THE WRONG GUEST INVITED.
I have something to relate now that both my dearest friends will take great pleasure in hearing, because it appertains to my dignity and consequence. The queen, in the most gracious manner, desired me this morning to send an invitation to M. Mithoff, a German clergyman, to come to dinner; and she added, “I assure you he is a very worthy man, of very excellent character, or I would not ask you to invite him.”
Was not this a very sweet manner of making over to me the presidency of the table in Mrs. Schwellenberg's absence?
It was for the next day, and I sent John to him immediately; rather awkward, though, to send my compliments to a man I had never seen, and invite him to dine with me. But there was no other mode—I could not name the queen. I knew Miss Port would be happy to make us a trio, and I begged her not to fail me.
But alas!—If awkwardness was removed, something worse was substituted in its place; my presidency was abolished on the very day it was to be declared, by the sudden return of its rightful superseder. I acquainted her with the invitation I had been desired to send, and I told her I had also engaged Miss Port. I told of both as humbly as possible, that I might raise no alarms of any intention of rivalry in power.
Mr. Mithoff was not yet come when dinner was announced, nor yet Miss Port; we sat down tete-a-tete, myself in some pain for my invitations, my companion well content to shew she would wait for none of my making.
At length came Miss Port, and presently after a tall German clergyman entered the room. I was a little confused by his immediately making up to me, and thanking me in the strongest terms for the honour of my invitation, and assuring me it was the most flattering one he had ever received.
I answered as short as I could, for I was quite confounded by the looks of Mrs. Schwellenberg. Towards me they were directed with reproach, and towards the poor visitor with astonishment: why I could not imagine, as I had frequently heard her speak of M. Mithoff with praise.
Finding nothing was said to him, I was obliged to ask him to take a place at the table myself, which he did; still, and with great glee of manner, addressing himself wholly to me, and never finishing his warm expressions of gratitude for my invitation. I quite longed to tell him I had her majesty's orders for what I had done, that he might cease his most unmerited acknowledgments; but I could not at that time. The dinner went off very ill. Nobody said a word but this gentleman, and he spoke only to do himself mischief.
When we all adjourned to Mrs. Schwellenberg's room upstairs, for coffee, my new guest again poured forth such a torrent of thanks, that I could not resist taking the first opportunity to inform him he owed me no such strong obligation, as I had simply obeyed the commands of the queen.
“The queen!” he exclaimed, with yet greater enchantment; “then I am very happy indeed, madam; I had been afraid at first there was some mistake in the honour you did me.”
“It might have seemed a mistake indeed, sir,” cried I, “if you supposed I had taken the liberty of making you such an invitation, without the pleasure of knowing you myself.”
Mrs. Schwellenberg, just after, calling me aside, said, “For what have you brought me this man?”
I could make no answer, lest he should hear me, for I saw him look uneasily towards us; and therefore, to end such interrogations, I turned to him, and asked how many days he should continue at Windsor. He looked surprised, and said he had no thought of leaving it.
It was my turn to look surprised now; I had heard he only came upon her majesty's commands, and was to stay but a day or two. I now began to suspect some mistake, and that my message had gone to a wrong person. I hastened, therefore, to pronounce the name of Mithoff, and my suspicion was changed into certainty, by his telling me, with a stare, that it was not his.
Imagine but my confusion at this information!—the queen's commission so ill executed, M. Mithoff neglected, and some one else invited whose very name I knew not!—nor did he, though my mistake now was visible, tell it me. Yet he looked so much disappointed, that I thought it incumbent upon me, since the blunder must have been my servant's, to do what I could to comfort him. I therefore forced myself forward to talk to him, and pass over the embarrassment but he was modest, and consequently overset, and soon after took his leave.
I then cleared myself to Mrs. Schwellenberg of any voluntary deed in “bringing her this man,” and inquired of John how it happened. He told me he had forgot the gentleman's name, but as I had said he was a German clergyman, he had asked for him as such, and thought this must be the right person. I heard afterwards that this is a M. Schrawder, one of the masters of the German language to the princesses. I gave all the apologies in my power to him for the error....
The queen, at night, with great good humour, laughed at the mistake, and only desired it might be rectified for the next day. Accordingly it was; and M. Mithoff had an invitation for the next day, in proper order: that is, from Mrs. Schwellenberg.