in
the Council, and then, after having well weighed what he means to say,
to give his opinion. There is so much of all the advice which I wish I
could insert here, but which I have no time to do.[234]
_Monday, 11th April._—Lehzen read to me while I was dressing and I read
to her while my hair was doing, one of the parts of the Directions
for Ferdinand, called _Observations Générales_, and began the last
one called _Note communiquée au Comte de Lavradio_. Dear Uncle
Leopold is so clever and governs Belgium so beautifully, that he is a
model for every Sovereign and will contribute to the happiness and
re-organisation of Portugal, as he has done to Belgium; for _that_
country owes _all_ its prosperity, happiness, everything, to dearest
Uncle Leopold; it was in a sad state when Uncle arrived, and by his
great prudence, sagacity, and extreme cleverness, Belgium is now one of
the most flourishing Kingdoms in Europe....
_Tuesday, 3rd May._— ... At 10 minutes past 11 came _Lablache_ till
10 minutes past 12. He complained much of the cold weather, and said
“qu’ils étaient tous enrhumés” and that they had all been very hoarse
last night at a concert, except Rubini. I like Lablache very much, he
is such a nice, good-natured, good-humoured man, and a very patient and
excellent master; he is so merry too.[235] _En profile_ he has a very
fine countenance, I think, an aquiline nose, dark arched eye-brows, and
fine long eyelashes, and a very clever expression. He has a profusion
of hair, which is very grey, and strangely mixed with some few black
locks here and there. I sung first the recitative of “Notte d’orrore,”
from _Marino Faliero_, several times over. Then Mamma and I sung
“Mira oh! Norma” and “Si fine al ore,” both twice over and “Qual cor
tradesti” twice over. Then I sang twice with Lablache “Io son ricco e
tu sei bella,” a very pretty little duo from _L’Elisire d’Amore_ by
Donizetti. He sang this delightfully, he has such a fine voice and
pronounces so distinctly and so well. _En conclusion_ I sang “Vivi tu.”
I liked my lesson extremely; I only wish I had one every _day_ instead
of one every _week_....
_Friday, 13th May._— ... Mme. Malibran de Bériot[236] (as she now
calls herself since her marriage with the eminent violinist de Bériot)
was in very fine voice and sang extremely well indeed, twice. She
sang first the prayer which Anna sings in her sleep in the 2nd act of
_La Sonnambula_, and “Ah! non giunge unam pensiero!” I prefer Grisi’s
singing of these very much to Malibran’s; there is a sweetness,
mildness and softness, accompanied with such beautifully clear
execution, in the _former_, which the _latter_ does _not_ possess in
the high notes. Malibran’s deep tones are beautiful, touching and
feeling, but her high notes are harsh, sharp and _voilée_. The 2nd
thing she sang was pretty and well adapted to her voice....
_Wednesday, 18th May._— ... At a ¼ to 2 we went down into the Hall, to
receive my Uncle Ernest, Duke of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, and my Cousins,
Ernest and Albert, his sons. My Uncle was here, now 5 years ago, and is
looking extremely well. Ernest is as tall as Ferdinand and Augustus; he
has dark hair, and fine dark eyes and eyebrows, but the nose and mouth
are not good; he has a most kind, honest and intelligent expression
in his countenance, and has a very good figure. Albert, who is just
as tall as Ernest but stouter, is extremely handsome; his hair is
about the same colour as mine; his eyes are large and blue, and he
has a beautiful nose and a very sweet mouth with fine teeth; but the
charm of his countenance is his expression, which is most delightful;
_c’est à la fois_ full of goodness and sweetness, and very clever
and intelligent. We went upstairs with them, and after staying a few
minutes with them, I went up to my room. Played and sang. Drew. At a
little after 4 Uncle Ernest and my Cousins came up to us and stayed in
my room till 10 minutes past 5. Both my Cousins are so kind and good;
they are much more _formés_ and men of the world than Augustus; they
speak English very well, and I speak it with them. Ernest will be 18
years old on the 21st of June and Albert 17 on the 26th of August. Dear
Uncle Ernest made me the present of a most delightful _Lory_, which
is so tame that it remains on your hand, and you may put your finger
into its beak, or do anything with it, without its ever attempting to
bite. It is larger than Mamma’s grey Parrot, and has a most beautiful
plumage; it is scarlet, blue, brown, yellow, and purple. At 6 we went
with Lehzen, Lady Flora &c., to dine at the Archbishop of York’s, and I
was very sorry to leave my dear Uncle and Cousins behind us at home....
[Illustration: _H.S.H. Prince Albert of Saxe Coburg_
_aged nine_
_from a portrait by Schneider, after Eckhart._]
_Thursday, 19th May._—Read in the _Exposition_ while my hair was
doing. At 9 we breakfasted with Uncle Ernest, Ernest, Albert, Lehzen
and Charles. I sat between my dear Cousins. At ½ past 10 Lehzen and I
walked in the gardens and came home at ½ past 11. At a ¼ to 12 came
the Dean till ½ past 12. Read with him in the New Testament and in
Clarendon. At ½ past 12 came Mr. Steward till ½ past 1. Played and
sung. At a ¼ past 2 came the Dean till 3. Read with him in Paley. At 3
came Mrs. Anderson till 4. At a ¼ to 5 we walked in the gardens with
Lehzen till ½ past 5. Wrote my journal. At 7 we dined. Besides us 3 and
Uncle, my Cousins and Charles,—Count Kolowrat (one of Uncle Ernest’s
gentlemen), Lady Flora and the Miss Conroys &c., dined here. I sat
between dear Ernest and dear Albert. After dinner came Aunt Sophia.
Received a very kind letter from dear Aunt Louise and some ribbons.
Stayed up till ½ past 10. I like my Cousins extremely, they are so
kind, so good, and so merry....
_Saturday, 21st May._— ... At ½ past 7 we dined with Uncle Ernest,
Ernest, Albert, Charles, Lady Flora, Count Kolowrat, Baron Alvensleben,
&c. I sat between my dear Cousins. After dinner came Princess Sophia.
Baron de Hoggier, who had arrived from Lisbon the day before, came
after dinner, and took leave, on his way home. I sat between my dear
Cousins on the sofa and we looked at drawings. They both draw very
well, particularly Albert, and are both exceedingly fond of music;
they play very nicely on the piano. The more I see them the more I am
delighted with them, and the more I love them. They are so natural, so
kind, so _very_ good and so well instructed and informed; they are so
well bred, so truly merry and quite like children and yet very grown up
in their manners and conversation. It is delightful to be with them;
they are so fond of being occupied too; they are quite an example for
any young person....
_Sunday, 22nd May._—I awoke at 7 and got up at 8. Read in _Cornwallis
on the Sacrament_ while my hair was doing. At a ¼ past 9 we all
breakfasted. I sat between _i miei carissimi cugini_. At a ¼ past 10
dear Lehzen and I walked out in the gardens and came home at a ¼ to
11. Received the news of the death of my poor old Nurse, Mrs. Brock,
which took place the day before yesterday. She was not a pleasant
person, and undoubtedly had, as everybody has, her faults, but she
was extremely attached to and fond of me, having been with me from my
birth till my fifth year, therefore it is impossible, and it would be
very wrong, if I did not feel her death. My chief regret is, that she
did not live till I was my own mistress, and could make her quite
comfortable....[237]
_Tuesday, 24th May._—I awoke at 7. Today I complete my 17th year; a
very old person I am indeed! I am most thankful that I was brought
through this year safely, and I beseech my heavenly Father to extend
His benediction and blessing over me for this year and for many
others....
_Friday, 10th June._—At 9 we all breakfasted for the _last_ time
together! It was our last HAPPY HAPPY breakfast, with this dear Uncle
and those _dearest_, beloved Cousins, whom I _do_ love so VERY VERY
dearly; _much more dearly_ than any other Cousins in the _world_.
Dearly as I love Ferdinand, and also good Augustus, I love Ernest and
Albert _more_ than them, oh yes, MUCH _more_. Augustus was like a good,
affectionate child, quite unacquainted with the world, phlegmatic,
and talking but very little; but dearest Ernest and dearest Albert
are so grown-up in their manners, so gentle, so kind, so amiable, so
agreeable, so very sensible and reasonable, and so _really_ and truly
good and kind-hearted. They have both learnt a good deal, and are
very clever, naturally clever, particularly Albert, who is the most
reflecting of the two, and they like very much talking about serious
and instructive things and yet are so _very very_ merry and gay and
happy, like young people ought to be; Albert used always to have some
fun and some clever witty answer at breakfast and everywhere; he
used to play and fondle Dash so funnily too. Both he and Ernest are
extremely attentive to _whatever_ they hear and see, and take interest
in everything they see. They were much interested with the sight of St.
Paul’s yesterday. We remained down with them till 10. I then went up
to my room and came down again at a little after 10. We remained with
them again, Uncle Ernest going in and out of the room. I am so very
fond of _him_ too; now that I know him much better and have talked with
him, I love him as much as dear Uncle Ferdinand. He is so mild, so kind
and so good. Dearest Albert was playing on the piano when I came down.
At 11 dear Uncle, my _dearest beloved_ Cousins, and Charles, left us,
accompanied by Count Kolowrat. I embraced both my dearest Cousins most
warmly, as also my dear Uncle. I cried bitterly, very bitterly....
_Sunday, 31st July._—Read in _The Young Divine_ and began to read in
_Ikon Basilike_ in one vol., a book which came out a few days after
poor Charles I. had been beheaded; while my hair was doing. It is
said to have been written by him during his captivity, and contains
meditations and prayers; but the Dean, who gave it me a few days ago,
told me that great disputes have arisen as to whether it was really
written by Charles, or whether some friend of his had collected sayings
and meditations he might have heard the King make, and put them
together and that this point has not been settled yet. Whatever it may
be, and by whomever it may have been written or compiled, one thing is
certain, that it is a very good and pious book and is authentic as to
its contents....
_Wednesday, 3rd August._—Read in the _Exposition_ and in _The Conquest
of Granada_ while my hair was doing. At 9 we breakfasted. At a ¼ to 10
we went to the British Gallery with Lehzen to see the Exhibition by the
ancient Masters (all private property). Never did I see anything more
beautiful than this collection of the _immortal Masters’_ paintings,
for so I must call them as their names will never pass away. There
were such numbers of beautiful paintings, that I really know not which
to name in preference. Upon the whole, I think the finest were those
by Murillo and Guido. The finest by Murillo are “The Angels coming to
Abraham,” “The return of the Prodigal Son,” splendid both, belonging
to the Duke of Sutherland. “St. Joseph leading the infant Saviour who
carries a basket of carpenter’s tools,” quite in another style but
beautiful; “Santa Rosa, espousing the infant Saviour,” exquisite; and
“Portrait of Don Andres de Antrade and his favourite dog,” very fine.
The finest by Guido are, “The Assumption of the Virgin,” the expression
of the Virgin’s face is beautiful; two different heads of St. Peter,
both very fine. “The Magdalen,” beautiful. The finest by Vandyke are
“The Virgin and Infant Saviour,” very lovely.... At a ¼ to 4 we went
with Lehzen and Lady Flora to Chiswick, to the Victoria Asylum or
Children’s Friend Society. It is a most interesting and delightful
establishment, and has been founded almost entirely by Lady George[238]
and Miss Murray. It is for poor vagrant girls, who are received under
the age of 15; and Miss Murray says that they have never had a girl 6
months who did not become a perfectly good child. I forget how young
they receive children, but there are—[unintelligible] girls in all,
and they are divided, a few being in an infant school upstairs. When
they have become quite good and can read, write and do work of all
kinds necessary for a house, they are sent abroad, mostly to the Cape
of Good Hope, where they are apprenticed and become excellent servants.
Miss Murray told us many curious stories of the depraved and wretched
state in which many arrive, and how soon they become reformed and good.
There is one little girl in particular, a very pretty black-eyed girl,
11 years old, called Ellen Ford, who was received two months ago from
_Newgate_, and who boasted she could steal and tell lies better than
anybody. She had been but two or three days in the school, and she got
over 3 high walls, and stole a sheet; she was caught and brought back
again. Miss Murray spoke to her, and found that the poor girl had no
idea whatever of a _God_, and had a drunken father, a low Irishman;
this man had lost his 1st wife and married again, and this step-mother
taught the girl nothing but stealing and lying. Miss Murray told her
of God, and spoke to her very seriously; the girl was put in solitary
confinement for that night and was taken out the next morning; and ever
since she has been a perfectly good girl. There are many cases of the
same sort which Miss Murray said she could relate. Before I finish this
chapter I must mention the Matron, a most respectable excellent person,
called Mrs. Bowerhill; she is assisted by her two daughters, and by an
old woman for work; but besides this old woman, the children do all
the work themselves. We came home at ½ p. 6. I was very much pleased
indeed with all I saw. Miss Murray gave me a book into which she had
copied several of the letters of the children from abroad, and very
nice well-written letters they are. Miss Murray’s exertions are immense
and most praiseworthy for the Children’s Friend Society. There is a
Committee of Ladies who meet every other Tuesday I believe; but Lady
George and Miss Murray go down 3 times a week and oftener. At a ¼ p. 7
we dined. After dinner came Princess Sophia. Stayed up till 10 minutes
to 10....
_Monday, 8th August._—I awoke at 7 and got up at 8. At a ¼ past 9 we
breakfasted. At a ¼ to 10 Lehzen and I walked out till ½ past 10.
Arranged things for packing. At 11 came my good Lablache and stayed
till 20 minutes past 12. I sang 1st “Come per me sereno,” from _La
Sonnambula_. Then he sang with me “Claudio, Claudio, ritorna fra le
braccia paterne,” twice over; then he sang with me “Se un istante
all’ offerta d’un soglio,” also from _Elisa e Claudio_. The former
of these two was the one that I sang so very ill on Saturday, but
which Lablache did not mind at all. _He_ thought it went better
today; but he is too indulgent. _He_ was in delightful voice, and
sang _beautifully_. After this he sang “Non temer il mio bel cadetto”
from _Il Posto abbandonato_, by Mercadante, with me. His volubility
of tongue is wonderful; he can sing such quantities of words and at
such a rate. There are plenty in this Duo, and still more in “Quand
amore,” and in “Voglio dire,” both from _L’Elisire d’Amore_. Then he
sang my favourite “O amato zio” from my dear _Puritani_, with me. After
this he sang “O nume benefico” with us; then “Ridiamo, cantiamo,” and
then, _alas! per finire_, “Dopo due lustri ahi! misero,” from _Donna
Caritea_, by Mercadante. Lablache told me that he likes _Guillaume
Tell_ the best of _all_ Rossini’s operas, _Otello_ the best of his
Operas Seria, and _Il Barbiere_ the best of his buffa operas. _Ha
ragione._ His son (Lablache’s) is gone, he told me; he went yesterday,
as did also Rubini. I asked him if any other of his 8 children sang, or
were musical. He replied, “Non, ils sont trop jeunes; l’aîné n’a que
douze ans.” And the youngest of all, he says, is only _2_ years old.
There is an opera tomorrow, but the boxes &c., &c. are let, shocking to
say, at the play-house prices, and “C’est un pasticcio,” he said. It
is not in the regular number of nights. He said that I have improved
greatly in my singing since he has sung with me. After the last trio,
I took leave of _il mio buon e caro Maestro_ with _great_ regret. I
must repeat again that he is not only a most delightful, patient, and
agreeable master, but a most good-humoured, pleasing, agreeable and
honest man; his manners are very gentlemanly and quiet, and he has
something very frank, open and honest in his countenance; everybody
who knows him agrees in his being such a good man. I have had _26_
lessons of Lablache and shall think back with great delight on them;
and shall look forward with equal delight to next April, when I hope
Lablache will be here, so that I can resume them again. It was such a
pleasure to hear his fine voice and to sing with him. Everything that
is pleasant, alas! passes so quickly in this “wide world of troubles.”
How often I have experienced that, in greater pleasures, when my dear
relations have left me! But then there are the pleasant _recollections_
of all that is past, and one must be happy one has had them. I was
exceedingly delighted with this my _last_ lesson; the time seemed to
fly even faster than usual, for it always appeared to me that these
pleasant lessons were over in an instant. Lablache accompanied really
very fairly, and when he came to any difficult parts, he put in “des
accords,” which did just as well. I have already mentioned how very
obliging he is; he was always ready to sing anything I like and to stay
as long as I liked. He is extremely active for his size, which really
is very considerable. It amused me always to see him come in and go
out of my room; he walked so erect and made such a fine dignified bow.
So now all, all is over for this season, not only the Opera but my
favourite singing-lessons too....
_Wednesday, 10th August._— ... A propos, I shall never forget when, in
my first singing-lesson, I was so frightened to sing before Lablache,
he said in his good-natured way, “Personne n’a jamais eu peur de moi,”
which I am sure nobody can ever be who knows him....
CLAREMONT, _Friday, 16th September_.—At ½ past 9 we breakfasted, that
is to say, dearest Uncle, we two, Lehzen &c., Lady Catherine not being
well enough, and Uncle’s two gentlemen being gone to town. Went up to
my room and copied out music. At about a ¼ to 12 dearest Uncle came and
sat with me till ½ p. 12. He talked over many important things. He is
_so_ clever, _so_ mild, and _so_ prudent; _he_ alone can give me good
advice on _every_ thing. His advice is perfect. He is indeed “il mio
secondo padre” or rather “_solo_ padre”! for he is indeed like my real
father, as I have none, and he is so kind and so good to me, he has
ever been so to me. He has been and always is of such use to me and
does _so_ much good....
_Sunday, 18th September._—Baron Moncorvo brought yesterday the
distressing news that the same unfortunate revolution which took place
in Spain, has likewise taken place in Portugal, and that the Queen
was forced to proclaim the constitution of 1820 similar to the one of
1812.[239] It happened between Friday the 9th and Saturday the 10th, in
the night. I do so feel for poor dear Ferdinand in this trying moment,
as also for the poor good Queen. The difference between this and the
one in Spain was: that in _Portugal_ they behaved respectfully towards
dear Ferdinand and Donna Maria, and in Spain they almost insulted the
Queen Regent. In Portugal, thank God! no blood has been shed. As soon
as the Empress heard what had happened, or rather what would happen,
she hastened to the Palace de Necessidades, where Ferdinand and the
Queen were, arrived there at 3 o’clock in the night, and remained there
till all was over. The Princess Isabella, the Queen’s Aunt (and the
former Regent), also came and remained with them. Uncle Leopold was
much shocked and distressed when he heard it, as were we also, I am
sure.... Dear Uncle came up for a minute and brought us 3 letters which
Van de Weyer had written to him, giving a detailed account of these
horrid transactions at Lisbon. Van de Weyer’s conduct throughout this
dreadful business, when everybody else seems to have lost their heads
and senses, was most courageous, prudent and judicious; and if his and
Ferdinand’s advice had been followed, the Queen would _not_ have been
obliged to sign the Promulgation of the _Constitution_ of 1820. Van de
Weyer says that _all_ was given up “avec la plus affreuse lâcheté!”
without a struggle or attempt, when _all might yet have been saved_....
_Wednesday, 21st September._— ... Dear Uncle came up and fetched us
down to breakfast, as he has done already once before, and twice for
dinner. He always accompanied us upstairs when we went to bed. It was
our last breakfast with him; I sat, as usual, near him and General
Goblet.[240] To hear dear Uncle speak on any subject is like reading
a highly instructive book; his conversation is so enlightened, so
clear. He is universally admitted to be one of the first politicians
now extant. He speaks so mildly, yet firmly and impartially, about
Politics. Uncle tells me that Belgium is quite a pattern for its
organisation, industry and prosperity; the finances are in the greatest
perfection. Uncle is so beloved and revered by his Belgian subjects,
that it must be a great compensation for all his extreme trouble. He is
so mild, gentle and kind, and so clever and firm....
[Illustration: _Mᵐᵉ Malibran
from recollection
P.V. del. Bentest[?]
Sept. 1836.
MADAME MALIBRAN.
From a sketch by Princess Victoria.]
_Monday, 26th September._— ... Read in the Morning Post of
today the melancholy and almost incredible news of the _death_
of—_Malibran_![241] which took place at Manchester on Friday night
at 12 o’clock, at the early age of 28. She had gone there for the
festival which took place the week before last, and only sang on
Tuesday the 13th instant, and tried to do so on the Wednesday but was
unable, after which she was taken so alarmingly ill that all singing
was over. On Saturday the account in the papers was that she was out
of danger, but the improvement was only transient and on Friday
night this wonderful singer and extraordinary person was no more. She
will be, and is, a very _great_ loss indeed; for, though I liked and
admired Grisi by far more than Malibran, I admired many parts of the
latter’s singing very much, in particular those touching and splendid
low notes which gave one quite a thrill. In point of cleverness and
genius there is not a doubt that Malibran far surpassed Grisi; for she
was not proficient alone in singing and acting, she knew Spanish (her
own language), Italian, French, English, and German perfectly, as also
various Italian _patois_. She composed very prettily, drew well, rode
well on horseback, danced beautifully, and enfin _climbed_ well, as
General Alava told us, who knew her very well; he said you could speak
with her on any subject and she was equally _à son aise_. She was born
in 1808 at Paris, and is the daughter of a famous Spanish singer called
_Garcia_; she married first an old French merchant called _Malibran_,
from whom she was divorced; and secondly this spring the incomparable
violinist De Bériot. Mamma saw her make her debut as _Maria Garcia_,
only 16 years old, in _Il Crociato_, at the Italian Opera in London,
as “un giovinetto Cavalier.” There is something peculiarly awful
and striking in the death of this great Cantatrice, undoubtedly the
_second in the world_, (Grisi being the _first_ in _my opinion_). To be
thus cut off in the bloom of her youth and the height of her career,
suddenly, is dreadful!...
_Wednesday, 28th September._— ... The news from Lisbon are far from
good, I am _sorry to say_. Mamma received a letter from Van de Weyer
this morning, dated 11th Sept., in which he said that there had
been another _émeute_ the afternoon before, which however had been
dissipated, and that both _dearest_ Ferdinand and Donna Maria showed
great calmness and dignity. It is a great trial for poor dear Ferdinand
and for the good Queen. Van de Weyer says they are all in a very
uncomfortable situation....
_Friday, 30th September._— ... Read in _The Times_ last night a
distressing account of the details of poor Malibran’s illness and
death. Poor young creature! she seems to have been neglected at a time
when her life might perhaps still have been saved; for she complained
of head-ache and shivering the same afternoon she arrived (Sunday
11th Sept.). On the Wednesday night after singing that fine but _now_
painful Duo “Vanne se alberghi in petto,” she was taken so very very
ill. Notwithstanding all this she got up on Thursday morning and
was dressed with the assistance of Mrs. Richardson, landlady of the
Mosely Arms Hotel at Manchester, for she had no female attendant, a
man-servant of De Bériot’s being (as is said in the newspapers, for all
what I have hitherto related about her illness and death is taken from
the newspapers) their only servant. In spite of every effort to prevent
her, the poor dying Malibran insisted upon going to the Oratorio that
morning, and was accordingly carried to her carriage; but being seized
with hysterics she was instantly taken back. She never left her room,
and scarcely her bed, from that time till her death. Dr. Belluomini,
her own Physician, only arrived on Sunday the 18th, though other
physicians had attended her (from Manchester) before. She was perfectly
insensible when she died; as also two or 3 days before her death. De
Bériot was distracted and overpowered on learning of her death, in
another room whither they had compelled him to retire when it was
drawing to a close. He never saw her afterwards, and left the place 2
hours after all was over. It is the most melancholy end that could be
imagined! To come to an inn in a foreign land with nobody to nurse her,
and _die_ there! What a sad and tragical end to her bright career! I
can still hardly believe it possible that she, whom I can see before
me as she was at our own concert, dressed in white satin, so merry and
lively, and whose pathetic voice when speaking I can hear, is now in
the silent tomb; for the funeral was to take place at 10 o’clock this
morning with great splendour. And so today, all, all is over with poor
Malibran!...
_Sunday, 9th October._— ... We went to the church at Ramsgate with
Lady Catherine and Lehzen. Mr. Harvey preached. The text was from the
5th chapter of the 2nd Epistle to Cor., 10th verse: “For we must all
appear before the judgment seat of Christ; that every man may receive
the things done in his body according to that he hath done, whether it
be good or bad.” Came home at 20 minutes to 1. Wrote my journal. Copied
out music. At a ¼ to 3 we went to the chapel with Lady Catherine and
dear Lehzen, &c. The service was read by Mr. Lewis, and Dr. Longley
(late Master of Harrow School) preached, and _most beautifully_; so
mildly and emphatically; his voice is very good, his pronunciation very
pure, his delivery calm and impressive, his language beautiful yet
simple, and his appearance very pleasing. He must be between 30 and 40,
I should say. The text was from the 3rd chapter of Daniel, 16th, 17th,
and 18th verses: “Shadrach, Meshech, and Abed-nego answered and said to
the King, O Nebuchadnezzar, we are not careful to answer thee in this
matter. If it be so, our God whom we serve is able to deliver us from
the burning fiery furnace, and He will deliver us out of thine hand, O
King. But if not, be it known unto thee, O King, that we will not serve
thy gods nor worship the golden image which thou hast set up.” It was a
most beautiful sermon in every way, and I was _very much_ pleased and
impressed with it. Dr. Longley is to be Bishop of Ripon....[242]
_Thursday, 27th October._— ... Read in _The Conquest of Granada_
while my hair was doing. At 9 we breakfasted. Wrote a letter to my
brother. At 10 came the Dean till ½ p. 11. Read with him in the
N.T., in _The Life of Colonel Hutchinson_, and in Paley. _The Life
of Colonel Hutchinson_ is written by his wife, who wrote it for her
children after their father’s death. Colonel Hutchinson lived in the
time of Charles I., the Commonwealth, and even of Charles II. He was
on the Puritanical side, and though a very good man, signed the King’s
death-warrant, being very _strong_ on his side, which is to be seen by
Mrs. Hutchinson’s writings; his and her feelings being totally opposite
to Clarendon’s, render it interesting, though it is more a private
account of his life than any public History of the Times, but of course
a good deal of history will be mixed up in it as Col. Hutchinson had
a good deal to do in the wars. Mrs. Hutchinson’s style is remarkably
quaint and ancient, indeed in some parts so much so as to render it
almost ridiculous, but there are again some very pretty feeling parts
in it (indeed feeling and pious throughout it), one of which, in which
she speaks of her husband and herself I shall quote; before I do so,
however, I must say that the editor, a descendant of the family, has
left the orthography just as she wrote it, which is very antiquated
and imperfect: “The greatest excellence she (Mrs. Hutchinson) had was
the power of apprehending and the vertue of loving his (Col. H.’s)
soe as his shadow, she waited on him every where, till he was taken
into that region of light, which admits of none, and then she vanisht
into nothing.” There is likewise another passage speaking of a son she
lost: “... call’d by his owne name John, who liv’d scarce six yeares,
and was a very hopefull child, full of his father’s vigor and spiritt,
but death soone nipt that blossome.” Lehzen of course still continues
reading to me while I dress, the delightful letters of Mme. de Sévigné;
we are now in the middle of the 10th vol., and I like them more and
more, they are so beautiful, so easy, they show the character of the
person who wrote them so perfectly, you become acquainted with her
and hers, and there are such tender and beautiful feelings expressed
in them, towards that daughter who was her all & all; and the style
is so elegant and so beautiful. I shall quote a passage relating to
a vexation she had about not procuring the “députation” for her son
M. de Sévigné: “Ne faut-il point être juste et se mettre à la place
des gens? c’est ce qu’on ne fait jamais.” How true this is. Then how
pretty this is, in writing to Mme. de Grignan: “Vous me louez trop
de la douce retraite que je fais ici; rien n’y est pénible que votre
absence.” There is certainly nothing so beautiful of the kind, in any
language as these letters. I shall just quote two passages from the
extracts in _The Edinburgh Review_ of Sir James Mackintosh’s life,
about Mme. de Sévigné: “In the midst of all the rage felt at Paris
against King William, the admirable good-sense and natural moderation
of Mme. de Sévigné catches a glimpse of his real character, through the
mists of Rome and Versailles: ‘Le prince n’a pas songé à faire périr
son beau-père. Il est à Londres, à la place du Roi, sans en prendre
le nom, ne voulant que rétablir une religion qu’il croit bonne, et
maintenir les loix du pays sans qu’il en coûte une goutte de sang....
Pour le Roi d’Angleterre il y (St. Germains) parait content,—et c’est
pour cela qu’il est là.’ Observe the perfect good-sense of the last
remark, and the ease and liveliness with which it is made. Tacitus and
Machiavel could have said nothing better; but a superficial reader
will think no more of it than the writer herself seems to do.”—Again,
further on: “The style of Mme. de Sévigné is evidently copied not only
by her worshipper Walpole, but even by Gray; who notwithstanding the
extraordinary merits of his matter, has the double stiffness of an
imitator and of a college recluse....”
_Friday, 28th October._—I awoke at 7 and got up at 20 minutes to 8.
Read in the _Exposition_ while my hair was doing. Received a most kind
dear and pretty letter from dearest Aunt Louise, from which I will copy
a passage: “I have today not much to say. It is my brother Nemours’
birthday; and in the same time, the anniversary of the death of my dear
governess” (Mme. de Mallet, who died when Aunt Louise was at Paris last
year) “of the best and truest friend I had for twenty years, to make me
melancholy. In her was broken the first link of the chain of my strong
and youthful affections. How many more shall I live perhaps to see
destroyed?” How pretty and feeling this is; it comes straight from her
dear good heart. I can well say of my _precious_ Lehzen what she says
of Mme. de Mallet, that she is my “best and truest friend” I have had
for nearly 17 years and I trust I shall have for 30 or 40 and _many_
more!...
_Tuesday, 1st November._— ... Read in _The Conquest of Granada_, and
wrote my journal. There are two lines in _Rokeby_ (which is so full of
beauty that I could copy the whole and not find one part which is not
full of loveliness, sweetness, grace, elegance, and feeling, for the
immortal bard who wrote these beautiful poems never _could_ write an
_ugly_ line in _my_ opinion) which struck me, as well as the Dean, who
is, s’il est permis de le dire, poetry-mad, as most splendid.... Oh!
Walter Scott is my _beau idéal_ of a Poet; I do so admire him both in
Poetry and Prose!...
_Thursday, 3rd November._— ... After 7 we dined. The Duke of
Wellington, the Countess of Ashburnham,[243] and Lady Elinor
Ashburnham,[244] Lord and Lady Radstock,[245] Lord and Lady
Barham,[246] Colonel Stopford,[247] Colonel Barnard, Mr. Sicklemore,
and Mr. Mayhew dined here. I sat between the Duke of Wellington and
Lord Radstock. The Duke looked remarkably well and was in very good
spirits. Lady Barham looked very handsome; she had a reddish brown
velvet turban and a dark velvet dress. She is a likeness of the
Duchess of Sutherland in dark, but the Duchess is handsomer, in figure
and all together handsomer, having a finer nose and mouth than Lady
Barham. Lady Barham has a beautiful brow and fine dark expressive
eyes with a fine pale complexion, but the lower part of her face,
particularly the mouth and chin, are not at all good. She looks 28 and
is only 22....
_Sunday, 6th November._— ... We walked home at 1. Read in _Astoria_.
Added a few lines to my letter to Feodore. Wrote one to Aunt Sophia
and my journal. At ½ p. 2 we went out with _dearest_ Lehzen and came
home at a little before 4. Received a most kind letter from dearest
Uncle Leopold accompanied by a “supplément extraordinaire” to the
_Moniteur Universel_, giving an account of the “échauffourée” which
took place at Strasburg on the 30th October, headed by Louis Napoleon
Buonaparte,[248] a young man of 28 years old, son of the Duchesse
de St. Leu (Hortense), and who tried to make the Troops rise in his
favour, but the latter proved faithful to their King (Louis Philippe)
and country, as they ought; and the Prince and Rebels have been put in
prison. The Queen of the French sent Uncle the paper....
_Sunday, 20th November._— ... Read a letter of Lord Palmerston’s to
Mamma relative to the late unfortunate affairs at Lisbon, which is very
consolatory. Marshal Saldanha was charged to bring about the reaction,
which was to spread first in the provinces and then to the capital
and the Queen was _not_ to give the first impulse.[249] Unfortunately
poor Donna Maria was hurried into this step by the jealousy of those
about her. The friends of the Duke of Terceira, unwilling that Marshal
Saldanha should have the credit of the reaction, snatched it out of
his hands and brought on all this confusion. However, Lord Palmerston
concludes with this: “The result of the whole is, that the Queen’s
position is _better_ than it _was_, not so _bad_ as it _might_ have
been after such a failure, but _much less good_ than if she had waited
patiently till the proper time for action had arrived. The Prince
behaved throughout with spirit, courage and firmness and has acquired
by his conduct the respect of both parties.” That our beloved and
precious Ferdinand has behaved in such a way is most _delightful_ for
me, who _love him_ like the _dearest of Brothers_. It could not be
otherwise, I was sure....
_Tuesday, 29th November._— ... At 8 we left poor West Cliff House....
We reached Canterbury in safety in spite of the rain and some wind,
but not very long after we left it, it began to blow so dreadfully,
accompanied by floods of rain at intervals, that our carriage swung and
the post-boys could scarcely keep on their horses. As we approached
Sittingbourne, the _hurricane_, for I cannot call it by any other name,
became quite frightful and even alarming; corn stacks were flying
about, trees torn up by their roots, and chimneys blown to atoms. We
got out, or rather were _blown_ out, at Sittingbourne. After staying
there for a short while we got into the carriage where Lady Theresa
and Lehzen were, with them, which being larger and heavier than our
post-chaise, would not shake so much. For the first 4 or 5 miles all
went on more smoothly and I began to hope our difficulties were at an
end. Alas! far from it. The wind blew worse than before and in going
down the hill just before Chatham, the hurricane was so tremendous that
the horses stopped for a minute, and I thought that we were undone,
but by dint of whipping and very good management of the post-boys
we reached Rochester in safety. Here we got out, and here it was
determined that we must pass the night. Here we are therefore, and here
we must remain, greatly to my annoyance, for I am totally unprepared,
Lehzen’s and my wardrobe maid are gone on to Claremont, and I hate
sleeping at an Inn. I had been so glad at the thought of not doing so
this time, mais “l’homme propose et Dieu dispose,” and it would have
been temerity to proceed, for a coach had been upset on the bridge
just before we arrived, and the battlements of the bridge itself were
totally blown in....
_Sunday, 18th December._— ... I sat between Mr. Croker[250] and Col.
Wemyss.[251] Der erste ist ein kluger, aber nach meiner Meinung, nicht
angenehmer Mann; er spricht zu viel. He has a very excellent memory and
tells anecdotes cleverly but with a peculiar pronunciation of the _r_.
He said that the Duke of Wellington had told him that the character
of the 3 nations, the English, Scotch, and Irish, was very apparent
in the army. He said (the Duke), “It may seem like a joke what I am
going to say, but it is quite true; the _Scotch_ were pleased when the
_money_ arrived, the _Irish_ when they got into a _wine country_, and
the _English_ when the _roast beef_ came up.” He told many anecdotes
and made many remarks upon the various nations, ein wenig sehr stark.
Il aime trop à étaler, il n’a pas de tacte; il prend trop le ton
supérieur....
CLAREMONT, _Saturday, 24th December (Xmas Eve)_.—I awoke after 7
and got up at 8. After 9 we breakfasted. At a little after 10 we
left Kensington with dearest Lehzen, Lady Conroy and—_Dashy_! and
reached Claremont at a ¼ to 12. Played and sang. At 2 dearest Lehzen,
Victoire and I [? went out] and came home at 20 minutes p. 3. No one
was stirring about the Gipsy encampment except George, which I was
sorry for, as I was anxious to know how our poor friends were after
this bitterly cold night. Played and sang. Received from dearest best
Lehzen as a Christmas box: 2 lovely little Dresden china figures, 2
pair of lovely little chased gold buttons, a small lovely button with
an angel’s head which she used to wear herself, and a pretty music
book; from good Louis a beautiful piece of Persian stuff for an album;
and from Victoire and Emily Gardiner a small box worked by themselves.
Wrote my journal. Went down to arrange Mamma’s table for her. At 6
we dined. Mr. Edmund Byng[252] and Mr. Conroy dined here. Mr. Byng
is going to stay here a night or two. Very soon after dinner Mamma
sent for us into the Gallery, where all the things were arranged on
different tables. From my dear Mamma I received a beautiful massive
gold buckle in the shape of two serpents; a lovely little delicate
gold chain with a turquoise clasp; a lovely coloured sketch of dearest
Aunt Louise by Partridge, copied from the picture he brought, and so
like her; 3 beautiful drawings by Munn, one lovely sea view by Purser,
and one beautiful cattle piece by Cooper (all coloured), 3 prints, a
book called _Finden’s Tableaux_, _Heath’s Picturesque Annual for 1837,
Ireland_; both these are very pretty; _Friendship’s Offering_, and _The
English Annual for 1837_, _The Holy Land_ illustrated beautifully,
two handkerchiefs, a very pretty black satin apron trimmed with red
velvet, and two almanacks. I am very thankful to my dear Mamma for
all these very pretty things. From dear Uncle Leopold, a beautiful
turquoise ring; from the Queen a fine piece of Indian gold tissue; and
from Sir J. Conroy a print. I gave my dear Lehzen a green morocco jewel
case, and the _Picturesque Annual_; Mamma gave her a shawl, a dress,
a pair of turquoise earrings, an annual, and handkerchiefs. I then
took Mamma to the Library where my humble table was arranged. I gave
her a bracelet made of my hair, the clasp of which contains Charles’,
Feodore’s and my hair; and the _Keepsake_ and _Oriental Annual_. Lehzen
gave her two pair of little buttons just like mine. I danced a little
with Victoire. Stayed up till 11.
_Sunday, 25th December (Xmas day)._—At 9 we all breakfasted. Mamma,
Lehzen and I read prayers. Arranged my new drawings. At a little
before 2 dearest Lehzen, Victoire and I went out and came home at 3.
As we were approaching _the camp_,[253] we met Rea coming from it, who
had been sent there by Mamma to enquire into the story of these poor
wanderers. He told us (what I was quite sure of before) that all was
quite true, that the poor young woman and baby were doing very well,
though very weak and miserable and that what they wanted chiefly was
fuel and nourishment. Mamma has ordered broth and fuel to be sent
tonight, as also 2 blankets; and several of our people have sent old
flannel things for them. Mamma has ordered that the broth and fuel is
to be sent each day till the woman is recovered. Lehzen sent them by
our footmen a little worsted knit jacket for the poor baby, and when we
drove by, Aunt Sarah,[254] the old woman and the Husband all looked out
and bowed most gratefully. Rea gave them directly a sovereign. I cannot
say how happy I am that these poor creatures are assisted, for they are
such a nice set of Gipsies, so quiet, so affectionate to one another,
so discreet, not at all forward or importunate, and _so_ grateful; so
unlike the gossiping, fortune-telling race-gipsies; and this is such a
peculiar and touching case. Their being assisted makes me quite merry
and happy today, for yesterday night when I was safe and happy at home
in that cold night and today when it snowed so and everything looked
white, I felt quite unhappy and grieved to think that our poor gipsy
friends should perish and shiver for want; and now today I shall go to
bed happy, knowing they are better off and more comfortable....
_Thursday, 29th December._— ... At 12 we went out with dear Lehzen
and came home at 2. Everything still looked very white and the ground
rather slippery but not so much as yesterday. It snowed part of the
time we were walking. I saw Aunt Sarah and the least pretty of the two
sisters-in-law, who has returned, in a shop at Esher. How I _do_ wish
I could do something for their _spiritual_ and _mental_ benefit and
for the education of their children and in particular for the poor
little baby who I have known since its birth, in the admirable manner
Mr. Crabbe in his _Gipsies’ Advocate_ so strongly urges; he beseeches
and urges those who have kind hearts and Christian feelings to think of
these poor wanderers, who have many good qualities and who have many
good people amongst them. He says, and alas! I _too well_ know its
truth, from experience, that whenever any poor Gipsies are encamped
anywhere and crimes and robberies &c. occur, it is invariably laid to
their account, which is shocking; and if they are always looked upon as
vagabonds, how _can_ they become good people? I trust in Heaven that
the day may come when _I_ may do something for these poor people, and
for this particular family! I am sure that the little kindness which
they have experienced from us will have a good and lasting effect on
them!...
[Illustration: GYPSY WOMEN.
From a sketch by Princess Victoria.]
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO CHAPTER VI
This was her _annus mirabilis_, her wonder-year. The earlier months
passed much as usual. On 24th May she was eighteen years old. The
entry in her Journal shows some presentiment of what was to come.
In less than a month she had stepped from out of the precincts of
that quiet, ill-furnished palace in Kensington Gardens into the
full glare of the Throne. The 20th June was her most wonderful
day, but although keenly alive to its significance and glory, she
never lost her self-control. The hidden forces which even her
Journals failed to reveal, appear so to have moulded her character
that she was enabled to appreciate and yet resist the glamours of
this supreme moment. There is not a trace of doubt or misgiving.
She was conscious of a mysterious duty imposed upon her by Divine
Providence, and although she obviously felt her inexperience, she
never for a moment doubted her fitness for her task. King William
died at Windsor soon after two in the morning, and three hours
later the Archbishop and Lord Conyngham were at Kensington Palace.
The Princess received them in a dressing-gown hastily thrown over
her nightdress, her feet in slippers, and her fair hair loose about
her head. Four hours later she received for the first time Lord
Melbourne, the Prime Minister, who was destined until the day of
her marriage to exercise a potent influence over her thoughts and
actions. Her caution in the selection of confidantes, her wariness
in granting her approval, and her care to safeguard the regal
tradition, are clearly apparent from the day of her accession.
Although she accepted advice, she never appeared to yield. There
is nothing in these Journals that displays the inner thoughts of
the Queen, in a light differing from that in which her conduct
appeared both to her Ministers and to her courtiers. Then, as in
after-years, she fulfilled the hope publicly expressed by Lord
John Russell, that she would prove to be an Elizabeth without her
tyranny and an Anne without her weakness.
It must be remembered that from the day of her accession the Crowns
of Great Britain and Hanover were divided. Her uncle, Ernest, Duke
of Cumberland, succeeded to the Throne of Hanover. The fear that
he might succeed to the Throne of Great Britain had always haunted
the minds of the people, and added to the feeling of gladness with
which they welcomed the young Queen. On the second day of her reign
the name Alexandrina was dropped for ever, and she was thenceforth
known, as she desired to be, by the name of Victoria.