The Diary and Letters of Madame D'Arblay Volume I Part 82

"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 a.s.ses' 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 mult.i.tudes. 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.[221]

I cannot here help mentioning a very interesting little scene at which I was present, about this time. The queen had n.o.body 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,[222] 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 inc.u.mbent 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 circ.u.mstance 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 a.s.sured 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!"