In the summer of this year, Lord Hervey was absent for a while from attendance on his royal mistress; but we may perhaps learn from one of his letters, addressed to her while he was resting in the country from his light labours, the nature of his office and the way in which Caroline was served. The narrative is given by the writer as part of an imaginary post-obit diary, in which he describes himself as having died on the day he left her, and as having been repeatedly buried in the various dull country houses by whose proprietors he was hospitably received. He thus proceeds:—
‘But whilst my body, madam, was thus disposed of, my spirit (as when alive) was still hovering, though invisible, round your Majesty, anxious for your welfare, and watching to do you any little service that lay within my power.
‘On Monday, whilst you walked, my shade still turned on the side of the sun to guard you from its beams.
‘On Tuesday morning, at breakfast, I brushed away a fly that had escaped Teed’s observation’ (Teed was one of the Queen’s attendants) ‘and was just going to be the taster of your chocolate.
‘On Wednesday, in the afternoon, I took off the chillness of some strawberry-water your Majesty was going to drink as you came in hot from walking; and at night I hunted a bat out of your bedchamber, and shut a sash just as you fell asleep, which your Majesty had a little indiscreetly ordered Mrs. Purcel to leave open.
‘On Thursday, in the drawing-room, I took the forms and voices of several of my acquaintances, made strange faces, put myself into awkward postures, and talked a good deal of nonsense, whilst your Majesty entertained me very gravely, recommended me very graciously, and laughed at me internally very heartily.
‘On Friday, being post-day, I proposed to get the best pen in the other world for your Majesty’s use, and slip it invisibly into your standish just as Mr. Shaw was bringing it into your gallery for you to write; and accordingly I went to Voiture, and desired him to hand me his pen; but when I told him for whom it was designed, he only laughed at me for a blockhead, and asked me if I had been at court for four years to so little purpose as not to know that your Majesty had a much better of your own.
‘On Saturday I went on the shaft of your Majesty’s chaise to Richmond; as you walked there I went before you, and with an invisible wand I brushed the dew and the worms out of your path all the way, and several times uncrumpled your Majesty’s stocking.
‘Sunday.—This very day, at chapel, I did your Majesty some service, by tearing six leaves out of the parson’s sermon and shortening his discourse six minutes.’
While these imaginary services were being rendered by the visionary Lord Hervey to the Queen, realities more serious and not less amusing were claiming the attention of Caroline and her consort.