Unconscious of her great friendship for Mrs. Hastings, the colonel, unfortunately, repeated his concern, adding, “Nothing has hurt me so much as the queen’s being ever named in such company.”
The most angry defence was now made, but in so great a storm of displeasure, and confusion of language, that the colonel, looking utterly amazed, was unable to understand what was the matter. Major Price and myself were both alarmed; Miss Port longed to laugh; Miss Mawer sat perfectly motionless; Mrs. Fisher decidedly silent. No one else was present. The colonel, whenever he could be heard, still persisted in his assertion, firmly, though gently, explaining the loyalty of his motives.
This perseverance increased the storm, which now blew with greater violence, less and less distinct as more fierce. Broken sentences were all that could be articulated. “You might not say such thing!”— “Upon my vord!”— “I tell you once!”— “colonel what-you-call, I am quite warm!”— “Upon my vord! — I tell you the same!”— “You might not tell me such thing!”— “What for you say all that?”
As there was nothing in this that could possibly clear the matter, and the poor colonel only sunk deeper and deeper, by not understanding the nature of his offence, Major Price now endeavoured to interfere; and, as he is a great favourite, he was permitted not only to speak, but to be heard.
“Certainly,” said he, “those accounts about Mrs. Hastings, and the history of her divorce, are very unpleasant anecdotes in public newspapers; and I am sorry, too, that they should be told in the same paragraph that mentions her being received by the queen.”
Nothing could equal the consternation with which. This unexpected speech was heard. “Upon my vord! You sorprise me!” was all that could now be got out.
As I found them now only running further from general comprehension, I felt so sorry that poor Mrs. Hastings, whom I believe to be a most injured woman, should so ill be defended even by her most zealous friend, that I compelled myself to the exertion of coming forward, now, in her behalf myself, and I therefore said, it was a thousand pities her story should not be more accurately made known: as the mode of a second marriage from a divorce was precisely the contrary here of what it was in Germany; since here it could only take place upon misconduct, and there, I had been told, a divorce from misconduct prohibited a second marriage, which could only be permitted where the divorce was the mere effect of disagreement from dissimilar tempers. Mrs. Hastings, therefore, though acquitted of ill-behaviour by the laws of her own country seemed, by those of England, convicted; and I could not but much regret that her vindication was not publicly made by this explanation.
“So do I, too,” cried Major Price “for I never heard this before.”
“Nor I,” cried the colonel “and indeed it ought to be made known, both for the sake of Mrs. Hastings, and because she has been received at Court, which gave everybody the greatest surprise, and me, in my ignorance, the greatest concern, on account of the queen.”
This undid all again, though my explanation had just stilled the hurricane; but now it began afresh.
“You might not say that, Colonel Fairly; you might not name the queen! — O, I can’t bear it! — I tell you once it is too moch! — What for you tell me that?”
“Ma’am, I — I only said — It is not me, ma’am, but the newspapers.”
“What for you have such newspapers? — I tell you the same — it is — what you call — I don’t like such thing!”
“But, ma’am—”
“O, upon my vord, I might tell you once, when you name the queen, it is — what you call — I can’t bear it! — when it is nobody else, with all my heart! I might not care for that — but when it is the queen, — I tell you the same, Colonel Fairly — it makes me — what you call — perspire.”
The major again interfered, saying it was now all cleared up, by the account of the difference of the German customs, and therefore that it was all very well. A certain quiet, but yet decisive way, in which he sometimes speaks, was here very successful; and as the lady stopped, the colonel saw all explanation too desperate to aim at further argument.
SECT. 8 (1786.)
ROYAL VISIT TO NUNEHAM, OXFORD AND BLENHEIM.
A JOB’S COMFORTER.
Aug. 12, Saturday. The Prince of Wales’s birthday. How I grieve at whatever may be the cause which absents him from his family! — a family of so much love, harmony, and excellence, that to mix with them, even rarely, must have been the first of lessons to his heart; and here, I am assured, his heart is good, though, elsewhere, his conduct renders it so suspicious.
I come now to the Oxford expedition.
The plan was to spend one day at Lord Harcourt’s, at Nuneham, one at Oxford, and one at Blenheim; dining and sleeping always at Nuneham.
I now a little regretted that I had declined meeting Lady Harcourt, when invited to see her at Mrs. Vesey’s about three years ago. I was not, just then, very happy — and I was surfeited of new acquaintances; when the invitation, therefore, came, I sent an excuse. But now when I was going to her house, I wished I had had any previous knowledge of her, to lessen the difficulties of my first appearance in my new character, upon attending the queen on a visit. I said something of this sort to Mrs. Schwellenberg, in our conversation the day before the journey; and she answered that it did not signify for, as I went with the queen, I might be sure I should be civilly treated.
Yes, I said, I generally had been; and congratulated myself that at least I knew a little of Lord Harcourt, to whom I had been introduced, some years ago, at Sir Joshua Reynolds’, and whom I had since met two or three times. “O,” she said, “it is the same, — that is nothing, — when you go with the queen, it is enough; they might be civil to you for that sake. You might go quite without no, what you call, fuss; you might take no gown but what you go in: — that is enough, — you might have no servant, — for what? — You might keep on your riding-dress. There is no need you might be seen. I shall do everything that I can to assist you to appear for nobody.”
I leave you to imagine my thanks. But the news about the servant was not very pleasant, as I thought it most likely I could never more want one than in a strange house added to a strange situation. However, I determined upon assuming no competition in command, and therefore I left the matter to her own direction.
THE JOURNEY To NUNEHAM: UNGRACious RECEPTION.
Their majesties went to Nuneham to breakfast. Miss Planta and myself were not to follow till after an early dinner. Princess Elizabeth, in a whisper, after the rest left the room, — advised me to go and lie down again as soon as they were gone. And, indeed, I was sufficiently fatigued to be glad to follow the advice.
My dear Mrs. Delany came to sit with me while I packed up. What a pleasure to me is her constant society, and the reciprocal confidence of all our conversations! She intrusts me with every thing in the world — I intrust her with every thing that now happens to me.
Our early dinner was with Mrs. Schwellenberg and Miss Mawer. We set out at three o’clock, and took with us Mrs. Thielky, the queen’s wardrobe woman, and the comfort of my life in the absence of Mrs. Schwellenberg, for she is the real acting person, though I am the apparent one: and she is also a very good sort of woman, — plain, sensible, clear-headed, mild-mannered, sedate, and steady. I found her in this journey of infinite service, for she not only did almost every thing for the queen, but made it her business to supply also the place of maid to me, as much as ever I would suffer her. How fortunate for me that the person so immediately under me should be so good a creature! The other person we took was a Miss Mhaughendorf, a dresser to the Princesses Royal and Augusta, a very pleasing young woman, gentle and interesting, who is just come from the king’s German dominions to this place, to which she has been recommended by her father, who is clerk of the kitchen to the Duke of York. The princesses have a German in this office, to assist their study of that language, which, in their future destinations, may prove essential to them.
Miss Planta�
��s post in the Court-calendar is that of English teacher, but it seems to me, that of personal attendant upon the two eldest princesses. She is with them always when they sup, work, take their lessons, or walk.
We arrived at Nunebam at about six o’clock. The house is one of those straggling, half new, half old, half comfortable, and half forlorn mansions, that are begun in one generation and finished in another. It is very pleasantly situated, and commands, from some points of view, all the towers of Oxford.
In going across the park to the entrance, we saw not a creature. All were busy, either in attendance upon the royal guests, or in finding hiding-places from whence to peep at them. We stopped at the portico, — but not even a porter was there: we were obliged to get out of the carriage by the help of one of the postilions, and to enter the house by the help of wet grass, which would not suffer me to stay out of it, otherwise, I felt so strange in going in uninvited and unconducted, that I should have begged leave to stroll about till somebody appeared.
Miss Planta, more used to these expeditions, though with quite as little taste for them, led the way, and said we had best go and seek for our rooms. I was quite of the same opinion, but much at a loss how we might find them. We went through various passages, unknowing whither they might lead us, till at length we encountered a prodigious fine servant. Miss Planta, asked him for Lady Harcourt’s maid; he bowed slightly, and passed on without making any answer.
Very pleasant this! — I then begged we might turn back, not caring for another adventure of the same sort. Miss Planta complied; and we met two more of the yellow-laced saunterers, with whom she had precisely the same success.
I think I never remember to have felt so much shame from my situation as at that time. To arrive at a house where no mistress nor master of it cared about receiving me; to wander about, a guest uninvited, a visitor unthought of; without even a room to go to, a person to inquire for, or even a servant to speak to! It was now I felt the real want of either a man or maid, to send forward, and find out what we were to do with ourselves; and indeed I resolved, then, I would not another time be so passive to unauthorized directions.
The fault of this strange reception was certainly in the lady of the house, whose affair it was to have given orders, previous to our arrival, that some of her people should shew us to whatever apartment she destined for us. The queen herself had sent word that we were to attend her; and however impossible it was that she could receive us herself, which her own attendance upon their majesties made really impracticable, it was incumbent upon her to have taken care that we should not have been utterly neglected.
We strayed thus, backwards and forwards, for a full quarter of an hour, in these nearly deserted straggling passages; and then, at length, met a French woman, whom Miss Planta immediately seized upon: it was Lady Harcourt’s woman, and Miss Planta had seen her at Windsor.
“Pray shew us,” cried Miss Planta, “where we are to go.”
She was civil, and led us to a parlour looking very pleasantly upon the park, and asked if we would have some tea. Miss Planta assented. She told us the king and queen were in the park, and left us. As there was a garden-door to this room, I thought it very possible the royal party and their suite might return to the house that way. This gave great addition to my discomposure, for I thought that to see them all in this forlorn plight would be still the worst part of the business, — I therefore pressed Miss Planta to let us make another attempt to discover our own rooms.
Miss Planta laughed exceedingly at my disturbance, but complied very obligingly with my request. In this our second wandering forth we had no better success than in the first; we either met nobody, or only were crossed by such superfine men in laced liveries, that we attempted not to question them. My constant dread was Of meeting any of the royal party, while I knew not whither to run. Miss Planta, more inured to such situations, was not at all surprised by our difficulties and disgraces, and only diverted by my distress from them.
We met at last with Mhaughendorf, and Miss Planta eagerly desired to be conducted to the princesses’ rooms, that she might see if every thing was prepared for them. When they had looked at the apartments destined for the princesses, Miss Planta proposed our sitting down to our tea in the Princess Elizabeth’s room. This was extremely disagreeable to me, as I was sensible it must seem a great freedom from me, should her royal highness surprise us there; but it was no freedom for Miss Planta, as she had belonged to all the princesses these nine years, and is eternally in their sight. I could not, therefore, persuade her of the difference; and she desired Mhaughendorf to go and order our tea upstairs.
A HASTY INTRODUCTION To LADY HARCOURT.
Miss Planta, followed by poor me, then whisked backwards and forwards, from one of the apartments to another, superintending all the preparations; and, as we were crossing a landing-place, a lady appeared upon the stairs, and Miss Planta called out “It’s Lady Harcourt,” and ran down to meet her.
They talked together a few minutes. “I must get you, Miss Planta,” said she, looking up towards me, “to introduce me to Miss Burney.”
She then came up the stairs, said she was glad to see me, and desired I would order any thing I wanted, either for the queen or for myself. Cold enough was my silent curtsey.
She talked again to Miss Planta, who, already knowing her, from seeing her frequently when in waiting, as she is one of the ladies of the bedchamber, was much more sociable than myself. She afterwards turned to me, and said, “If there is anything you want, Miss Burney, pray speak for it.” And she added, “My sisters will attend you presently; — you will excuse me, — I have not a moment from their majesties.” And then she curtseyed, and left us.
We returned to the Princess Elizabeth’s room, and there the tea followed, but not the promised sisters. I never saw Miss Planta laugh so heartily before nor since; but my dismay was possibly comical to behold.
APPARITION OF THE PRINCESSES.
The tea was just poured out, when the door opened, and in entered all the princesses. I was very much ashamed, and started up, but had no asylum whither to run. They all asked us how we did after our journey; and I made an apology, as well as I could, to the Princess Elizabeth, for my intrusion into her apartment — confessing I did not know where to find my own.
The princess royal, eagerly coming up to me, said, “I thought you would be distressed at first arriving, and I wanted to help you; and I enquired where your room was, and said I would look at it myself; and I went round to it, but I found the king was that way, and so, you know, I could not go past him; but indeed I wished to have seen it for you.”
There was hardly any thanking her for such infinite sweetness; they then desired us to go on with our tea, and went into the princess royal’s room.
I was now a little revived; and soon after the Princess Elizabeth came back, and asked if we had done, desiring us at the same time not to hurry.
Yes, we said; and ashamed of thus keeping possession of her room, I was gliding out, when she flew to me, and said, “Don’t go! — pray come and stay with me a little.” She then flew to another end of the room, and getting a chair, brought it herself close up to me, and seating herself on another, said, “Come, sit down by me, Miss Burney.”
You may suppose how I resisted and apologised, — truly telling her that I had not opposed her royal highness’s design, from being ashamed of even suspecting it. She only laughed good-humouredly, and made me take the chair she had thus condescended to fetch me. ... In a very few minutes, the other princesses came for her. The princess royal then told me she was quite sorry to hear we had been so much distressed — and I found Miss Plantabad recounted our adventures.
I was not glad of this, though greatly gratified by the goodness of the princess. But I know how quickly complaints circulate, and I wish not even for redress by such means, which commonly, when so obtained, is more humiliating than the offence which calls for it.
FROM PILLAR TO POST.
When t
he princesses left us, we were again at a loss what to do with ourselves; we saw several passing servants, maids as well as men, and Miss Planta applied to them all to shew me my room, which I was anxious to inhabit in peace and solitude: however, they all promised to send, some one else, but no one came. Miss Planta, in the midst of the diversion she received from my unavailing earnestness to get into some retreat, had the good-nature to say, “I knew how this would turn out, and wished the visit over before it began; but it must really be very new to you, unused as you are to it, and accustomed to so much attention in other places.”
At length she seized upon a woman servant, who undertook to conduct me to this wished-for room. Miss Planta accompanied me, and off we set. In descending the stairs, a door opened which led to one of the state rooms, in which were the royal family. We glided softly past; but the princess royal, attended by the Duchess of Ancaster, came out to us. We soon found her royal highness had told our tale. “Miss Vernons,” said the duchess, “will come to take care of you; you must both go and take possession of the eating-parlour, where you will sup; and the equerries will be of your party.”
I said not a word, but of general thanks, still longing only to go to my own room. I whispered this to Miss Planta, who obligingly, though rather reluctantly, consented to pursue our first scheme. But when the duchess observed that we were turning off, she called out, “I see you do not know your way, so I’ll come and show you to the eating-parlour.” The princess royal said she would come with us also; and, according to direction, we were therefore necessitated to proceed.
When we got to the hall leading to this parlour, we were suddenly stopped by the appearance of the king, who just then came out of that very room. Lord Harcourt attended with a candle in his hand, and a group of gentlemen followed. We were advanced too far to retreat, and therefore only stood still. The king stopped, and spoke to the Duchess of Ancaster; and then spoke very graciously to Miss Planta and me, inquiring when we set out, and what sort of journey we had had. He then ascended the stairs, the princess royal accompanying him, and all the rest following; the duchess first pointing to the door of the eating-parlour, and bidding us go there and expect Miss Vernons.
Complete Works of Frances Burney Page 556