CHAPTER XIV

A ROYAL VISIT

Before quitting the pleasant society of Lord and Lady Charles Aynsley

we should like to introduce an incident in connection with them which

took place in the month of February, 1808. This was no less an event

than a visit from the exiled King Louis XVIII and his suite to Lord

Charles and his wife at the Deanery of Bocking.

Here we would explain that the post of Dean in connection with Bocking

Church, which is not a cathedral, was of a curious nature. It seems

that by an old ecclesiastical ordinance a set of clergymen were called

the Archbishop of Canterbury’s “Peculiars,” and that his Commissary

and Head of the Peculiars in Essex and Suffolk was constituted Dean of

Bocking, a post of such dignity that the Dean was wholly independent of

the Bishop of his diocese.[4]

[Footnote 4: See _History of the County of Essex_, by Thos. Wright,

published 1836.]

[Illustration: GOSFIELD HALL]

At the time of which we are writing the French King was residing at

Gosfield Hall, a mansion lent to him by the Marquess of Buckingham

upon his arrival in England during the previous month of November.

There, we are told, a mimic court was held in strict accordance with

Bourbon traditions; and even the old French custom of the King’s dining

in public was preserved. On such occasions the inhabitants of the

surrounding neighbourhood were permitted to pass in procession through

the long dining-room to witness the sight.

In spite, however, of their courtly ceremonies the purses of these

royal exiles do not seem to have been very full, to judge by the

following story. It was told some years ago by an old Essex woman

who could remember when a child seeing the King and his attendants

out walking. The King noticed the child and was disposed to give her

something, but the royal pockets were searched in vain for a coin of

any kind. At last one of the suite produced a half-penny. “I ought to

have kept that half-penny,” remarked the old dame.

The visit of Louis XVIII to the Bocking Deanery, which took place on

February 18th, is described in a letter from Lady Charles Aynsley

to her cousin, Mrs. Mitford, to whom she also sent a copy of the

_Chelmsford Chronicle_ of February 26th, which contained a paragraph

describing the event.

Fortunately the editors of the _Chelmsford Chronicle_, which has

existed for more than one hundred and fifty years, have kept an

unbroken file of its numbers, so that we have been able to study the

very paragraph in question. Mrs. Mitford incorporates the two accounts

in a letter to her husband, but where certain details in this newspaper

are omitted, we have introduced them between brackets.

In explanation of an allusion to a severe snowstorm which it was feared

might prevent the royal visit from taking place, we would remark that

an examination of several numbers of the paper prove that the month

of February, 1808, was marked by a prevalence of violent gales of

wind and heavy falls of snow. A large number of ships are reported to

have foundered, sea-walls were broken down in many places, and the

Margate pier totally destroyed. “From the extraordinary falls of snow,”

writes a journalist, “the usual communication between the metropolis

and the distant parts of the kingdom has been nearly impracticable.

The Portsmouth mail coach is reported to have lost its way in the

snowstorm, and many accidents to passengers in other mail coaches are

related.”

[Illustration:

_Dantoux_

LE COMTE D’ARTOIS (AFTERWARDS CHARLES X)]

“At Hatfield Peveral,” states a writer, “twenty sheep and lambs were

buried in a snow-drift, but were rescued owing to the sagacity of the

shepherd’s dog.” A solitary sheep elsewhere “remained buried in the

snow for eight days. When at last dug out it was discovered to be

actually alive! It had found wurzels in the ground and had fed upon

them.”

Mrs. Mitford writes to her husband on receiving Lady Charles Aynsley’s

letter from Bocking:—

“Her ladyship has been in a very grand bustle, as the King of France,

Monsieur (the Comte d’Artois), the Duke d’Angoulême, Duke de Berry,

Duke de Grammont and the Prince de Condé, with all the nobles that

composed His Majesty’s suite at Gosfield, dined at the Deanery last

Thursday. Mr. and Mrs. Pepper (Lady Fitzgerald’s daughter) were asked

to meet him, because she was brought up and educated at the French

Court in Louis XVI’s reign; General and Mrs. Milner for the same

reason, and Colonel, Mrs. and Miss Burgoyne—all the party quick at

languages.

“The [snow] storms alarmed Lady C. not a little, for it prevented

the carrier going to town in the first instance, and in the second

she began to fear the King might not be able to come, after all the

preparations made for him. The Milners were so anxious about it that

the General, who commands at Colchester, ordered five hundred pioneers

to clear the road from that city to Bocking. On His Majesty’s approach

the Bocking bells proclaimed it, and on driving up, the full military

band which Lord C. had engaged for the occasion struck up ‘God save the

King’ in the entrance passage. In His Majesty’s coach were Monsieur

[the Comte d’Artois] and the Dukes d’Angoulême and Berry. [They arrived

a little before five o’clock, and Lady Charles handed His Majesty from

his carriage into the drawing-room, and introduced the illustrious

guest to those friends who were invited upon this interesting occasion.

His Majesty in the most affable and engaging manner entered into

conversation with every individual present.]

“All stood,” continues Mrs. Mitford, “till dinner was announced, when

our cousin handed His Majesty—Lord C. walking before him with a candle.

The King sat at the top of the table with Lady C. on his right and Lord

C. on his left. Mrs. Milner’s and Mrs. Pepper’s French butlers were

lent for the occasion. The bill of fare was in French, and the King

appeared well pleased with his entertainment. [The French nobility, who

compose His Majesty’s suite, were in full dress and wore the insignia

of their respective orders.]

[Illustration: WHERE THE KING DINED]

“The company were three hours at dinner, and at eight the dessert was

placed on the table—claret and all kinds of French wine, fruit, etc.,

a beautiful cake at the top with ‘Vive le Roi de France’ baked round

it, and the quarterings of the French army in coloured pastry, which

had a novel and pretty effect. The three youngest children then entered

with white satin military sashes over their shoulders (upon which were)

painted in bronze ‘Vive le Roi de France—Prospérité à Louis dix-huit.’

Charles, on being asked for a toast, immediately gave ‘The King of

France,’ which was drunk with the utmost sensibility by all present,

and one of the little girls came up to His Majesty and, with great

expression, spoke the lines in French, composed for the occasion.”

“Louis soon followed the ladies into the drawing-room, when again all

stood, and Lady C. served her royal guest with coffee, which being

over, she told him that some of the neighbouring families were come

for a little dance in the dining-room and that perhaps His Majesty

would be seated at cards. He good humouredly said he would first go

and pay his respects in the next room, which was the thing she wished;

therefore handed him in, his family and nobles following, which was

a fine sight for those assembled, in all sixty-two. At the King’s

desire she introduced each person to him by name, and, on the King’s

sitting down, the band struck up, and Monsieur, who is supposed to be

the finest dancer in Europe, led off with Lady C., who, spite of Lord

Charles’s horror and her own fears for her lame ankle, hopped down two

country dances with him, and they were followed by Charlotte and the

Duke d’Angoulême.”

We have sat in the long dining-room at the Deanery where these

festivities took place more than a hundred years ago. The room is

evidently little changed, and as we gazed around, the whole scene

seemed to rise before our eyes. We saw the French guests in their stars

and orders sparkling under the lights of the chandeliers, and it seemed

almost as if an echo of their bright racy talk reached our ears.

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