The Daily Buffalonian -January 30th, 1839

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LETTER FROM QUEEN VICTORIA

Windsor Palace, Dec. 15th, 1838

Dear Mr. Editor,

I have received the papers you sent me, and after consulting Ma an Melbourne, have concluded to write you a letter, which you may publish or not as you think proper. I am determined to write before asking --but they expect me to do nothing without.

I have had such a time of feasting, and so many dull lords and tiresome ladies about me, taking me to ride to-day, and hunt to-morrow, and then to some great dinner, or ball, that I am tired to death, and shall be heartily glad when it gets to be an old story. They use me just as I did my new dolls, and show me about as if I was a paragon of sense and beauty, when the Lord knows I have no more genius then my ancestors, and am just tolerably good looking. I am sure, between you and me, that my loving subjects might pick out an hundred woman in London, better fitted to be Queen, and I sometimes wish they would, and relieve me of the bother.

I suppose you read about my coronation in the papers. It was a terribly splendid affair, but so ridiculous and so tiresome, that I wanted to laugh and cry both. It seemed as if the people had all gone mad, and were determined to play the fool as extravagantly as possible --and there was such a shouting and procession, and such splendor, that my eyes and ears ached, and I hardly knew what I was about. All the time, I could not help asking myself what all the fuss was about, and then to think it was me --a little girl, who had much rather been playing on her piano all the time! But when the grave old peers come to kneel to me, I thought I should laugh in their faces, but that wouldn't do you know, so I drew on my coronation face, that Ma had made me practice at the glass for a fortnight before, at our rehearsal's, for do you know, it was got up just like a play, and a great farce it was to be sure -- and I suppose I looked very Queen like and gracious; but dear me! when it was over I was tired to death, and felt like a pound of soap after a hard day's washing.

I do have a little fun though, teezing [sic] Melbourne and the rest of the Ministers, and its rare sport I assure you. The other day they got their long heads together, and wanted me to do something, I forget what, and didn't understand it very well at the time, and I refused flatly, and they begged, and entreated, and argufied, till I mad them all get down on their knees and ask me pretty, before I would do it, and then I laughed till I cried, to see the pretty figure they made. But Ma gave me a precious lecturing for it; and I suppose I shall have to behave better in the future --but poor Melbourne did look so droll!

 

 

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Your President's son, Mr. Van What's his name, has been to see me you know. He is a nice fellow, and very much like by the ladies.-- They tell me I must keep on good terms with you country, and I am sure I am not the least disposed to quarrel. Indeed Mrs. Stevenson and I are real good friends, and you may depend on it, if they try to get up a war, I shall not hear a word to it, unless mother makes me, or the ministers get down on their knees again, and then I don't know as I will.

What a precious fuss they are making in Canada. Durham said he would put all to rights, and I thought he would, for he is a nice dear man, only as proud as Lucifer, and used to give me candy and sugar plumbs and big wax dolls, but he had got in a pot about something and come home, and so there has been another rumpus. I wish they would let them have their own way, I wouldn't hinder them --for they cost an immensity, but they say 'the integrity of the Empire must be preserved' (what may that mean?) and tell as how the sun never sets on British territory, which I am sure I don't care for: and when I am abed and asleep he may shine or sit where he pleases.

I hope you will not stop sending your papers, as we get together, and have great fun reading them over and if I have time I will write again.

If you come to England be sure to call and see me.

Truly your friend,

Victoria R.

To the Editor of the Buffalonian

 

 

 

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