Victoria (7 page)

24 July
Luddesdown

I asked Lehzen if I may read to myself in the carriage. (I thought she was about to start in on a volume of sermons, which creates rather a drone in our small, hot carriage parlour, as if there is a large bluebottle fly buzzing in the corner.) Alas, she had foreseen my reluctance, and so, she said I might instead choose to begin on my Latin.

Truly, I don't know why it is called “going on holiday”. I think I would faint if ever I did
not
have
some
unpleasant task to accomplish
every
day.

I would rather read a story.

26 July
En route

It is simply impossible to recall all the names of all the persons and places that have been mentioned to me. I am v tired of travel. I'm sure I don't know why we don't go by boat.

O'Hum fusses so much about harnesses. About everything.

Later

Rochester is a v novel city, and the people are v civil, warm, and pleasant. We were shown around the cathedral by someone, I can't recall his name just now, and I haven't much time to write. Everything was restored, v lovely, especially a v old statue of a bishop that had been buried in a wall. It was taken out a few years ago and had its paint touched up.

Coming through Bromley, Lehzen and I took it by turns to read “The Raven” from the Grimms'
Kinder-und Hausmärchen
. V good story.

In Strood we saw a chalk quarry. V interesting.

Everywhere one looked out the window, it was yellow broom or hops flowers, or, on shadier roads, cherry orchards and little children with baskets of cherries. When we stopped to give the horses water, de Spaeth gave me a sixpence to buy a basket from a little girl. She handed a basket in to us, and I put the coin right into her cherry-pink-stained little hand. We ate cherries, then, all the way to the next village.

26 July
Faversham

Oh, upon my word. There are entirely too many Historical Places where someone had his or her head cut off in England, and many of them Royal heads, too. But sometimes an Archbishop. We are near Canterbury.

28 July
Ramsgate

What BLISS! We're here at Uncle Leopold's house at dear, dear East Cliff! Feo, if only you were here with us! The air and the waters, all so clean and lovely – even the gravel paths white as marble! The privet hedges are all blooming, and there are butterflies everywhere except right along the seafront.

As Lehzen and I started up the stairs to our room, Uncle handed Lehzen a little note that had been left with the housekeeper, closed with a wafer of deep green sealing wax. When we were upstairs, she opened it and read it, then passed it to me, with an expression of great pleasure showing on her dear face. The note said:

 

Your Highness,

You honour us with your visit to Ramsgate. I hope you will find opportunity to visit my garden, as you have been kind enough to do on past happy occasions. You will find the cool weather last month has preserved the pink roses here at East Cliff. So that you may come and go freely, I am enclosing the key to the gate near the topiary giraffe.

Your obedient servant,

M Montefiore

 

And there, indeed, was a little golden key, with a long loop of green satin ribbon through it, so I can wear it like a necklace and not lose it.

30 July

Weather v HOT. To the seaside all yesterday afternoon. I begged to be allowed to engage a donkey-drawn bathing machine to be pulled through the water, for I should like to learn how to swim. However, Lehzen would not hear of it. So I waded barefoot in the soft, green, crystal waves.

Mamma came down and walked along with me, picking up bits of pretty coloured sea ferns to mount on blotting paper. I have started a shell collection. I will bring some particularly nice ones to Toire, who is with her mother and sister, Jane, this month.

But really, I don't see why
she
has holidays
away
from O'Hum and I
don't
.

1 August

Went out early (before breakfast) with Lehzen and Uncle Leopold to Mr Montefiore's garden. We saw there not only the good old giraffe carved out of a bush, but this year a bear (standing up, dancing) and a great swan, as well. Dew lay on the roses, lovely indeed. Also on the bed of lady's mantle, where the drops run down to the centre of each round, green, flannel leaf to make a little jewel, like a drop of quicksilver. It was all magical and fairylike.

Uncle says he cannot tell if he believes in fairies, as he does not think of them often enough to form an opinion.

2 August

Going along the shore with Mamma, Baroness de Spaeth, Baroness Lehzen, Lord Albemarle (he is here visiting some friends at Lord Granville's), and Captain Conroy:

O'Hum:
Hot as Gibraltar, what!

Mamma:
Do hold your parasol up, Vickelchen.

Lehzen:
Watch, now, that your skirt doesn't get wet!

Lord Albemarle:
Pray, allow me to assist you to remove your little slippers. Barefoot's the thing!

De Spaeth:
Your bonnet will do you no good, tipped back so far.

O'Hum:
Burn you to a blackamoor! Blisters on your nose! Skin peels right off !

Mamma:
Do hold your parasol
up
, Vickelchen!

 

How irksome I find all this attention!

V tired after luncheon.

I miss you, Feo.

4 August

Only an hour of lessons. I am afraid I was distracted. O'Hum was annoyed with someone – I didn't hear it all. Mamma closed the door.

5 August

Uncle and Dr Stockmar have begun to teach me chess. I have learned how the pieces move. Even the castles move – Uncle says they are more like siege towers on wheels, or elephants with archers on their backs. I said, “Perhaps they are called ‘rooks' because rooks are big, but they can fly.”

6 August

Fried fish at breakfast, scrambled eggs, thick toast, crisp on the outside, with lime curd, soft, fresh cheese, v white and shining. The fish was caught last night and could not have been better.

Walked along the sea with the Reverend Mr Davys. Should not do this if I am unwilling to discuss Saints Peter, Andrew, James, or John, or Jonah. Wanted desperately to dig in the sand.

I declare, everyone takes their holidays hereabout, if they don't go to Brighton. Uncle King used to go to Brighton. I wonder if he has gone this season, or if he has been too ill.

7 August

Uncle and Stocky and Lehzen and I went to Mr Montefiore's house for tea and chess. Mr M has a lovely set carved of olive wood from the Holy Land. He says that in Italy, the pawns are called labourer, blacksmith, weaver, merchant, physician, innkeeper, tax-collector, and gambler.

Stocky and Mr M were v funny. Uncle had taken a good number of my pieces and had me checked. I said, “Is it ‘mate', then? Have I lost the game?”

Stocky said, “Can't have that – what if this enemy were truly wicked, eh?”

I said, “But I see no move!”

Then Mr Montefiore said, “A good time to turn the table on him!” And, indeed, he turned the table, rotating the chessboard a quarter turn. Looking at it that way, the positions of the black and white squares were different. I had a choice of several new moves – and I very handily took my king out of check!

I did not wish to win dishonourably. “Is that fair play?” I asked Uncle Leopold. He patted my hand, smiled, and said, “It is history, my dear. Our friends want us to remember that in real life, one's moves are not simply black or white.”

I shall have to think about this.

8 August

Beautiful, beautiful day. Little time to write. Perhaps later.

9 August

Yesterday, walked along the sands all the way to Broadstairs with Uncle, Stocky, Lehzen, and Grampion. We engaged a charming donkey cart to carry our luncheon basket and my paint box and sketchbook, and sometimes Lehzen rode, but I hardly did at all. Grampion forgot to ask the donkey's name, so we called it Nick Bottom. The cart was purple, and it had scarlet poppies painted on it, v pretty. I painted a picture of it, using sea water.

I took a good deal of sun. Today my arms and hands and the tops of my feet are quite red, but I don't say they sting, for it is my own fault. De Spaeth gave me a little jar of almond salve and it is v soothing.

Mamma was indisposed at dinnertime.

10 August

Went out in a lovely boat. O'Hum got sick over the rail. I felt fine, excepting only that going to the carriage afterward was odd and giddy. I asked Lehzen if I had begun to walk as Uncle Billy does, rolling from side to side. I fear she thought I was being too pert.

12 August

Uncle King's birthday. He is sixty-seven years old. We were awakened this morning by guns firing a salute in the harbour. We are to go to a reception this evening with addresses, musical tributes, a collation, and fireworks. Mamma and O'Hum are turning themselves inside out to find things to say that uphold the Throne and the Royal Family without sounding as if His Majesty has much to do with it.

I remarked on this to Uncle Leopold. He said, “Your Mamma's position is politically delicate. But you know how the knight moves, my dear. With every advance, he must decide upon which side of his horse it's safest to dismount.”

In a chess game, of course, the knight goes two squares in one direction, then another square to either side. I believe Uncle meant Sir John Conroy, whom my Uncle King made a knight, is not always straightforward.

If I had my pearl necklace with me, I would wear it. However, it is back in Kensington. I hope Mamma and Lehzen will allow me to stay up late for the fireworks.

13 August

Fireworks were quite dazzling, but v loud.

Best of the refreshments were the cherry ices.

May my Uncle King enjoy many more happy returns of this day. I should not like having Uncle Ernest as King. Uncle Billy would be better. Mamma does not like either of them very well, I'm afraid.

17 August

You'll never guess, Feo, what O'Hum got Mamma for her birthday!

ANOTHER PUPPY! He is a DARLING! SWEET! CLEVER! He is a golden tan-and-white King Charles spaniel. His coat is v curly and is like SILK. He has a little pug face and dainty ears. Mamma named him Dash, because he does. He already knows his name, and looks up when he is called, and sometimes will come to me when I summon him.

De Spaeth is going to take him back with her to the palace when she goes, so we need not have him where it is so hot.

Mamma had remarked how she wished she could see the Tyrolean Alps again some year. I cannot pay for such a trip abroad with my pocket money, as I would like to be able to do as my birthday present to her. Before we left home, though, I already painted her a picture of Tyrolean girls, and I have had it with me in my bandbox. I used as my model the peg doll Lehzen and I dressed for my geography lesson last February, and used Fanny as the model for their dog, only made her sandy-coloured (but, alas, too small).

I also bought her perfume, some
eau Romaine
and some
eau de miel d'Angleterre
. They both smell v exquisite. I am not sure which she may like better. I hope she will say, by and by. When I gave my gifts to her, Mamma said, “Thank you,
ma délice
.” She kissed my hair and my two cheeks, and said the faces and hat and the speckled shawl and the eardrops on the standing Tyrol girl are “
très remarquables, très délicats
” – very remarkable and delicate.

25 September
Kensington Palace

We are home again, back in plain, old Kensington Palace.

Such a long while since I've written in my journal!

First, I became bilious the afternoon after Mamma's birthday, and Mamma fussed around so I had no privacy. If Stocky had not been around to reassure her that no one had given me a poisoned biscuit, I'm sure I should have had to take all sorts of very nasty physicks and such.

Then O'Hum took his poor horse, Snuff, out on a wet ride, and brought him back lame. That meant he could not ride him on the way back home, and rode in the chariot with us instead. It made the trip v tedious. He, himself, is the hero of every story he recounts. I was actually glad finally to see the black and gold of the palace gates.

O'Hum is so put out about Snuff, nothing pleases him, and he has decided I am not advanced enough in my lessons, so I am to be allowed less time for play and leisure now. He says I must Put My Back In It. I was v naughty. I pretended innocence and said, “Is that what's wrong with Snuff, he didn't put his back in it?” He was v irritated and gave me a lecture on horsemanship. I did not point out I am not the one who lamed my horse.

I must tell about Fanny and Dash, but no—

27 September

I meant to say, no time now. But there really was NO time. I miss my writing, but I fear there's no help for it. I shan't be permitted more leisure to do as I like.

About my darling little dogs: when de Spaeth arrived back here, the painters and plasterers had done all, but Cook and the staff were in a pother because poor little Dash had been staying down in the kitchen while the work was carried out, and he ate some RAT POISON! He almost DIED! He lay about and stared and panted and drooled horridly, and everyone thought he was done for.

Of course, they knew Mamma and I would be ever so sad.

When I returned, all my care was for our poor little friend. Mamma would not let me have him upstairs at first, but gave in rather than have me always down in the kitchen. They all say now that he has only recovered because I nursed him myself, and they are sure he would have died if I had not come home when I did. Now he has quite recovered, except his back legs sometimes tremble for no reason. I cannot see that he ought to be turned into a hunting dog, as O'Hum seems to have intended. I am happy to say Mamma agrees with me.

At first Fanny was jealous of Dash for all the attention he received, but now she treats him as if he is her puppy and she is his mother. She likes to lick his ears. It is comical to watch.