Exit the Actress (3 page)
Authors: Priya Parmar
Friday, May 16, 1662—Drury Lane (still raining)
Too wet to sell oysters. Instead, Rose went with Mother to the tavern, and I stayed at home and concentrated on my lessons—my often neglected lessons, as Mother is only really interested in teaching us to sing and play the violin. Today: reading, French, history, and mathematics with Grandfather—whom Mother is
finally
speaking to. The handkerchief helped. Rose told me that Grandfather had to pawn his father’s gold timepiece in order
to buy clothes for us. She told Mother, but Mother replied that it was only right that he shoulder some of the family expenses and we were all doing our best and so why shouldn’t he? Rose held her tongue and did not tell her that spending nearly all Father’s pension on drink really wasn’t her
best.
LONDON GAZETTE
Sunday, May 17, 1662
Most Deservedly Called London’s Best and Brilliant Broadsheet
The Social Notebook
Volume 22
Ambrose Pink’s social observations du jour
Darlings,
When I heard I became positively a-flutter, a-float, a-fizz with delight.
Grands Dieux, les possibilités les
gowns,
les chapeaux, les
boot buckles,
le scandale!
A royal wedding in London, at last, tra la la!
And then I received the news—
mon Dieu
the news:
At Lady Jemima’s Tuesday evening salon—she played the virginals divinely by the by, and wicked Sir Charlie Sedley sang his own racy compositions—Lord Montagu mentioned having to take his fleet to collect the royal bride and then stay for the wedding, to be held in…. Portsmouth. Portsmouth? Portsmouth, you say? Imagine Bonnie Charlie choosing provincial Portsmouth over chicest London?
Quelle horreur!
For shame, my darlings. I suppose poor old London will have to hear all the news by second-hand.
Dommage,
we shall have to pack our finest frippery away for another time. A royal christening, perhaps?
À bientôt,
dearests,
Ever your eyes and ears,
An inconsolable,
Ambrose Pink, Esq.
May 20, 1662—Official Notations for Privy Council Meeting on
This Day to Be Entered into the Log-book
Notations taken by Secretary of State Henry Bennet, Earl of Arlington
Today: A review of monies allotted for the renovation of Hampton Court Palace, where our new Queen Catherine of Braganza and King Charles II will spend their honeymoon. New matched daises have been built and upholstered measuring 16 feet by 10 feet. The carving about the queen’s bed has been mended and regilded, although another balustrade will have to be brought from Greenwich later in the summer, requiring auxiliary funds. The Office of the Works will submit the proper applications. Beyond that, all is in readiness for the queen’s arrival on the 29th. The contingency funds have already been allotted for household items, and further funds are needed as: the palace kitchens have requested extra sugar, flour, wine, and marzipan for the king’s birthday celebration. The head valet has requested forty-seven more pots of boot-blacking, and the housekeeper requires twenty-two additional bath-tubs.
Nothing further to report.
Secretary of State Henry Bennet, Earl of Arlington
May 22, 1662—Drury Lane (late—but everyone about on the streets)
The streets are alight with bonfires. We have a new queen! Princess Catherine of Braganza, the Portuguese Infanta, now Queen Catherine of England.
What
a mouthful, and a Catholic to boot. They say the queen’s damask rose gown was trimmed with blue love knots, which she cut off and gave to everyone—a Portuguese custom, as I understand it, but ruinous for the dress—poor dress. They also say the new queen asks for
tea
instead of coffee or ale. Mother says that foreigners can always be relied upon to do foreign things.
Rose heard that she is small, but has huge, stiff hair—also a Portuguese custom? Best to discontinue it
now,
I would think; the English style is more unaffected and less lacquered. Rose also told me tonight that the famously overbearing Lady Barbara Castlemaine, the king’s
companion
(
lover
is such an overblown windswept sort of word—and I certainly doubt that Castlemaine
loves
our king), refused to light a fire by her door. How small of her; she cannot hope to outflank the queen, his
wife.
She must give way.
Jane Smedley, who serves in the Rose Tavern with Mother and is always in a foul temper, said that I am to stay away tonight as I am twelve and no longer a child but not
ready
yet, ready for
what
she did not explain. Rose is clearly
ready
at fourteen and has gone to help Mother. Irritating, as she will only spend the extra money she earns on hair ribbons—
pink
hair ribbons that I can never wear, as my hair is impossibly red.
All the bells in town are ringing, and the city looks all lit up—the smell of burning almost covers the hot, rank London smells, so much worse in summer. With a bonfire before every door it is a wonder the night did not end disastrously.
Note
—Rose just got in and was a bit clumsy on the stairs. As well her hair was all disordered—very unlike her. Could she be
drunk
? How extraordinary. Mother is still not home.
July 1, 1662 (hot!)
Rose and I slipped away to wade in the river after dinner. We left our shoes on the bank and, holding up our skirts, stood on the slimy stones and let the cool, muddy current rush around our ankles. Enjoying the falling light of the warm dusk and in the mood for mischief, I grabbed Rose’s hands and began to swing us about the shallow water through an unsteady
gigue,
splashing and singing lustily as I went. Rose shrieked in soaked dismay but soon caught my mood and joined me in her sweet soprano.
Rose insisted we wash with lots of hot water when we got home; we both smelled like river rats.
July 12, 1662—Drury Lane
Rose slept through work
again
today. She has been helping Mother and Jane Smedley serve ale in the tavern for the past few weeks and has been arriving home later and later in the evenings. Last night she did not get in until after three a.m. Once in our room she refuses to light a candle for fear of waking me and washes and undresses in the dark. Worried that she might lose her position, I told Mr. Morton that she was ill and that I was to take her share. Luckily, Mr. Bens from the Hare and Glove needed a double order of oysters; otherwise, I would not have been able to sell them all.
Walking home at nearly seven, I thought I saw Rose (pink hair ribbons) far ahead of me in Long Acre Street. She was speaking to a man I did not recognise. And she scolds
me
for speaking to strangers!
Two a.m.
Sleepy—Rose is still not home. I did
not
leave a candle lit for her tonight. Let her undress in the dark, for all I care.
V
ERSAILLES
, F
RANCE
C
OURT OF
K
ING
L
OUIS
XIV
T
O MY BELOVED BROTHER,
K
ING
C
HARLES
II
OF
E
NGLAND
F
ROM
P
RINCESSE
H
ENRIETTE
-A
NNE
, D
UCHESSE D’
O
RLÉANS, THE
M
ADAME OF
F
RANCE
S
AMEDI, 21
J
UILLET 1662
Charles,
I am so pleased! I was hoping you would choose from the royal house of Portugal instead of a cold Protestant princess from the north. From all I hear Queen Catherine is a quiet, gentle soul with an angelic face and regal bearing. And she is of the Catholic faith, which pleases our mam and,
naturellement,
pleases me also.
But let us not speak of things that divide us. How are your many adorable children? Is Jemmy’s horsemanship improving? Mam writes that you are considering a dukedom for him. He would enjoy that honour—he enjoys any honour.
Mam also writes of the extensive and ongoing building and redecorating at her palace, Somerset House—the woodwork alone,
mon Dieu,
so lavish, I tremble at the cost. I know she has a tendency to find fault (the dust, the noise, the fabrics, the colours, the weather) and seems difficult to please—but you do please her in this, even if she cannot bring herself to say so.
Is it true that Lady Castlemaine is expecting again? While I cannot pretend to an affection I do not feel for her, I do welcome her children, as they bring joy and delight to you. Just be sure, my dearest, that it is you who gives shape to their unformed souls and not their mother, as she is of inferior sensibilities.
How is our darling brother James? Does he still grieve terribly for our blessed Henry? I do. I do every day, as I know Mam does, too. You must believe that she only did what she thought was best at the time, and as you know, once her mind is decided, her resolve is absolute and she is not plagued by doubt. Such determination would be a gift indeed if only her decisions were more thoughtfully considered. I hope that James has resigned himself to his marriage. Anne is a plain but intelligent girl, however unsuitable for our house. I pray for him. I pray for you and think of you every day.
I am ever your,
Minette
Note
—I wish I could accept your invitation to visit England, but it really wouldn’t be prudent for me to disobey my husband just now, as his temperament is growing increasingly erratic and unpredictable. As well there is so much to see to with all this building going on. Louis’s plans for Versailles are truly extraordinary—there shall be nothing left of this charming little hunting lodge. Could you have your new queen’s portrait painted for me instead?
Une autre note
—I heard that you wrote your love letters to Catherine in
Spanish
? Your Spanish is terrible, can this be true? And that when you had no immediate response from Catherine, you wrote to her
mother
as well? Oh la la!
July 21, 1662—Official Notations for Privy Council Meeting on
This Day to Be Entered into the Log-book
Notations taken by Mr. Henry Bennet
Evening session:
News arrived by courier from Hampton Court:
Item: James Duke of York arrived in time to welcome his brother the king and his new queen as they entered the palace grounds. Unfortunately, the Duke of York’s luggage train was delayed on the road and will not arrive until tomorrow.
Item: The Portuguese queen’s retinue was much larger than expected, and the Office of the Works has allotted no rooms for their use. They must seek lodging in Kingston and are displeased.
Item: One of His Majesty’s pastry cooks was run over by a furniture wagon this afternoon. They were understaffed tonight in the great kitchens.
Nothing further to report.
Sir Henry Bennet
Wednesday, five p.m. (still very hot!)
The house was too warm for lessons, so Grandfather agreed to a walk instead, on the condition that we conjugate French verbs as we go.
“Regular verbs,” I specified. “Too hot for irregular verbs.”