Bishop’s next letter to Grace is dated 19 July “home again.”
She reported that they had got back to Petrópolis on the 17th and she found
Grace’s letter of 5 July waiting for her at the post office. In response, Bishop
wrote a newsy letter and sent some more recipes; but before getting to all of
this, I want to comment on something Bishop scrawled at the top of the page
(clearly an afterthought, but something of historic interest): “Did you see the
Queen?”
In 1959, Queen Elizabeth II made a visit to Canada, her
first extended tour as the reigning monarch; indeed, it remains the longest state
visit/tour by any British monarch. She and Prince Phillip arrived on 18 June
and stayed until 1 August. They visited every province and territory and opened the St. Lawrence Seaway on 26 June, with
President Dwight Eisenhower (for great news footage of this event, click here).
Bishop kept up not only with the news from the US, she also
clearly made a point to learn what was happening in Canada, this visit being
one of the most significant events for the country in its recent history. You
can see more footage (silent) of this visit here and here.
The royal couple arrived in Nova Scotia on 31 July, the last leg of
their visit. They toured around a bit, were guests at a state dinner and left
the next day. While in Halifax
they stayed at the Nova Scotian Hotel, a place where Bishop herself had stayed
in 1946.
(Prince Phillip and Queen Elizabeth talking with
Nova Scotia artist Earl Bailley in Lunenburg, N.S., NS Archives)
Grace was in Nova Scotia at
that time, so perhaps she was able to travel to Halifax
or the South Shore to catch a glimpse of the
beautiful young queen and her attractive consort.
Back to the letter proper, Bishop begins with palpable
relief that she had finally heard from Grace, declaring “now I am sure your
other letters got lost,” reiterating that there has been “much trouble with
lost letters the past year.” Her intention was just to send a quick note, “just
to say I did hear,” but the letter got away from her a bit and ended up
being longer than she clearly intended.
In the first paragraph, Bishop dispatches several things in
quick succession. The first order of business related to Bishop’s Aunt Mary’s
house, which her niece noted “sounds quite glamorous, from the advertisement!”
Grace had obvious enclosed some sort of clipping in her letter. Most likely,
Mary and John Ross had bought a new house in Montreal. Next, Bishop confirms that she
would “like to see the book about the old sailing ships,” something else Grace
had mentioned. Of course, no further description is given, though it is a book
that must have appeared that year, and they must have discussed it before,
because Bishop tells her aunt, “I’ve seen another review of it.” Next, Bishop
informs Grace that she had received “a very nice fan letter from someone named
Mrs. Winfield L. Corbett, from Wakefield,
Mass.” It appears that Mrs.
Corbett had poor handwriting, too, as Bishop had trouble deciphering her first
name, “looks like Lalia, to me.” Bishop mentions her to Grace because
“she’s apparently from N.S.” Mrs. Corbett had enclosed “clippings from the
Dalhousie Review.” Bishop asks, “Does that name mean anything to you?”
Lalia Corbett is in the US Census for 1940, which indicates
she is from “Canada.”
Nova Scotia being a small place, it is entirely
possible that Grace knew of or knew this person, Corbett being a Great Village
and area name. Even if not directly, there are very few degrees of separation
between people in the province, even when they ventured off to the “Boston
States” to live and raise their families.
Having dispatched the preliminaries, Bishop shares some
recipes with her aunt. The next post will share them with you.
****************************************
Ed. Note: Permit me a slight indulgence — The only Royal I
ever met was Prince Andrew, during a visit he made to the Maritimes in late
June 1985. Andrew was 25 at the time, he being born in 1960, a year before me. I
first encountered him in Fredericton
when a friend and I joined thousands of others for a walk about he did that
morning. Each clutching a single red rose (thorns removed), we positioned
ourselves in a good spot and lo and behold, he stopped to speak and receive the
roses. Believe it or not, I asked him if I could give him a kiss (by which I
mean a peck on the cheek). He laughed and said, “If you did that, all hell
would break loose.” He moved on. His walkabout took him along Queen St. to
Officers’ Square, where there was a choking throng of people. My friend and I,
after buying yet another rose each, bypassed that sea of humanity because we
knew he would eventually reach the bank of the Saint John
River, where a small boat would take him on a tour. In the spot
just before the wharf, there was not one soul. I planted myself again (my
friend had got diverted talking with someone she knew) and lo and behold,
again, he appeared, almost alone, and walked right up to me. “How many roses
must I give you to get a kiss?” Laughing again, he said, “Quite a few.” He
shook my hand and headed off. My entire adventure was observed by several of
the journalists who were covering the tour. My little escapade made several
papers (I have the clippings), including, I am told, a British paper (I do not
have that clipping).
(Prince Andrew, between mayor
and woman in navy, Fredericton, N.B.)
I returned to Nova
Scotia later that same day. Prince Andrew’s next stop
was NS, including a visit to Fort Anne in Annapolis Royal.
With my sister and another friend in tow, I went to yet another royal event,
attended this time by hundreds of people. It was not difficult to put myself in
his way again. He actually recognized me and laughed out loud when I said, “You
said it would take quite a few roses to let me give you a kiss. Is this
enough?” as I handed him a dozen roses. He took the roses, shook my hand, and
quickly said that it was nice to see me again. Then he was herded along by all
the local bigwigs. Not one journalist observed this exchange.
(So many roses. No kiss. Fort Anne Historic Site,
Annapolis Royal, N.S.)
When you are twenty-four, you are susceptible to the romance
of royalty. When I think about it now, I feel embarrassed, remembering such a girlish
fancy, especially for a prince who has proved himself to have questionable beliefs
as he aged. Ah, such is youth. I actually wrote a letter to Prince Andrew to
tell him who I was, a serious graduate student not given to such behaviour. I
received an actual letter (not a form response) from someone on his staff, my
one and only epistle from Buckingham
Palace!
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