The news of the good King's intended visit to Stanmore Park was soon
spread abroad. The mayor and burgesses of Lynderton resolved that they
would request his Majesty to honour their borough by stopping on his way
at their town-hall. The whole place was speedily in a state of the most
intense commotion. While the Colonel and his womankind were making all
the necessary preparations at the park, the lieges of Lynderton were
engaged in the erection of triumphal arches, with a collection of
banners of all sorts of devices, painting signboards and shop-fronts,
and the polishing up of military accoutrements.
Lynderton was got into order for the reception of royalty even before
Stanmore Park had been prepared. One chief reason was that there were
many more hands in the town to undertake the work, and another was,
there was less work to be done. The great difficulty was to have the
band playing at both places at once.
Colonel Everard had already engaged them, and they could not on any
account disappoint him. Still for the honour of Lynderton it was
necessary that a musical welcome should be wafted to the King as he
entered the precincts of the borough. At last it was arranged that a
part of the foreign band should remain in the town to welcome the King,
and then set off at a double-quick march to Stanmore, to be in readiness
to receive him there.
The eventful morning at length arrived. It broke, however, with a
threatening aspect. There were clouds in the sky, which looked more
inclined to gather than disperse. Jacob Tuttle, who met Harry on his
way to Stanmore, where he was to finish getting the tents in order, told
him that it would be a rainy day. Madam Everard was in a state of
greater anxiety than any one else; indeed, she had many things to
trouble her. She was not sure that Monsieur Cochut would have performed
his work to her satisfaction. Then there were so many mouths to feed,
besides the King and his attendants, that she was afraid there might not
be sufficient provisions for them. The tents were already erected.
Harry had performed his part in a most satisfactory manner. She had no
doubt the Baron de Ruvigny would arrange the band.
Not only was the King expected, but good Queen Charlotte and one or two
of the princesses had expressed their intention of driving over to
Stanmore. A few select guests had been invited to meet them. Among
others was Lady Tryon. There were also General Perkins and his wife,
and the well-known couple, Sir James and Lady Wallace. The General and
the Admiral were old friends, and older enemies, for they had met as
lads, when one was lieutenant of marines, and the other a midshipman,
and had actually fought a duel, at a time when that foolish and wicked
custom was in vogue even among youths.
[The writer thinks it well at this point to state that the Royal visit
actually took place as described; also that the main facts and
characters in the story are taken from an unpublished diary of the time,
in possession of a member of the family.]
The great mass of the neighbourhood were invited to the grounds. All
the arrangements were reported complete; but Madam Everard kept looking
up anxiously at the sky, which threatened every instant to send down its
waters upon the earth. The clouds gathered closer and closer, and some
time before the hour at which the royal family were expected to arrive
the rain began to descend. It was melancholy to look at the tents
growing darker and darker as the water poured down on them, and to see
the flags which should have been blowing out joyfully drooping on the
flagposts. The rain pattered against the window panes, and the air blew
in with a damp feel, which gave promise of a drenching day. Madam
Everard became very unhappy; even the young ladies lost their spirits.
The Colonel was the only person who seemed unconcerned.
"I have done my best," he observed, "and there is no man more ready to
make allowance than the King, God bless him." The Colonel had been page
to George the Second, and had been attached to the court of the present
King, and knew him well, and, moreover, his many trials and
difficulties. "`Uneasy is the head that wears a crown.' Our good King
finds it so, and few of his subjects have greater domestic as well as
public trials to go through."
Harry Tryon had been very busy and highly flattered by the confidence
which the Colonel and Madam Everard had placed in him. Whether or not
he still contemplated fighting the Baron de Ruvigny cannot now be said.
Seeing Madam Everard's anxiety, he offered in spite of the rain to mount
a horse and gallop off to ascertain whether the royal party were coming
or not. His offer was accepted, and he was soon galloping away through
the street of Lynderton on the high road to Lyndhurst, by which it was
expected the King would come. He met on his way an open carriage and
four horses, full, as it seemed to him, of old women wrapped up in red
cloaks and hoods, such as were worn by the peasantry. He had got to the
turnpike kept by an old woman, Mammy Pocock by name, when he inquired
whether the royal family had come by.
"Why, bless you, yes; that be they," said the old woman, pointing along
the road. "They stayed in here ever so long, but at last they thought
Madam Everard would be waiting for them, and so they borrowed my cloak,
and they sent out, and borrowed as many cloaks and shawls as could be
found in all the cottages near. It was curious to see the Queen and
princesses laughing as they put them on."
Harry was going to hurry back with the news, when he saw a party of four
or five horsemen coming along the road. By this time the rain had
somewhat ceased. He drew up on one side to see who the strangers were.
He had little difficulty in recognising in the old gentleman who rode
first with his coat buttoned up, but without any great coat, the King of
England. Sir George Rose and two or three other gentlemen accompanied
his Majesty. One of them, apparently, was urging him to stop at the
tollgate, and dry his clothes.
"A little wet won't hurt a man! a little wet won't hurt a man!" answered
the King. "The sun will soon come out, and answer the purpose better
than a fire."
As Harry knew that the Queen would arrive at Stanmore before he could
get there, and that the King would be delayed for some time at Lynderton
he followed the cavalcade at a respectful distance.
As they reached the entrance of the town the rain altogether ceased, and
the sun shone forth, and shouts of welcome rent the air, and the band
played a joyous tune, and the Mayor and the whole corporation in state
came forth to welcome his Majesty, and to accompany him to the entrance
of the town-hall. He there was ushered up, and led to a seat at the
farther end, where he graciously received an address from the mayor,
who, with the members of the corporation, were formally introduced.
Conspicuous at the other end of the room was a gaunt personage in
scarlet robes trimmed with yellow fringe, bearing in his hand an
enormous gilt club, so it looked.
"Who is that?" asked the King, eyeing the figure with a comical
expression.
"That's our mace-bearer, your Majesty, Jedidiah Pike."
Jedidiah Pike, hearing his name announced, supposed that he was
summoned, and advanced up the room. Overcome, however, by his feelings,
and awe at finding himself in the presence of majesty, down he went on
his knees, mace and all, and prostrated himself at the King's feet,
while, looking up with an expression of the most intense reverence, he
endeavoured to kiss the hand of majesty.
"Get up, man! get up!" exclaimed the King, scarcely refraining his
laughter, "I am not the Grand Seignior nor a three-tailed Basha. Get
up, get up, man, and you shall kiss my hand, if it pleases you." The
King could restrain his laughter no longer, and gave way to a hearty
cachination, in which his attendants, and even the mayor and corporation
of Lynderton, heartily joined, greatly to the confusion of poor Pike,
who retreated backwards, very nearly tumbling over his own gown as he
endeavoured to escape from the royal presence. During the remainder of
the ceremony, the King every two minutes gave way to another hearty
laugh, and as he descended the stairs to mount his horse, he looked
round, and again inquired for his friend Pike.
The King rode on as before, attended by the few gentlemen who had come
with him from Lyndhurst, the populace following at a respectful
distance. While he rode on, either side was lined with eager
spectators, who gave forth with cheerful voices reiterated welcomes.
The king nodded kindly, thanking the people now and then in words as he
rode on.
Harry galloped on by a path he knew across the country, and the Colonel
was in readiness to receive his royal guest on his arrival.
Meantime, the guests who had been invited to the _fete_ on the lawn
arrived from all quarters, while the breakfast-room which overlooked it
had been prepared for the royal family. They dined alone--the Colonel
and the ladies of his family, aided by Lady Tryon, attending on them.
Lady Tryon was delighted at being invited by the Queen to attend on her.
She made herself especially agreeable, and took the opportunity of
introducing her grandson to their Majesties.
Harry behaved remarkably well under circumstances so novel to him, and
Mabel, at all events, thought that she had never seen him looking so
handsome.
"He would make a charming page," Lady Tryon whispered in her ear; "I
must try and get their Majesties to take him."
Meantime the sky had cleared, the sun shone forth brightly. The guests
were soon seen in their gayest costumes crossing the lawn to the tents,
the band struck up and played the most joyous tunes, and the King came
to the window and clapped his hands with delight.
It was pleasant to see their Majesties mixing among the crowd, and
talking familiarly to many of the guests. Several the King recognised;
among others, Sir James Wallace, and his friend, General Perkins.
Upwards of an hour was thus passed, when one of the gentlemen-in-waiting
suggested to his Majesty that unless they soon commenced their homeward
ride it would be dark before they could reach Lyndhurst. The Queen and
princesses had already retired, as they purposed returning by the road
they came.
"We must restore her cloak to Dame Pocock," observed the Queen, "and
other friends who were kind enough to lend them to us."
The King, however, purposed riding across the forest by a shorter cut,
and through much beautiful woodland scenery. Harry held the King's
horse, while Colonel Everard assisted him to mount.
"Ah!" said his Majesty, shaking the Colonel by the hand, "I am a happy
King to be able thus to ride through a forest with only three or four
unarmed attendants. Is there another sovereign in Europe that could do
the same? I wot not, Colonel."
"Perhaps this young gentleman would like to accompany us," said one of
the gentlemen-in-waiting, turning to the Colonel. "I know my way across
the forest, but he probably is better acquainted with the paths on this
side of it, and may somewhat shorten our ride. I am anxious to get the
King home again lest his Majesty should have suffered by remaining so
long in his damp clothes."
Harry was soon on horseback and galloping along to overtake the royal
party. Every path and glade in that part of the forest was well known
to him, and he was thus able to conduct the King, not only by shorter
paths, but to show him some especial bits of woodland scenery. The King
was much pleased, and complimented Harry on his taste. Whole troops of
deer were seen coming in from all directions towards a keeper's lodge,
where they were accustomed to assemble every evening to be fed.
"A pity to shoot such beautiful creatures," said the King; "this forest
should be their own. If I had to frame new forest laws I should
certainly let the deer benefit by them. What say you, young gentleman?"
Harry had to confess he had no objection to ride after a stag with a
pack of hounds, nor indeed to exercise his skill as a marksman on a fat
buck.
The King laughed.
"We must not be too much guided by our feelings," he observed.
The King conversed constantly with Harry during the ride, and told him
that he hoped to see him again. The young man bowed low as they reached
Lyndhurst, and it is not surprising that his spirits should have been
somewhat elated at the honour which had been done him. He turned his
horse, and galloped quickly over the soft turf back again towards
Stanmore, eager to report the safe arrival of the King, and, it is
possible, to enjoy another dance with Mabel. She was not less well
pleased than he was with the honour the King had done him, and it is not
surprising that the young people should have thereon built up a somewhat
lofty castle in the air, vapoury and changeable, as such castles
invariably are. Lady Tryon was still more pleased. Her grandson had
achieved a success. She saw him in imagination basking in the smiles of
royalty, and obtaining the advantages which such smiles occasionally
bring. Not always, though, as they are apt to raise up "envy, hatred,
malice, and all uncharitableness," in the hearts of rivals.
Dancing was still going on when Harry got back. On such occasions the
officers of the foreign legion considerably eclipsed the less
nimble-footed Englishmen, and were proportionally favourites. They
were, therefore, far more popular with the ladies than with the male
part of the community.
Harry had not forgotten his quarrel with the Baron de Ruvigny, and was
somewhat surprised that the young lieutenant looked at him in so
unconcerned a manner. He was not revengeful by disposition, but he
fancied that he was in honour bound to settle the matter.
"The sooner the better," he thought to himself. "I will look out for
him on his way to Lynderton, and see what he has to say for himself."
In the meantime he danced with Lucy and Mabel, and two or three other
young ladies, for although it had been the custom for a gentleman to
confine himself to the same partner during the whole of the evening, the
foreign officers had managed to break through it, and thus to divide
their attentions more generally among the fair sex. At length the
_fete_ came to an end. Everybody declared it was delightful. Harry saw
Lady Tryon into her carriage, and saying that he would walk home, went
back to pay his adieus to the ladies. Mabel looked more beautiful than
ever, and gave him a smile which made him feel very happy.
"By-the-bye," said the Colonel, drawing him aside, "if you ever have an
`affair of honour,' you must promise to ask me to be your second.
Remember I am an old soldier, and you could not have a better man. I
must exact this promise."
Harry felt very foolish. He did not know how he looked. He could not
help suspecting that the Colonel knew his secret; yet "how could he have
known it?" The Colonel, however, would not let him go till he had
passed his word.
"Perhaps I may have to call upon you sooner than you expect, sir," he
said; "really, these foreigners try one's temper."
"Perhaps you don't understand the foreigners, Harry," he said, in a
good-natured tone. "However, good-night;" and the old officer returned
chuckling into the drawing-room.
Harry hurried on. He had seen the Baron de Ruvigny leave the house but
a short time before, and he expected soon to catch him up. He was not
disappointed. The moon shone brightly. He knew the baron's figure, and
saw him a little way ahead in company with several other officers.
Harry soon overtook them, and walking up to the side of the young baron,
touched him on the shoulder.
"We had a little affair to settle the other day, baron," said Harry.
The young baron hesitated.
"I was labouring under a mistake. I confess it," he answered. "Colonel
Everard has spoken to me, and has made me promise not to carry the
matter further. I did not consider that you had a right to interfere,
and I was, therefore, angry. I tender you my apology."
Harry hesitated a moment. Was it generosity or cowardice which made the
young baron act in this way? "It is the first, I am sure," thought
Harry. "I accept your apology gladly," he answered.
The young men shook hands and walked on side by side, both probably
feeling much happier than they did before. They might, to be sure, have
caused some sensation in the place had they fought; but even had one of
them been killed, the event would probably have been no more than a
"nine days' wonder," and even his most intimate acquaintance would soon
have ceased to mourn. The two after this became fast friends.
The baron especially had many interesting adventures to relate,
especially those he had undergone in escaping from France--"La belle
France!" as he still called his native country.