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....