A chance question this night from the queen, whom I now again attended as usual, fortunately relieved me from my embarrassment about the poem. She inquired of me if my father was still writing? “A little,” I answered, and the next morning, Thursday, the 18th, when the birth-day was kept, I found her all sweetness and serenity; mumbled out my own little compliment, which she received as graciously as if she had understood and heard it; and then, when she was dressed, I followed her through the great rooms, to get rid of the wardrobe woman, and there taking the poem from my pocket, I said “I told your majesty that my father had written a little! — and here — the little is!”
She took it from me with a smile and a curtsey, and I ran off. She never has named it since; but she has spoken of my father with much sweetness and complacency. The modest dignity of the queen, upon all subjects of panegyric, is truly royal and noble.
I had now, a second time, the ceremony of being entirely new dressed. I then went to St. James’s, where the queen gave a very gracious approbation of my gewgaws, and called upon the king to bestow the same; which his constant goodhumour makes a matter of great ease to him.
The queen’s dress, being for her own birthday, was extremely simple, the style of dress considered. The king was quite superb, and the Princesses Augusta and Elizabeth were ornamented with much brilliancy.
Not only the princess royal was missed at this exhibition, but also the Prince of Wales. He wrote, however, his congratulations to the queen, though the coldness then subsisting between him and his majesty occasioned his absence from Court. I fear it was severely felt by his royal mother, though she appeared composed and content.
The two princesses spoke very kind words, also, about my frippery on this festival; and Princess Augusta laid her positive commands upon me that I should change my gown before I went to the lord chamberlain’s box, where only my head could be seen. The counsel proved as useful as the consideration was amiable.
When the queen was attired, the Duchess of Ancaster was admitted to the dressing room, where she stayed, in conversation with their majesties and the princesses, till it was time to summon the bed-chamber women. During this, I had the office of holding the queen’s train. I knew, for me, it was a great honour, yet it made me feel, once more, so like a mute upon the stage, that I could scarce believe myself only performing my own real character.
Mrs. Stainforth and I had some time to stand upon the stairs before the opening of the doors. We joined Mrs. Fielding and her daughters, and all entered together, but the crowd parted us - they all ran on, and got in as they could, and I remained alone by the door. They soon found me out, and made signs to me, which I saw not, and then they sent me messages that they had kept room for me just by them. I had received orders from the queen to go out at the end of the second country dance; I thought, therefore, that as I now was seated by the door, I had better be content, and stay where I could make my exit in a moment, and without trouble or disturbance. A queer-looking old lady sat next me, and I spoke to her now and then, by way of seeming to belong to somebody. She did not appear to know whether it were advisable for her to answer me or not, seeing me alone, and with high head ornaments; but as I had no plan but to save appearances to the surrounders, I was perfectly satisfied that my very concise propositions should meet with yet more laconic replies.
Before we parted, however, finding me quiet and inoffensive, she became voluntarily sociable, and I felt so much at home, by being still in a part of the palace, that I needed nothing further than just so much notice as not to seem an object to be avoided.
The sight which called me to that spot perfectly answered all my expectations: the air, manner, and countenance of the queen, as she goes round the circle, are truly graceful and engaging: I thought I could understand, by the motion of her lips, and the expression of her face, even at the height and distance of the chamberlain’s box, the gracious and pleasant speeches she made to all whom she approached. With my glass, you know, I can see just as other people see with the naked eye.
The princesses looked extremely lovely, and the whole Court was in the utmost splendour.
A SERIOUS DILEMMA.
At the appointed moment I slipped through the door, leaving my old lady utterly astonished at my sudden departure, and I passed, alone and quietly, to Mr. Rhamus’s apartment, which was appropriated for the company to wait in. Here I desired a servant I met with to call my man: he was not to be found. I went down the stairs, and made them call him aloud, by my name; all to no purpose. Then the chairmen were called, but called also in vain!
What to do I knew not; though I was still in a part of the palace, it was separated by many courts, avenues, passages, and alleys, from the queen’s or my own apartments- and though I had so lately passed them, I could not remember the way, nor at that late hour could I have walked, dressed as I then was, and the ground wet with recent rain, even if I had had a servant: I had therefore ordered the chair allotted me for these days; but chair and chairmen and footmen were alike out of the way.
My fright lest the queen should wait for me was very serious. I believe there are state apartments through which she passes, and therefore I had no chance to know when she retired from the ball-room. Yet could I not stir, and was forced to return to the room whence I came, in order to wait for John, that I might be out of the way of the cold winds which infested the hall.
I now found a young clergyman, standing by the fire. I suppose my anxiety was visible, for he instantly inquired if he could assist me. I declined his offer, but walked up and down, making frequent questions about my chair and John.
He then very civilly said, “You seem distressed, ma’am; would you permit me the honour to see for your chair, or, if it is not come, as you seem hurried, would you trust me to see you home?”
I thanked him, but could not accept his services. He was sorry, he said, that I refused him, but could not wonder, as he was a stranger. I made some apologising answer, and remained in that unpleasant situation till, at length, a hackneychair was procured me. My new acquaintance would take no denial to handing me to the chair. When I got in, I told the men to carry me to the palace.
“We are there now!” cried they; “what part of the palace?”
I was now in a distress the most extraordinary : I really knew not my own direction! I had always gone to my apartment in a chair, and had been carried by chairmen officially appointed; and, except that it was in St. James’s palace, I knew nothing of my own situation.
“Near the park,” I told them, and saw my new esquire look utterly amazed at me.
“Ma’am,” said he, “ half the palace is in the park.”
“I don’t know how to direct,” cried I, in the greatest
embarrassment, “but it is somewhere between Pall Mall and the
park.”
“I know where the lady lives well enough,” cried one of the chairmen, “’tis in St. James’s street.”
“No, no,” cried I, “’tis in St. James’s palace.”
“Up with the chair!” cried the other man, “I know best— ’tis in
South Audley-street; I know the lady well enough.”
Think what a situation at the moment! I found they had both been drinking the queen’s health till they knew not what they said and could with difficulty stand. Yet they lifted me up, and though I called in the most terrible fright to be let out, they carried me down the steps.
I now actually screamed for help, believing they would carry me off to South Audley-street; and now my good genius, who had waited patiently in the crowd, forcibly stopped the chairmen, who abused him violently, and opened the door himself, and I ran back to the hall.
You may imagine how earnestly I returned my thanks for this most seasonable assistance, without which I should almost have died with terror, for where they might have taken or dropped me, or how or where left me, who could say?
He begged me to go again upstairs, but my apprehension about the queen prevented me. I knew
she was to have nobody but me, and that her jewels, though few, were to be intrusted back to the queen’s house to no other hands. I must, I said, go, be it in what manner it might. All I could devise was to summon Mr. Rhamus, the page. I had never seen him, but my attendance upon the queen would be an apology for the application, and I determined to put myself under his immediate protection.
Mr. Rhamus was nowhere to be found; he was already supposed to be gone to the queen’s house, to wait the arrival of his majesty. This news redoubled my fear; and now my new acquaintance desired me to employ him in making inquiries for me as to the direction I wanted.
It was almost ridiculous, in the midst of my distress, to be thus at a loss for an address to myself! I felt averse to speaking my name amongst so many listeners, and only told him he would much oblige me by finding out a direction to Mrs. Haggerdorn’s rooms. He went upstairs; and returning, said he could now direct the chairmen, if I did not fear trusting them.
I did fear — I even shook with fear; yet my horror of disappointing the queen upon such a night prevailed over all my reluctance, and I ventured once more into the chair, thanking this excellent Samaritan, and begging him to give the direction very particularly Imagine, however, my gratitude and my relief, when, instead of hearing the direction, I heard only these words, “ Follow me.” And then did this truly benevolent young man himself play the footman, in walking by the side of the chair till we came to an alley, when he bid them turn; but they answered him with an oath, and ran on with me, till the poles ran against a wall, for they had entered a passage in which there was no outlet! I would fain have got out, but they would not hear me; they would only pull the chair back, and go on another way. But my guardian angel told them to follow him, or not, at their peril; and then walked before the chair.
We next came to a court where we were stopped by the sentinels. They said they had orders not to admit any hackney chairs. The chairmen vowed they would make way; I called out aloud to be set down; the sentinels said they would run their bayonets through the first man that attempted to dispute their orders. I then screamed out again to be set down, and my new and good friend peremptorily forced them to stop, and opening the door with violence, offered me his arm, saying, “You had better trust yourself with me, ma’am!”
Most thankfully I now accepted what so fruitlessly I had declined, and I held by his arm, and we walked on together, but neither of us knew whither, nor the right way from the wrong 1 It was really a terrible situation.
The chairmen followed us, clamorous for money, and full of abuse. They demanded half a crown - my companion refused to listen to such an imposition : my shaking hand could find no purse, and I begged him to pay them what they asked, that they might leave us. He did; and when they were gone, I shook less, and was able to pay that one part of the debt I was now contracting.
We wandered about, heaven knows where, in a way the most alarming and horrible to myself imaginable: for I never knew where I was. — It was midnight. I concluded the queen waiting for me. — It was wet. My head was full dressed. I was under the care of a total stranger; and I knew not which side to take, wherever we came. Inquiries were vain. The sentinels alone were in sight, and they are so continually changed that they knew no more of Mrs. Haggerdorn than if she had never resided here.
At length I spied a door open, and I begged to enter it at a venture, for information. Fortunately a person stood in the passage who instantly spoke to me by my name; I never heard that sound with more glee: to me he was a stranger, but I suppose he had seen me in some of the apartments. I begged him to direct me straight to the queen’s rooms: he did; and I then took leave of my most humane new friend, with a thousand acknowledgments for his benevolence and services.
Was it not a strange business? I can never say what an agony Of fright it cost me at the time, nor ever be sufficiently grateful for the kind assistance, so providentially afforded me.’
COUNSELS OF A COURT OFFICIAL.
The general directions and counsel of Mr. Smelt, which I have scrupulously observed ever since, were, in abridgment, these:-
That I should see nobody at all but by appointment. This, as he well said, would obviate, not only numerous personal inconveniences to myself, but prevent alike surprises from those I had no leave to admit, and repetitions of visits from others who might inadvertently come too often. He advised me to tell this to my father, and beg it might be spread, as a settled part of my situation, among all who inquired for me.
That I should see no fresh person whatsoever without an immediate permission from the queen, nor any party, even amongst those already authorised, without apprising her of such a plan.
That I should never go out without an immediate application to her, so that no possible inquiry for me might occasion surprise or disappointment.
These, and other similar ties, perhaps, had my spirits been better, I might less readily have acceded to : as it was, I would have bound myself to as many more.
At length, however, even then, I was startled when Mr. Smelt, with some earnestness, said, “And, with respect to your parties, such as you may occasionally have here, you have but one rule for keeping all things smooth, and all partisans unoffended, at a distance — which is, to have no men — none!
I stared a little, and made no answer.
“Yes,” cried he, “Mr. Locke may be admitted; but him only. Your father, you know, is of course.”
Still I was silent: after a pause of some length, he plumply Yet with an evidently affected unmeaningness, said, “Mr. Cambridge — as to Mr. Cambridge—”
I stopped him short at once; I dared not trust to what might follow, and eagerly called Out, “Mr. Cambridge, Sir, I cannot exclude! So much friendship and kindness I owe, and have long owed him, that he would go about howling at my ingratitude, could I seem so suddenly to forget it!”
My impetuosity in uttering this surprised, but silenced him; he said not a word more, nor did I.
MR. TURBULENT’s ANXIETY TO INTRODUCE MR. WELLBRED. Windsor, Sunday, Jan. 28.-I was too ill to go to church. I was now, indeed, rarely well enough for anything but absolute and unavoidable duties; and those were still painfully and forcibly performed.
I had only Miss Planta for my guest, and when she went to the princesses I retired for a quiet and solitary evening to my own room. But here, while reading, I was interrupted by a tat-tat at my door. I opened it and saw Mr. Turbulent. . . . He came forward, and began a gay and animated conversation, with a flow of spirits and good humour which I had never observed in him before.
His darling colonel(230) was the subject that he still harped upon; but it was only with a civil and amusing raillery, not, as before, with an overpowering vehemence to conquer. Probably, however, the change in myself might be as observable as in him, — since I now ceased to look upon him with that distance and coldness which hitherto he had uniformly found in me.
I must give you a little specimen of him in this new dress.
After some general talk,
“When, ma’am,” he said, “am I to have the honour of introducing
Colonel Wellbred to you?”
“Indeed, I have not settled that entirely!”
“Reflect a little, then, ma’am, and tell me. I only wish to know when.”
“Indeed to tell you that is somewhat more than I am able to do; I must find it out myself, first.”
“ Well, ma’am, make the inquiry as speedily as possible, I beg.
What say you to now? shall I call him up?
“No, no, — pray let him alone.”
“But will you not, at least, tell me your reasons for this conduct? “Why, frankly, then, if you will hear them and be quiet, I will confess them.”
I then told him, that I had so little time to myself, that to gain even a single evening was to gain a treasure; and that I had no chance but this. “Not,” said I, “that I wish to avoid him, but to break the custom of constantly meeting with the equerries.”
“But it
is impossible to break the custom, ma’am; it has been so always: the tea-table has been the time of uniting the company, ever since the king came to Windsor.”
“ Well, but everything now is upon a new construction. I am not positively bound to do everything Mrs. Haggerdorn did, and his having drank tea with her will not make him conclude he must also drink tea with me.”
No, no, that is true, I allow. Nothing that belonged to her can bring conclusions round to you. But still, why begin with Colonel Wellbred? You did not treat Colonel Goldsworthy so?”
“I had not the power of beginning with him. I did what I could,
I assure you.”
“Major Price, ma’am? — I never heard you avoided him.”
“No; but I knew him before I came, and he knew much of my family, and indeed I am truly sorry that I shall now see no more of him. But Colonel Wellbred and I are mutually strangers.”
“All people are so at first, every acquaintance must have a beginning.”
“But this, if you are quiet, we are most willing should have none.”
“Not he, ma’am — he is not so willing; he wishes to come. He asked me, to-day, if I had spoke about it.”
I disclaimed believing this; but he persisted in asserting it, adding “For he said if I had spoke he would come.”
Complete Works of Frances Burney Page 565