Lord Harcourt, during this meeting, had contrived to slip behind the king, to make me a very civil bow; and when his majesty moved on, he slid nearer me, and whispered a welcome to his house in very civil terms. This was all he could do, so situated.
We now entered the eating-room. We sat down, — but no Miss Vernons! Presently the door opened, — I hoped they were coming, — but a clergyman, a stranger to us both, appeared. This gentleman, I afterwards found, was Mr. Hagget, chaplain to Lord Harcourt, and rector of a living in his lordship’s gift and neighbourhood; a young man, sensible, easy, and remarkably handsome, in very high favour with all the family. With nobody to introduce us to each other, we could but rise and bow, and curtsey, and sit down again.
In a few minutes, again the door gave hopes to me of Miss Vernons; — but there only appeared a party of gentlemen. Major Price came foremost, and immediately introduced me to General Harcourt. The general is a very shy man, with an air of much haughtiness; he bowed and retreated, and sat down, and was wholly silent. Colonel Fairly followed him, and taking a chair next mine, began some of the civilest speeches imaginable, concerning this opportunity of making acquaintance with me.
Just then came in a housemaid, and said she would show me my room. I rose hastily. Miss Planta, who knew everybody present except the clergyman, was now willing to have sat still and chatted; but nothing short of compulsion could have kept me in such a situation, and therefore I instantly accompanied the maid; and poor Miss Planta could not stay behind. The truth is the non-appearance of any of the ladies of the house struck me as being so extremely uncivil, that I desired nothing but to retire from all the party.
I felt quite relieved when I once took possession of a room that, for the time, I might call my own; and I could not possibly listen to Miss Planta’s desire of returning to the company. I told her frankly that it was a situation so utterly disagreeable to me, that I must beg to decline placing myself in it again. She was afraid, she said, that, as the Duchess of Ancaster had taken the trouble to show us the room, and to tell us what to do, in the presence of the princess royal, the queen might hear of our absconding, and not be pleased with it.
“I must risk that,” I answered— “I shall openly tell my reasons, If questioned, and I firmly believe they will be satisfactory. If not questioned, I shall say nothing; and indeed I very much wish you would do the same.”
She agreed, — consented, rather — and I was the more obliged to her from seeing it was contrary to her inclination. I was sorry, but I could not compliment at the expense of putting myself again into a situation I had been so earnest to change. Miss Planta bore it very well, and only wished the maid farther for never finding us out till we began to be comfortable without her.
“THE EQUERRIES WANT THE LADIES.”
Here we remained about two hours, unsummoned, unnoticed, unoccupied, — except in forcing open a box which Mrs. Thielky had lent me for my wardrobe, and of which I had left the key, ingeniously, at Windsor. At ten o’clock a maid came to the door, and said supper was ready.
“Who sent you?” I called out.
“Who do you come from?” cried Miss Planta.
She was gone; — we could get no answer. About a quarter of an hour after, one of those gentlemen footmen, for whom you must already have discovered my partiality, called out, from the stairs, without troubling himself to come to the door, “The supper waits.”
He was already gone; but Miss Planta darted after him, calling out, “Who sent you? — who did you come to?”
She was not heard by this gentleman, but what she said was echoed after him by some other, and the answer that reached our ears was, “The equerries want the ladies.”
This was enough; Miss Planta returned quite indignant, after hastily replying, “We don’t choose any supper.”
We were now precisely of an opinion. Miss Planta, indeed, was much more angry than myself; for I was very sure the equerries had sent a very different message, and therefore thought nothing of the words used by the servant, but confined all my dissatisfaction to its first origin, — the incivility of the ladies of the house, that they came not themselves, or some one from them, to invite us in a manner that might be accepted. From this time, however, we became more comfortable, as absconding was our mutual desire; and we were flung, by this means, into a style of sociability we might else never have arrived at.
We continued together till Miss Planta thought it right to go and see if Mhaughendorf had prepared every thing for the princesses; and then I was left to myself — the very companion I just at that time most wished a tete-a-tete with — till I was summoned to the queen. In this tete-a-tete, I determined very concisely upon my plan of procedure: which was to quietly keep my own counsel, unless I found my conduct disapproved — and, in that case, to run all risks in openly declaring that I must always prefer solitude to society upon terms to which I was unaccustomed.
SUMMONED TO THE QUEEN.
A little after the scenes I have described, I was surprised when, late at night, my summons was brought me by Lady Harcourt, who tapped gently at my door, and made me a little visit, previously to telling me her errand. She informed me, also, that the queen had given her command, for Miss Planta and me to belong to the suite the next day, in the visit to Oxford; and that a carriage was accordingly ordered for us.
The queen said not a word to me of the day’s adventures and I was glad to have them passed over, especially as Lady Harcourt’s visit, and the civility which accompanied it, appeared a little conscious of remissness. But when, in speaking of Oxford, her majesty condescended to ask what gown I had brought with me, how did I rejoice to answer, a new chamberry gauze, instead of only that which I have on, according to my Cerbera’s advice.
My next difficulty was for a hair-dresser. Nuneham is three or four miles from Oxford; and I had neither maid to dress nor man to seek a dresser. I could only apply to Mrs. Thielky, and she made it her business to prevail with one of the royal footmen to get me a messenger, to order a hair-dresser from Oxford at six o’clock in the morning. The queen, with most gracious consideration, told me, over night, that she should not want me till eight o’clock.
Thus ended the first night of this excursion.
Aug. 13. — At six o’clock my hair-dresser, to my great satisfaction, arrived. Full two hours was he at work, yet was I not finished, when Swarthy, the queen’s hair-dresser, came rapping at my door to tell me her majesty’s hair was done, and she was waiting for me. I hurried as fast as I could, and ran down without any cap. She smiled at sight of my hasty attire, and said I should not be distressed about a hair-dresser the next day, but employ Swarthy’s assistant, as soon as he had done with the princesses: “You should have had him,” she added, “to-day, if I had known you wanted him.”
When her majesty was dressed, all but the hat, she sent for the three princesses — and the king came also. I felt very foolish with my uncovered head; but it was somewhat the less awkward from its being very much a custom, in the royal family, to go without caps; though none that appear before them use such a freedom. As soon as the hat was on —
“Now, Miss Burney,” said the queen, “I won’t keep you; you had better go and dress too.”
While I was dressing, a footman came to my door, with a formal message that Miss Vernons begged I would come to breakfast. I immediately promised to make haste, glad to find something more resembling civility at length coming round to me. Presently after entered Miss Planta, in high spirits and great enjoyment. She told me she had been acquainting the queen with the whole affair, and that the queen quite approved of our staying upstairs. She had been also with the equerries, and had a fine laugh with them about their “wanting the ladies”, they declared they had sent no message at all, and that the servant had simply received orders to tell us that Miss Vernons desired our company to supper.
I thought it mighty unnecessary to have acquainted the equerries with what could only furnish a laugh against ourselves: however,
the thing was done, and down we went together.
A CHECK FOR THE COLONEL.
The two Miss Vernons, General Harcourt, Colonel Fairly, Major Price, and — Mr. Hagget were all at breakfast. The Miss Vernons immediately began an apology about the supper the preceding night, declaring themselves exceedingly sorry we should not have had any, which they found was entirely owing to a blunder in the message given by the servants.
The gentlemen were all dying to make a laugh about the equerries “wanting the ladies;” and Colonel Fairly began; but the gravity of my behaviour soon quieted him. Mr. Hagget was content to be observant of a new person; General Harcourt scarce ever speaks but from necessity; and Major Price was as grave as myself.
The eldest Miss Vernon is plain, and a little old-maidish but I found her afterwards sensible, well read, and well bred but not quite immediately did she appear so, as you will soon see. The youngest is many years her junior, and fat and handsome, good-humoured, and pleasing in her smiles, though high and distant till they are called forth.
After breakfast, when we were all breaking up, to prepare for church, I had a short explanatory conversation with Major Price, who came to speak to me concerning the preceding evening, and to confess his extreme surprise at our shutting ourselves up from their society. He had had a great mind, he said, to have come himself to see for us, but did not know whether it would be right. They waited, he added — Miss Vernons and all of them — a quarter of an hour after the supper was upon the table, and then a servant came in from us, to tell the equerries that we would not have any supper;— “And, indeed,” continued he, a little forcibly, “I must own I was rather hurt by the message.”
“Hurt?” cried I,— “what a gentle word! — I am sure I think you might rather have been angry.”
“Why — to own the truth — I believe I was.”
I was interrupted before I could explain more fully how the matter stood; nor have I ever found opportunity since. However, I think it very likely he suggested the truth himself. Be that as it may, Miss Vernons went for their cloaks, and Miss Planta ran to the princesses, and therefore I was obliged to be a little abrupt, and retreat also.
When Miss Planta was ready, she came to fetch me. We went downstairs, but knew not whither to proceed. In the eating-parlour we had left only the gentlemen, and they were waiting to attend the king. There was no other place to which we could turn, and we had another of those wandering distresses that had made me so comfortless the night before. My wish was to find Miss Vernons — my expectation was to be found by them. Neither, however, happened; and the first time we met anybody that could give us any information, we were told they had been gone some time.
Very agreeable news!
THANKSGIVING SERVICE; AT NUNEHAM.
I could not, however, bear to give up going to church, for I knew that the thanksgiving was to be that morning for the preservation of the king from assassination: and to let pique at this unaccountable behaviour, after all the apologies just passed, prevent my hearing and joining in a prayer of such a nature, in which now I am peculiarly interested, would have been ill worth the while. I therefore — proposed to Miss Planta that we should go by ourselves, and desire one of the servants to show us at once into Mr. Hagget’s pew: for that we had already heard offered to the use of Miss Vernons, as Lord Harcourt’s was reserved for their majesties. She agreed; and we proceeded, following such stragglers as shewed us our way: the servant to whom we applied having soon deserted us.
The church is in a very beautiful situation in the park, and built in the form of a Grecian temple. I admired it very much for its plainness and elegance. When we got to it, the very first step we took in it shewed us the Miss Vernons, very composedly seated in a large pew at the entrance. I now led the way, and took a place next to Miss Vernons, as much without apology as without invitation.
Mr. Hagget both read and preached. I was a good deal touched by the occasional thanksgiving, chiefly from knowing how much it must affect the queen and the princesses. Cause enough, indeed, is there for thanksgiving and rejoicing the safety of so mild and exemplary a sovereign.
When the service was over, and the royal family were gone, I thought it but right, in such a place, to subdue my proud feelings so far as to say to the Miss Vernons, I hoped we had not disturbed them.
I was very glad I took this little step down, for Miss Vernon, colouring, apologised for not waiting for us, which she said was owing to the fear of not getting into the chapel before the royal family. And then she asked if we should like to look at the altar-piece, which was the work of Mr. Mason.
ROYAL VISIT TO OXFORD: RECEPTION BY THE UNIVERSITY.
And now for the Oxford expedition.
How many carriages there were, and how they were arranged, I observed not sufficiently to recollect; but the party consisted of their majesties, the Princesses Royal, Augusta, and Elizabeth, the Duchess of Ancaster, Lord and Lady Harcourt, Lady Charlotte Bertie, and the two Miss Vernons. These last ladies are daughters of the late Lord Vernon, and sisters of Lady Harcourt.
General Harcourt, Colonel Fairly, and Major Price and Mr. Hagget, with Miss Planta and myself, completed the group. Miss Planta and I, of course, as the only undignified persons, brought up the rear. We were in a chaise of Lord Harcourt.
The city of Oxford afforded us a very noble view on the road, and its spires, towers, and domes soon made me forget all the little objects of minor spleen that had been crossing me as I journeyed towards them; and indeed, by the time I arrived in the midst of them, their grandeur, nobility, antiquity, and elevation impressed my mind so forcibly, that I felt for the first time since my new situation had taken place a rushing in of ideas that had no connection with it whatever.
The roads were lined with decently dressed people, and the high street was so crowded we were obliged to drive gently and carefully, to avoid trampling the people to death. Yet their behaviour was perfectly respectful and proper. Nothing could possibly be better conducted than the whole of this expedition.
We all drove straight to the theatre in procession. Here, in alighting from the carriages, there was some difficulty, on account of the pressure of the people to see the king and queen, and princesses: however, even then, it was still the genteelest and most decent crowd I ever saw.
Here it was that Major Price signalised that part of his character I have so strongly marked, of his being truly a gentleman. It was his business to attend and guard the king, but he was determined to take almost equal care of some of his majesty’s subjects: he was everybody’s equerry during the whole expedition, assisting and looking after every creature, seeing us all out of our carriages and into them, and addressing the people, when they pressed too forward, with a steadiness and authority that made them quicker in retreat than all the staves of all the constables, who were attending by dozens at the entrance of every college.
At the outward gate of the theatre, the vice-chancellor, Dr. Chapman, received their majesties. All the professors, doctors, etc., then in Oxford, arrayed in their professional robes, attended him. — How I wished my dear father amongst them.
The vice-chancellor then conducted their majesties along the inner court, to the door of the theatre, all the rest following; and there, waiting their arrival, stood the Duke and Duchess of Marlborough, the Marquis of Blandford, in a nobleman’s Oxford robe, and Lady Caroline and Lady Elizabeth Spencer.
After they had all paid their duties, a regular procession followed, which I should have thought very pretty, and much have liked to have seen, had I been a mere looker on; but was frequently at a loss, what to do with myself, and uncertain whether I ought to proceed in the suite, or stand by as a spectator; and Miss Planta was still, if possible, more fearful.
The theatre was filled with company, all well dressed, and arranged in rows around it. The area below them was entirely empty, so that there was not the least confusion. The chancellor’s chair, at the head of about a dozen steps, was prepared for the king; and jus
t below him, to his left, a form for the queen and the princesses.
The king walked foremost from the area, conducted by the University’s vice-chancellor. The queen followed, handed by her own vice-chamberlain. The Princess royal followed, led by the king’s aide-de-camp, General Harcourt; and Princess Augusta, leaning on Major Price. Princess Elizabeth walked alone, no other servant of the king being present, and no rank authorising such a conduct, without office.
Next followed the Duke and Duchess of Marlborough; then the Duchess of Ancaster, and Marquis of Blandford — next, Lord and Lady Harcourt, then the two Lady Spencers and Lady Charlotte Bertie, then the Miss Vernons, and then Miss Planta and a certain F. B. .
We were no sooner arranged, and the door of the theatre shut, than the king, his head covered, sat down; the queen did the same, and then the three princesses. All the rest, throughout the theatre, stood.
THE ROYAL FAMILY ARE MUCH AFFECTED.
The vice-chancellor then made a low obeisance to the king, and producing a written paper, began the address of the University, to thank his majesty for this second visit, and to congratulate him and the nation on his late escape from assassination. He read it in an audible and distinct voice; and in its conclusion, an address was suddenly made to the queen, expressive of much concern for her late distress, and the highest and most profound veneration for her amiable and exalted character.
Complete Works of Frances Burney Page 557