ARRIVAL AT FAUCONBERG HALL.
When we arrived at Cheltenham, which is almost all one street, extremely long, clean and well paved, we had to turn out of the public way about a quarter of a mile, to proceed to Fauconberg Hall, which my Lord Fauconberg has lent for the king’s use during his stay at this place.
It is, indeed, situated on a most sweet spot, surrounded with lofty hills beautifully variegated, and bounded, for the principal object, with the hills of Malvern, Which, here barren, and there cultivated, here all chalk, and there all verdure, reminded me of How hill, and gave Me an immediate sensation of reflected as well as of visual pleasure, from giving to my new habitation some resemblance of Norbury park.
When we had mounted the gradual ascent on which the house stands, the crowd all around it was as one head! We stopped within twenty yards of the door, uncertain how to proceed. All the royals were at the windows; and to pass this multitude—to wade through it, rather,—was a most disagreeable operation. However, we had no choice: we therefore got out, and, leaving the wardrobe-women to find the way to the back-door, Miss Planta and I glided on to the front one, where we saw the two gentlemen and where, as soon as we got up the steps, we encountered the king. He inquired most graciously concerning our journey; and Lady Weymouth came down-stairs to summon me to the queen, who was in excellent spirits, and said she would show me her room.
“This, ma’am!” cried I, as I entered it—“is this little room for your majesty?”
“O stay,” cried she, laughing, “till you see your own before you call it ‘little’.”
Soon after, she sent me upstairs for that purpose; and then, to be sure, I began to think less diminutively of that I had just quitted.
Mine, with one window, has just space to crowd in a bed, a chest of drawers, and three small chairs. The prospect from the window, is extremely pretty, and all IS new and clean. So I doubt not being very comfortable, as I am senza Cerbera,[278]—though having no maid is a real evil to one so little her own mistress as myself. I little wanted the fagging of my own clothes and dressing, to add to my daily fatigues.
I began a little unpacking and was called to dinner. Columb, happily, is allowed me, and he will be very useful, I am sure. Miss alone dined with me, and we are to be companions constant at all meals, and tete-a-tete, during this sejour. She is friendly and well disposed, and I am perfectly content; and the more, as I know she will not take up my leisure Unnecessarily, for she finds sauntering in the open air very serviceable to her health, and she has determined to make that her chief occupation. Here, therefore, whenever I am not in attendance, or at meals, I expect the singular comfort of having my time wholly unmolested, and at my own disposal.