Edith reflects on Eastbourne England

Eastbourne England and Dunedin New Zealand were similar in climate, in natural beauty and in the penchant for topiary. New Zealanders tried so hard to be English in every way. Australians, on the other hand, were not as good at mimicking English ways as their cousins across the ditch. The dry, hot climate was hardly conducive to tea and scones in the garden. Except of course in Melbourne. Perhaps that was why Melbourne was so revered abroad where other cities, equally as refined, didn’t rate a sideways glance. Edith had married Herbert despite his mother’s constant interference. She had tried everything she could to adjust to Dunedin and to win that woman’s favour. Even attended Presbyterian church services. But even though Mrs Hampton had never really accepted her as family, Edith had still hoped she could change.

This return to Australia would be very different to the last. At least Edith knew what lay ahead. On the last voyage home from England she had been just sixteen and very naive. On that voyage she had not been alone. The whole family had been on board including Rudolpho who was actually born in England. The only home he had known was Eastbourne. The English seaside so calm in contrast to the wilds of Australia.

The family had stayed in Eastbourne for five years. All had gone so well for the first three years but in the fourth, Vincent’s voice broke, which meant no more choir. His debut in the choir at The Royal Albert had gone well but The Royal Choral Society was not knocking on the door asking him to join. School had been a haven for him though as he was fairly popular and he wasn’t the only one whose voice had broken. The problem was that William Albert could no longer afford to keep the boys there. Rent had gone up on the house in Carew Road, voice coaching classes had finished and, because he could not find finance for his opera, William Albert could not present it.

Whilst in Eastbourne there had been a second recession and their mother was having great trouble balancing the accounts. They would have to move. Probably into a flat farther away from the sea. The girls too would have to change schools. To make matters even more difficult, Mathilde was again expecting a child. With Millicent now three and her eldest daughters fast approaching their coming of age she really had her hands full. She hoped and prayed for a miracle. A miracle came. Albert secured a position as Music Conductor for The Carl Rosa Opera Company performance of ‘Les Huguenots,’ at The Royal Alexandra Theatre Liverpool. This meant that for the season they were safe and the baby could be born in the house that they had all come to love.

Edith shed a tear for her mother as she remembered back to the time preceding Rudolpho’s birth. The family Fortunes had changed and everyone knew it. She remembered their father being away for months while Mathilde tried to stick to the household routines, sort the family budget, look after Millicent and keep up appearances as her belly grew and grew. Edith, of course had been as helpful as possible and Florence too, in her own way. Monday was market day. Tuesday was washing. Wednesday was the day for cleaning the house, which was referred to as spit and polish day. Thursday was sewing day. Friday was set aside for bills, banking and reconciliation of receipts and dockets. Saturday was a full body wash for all in the bath in preparation for Sunday mass. The children ceased to complain about being obligated to attend mass for their mothers sake. The boys were always on hand when needed. Vincent and Charles would do most of the heavy lifting. Groceries, buckets full of water for the sink and for the bath as well as moving furniture around so that their mother and sisters could clean. Harold was a wiz with the finances and really helped with the budgeting even though he was only ten and little Millicent loved to help with the spit and polish routine. It was often a bone of contention on Sunday mornings though as that was when the steam train, The Brighton Belle, would arrive at Eastbourne Station, sometimes, carrying theatre troupes that travelled to Eastbourne from all over England.

Mathilde would occasionally attend too with calling cards advertising piano lessons for herself and voice coaching on her husband’s behalf. The excitement at meeting stars of the London Theatre was more than special. It was positively exhillerating!

It was very hard for Mathilde in the last three months of her pregnancy as she was frowned upon for showing up anywhere at all in her condition. Particularly at the bank. She could hardly send Harold, and Vincent, who beside being only fourteen, was just like his father. No idea about finances. The girls at sixteen and seventeen could be trusted but she doubted the bank would deal fairly with them. So somehow she dealt with the bank alone, making sure everything was above board and kept records of absolutely every transaction.

As she came closer to term Edith and Florence were removed from school. One day, as the girls were returning from Carlisle Road with bags full of market produce, they came across the two household guards who had rescued them that day on the cliffs. Delighted to see the girls they asked about the family. When Edith told them of the difficulties the family were going through, they offered very politely, to help. Exactly three months later, in the month of March 1886, the two smartly dressed Household Cavalry Lifeguards were sent for, to escort Mathilde Richardson to hospital for all to see. Just like royalty. Within eight hours of being admitted, Mathilde had given birth to her fourth son.

William Albert arrived at the hospital two days later and was overjoyed at being the proud father of yet another boy.

We’ll name him Rudolpho … Rudolpho Alfonso. He declared as he took the baby into his arms.

Why Rudolpho dear?
After the poet in, ‘La Boheme.’ We won’t spell it the Italian way. That way he’ll fit in better.

The children filed in one after the other and the eldest took turns at holding the newborn. When informed by their father of the name that had been chosen for their baby brother they were very surprised.

Rudolpho Alfonso? Vincent remarked, smirking. You cannot be serious father?

It’s a strange choice father. Added Edith.

Well, I think it’s a lovely name. Florence cooed. It’s just different. I think he will be different.

It’s embarrassing to have a brother named Rudolpho Alfonso, father! Vincent protested. It’s hard enough at school already!

Now son! It is a fine name. Just like yours is a fine name. If one wears one’s name with dignity one is always respected. Remember that Vincent.

Not here in Eastbourne it’s not.
Well, you won’t have to worry about that anymore. Smiled his father knowingly. I have news.