He brought me a great many compliments, he said, from Dr. Warton, of Winchester, where he had lately been quartered with his regiment. He rattled away very amusingly upon the balls and the belles he had seen there, laughing at his own gallantry, and pitying and praising himself alternately for venturing to exert it.
CUSTODIAN OF THE QUEEN’S JEWEL Box.
Oct. 2 — The next day we were all to go to Kew: but Mrs. Schwellenberg was taken ill, and went by herself to town.
The queen sent for me after breakfast, and delivered to me a long box, called here the jewel box, in which her jewels are carried to and from town that are worn on the Drawing-room days. The great bulk of them remain in town all the winter, and remove to Windsor for all the summer, with the rest of the family. She told me, as she delivered the key into my hands, that as there was always much more room in the box than her travelling jewels occupied, I might make what use I pleased of the remaining part; adding, with a very expressive smile, “I dare say you have books and letters that you may be glad to carry backwards and forwards with you.”
I owned that nothing was more true, and thankfully accepted the offer. It has proved to me since a comfort of the first magnitude, in conveying all my choice papers and letters safely in the carriage with me, as well as books in present reading, and numerous odd things....
Friday, Oct. 6. — We returned to Windsor without Mrs. Schwellenberg, who stayed in town for her physician’s advice. The queen went immediately to Mrs. Delany, and the princess royal came into my room.
“I beg pardon,” she cried, “for what I am going to say: I hope you will excuse my taking such a liberty with you — but, has nobody told you that the queen is always used to have the jewel-box carried into her bedroom?”
“No, ma’am, nobody mentioned it to me. I brought it here because I have other things in it.”
“I thought, when I did not see it in mamma’s room,” cried she, “that nobody had told you of that custom, and so I thought I would come to you myself: I hope you will excuse it?”
You may believe how I thanked her, while I promised to take out my own goods and chattels, and have it conveyed to its proper place immediately. I saw that she imagined the queen might be displeased; and though I could never myself imagine that, for an omission of ignorance, I felt the benevolence of her intention, and received it with great gratitude.
“My dear ma’am,” cried she, “I am sure I should be most happy to do anything for you that should be in my power, always; and really Mrs. Schwellenberg ought to have told you this.”
Afterwards I happened to be alone with this charming princess, and her sister Elizabeth, in the queen’s dressing-room. She then came up to me and said,
“Now will you excuse me, Miss Burney, if I ask you the truth of something I have heard about you?”
“Certainly, ma’am.”
“It’s such an odd thing, I don’t know how to mention it; but I have wished to ask you about it this great while. Pray is it really true that, in your illness last year, you coughed so violently that you broke the whalebone of your stays in two?”
“As nearly true as possible, ma’am; it actually split with the force of the almost convulsive motion of a cough that seemed loud and powerful enough for a giant. I could hardly myself believe it was little I that made so formidable a noise.”
“Well, I could not have given credit to it if I had not heard it from yourself! I wanted so much to know the truth, that I determined, at last, to take courage and ask you.”
“And pray, Miss Burney,” cried the Princess Elizabeth, “had you not a blister that gave you great torture?”
“Yes, ma’am, — in another illness.”
“O! — I know how to pity you! — I have one on at this moment!”
“And pray, Miss Burney,” cried the princess royal, “were not you carried out of town, when you were in such a weak condition that you could not walk?”
“Where could your royal highness hear all this?”
“And were you not almost starved by Sir Richard Jebb?” cried Princess Elizabeth.
“And did you not receive great benefit from asses’ milk?” exclaimed the princess royal.
Again I begged to know their means of hearing all this; but the queen’s entrance silenced us all.
A LAUDATORY ESTIMATE OF THE QUEEN.
The queen was unremittingly sweet and gracious, never making me sensible of any insufficiency from my single attendance; which, to me, was an opportunity the most favourable in the world for becoming more intimately acquainted with her mind and understanding. For the excellency of her mind I was fully prepared; the testimony of the nation at large could not be unfaithful; but the depth and soundness of her understanding surprised me: good sense I expected — to that alone she could owe the even tenor of her conduct, universally approved, though examined and judged by the watchful eye of multitudes. But I had not imagined that, shut up in the confined limits of a Court, she could have acquired any but the most superficial knowledge of the world, and the most partial insight into character. But I find, now, I have only done justice to her disposition, not to her parts, which are truly of that superior order that makes sagacity intuitively supply the place of experience. In the course of this month I spent much time quite alone with her, and never once quitted her presence without fresh admiration of her talents.
There are few points I have observed with more pleasure in her than all that concerns the office which brings me to her in this private and confidential manner. All that breaks from her, in our tete-a-tetes, upon the subject of dress, is both edifying and amiable. She equips herself for the drawing-room with all the attention in her power; she neglects nothing that she thinks becoming to her appearance upon those occasions, and is sensibly conscious that her high station makes her attire in public a matter of business. As such, she submits to it without murmuring; but a yet stronger consciousness of the real futility of such mere outward grandeur bursts from her, involuntarily, the moment the sacrifice is paid, and she can never refuse herself the satisfaction of expressing her contentment to put on a quiet undress. The great coats are so highly in her favour, from the quickness with which they enable her to finish her toilette, that she sings their praise with fresh warmth every time she is allowed to wear them, archly saying to me, with most expressive eyes, “If I could write — if I could but write! — how I would compose upon a great coat! I wish I were a poetess, that I might make a song upon it — I do think something very pretty might be said about it.”
These hints she has given me continually; but the Muse was not so kind as ever to make me think of the matter again when out of her sight-till, at last, she one day, in putting on this favourite dress, half gravely, said, “I really take it a little ill you won’t write something upon these great coats!”
I only laughed, yet, when I left her, I scribbled a few stanzas, copied them very fairly, and took them, as soon as they were finished, into her room; and there kept them safely in my pocket-book, for I knew not how to produce them, and she, by odd accident, forbore from that time to ask for them, though her repeated suggestion had, at last, conquered my literary indolence.
I cannot here help mentioning a very interesting little scene at which I was present, about this time. The queen had nobody but myself with her, one morning, when the king hastily entered the room, with some letters in his hand, and addressing her in German, which he spoke very fast, and with much apparent interest in what he said, he brought the letters up to her, and put them into her hand. She received them with much agitation, but evidently of a much pleased sort, and endeavoured to kiss his hand as he held them. He would not let her, but made an effort, with a countenance of the highest satisfaction, to kiss hers. I saw instantly in her eyes a forgetfulness, at the moment, that any one was present, while, drawing away her hand, she presented him her cheek. He accepted her kindness with the same frank affection that she offered it; and the next moment they both spoke English, and talked upon common and
general subjects.
What they said I am far enough from knowing; but the whole was too rapid to give me time to quit the room; and I could not but see with pleasure that the queen had received some favour with which she was sensibly delighted, and that the king, in her acknowledgments, was happily and amply paid.
TABLE DIFFICULTIES.
No sooner did I find that my coadjutrix ceased to speak of returning to Windsor, and that I became, by that means, the presidentess of the dinner and tea-table, than I formed a grand design — no other than to obtain to my own use the disposal of my evenings.
From the time of my entrance into this Court, to that of which I am writing, I had never been informed that it was incumbent upon me to receive the king’s equerries at the teatable; yet I observed that they always came to Mrs. Schwellenberg, and that she expected them so entirely as never to make tea till their arrival. Nevertheless, nothing of that sort had ever been intimated to me, and I saw no necessity of falling into all her ways, without commands to that purpose: nor could I conclude that the king’s gentlemen would expect from me either the same confinement, or readiness of reception, as had belonged to two invalid old ladies, glad of company, and without a single connection to draw them from home....
I could not, however, but be struck with a circumstance that shewed me, in a rather singular manner, my tea-making seemed at once to be regarded as indispensable: this was no other than a constant summons, which John regularly brought me every evening, from these gentlemen, to acquaint me they were come upstairs to the tea-room, and waiting for me.
I determined not to notice this: and consequently, the first time Mrs. Delany was not well enough to give me her valuable society at the Lodge, I went to her house, and spent the evening there; without sending any message to the equerries, as any apology must imply a right on their part that must involve me in future confinement.
This I did three or four times, always with so much success as to gain my point for the moment, but never with such happy consequences as to ensure it me for the time to come; since every next meeting shewed an air of pique, and since every evening had still, unremittingly, the same message for John.
I concluded this would wear away by use, and therefore resolved to give it that chance. One evening, however, when, being quite alone, I was going to my loved resource, John, ere I could get out, hurried to me, “Ma’am, the gentlemen are come up, and they send their compliments, and they wait tea for you.”
“Very well,” was my answer to this rather cavalier summons, which I did not wholly admire; and I put on my hat and cloak, when I was called to the queen. She asked me whether I thought Mrs. Delany could come to her, as she wished to see her? I offered to go instantly, and inquire.
“But don’t tell her I sent you,” cried the most considerate queen, “lest that should make her come when it may hurt her: find out how she is, before you mention me.”
As I now knew I must return myself, at any rate, I slipped into the tea-room before I set off. I found there Colonel Goldsworthy, looking quite glum, General Bude, Mr. Fisher, Mr. — Fisher, his brother, and Mr. Blomberg, chaplain to the Prince of Wales.
The moment I opened the door, General Bude presented Mr. Blomberg to me, and Mr. Fisher his brother; I told them, hastily, that I was running away to Mrs. Delany, but meant to return in a quarter of an hour, when I should be happy to have their company, if they could wait so long; but if they were hurried, my man should bring their tea.
They all turned to Colonel Goldsworthy, who, as equerry in waiting, was considered as head of the party; but he seemed so choked with surprise and displeasure, that he could only mutter something too indistinct to be heard, and bowed low and distantly.
“If Colonel Goldsworthy can command his time, ma’am,” cried Mr. Fisher, “we shall be most happy to wait yours.”
General Bude said the same: the colonel again silently and solemnly bowed, and I curtsied in the same manner, and hurried away.
Mrs. Delany was not well; and I would not vex her with the queen’s kind wish for her. I returned, and sent in, by the page in waiting, my account: for the queen was in the concert-room, and I could not go to her. Neither would I seduce away Miss Port from her duty; I came back, therefore, alone, and was fain to make my part as good as I was able among my beaus.
I found them all waiting. Colonel Goldsworthy received me with the same stately bow, and a look so glum and disconcerted, that I instantly turned from him to meet the soft countenance of the good Mr. Fisher, who took a chair next mine, and entered into conversation with his usual intelligence and mildness. General Bude was chatty and well bred, and the two strangers wholly silent.
I could not, however, but see that Colonel Goldsworthy grew less and less pleased. Yet what had I done? — I had never been commanded to devote my evenings to him, and, if excused officially, surely there could be no private claim from either his situation or mine. His displeasure therefore appeared to me so unjust, that I resolved to take not the smallest notice of it. He never once opened his mouth, neither to me nor to any one else. In this strange manner we drank our tea. When it was over, he still sat dumb — and still I conversed with Mr. Fisher and General Bude.
At length a prodigious hemming showed a preparation in the colonel for a speech: it came forth with great difficulty, and most considerable hesitation.
“I am afraid, ma’am, — I am afraid you — you — that is — that we are intruders upon you.”
“N-o,” answered I, faintly, “why so?”
“I am sure, ma’am, if we are — if you think — if we take too much liberty — I am sure I would not for the world! — I only — your commands — nothing else—”
“Sir!” cried I, not understanding a word.
“I see, ma’am, we only intrude upon you: however, you must excuse my just saying we would not for the world have taken such a liberty, though very sensible of the happiness of being allowed to come in for half an hour, — which is the best half-hour of the whole day; but yet, if it was not for your own commands—”
“What commands, sir?”
He grew still more perplexed, and made at least a dozen speeches to the same no purpose, before I could draw from him anything explicit; all of them listening silently the whole time, and myself invariably staring. At last, a few words escaped him more intelligible.
“Your messages, ma’am, were what encouraged us to come.”
“And pray, sir, do tell me what messages? — I am very happy to see you, but I never sent any messages at all?”
“Indeed, ma’am!” cried he, staring in his turn; “why your servant, little John there, came rapping at our door, at the equerry room, before we had well swallowed our dinner, and said, ‘My lady is waiting tea, sir.’”
I was quite confounded. I assured him it was an entire fabrication of my servant’s, as I had never sent, nor even thought of sending him, for I was going out.
“Why to own the truth, ma’am,” cried he, brightening up, “I did really think it a little odd to send for us in that hurry, for we got up directly from table, and said, if the lady is waiting, to be sure we must not keep her; and then — when we came — to just peep in, and say you were going out!”
How intolerable an impertinence in John! — it was really no wonder the poor colonel was so glum.
Again I repeated my ignorance of this step; and he then said “Why, ma’am, he comes to us regularly every afternoon, and says his lady is waiting; and we are very glad to come, poor souls that we are, with no rest all the livelong day but what we get in this good room! — but then — to come, and see ourselves only intruders — and to find you going out, after sending for us!”
I could scarce find words to express my amazement at this communication. I cleared myself instantly from having any the smallest knowledge of John’s proceedings, and Colonel Goldsworthy soon recovered all his spirits and good humour, when he was satisfied he had not designedly been treated with such strange and unmeaning inconsistency. He
rejoiced exceedingly that he had spoke out, and I thanked him for his frankness, and the evening concluded very amicably....
The evening after, I invited Miss Port, determined to spend it entirely with my beaus, in order to wholly explain away this impertinence. Colonel Goldsworthy now made me a thousand apologies for having named the matter to me at all. I assured him I was extremely glad he had afforded me an opportunity of clearing it. In the course of the discussion, I mentioned the constant summons brought me by John every afternoon. He lifted up his hands and eyes, and protested most solemnly he had never sent a single one.
“I vow, ma’am,” cried the colonel, “I would not have taken such a liberty on any account; though all the comfort of my life in this house, is one half-hour in a day spent in this room. After all one’s labours, riding, and walking, and standing, and bowing — what a life it is! Well! it’s honour! that’s one comfort; it’s all honour! royal honour! — one has the honour to stand till one has not a foot left; and to ride till one’s stiff, and to walk till one’s ready to drop, — and then one makes one’s lowest bow, d’ye see, and blesses one’s self with joy for the honour!”
AN EQUERRY’S DUTIES AND DISCOMFORTS.
His account of his own hardships and sufferings here, in the discharge of his duty, is truly comic. “How do you like it, ma’am?” he says to me, “though it’s hardly fair to ask you yet, because you know almost nothing of the joys of this sort of life. But wait till November and December, and then you’ll get a pretty taste of them! Running along in these cold passages, then bursting into rooms fit to bake you, then back again into all these agreeable puffs! — Bless us! I believe in my heart there’s wind enough in these passages to carry a man of war! And there you’ll have your share, ma’am, I promise you that! you’ll get knocked up in three days, take my word for that.”
Complete Works of Frances Burney Page 562