The arrangement of the company—that is, who is to go with whom—is our next difficulty. There are such intricacies of family history, such subtle questions of propriety to be solved, we 'd not get away under a year were we to enter upon half of them. As a general rule, however, ladies ought not to be packed up in the same coach with the husbands from whom they have been for years separated, nor people with deadly feuds between them to be placed vis-à-vis. As to the attractive principles, the cohesionary elements, Kitty, are more puzzling still, since none but the parties themselves know where the minds are simulated and where real.
Milo has taken a great part of this arrangement upon his own hands, and, from what I can see, with his accustomed want of success in all matters of tact and delicacy. Of this, however, he is most beautifully unconscious, and goes about in the midst of muttered execrations with the implicit belief of being a benefactor of the human race. I wish you could see the self-satisfied chuckle of his greasy laugh, or could hear his mumbled "Maybe I don't know what ye 'r after, my old lady. Have n't I put the little Count with the green spectacles next you; don't I understand the cross looks ye 'r giving me? Ah, Mademoiselle, never fear me, I have in my eye for you,—a wink is enough for Milo Blake any day. Yes, my darling, I 'm looking for him this minute." These and such-like mutterings will show you the spirit of his ministering; and when I repeat that he makes nothing but blunders, you may picture to yourself the man. He has appointed himself on mamma's staff; and as I go with the Princess and the Count Boldourouki, I shall see no more of him for a while.
It is quite clear, Kitty, that we are the entertainers, though how it came to be so, I cannot even guess. Some blunder, I suspect, of this detestable Milo; and James will do nothing whatever. He is still in bed, and, to all my entreaties to get up, merely says that he'll be with us at dinner. The hampers of proggery will fill two carriages, and a charette with the champagne in ice is already sent forward. Three cooks—for such, I am told, are three gentlemen in black coats and white neckcloths—are to accompany us; and the whole preparations are evidently got up in the "very first style," and "totally regardless of expense."
Twelve o'clock. Another dilemma. There is only one "bus" in the town; and as none of the band will sit outside in this terrible weather, what is to be done? Milo proposes billeting them, singly, here and there, through the carriages; but the bare mention has excited a rebellion amongst the equestrians, who will not consent to be treated worse than the fiddlers! The Commissary of Police has just sent to know if we have obtained "a ministerial permission to assemble in vast numbers and for objects unnamed." I have got one of the German nobles to settle this difficulty, which, in Milo's hands,—if he only heard of it,—might become formidable.
Happily, he is now engaged "telling off" the band, and selecting from the number such as we can find room to accommodate. The permission has been accorded, the carriages are drawing up, the guests are taking their seats, we are ready,—we are off.
Saturday Morning. Dearest Kitty,—Mr. Cavendish has just sent me word that the courier will start in half an hour, so that I have only time for a few lines. Gloomily as the day broke yesterday, its setting at evening was infinitely sadder and more sorrowful. Never did a prospect of pleasure prove more delusive; never did a scene of enjoyment terminate more miserably.
Tears of anguish, of passion, and of shame blot my words as I write them. You must not ask me to describe the course of events, when my mind has but room for the sad catastrophe that closed them; but in a few brief lines I will endeavor to convey to you what occurred.
Our journey to Eberstein, from being all up hill and over roads terribly cut up by the weather, was a slow process. The procession, some of the riders remarked, had a most funereal look, winding along up the zig-zags of the mountain, and on a day which assuredly suggested few thoughts of pleasure. I can only answer for my own companions; but they, I am bound to say, were in the very worst of tempers the whole way, discussing the whole plot of the excursion with—considering mamma's share in it—a far greater degree of candor than politeness. They ridiculed picnics in general; pronounced them vulgar, tiresome, and usually "failures." They insinuated that they were the resources of people who felt more at ease in the semi-civilized scramble of a country party than amid the more correct courtesies of daily life! As to the "dîner sur l'herbe" itself, it was a shocking travesty of a real dinner. Spiders and cockroaches settled in your soup, black beetles bathed in your champagne, wasps contested your fruit with you, and you were lucky if you did not carry back a scorpion or a snake in your pocket. Then the company came in for its share of comment. So many people crept in that nobody knew, nobody acknowledged, and apparently nobody had invited. You always, they said, found that all your objectionable acquaintances dated from these parties. Lastly, they were excursions which no weather suited, no toilet became! If it were hot, the sufferings of sun-scorching and mosquitoes were insufferable. If it proved bad and rainy, they were in the sad situation of that very moment! As to dress, who could fix upon a costume to be becoming in the morning, graceful in the afternoon, and fresh and radiant at night? In a word, Kitty, they said so much, and so forcibly, that nothing but great constraint upon my feelings saved me from asking, "Why, in Heaven's name, could they have consented to come upon an excursion every detail of which was a sorrow, and every step a suffering?"
No other theme, however, divided attention with this calamitous one; and as we toiled languidly up the mountain-side, you can fancy with what pleasant feelings the way was beguiled.
At last we reached the castle; but fresh disappointment here awaited us. Although parties were admitted to see the Schloss and the grounds, they could not obtain leave to dine anywhere within the precincts. We begged hard for a room in the porter's lodge, the laundry, the stable, even the hayloft! but all without success. We at length capitulated for a moss-house, where the rain came filtering down through a network of foliage and birds'-nests; but even this was refused. What was to be done? The army was now little short of mutiny; a violent debate was carried on from carriage windows; and strong partisans of particular opinions went slopping about, with tucked-up trousers and huge umbrellas, trying to enforce their own views! Some were for an equitable distribution of the eatables on the spot,—"Food Commissaries," as the Germans expressed it, being chosen, to allot the victuals to each coach; some were for a forcible entry into the castle, and an occupation by dint of arms; others voted for a return to Baden; and lastly, a small section, which gradually grew in power and persuasiveness, suggested that, by descending the opposite side of the mountain, we should reach a little inn in the Moorg Thal, much frequented by fishermen, and where we were sure to find shelter at least, if not something more. The "Anglers' Rest" was now adopted as our goal; and thither we started, with some slight tinge of renewed hope and pleasure.