The Young Victoria – My two Cents Worth

And here I thought that spending an inordinate amount of time researching the Duke of Wellington and Queen Victoria was a good thing . . . it seems not, since all that I’ve learned gets in the way of my enjoying films like Young Victoria. It was a visual delight – the sets, the costumes, the interiors – but I felt that the story itself was disjointed. I followed it with no problem, but I can see that anyone who doesn’t know the full story of Victoria’s early life would be lost. Here are just a few points that grated on my nerves:

We see Victoria with her doll collection, it’s referenced in a conversation between Princes Albert and Ernst, but there’s no explanation of what it means. Why insert it into the film if you’re not going to make a point?

Why show King Leopold getting all pissy over Albert’s neglecting to correspond with him if you’re not going tell the film goer the importance of this?

We see a somber, dark clad woman in attendance on Victoria in a few scenes – then we see her being sent away in a carriage and Victoria telling Albert, “I needed her so much at one time.” Needed who? Do you think the average viewer would have cottoned on to the fact that this Lehzen, Victoria’s nurse and rock through most of her life?

Albert takes a bullet . . . . . I won’t comment.

As I said, these are just a few points. Imagine how my head was spinning while I actually watched the film. I’m surprised it wasn’t more historically accurate, or cohesive, what with Sarah Ferguson being one of the producers. As she is quick to remind us, she’s an authority on Queen Victoria.

I thought the casting was spot on in some places and way off the mark in others. Baron Stockmar, Prince Leopold and Sir John Conroy were excellently cast, as were the Duchess of Kent and Queen Adelaide. Rupert Friend could have been the young Albert reincarnated. On the downside, Emily Blunt did a fine acting job but was too dark, IMHO, to play Victoria. And where was the slight Germanic accent? And Julian Glover as the Duke of Wellington? The fake hookey nose was good, but his body type was miles away from that of the real Duke and I just wanted to scream every time he was on screen.
So, after venting I shall now put my money where my mouth is. Were I to cast the part of the Duke of Wellington in a film, I would choose either Adrian Brody, Daniel Day Lewis or Pierce Brosnan (with prosthetic nose) to play the Duke. Do you agree? Which would be your choice? Or do you have another suggestion? I’m looking forward to your comments . . . . .

Visiting Saltram House with Victoria

Now that I am almost on my way to England, I will post about one of my favorite house visits from past trips. Saltram House is near Plymouth in Devon.

Saltram’s first records indicate the Bagg family built a large Tudor house on the site in the 16th century. After the Civil War, the Carteret family acquired the property and did some remodeling before Parliament allowed them to sell a Crown-granted property to George Parker in 1712.

His daughter-in-law, Lady Catherine Parker and her husband John rebuilt sections of the house and filled their addition with decorations in the rococo style. The architect and artisans are unknown though Lady Catherine herself is said to have been the primary designer.  Right, a portrait of Mrs. John Parker by Sir Joshua Reynolds, c. 1770-72.
     
A central staircase with a glass ceiling was created from the traditional Tudor courtyard in the center of the squarish house.
Enclosing the courtyard was a relatively new idea at the time, providing bright light to the center of the house and allowing for a grand staircase. In the photo from the 1995 film of Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility, Fanny Dashwood peers down at Elinor and Edward, and she thoroughly disapproves of the budding romance.

John II, who became Lord Boringdon in 1784, brought in Robert Adam to re-design unfinished rooms, particularly the Saloon, even now virtually unchanged from the master’s touch. Lord Boringdon was a close friend of Sir Joshua Reynolds, who assisted in the acquisition of Saltram’s fine collection of art, including ten of Reynolds’ works.  Several paintings by Angelica Kauffman also hang at Saltram. She often worked closely with Robert Adam.

Left is a self-portrait of Ms. Kaufmann from Saltram.

Also from this period is the design of the gardens, woods and lawns, which today shield the property from the invasion of modern-day Plymouth. Except for a few spots in which young trees replace some old ones lost in storms, the visitor would never know she strolled in the center of a suburban/
industrial environment. Below, snowdrops in early spring at Saltram.

John Parker III, at age 16, became Lord Boringdon upon the death of his father in 1788; he was named first Earl of Morley in 1815. After some years on the Grand Tour, he followed his forefathers by representing the area in Parliament and as a leader in local affairs. But his costly engineering properties for the surrounding region brought debts requiring the family to let the house from 1861 to 1894.

The third Earl, also a politician and statesman, and his son lived at Saltram until 1951 when the house, its contents and 290 acres of park were given to the nation in lieu of death taxes and taken over by the National Trust.

As I already mentioned, Saltram house played the Role of the Norland estate in the 1995 film Sense and Sensibility, adapted by Emma Thompson, which is superior, in my opinion, to later versions.

The Red Velvet Drawing Room, from which Elinor weepily watches Marianne playing the pianoforte in the Saloon and is comforted by Edward, has several noteworthy features. Many of the gilded chairs retain their original red velvet seats. The guidebook compliments the care of the housekeepers, who kept extra covers in place when the family was not entertaining. An old inventory lists a red and white feather duster as part of the room’s furnishings, and indicates that at least one of the Countesses dusted her precious porcelains herself. A pierced gilded fillet surrounds the fireplace and doors, running horizontally along the chair rail, quite evident in the film. While very elegant, this is a comfortable room that would put its occupants at their ease.

The saloon was used for balls, concerts and receptions, a necessary feature of great country houses. Its Adam-designed formality is as grand as the family rooms are intimate. Walls are covered in pale blue damask, as is the suite of eighteen armchairs and two sofas by Chippendale. Several of Adam’s intricately-detailed drawings for the woodwork, mirrors and fittings hang in the hallway and many others are in Sir John Soane’s Museum in London. Joseph Rose executed the elegant ceiling plasterwork and was paid 434 pounds in 1772. As so often in Adam rooms, the roundels featuring the goddesses Diana and Venus, were painted by Antonio Zucchi and Angelica
Kauffmann. The two elaborate 19th century chandeliers now hanging in the saloon were tied out of view for the film.

The first Countess of Morley wrote of a ball at Saltram in 1810, “We lighted it by putting a quantity of candles over the doors, the places in which they were fixed being concealed by large wreaths and festoons of leaves and flowers beautiful to behold…round the room we had two rows of seats affording comfortable anchorage for about 200 persons.”

Of interest to the modern visitor is the Great Kitchen containing an open range dating from 1810. A collection of more than 600 copper pans and utensils is on display. In 1788, the kitchen staff included a cook, kitchen maid, scullery maid and still-room maid, in addition to other indoor servants: a governess, the housekeeper, two housemaids and the butler’s staff of an underbutler, two footmen and a brewer. In 1811, each bedroom was provided with a copper can of hot water at least twice a day.

The grounds contain several gardens, an orangery (right), follies, stables and a chapel. Parts of the estate are being preserved as wildflower and wildlife habitats. While wandering the lawns admiring the view of the river Plym or the sheep and cattle across the ha-ha, only the faint sounds of the nearby motorway might remind the visitor of the 21st century. But a careful reading of the guide book reveals that the ha-ha was constructed in 1963; until then, the cattle grazed right up to the buildings. And, as always in NT properties, the temptations of the well-stocked gift shop and the delights of the tea room are features I love, though they weren’t available to early 19th century guests.

Beatrix Potter Rose Unveiled!

You may not know that actress Patricia Routledge, better known to us all as Hyacinth Bucket, is the Patroness of the Beatrix Potter Society and as such she was on hand at the Chelsea Flower Show to unveil the new Beatrix Potter™ rose, or Beatrix Potter a, seen below and grown by Peter Beales Roses in Norfolk. The rose was named in honour of the Society’s 30th anniversary.

The rose is a delicate creamy pink coloured shrub rose with a subtle fragrance, reflecting a rose which Beatrix Potter herself painted. “This highly perfumed rose is a truly beautiful tribute for such a merit worthy name” says the breeder, Amanda Beales. The flowers are of the softest pink shade, shapely, with many petals. The rose continues to flower well into the autumn. Growth is upright and tidy to approximately 1.2m and the shrub is well endowed with dark glossy foliage.

You can watch a video of opening day at the Show here.  
               And here’s a video of the Queen Mum at the 1952 Show. 
Victoria here, chiming in to talk about Beatrix Potter. Since I live on the 26th floor and the wind blows the petals off any flowers I try to grow on my balcony, I don’t know much about roses except that I love every single one of them!!  So my comments refer to the inspiration of this lovely new rose variety, the wonderful author of children’s stories, artist, and dedicated conservationist, Beatrix Potter herself. My grandchildren adore the DVDs of all her stories and they even let me read the books to them — sometimes.
Here is a link to a wonderful site with lots of material on Beatrix Potter and her work. And here is a link to the Beatrix Potter Society.
As an avid traveler in the Lake District of England, I especially appreciate Potter’s efforts to preserve forever as public land the beautiful region in which she lived. In her will, she left about 4,000 acres to the National Trust. Beatrix Potter lived from 1866 to 1943, bringing happiness to millions. A film, Miss Potter, was made in 2006, staring Renee Zellweger and Ewan McGregor, about her early life. Here’s the trailer.
I can’t say that it was the best film I’ve ever seen, but for fans of Potter, Zellweger, or Victorian England,

 what could be more perfect?
It is entirely fitting that a beautiful rose be named in 
 honor of Beatrix Potter.

The Mysterious Dr. Barry

In her Memoir of her mother, Lady Rose Weigall, Rachel Weigall relates the following story about a guest they once entertained, Dr. Barrie (pictured right), as Rachel calls him. History records the name as Barry, but no matter the spelling, the story is fascinating. First some background – Rachel’s mother was born Rose Sophia Mary Fane and her father was William Wellesley Pole, older brother to the Duke of Wellington, whose military and later personal secretary was Lord Fitzroy Somerset. We’ll see the role Somerset plays in the following anecdote  Rachel writes about her childhood: “One of our most curious guests was the celebrated army Surgeon `Dr. Barrie,’ who was then stationed at Corfu. Lord Fitzroy Somerset asked my father to show him some courtesy, and said he had done such excellent work for the troops. He came to dinner, an odd-looking little person, very small, with a squeaky voice and mincing manner, just like an old maid, as my mother remarked. She found his conversation most agreeable, but we younger members of the party suffered from suppressed laughter at his peculiarities. He was a vegetarian, and refused even eggs, `because they had life in them.’ We often laughed afterwards about “Dr. Barrie”; and it was not until his death many years later that he was discovered to be a woman, who had masqueraded as a man and as an army surgeon for years.” This fact was discovered by Sophia Bishop, who’d laid out the doctor’s body after his death.

Indeed, Dr. James Miranda Barry had graduated from the Medical School of Edinburgh in 1812 and went on to enjoy a  successful career as an army surgeon, eventually becoming Inspector General of Hospitals. As Rachel writes above, it was only discovered after his death at a house in Cavendish Square that he was, in fact, a woman. Odder still when you consider that he’d once fought a duel over a woman, while on the other hand, rumor had it that he’d had a homosexual affair with Lord Charles Somerset, Governor of Cape Town, where Barry spent many years in his company. Charles Somerset was the son of the 5th Duke of Beaufort and brother to Lord Fitzroy Somerset. Sophia Bishop, the maid who’d laid out the body, also claimed to have found stretch marks on the body indicative of the fact that the doctor had at least once been pregnant.

For more information on this story, try Dr James Barry: The Early Years Revealed published in the South African Medical Journal in January of 2008 by Hercules Michael du Preez and
The Secret Life of Dr James Barry: Victorian England’s Most Eminent Surgeon by Rachel Holmes

An Anglophile in Paris

As you all know by now, I’ve had my London/Waterloo trip planned for some time, but it wasn’t until last year that my daughter, Brooke, said that she’d like to come along. We’ve been to England together quite a few times and she’s a fabulous travel companion, so I was thrilled. And then I thought that, since we’d be in Brussels anyway, how could I not take Brooke to Paris? I mean it would be right there. Paris. So I tacked on five days to the end of the trip. And then I started thinking that five days would be too many. I mean, what is there for an Anglophile to do in Paris? I started to think that I’d made a mistake. And then I went to the library and got some guide books to Paris and began to think that five days might not be enough. At any rate, I am now not only reconciled to, but also looking forward to Paris because it dawned on me that it would be the first trip in a long time for which I would have no agenda. I wouldn’t be traveling on business, nor would I be manic about all the research I had to fit into just a few days. I could go to Paris and be nothing but a tourist.


In essence, this will be my first trip to Paris. Granted, I’d won a trip entitled “April in Paris” about thirty years ago. However, I was pregnant at the time and my ex-husband and I had just bought a new home and needed carpeting more than a trip to Paris, so we cashed it in and stayed home. Fast forward to five years ago and I was in Paris, sort of, on a press trip. As part of a group of five travel writers, I was flown first class on Air France to Paris en route to Zurich, Lucerne and Interlaken. The drawback was that Air France were under the impression that they were going to be huge part of all of our stories. Therefore, upon landing in Paris, we were held hostage in the Air France “war room,” a huge conference room with a huge window over looking the runways, in which we sat for about three hours whilst people with very heavy French accents regaled us with stories of the Air France anti-terrorist game plan, security measures, latest technologies, etc. etc. etc. Finally, we were taken to the Hilton Hotel a block away from the Champs Elysee – and told that we needed to be ready for a gastronomic treat of a dinner in three hours time. I’d instantly bonded with a fellow journalist I’d only just met, Cynthia, and she and I decided to use the time to see something of Paris. We strolled the Champs Elysee, I had my photo taken in front of Napoleon’s folly, the Arc d’Triomphe, and we had a glass of wine at a sidewalk café. The waiter didn’t speak English, neither of us spoke French, but after some back and forth, we discovered that he and I both spoke Spanish. So there we sat, two American journalists, at a sidewalk café in France, ordering in Spanish. Go figure.

The next morning, I was seated on the wrong side of the plane and so never even glimpsed the Tour Eiffel as we flew out to Switzerland. In fact, I voiced the opinion that there was, in fact, no Tour Eiffel and that it’s existence was a plot by the French government to lure travelers to the City. So, this time, I am determined to see the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame and to stroll the City at my leisure. I have made no definite plans for our five days in Paris other than to have booked a champagne cruise on the River Seine, the boat to be boarded at the quay hard by that elusive edifice, the Eiffel Tower. If I find that there really is an Eiffel Tower I will gladly apologize to the proper French authorities. Well, perhaps not, but I will take a photo and post it here upon my return.